In So Many Words 17k, Mature
Summary: Derek writes a short story. That’s his first mistake. His second is getting it published.
Derek knows he fucked up. He does. He is very well aware that this particular brand of impending doom he’s facing down right now is entirely of his own making.
But he still can’t quite bring himself to regret any of his actions leading up to it.
Yes, he wrote the story knowing exactly what it was. He submitted it to the literary journal. He happily accepted the praise from the editorial staff that approved it. And he went out and bought three more copies on top of the free one they gave him once it was published.
He’s proud of himself is the thing. Which is kind of secretly rare for him.
So, you know, fuck it. He did this. He wrote something that other people wanted to read, and it wasn’t even just a few lines of poetry with a decent beat to it, it was a whole damn story. He can’t regret that.
Even if he knew full well the entire time, from start to fucking finish, that it was eventually going to bite him in the ass.
“Oh honey,” Bitty sighs pityingly as he finishes reading it at the Haus kitchen table.
Derek stuffs the last bite of his slice of pie into his mouth and braces himself.
“It’s really very good,” Bitty tells him. “But…”
Derek nods. “But,” he agrees.
“Maybe he won’t read it.”
“Even if he doesn’t… everyone else will.” Derek imagines what the group chat is going to look like once they do and barely suppresses a shudder.
He watches Bitty come to the same conclusion and pull a yikes face, then quickly shake it off. “Well, they’re proud of you, of course they’ll read it. It really is good, Nursey. Not that I’m an expert, but even I can see that you’ve got talent.”
“I don’t think Dex is going to care how good it is when Rans and Holster start chirping him for the torrid, clandestine affair he’s supposedly having with me.”
He actually has a very angular face - High cheekbones, narrow face, straight nose. He gets his bone structure from his mother, but where Sally had a softness to all of her features, he gets Poseidon’s natural brooding and regal sharpness. It’s another factor that makes his demeanor a bit intimidating and what makes people peg him as a trouble maker. and so so attractive
When he was younger, he used to be left handed. But during the sporadic period when he was rapidly getting kicked out of school and learning how to write, he was placed through many schools that had the old philosophy that being left handed was wrong and forced him to write with his right hand. In the end, it ends up helping him because he learned how to use both hands equally well, becoming ambidextrous, thus also helping his sword fighting.
When Sally married Gabe, Percy never told Sally of the abuse he was getting because he thought that if Gabe took out all of his frustrations on him, then there would be nothing left for his mother to receive and was afraid of what Gabe would do.
After the Sea of Monsters but before the Battle of the Labyrinth Percy had a mouthful of braces. Annabeth took as many pictures as she could at the time and taped them on the wall of the big house. He tore down all he could find but legend has it, you can still find one or two miraculously appearing up there.
His middle name is Dylann, pronounced Die-lin, which means ‘son of the sea.’ Subtlety is not Sally’s specialty and she cannot seem to give him names that are easily pronounced. Teacher’s sigh on the first day of school when they get to his name on their clipboard.
Percy is the best get away driver. Paul took him out on his first driving lesson and it was something that came natural to him. And when he was homeless for that period in Son of Neptune and relied on stealing cars he got really good at getting away quickly and efficiently. Especially when he stole that police cruiser.
Percy has scars on the insides of his elbows and forearms that almost look like a bad case of chicken pox scars. They’re actually cigarette burns from Gabe. Annabeth, Sally, Grover, are the only ones who know where they’re from.
Percy’s clothing is badly torn up. Some is the result of monster fighting, and some is from the constant wear and tear because he refuses to get rid of old clothing, but a lot of it is from skateboarding accidents. He’s actually pretty decent at skateboarding but he’s also pretty decent at falling off of it too.
Percy, Piper, and Rachel go skateboarding together sometimes.
Before Tartarus, Percy’s eyes were a gentle, warm green, like the middle of a lazy ocean you could get lost in. But after Tartarus they’re fiercer, darker, like a wave in a storm about to drag you to the bottom of the sea.
