#I remember when I got my first job at nineteen

[evansbby]

OMGGGG I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT STARDOLL😭😭 I remember my twin sister and I used to have competitions and make our younger siblings judge our outfits and whoever got the lowest score had to do the other ones chores😭😭

We also always used to begour parents to let us buy those exclusive items but they never let us💀💀

SAMEEE I wanted superstar membership so bad and I begged my parents but they never bought me it ajdjjsjaja

[wcters]

𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗚𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: y/n joins the triplets on the cut the camera podcast to talk about having a boyfriend who’s a triplet, social media, and hobby’s

warnings: dirty/sexual jokes, established relationship, swearing, sexual innuendos, not a warning but thank you @whoetoshaw for some inspiration. please check her out! i will probably make another one 🤍

“Good morning campers, welcome back to the cut the camera podcast. It’s your hosts Nick Sturniolo,” Nick introduced, “Matt Sturniolo,” Matt told the camera, “and Chris Sturniolo.” The boys finished. “And we have a special guest if you couldn’t hear her laughing at us, Matt’s girlfriend, Y/n!” Nick told the camera as it showed you in your seat, smile on your face as you waved. “Happy to be here.” You spoke to the camera. It then panned to Matt sitting his his seat with his cheeks turning pink. “We had to beg her for so long to feature in one of these.” Chris laughed, shifting his hat as he spoke into the mic. “We had to buy her a box of Diet Coke.” He deadpanned. You smiled in response.

“Okay, to be fair, I’m not a social media person. I think the only social media I have and use a lot is Instagram and Facebook.” The three boys laughed as you mentioned Facebook. “It’s for family members! My grandparents have a hard time figuring out social media apps. But either way, have Tiktok but don’t even remember the last time I posted on there.” You tried to think but nothing was popping up. “That brings me into the first question,” Chris interrupts you, “what’s it like dating an “influencer” as some would call us while you just ━━ quite recently actually ━