Percy’s favorite type of music is rock. He wanted to learn electric guitar but there was never money he was younger, now he’s too busy with monsters to have the time.
Percy is a naturally good surfer, it comes freakishly natural just like anything else that has to do with the ocean. Piper and he go surfing together.
When he’s fifteen he is around 5′11″ but he gets in a few more growth spurts before everything is said and done and ends up being just above 6′2″ and parallel to Jason. He loves playfully holding things out of Annabeth’s reach. She punches him when he does that of course.
He has a lean build with prominent definition. He has very little body fat and most of his weight comes from his muscles. He has the perfect swimmer body, lithe and agile. cinnamony roll goodness
His hair is black like a raven’s wings and is always windswept and unruly as if he’s always running a hand through it or like bed hair if you know what I mean
He, unlike the other two greek kids of the big three, doesn’t have any freckles or moles of any kind. His mother has very clear skin and het gets it from her just the same, except with the tanner tone of Poseidon.
He’s on Goode High’s swim team. He’s much faster than everyone even without his powers and he can’t tell if it’s just a son of Poseidon thing or if he’s actually good. Paul and Sally don’t mind because he knows that’s the only way Percy will get a scholarship with his grades, reputation, and attendance records.
Percy is known as the weird kid in school. He has weird scars, disappears for months at a time, and has an off putting demeanor. He doesn’t talk to many people and only does when they talk to him first.
His nervous ticks include running his hands through or tugging on his hair, and tapping or playing with Anaklumos in pen form.
He walks quietly on his feet, this comes from many different things - Being silent so Gabe couldn’t hear him, trying to sneak past monsters, his training from Lupa, and the period of time he spent running, hiding, and stealing in Son of Neptune.
He absolutely sucks at growing facial hair. It grows in in uneven patches and it disappoints him to no end. The guys make fun of him to no end during no shave November.
He knows that people underestimate him, he knows that people think of him as a goofball, and he knows that people dismiss him as stupid. Now he uses that to his defense. After torturing the goddess of Misery he can feel that darkness growing in him and his powers growing more, so he spends the entirety of Boo trying to convince everyone he’s fine. He jokes, he smiles, he says stupid things. And for the most part it works. Jason, Leo, and Piper believe it easily, although Hazel and Frank are harder to convince. But he hates the knowing look in Annabeth’s eyes that barely hide that smallest look of fear.
After Tartraus he figures out all the things he can do. That he control the blood pumping through someone’s veins. That he can stop someone’s heart stop with the clench of his fingers. That he can make someone die in an explosion of red. The idea terrifies him as much as it exhilarates him.
He tries to keep his rapidly growing powers a secret which fails of course, because whenever he has a particularly bad nightmare the ground shakes. That now when he holds Annabeth’s hand he can feel the blood pulsing thickly beneath her skin, gravitating towards him as if he’s a magnet.
He trains with Chiron to help find control for several months.
He finds unexpected support from Nico di Angelo, who had gone through a similar thing after Tartarus.
He’s angrier often and snaps more easily. He purchases a punching bag and it helps him work through his aggression.
Percy and Annabeth go to Montauk for two weeks after the war is over, and he breaks down. Annabeth helps him through everything, saying how he can’t keep everything inside all the time.
Percy learns to control the darkness in him, and learns that while it may never go away, he will not be controlled by it.
People commonly clash on the subject of The Witching Hour. Some say midnight, others say three AM. It’s not. Not exactly, anyway. There is no specific time; it’s not even an hour really.
Usually it starts around one AM. Particularly if a friend’s over, and you’ve been talking for hours. “What’s the time?” one of you will ask. “One AM” the other will reply immediately, not looking at a watch or a phone- simply filled with the strange certainty that it is so.
Things stir at certain times. They stir at certain times. Midsummer. Solaces. The night before a full moon. A full moon is a thing of cold, beautiful light, much like fae themselves, but the night before is a thing of confusion and chaos. Something In Between.
If you’re unlucky to be awake when these moments correlate, feign sleep once you see strange, brief lights that flicker on your walls briefly, like shooting stars. Spirits are the first sign. Did you forget to re-do your salt and iron again? Something brushes your skin gently, just enough for you to think you felt something. But it can’t be a ghost. The Gentry, sure, but you’ve lived in this dorm for years and years (How?) and surely you’d know if it were haunted by now You’re only meant to be here for four years! A force pulls on the brace in your mouth and you Know it’s not the Good Neighbours but are you sure? For what you’ve learnt in your many years (two it’s only two not many only two) is not to trust them to be consistent. Are braces even iron?
They say time goes strange during these In Between days, and despite everything you know of Elsewhere Univercity, you refuse to believe time can mess up (you’ve been here longer than you should) because where would that leave us? Half-whispered rumors say never to open your eyes once you feel the warning signs in the night, lest the strange net of time ensnare you. The whisperers give you strange looks as you laugh it off, saying time is a set thing (none of these people started in the same year as you but they’re your age where are your friends where did they go) and nothing could change it.
The creatures that come on these times are stronger than grains of salt, the unanimous belief is. (a strange dark shape in the ever deepening blackness-) If you feel Their touch, do not flinch away for fear of offence (-a pulse racing far too fast-) nor open your eyes for fear of seeing what was not meant to have been seen. -eyes meeting yours and you freeze- Leave extra offerings on the inbetween days and you might be safe- (you forgot the cream you forgot the cream you forgot the cream) -if you’re lucky. Do not acknowledge Them, (A noise escaped your throat, like a mouse getting caught in the jaws of a cat) because if you do… well. You may find witching hour can last forever
Request by a wonderful anon! : “Hello can you please write a Jinyoung smut scenario :) it can be any plot you want. Thank you. Have a good day my dear <3″
^^ My original idea took me down a whole new path and I decided to turn it into a series. I hope you like it, my love!
Series Genre: AU/Smut/Fluff
Warnings: Adult content and language
Today was an extremely long day. Work was crazy lately as the current CEO had been forced out of the company for embezzling corporate funds. You and everyone else were pulling double time to compensate for the legal ramifications his actions had on the company. Plus, you were all going to be introduced to your new boss tomorrow so the level of stress in the office was high.
All you wanted to do was have a drink and unwind so you stopped off at the bar close to your apartment. You took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink.
You couldn’t help but feel as if you were being watched.
A/N: I only had one official request for it, but I kind of wanted to do it anyway. A follow-up to Accidental Snap. ;) @coveofmemories@sweetg
You’d decided on seven o’clock. That’s when you’d drive over to his place. Considering your clothes weren’t going to last very long anyway, you decided against them, instead draping a knee-length black trench coat over the deep pink-trimmed sheer lingerie you’d decided on.
Should you snap him? There were risks.
Once you took a picture, it had the opportunity to be out on the internet forever. But Spencer wasn’t the type to do anything with it. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t even know how to screenshot anything. Technology wasn’t his forte; he preferred the analog.
Before leaving the apartment, you opened the front of the trench coat to reveal your outfit in the mirror. Taking out your phone, you snapped a picture of yourself and sent it to Spencer, with the caption: “Do you like what you see?”
You’d barely closed up your coat and walked down the stairs when he snapped back. “Oh, dear god.”
Within 15 minutes, you’d arrived at his apartment, walking up the stairs on black-strappy heels and already ready for him. He’d said he’d wanted your mouth on him first - and you were more than happy to oblige.
“Hey,” you smiled, looking from side-to-side to make sure no one was there and opening your coat. “Do I look better in person or in the picture?”
Without a word, he pulled you inside, wrapping his arm around your waist inside the coat. Immediately, his lips found yours. You assumed you had your answer as his breath floated over your neck, the heat from him warming your cooled skin. “I thought you said you wanted my mouth on you first,” you cooed, gently nibbling up to just behind his ear. “I’ll gladly get on my knees.”
He grunted as you pushed him up against the wall and pulled down his pants in one quick movement. “To be honest, last night, this was the first thing that came to my mind,” you said, looking up at him and wandering dangerously closely to his arousal. “When I had my fingers in my pussy, I thought about having your cock in my mouth.” A satisfied thud resounded throughout the apartment as Spencer’s head fell back into the wall.
“Oh, god, Y/N,” he moaned. As his breathing became more labored, you skirted your hands around his member and near the top of his boxers, gently pulling them down as your mouth followed the movements of his undergarments. His boxers made their way down his legs, painstakingly slowly for him, and you looked up at him the entire time, until a soft thud alerted you to material hitting the floor. The image of the strained muscles in his neck was enough to cause wetness to pool in the boy shorts you wore.
Reaching inside to your slickness, you allowed it to coat your fingers, using it as lubricant. Gently at first, you wrapped your hands around his length - one at the base and one at the top, slowly gliding them both up and down in a fir grip. “Faster,” he whispered, barely audible above both of your labored breathing. As he asked, you picked up the pace, adding the occasional swipe of your tongue into the mix - each time causing a groan of pleasure to erupt from Spencer’s throat. Who knew the Boy Genius from the BAU could look so dirty? Now, you did.
When you felt him surge, you slowed your movements to a near standstill, waiting to get his attention again. He looked down at you slack-jawed, his face filled with a blush not normally worn by him as he tangled his fingers in your hair and brought you closer to where he wanted you. Although you wanted to devour him, make him scream for you, you took it slow - it was time for delicious torture.
Your thumb began to draw circles at the head of him while your tongue tasted the pre-cum that was dripping from him. “Delicious,” you said with a smile, his hands still in your hair. “More?”
“Yes…please,” he choked as his head fell back into the wall. By degrees, you sheathed him in your mouth, first bobbing up and down on the tip, and then taking more and more of him, until you nearly had all of him. You were about to pull away, start the process all over again, but instead, he subtly pushed your head forward, as he moved his hips forward.
For a few moments, you let him take control, thrusting inside of your mouth over and over again. “Oh my god. Holy fuck.”
“Is this what you were picturing last night?” you asked as you removed your mouth from him, stroking him instead with your fingers. “Were you picturing your cock sliding in and out of my mouth? How hard did you come when you thought about me?”
Although he tried to speak, no words came out. With a chuckle, you took him in your mouth again, bracing both hands on either side of the wall as you pushed yourself further onto him. Each movement brought a new feel, a new taste, until you were so overcome with your own pleasure that you allowed your right hand to drift beneath the scrap of material you were wearing.
When Spencer looked down, he could see what you were doing, simultaneously pleasuring yourself and him, and it nearly brought him over the edge. “Oh god, Y/N,” he grunted. “I’m going to…I’m…”
“Mmmhmm,” you mumbled, his cock still sliding in and out of your mouth. You wanted him too. It was what you had been thinking of last night and now it was your reality. With increased pressure, you pressed your fingers to your center, falling over the brink as you sheathed him entirely, his come rolling into your mouth in waves.
As you came to stand, you licked your lips, cleaning up the remnants of your act. “Delicious,” you said for the second time this evening. “Care to taste me now?”
“God yes,” he said, picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. “Right now.”
Google more or less confirms what Alfred suspected: merfolk don’t talk.
Sifting through the search engine long enough that he’s made uncomfortable by the sheer quantity of mer porn people have produced, Alfred realizes that not only do they not talk, but no one even talks about them talking. He suspected there would be some kind of conspiracy theory type forum for this sort of thing, but no. Not even crazy people are crazy enough to invent lies about this, which means that Alfred must be King Crazy to have experienced it.
It’s kind of really unsettling and Alfred’s sorely wishing he’d taken up a summer gig at the local radio station over doing this. He could be out in the sun getting live reactions to parking tickets, not stuck in some dank aquarium with a chatty fish filet.
It’s after hours again this time, but Alfred sits down on the side of the ledge near the merman’s tank rather than just throwing the fish in. He waits and he doesn’t have to wait very long.
The merman pops up after a minute or two, clearly curious about what his game is.
Alfred plucks a fish from the bucket and leans out with the wriggly thing in his gloved hand. “Here.”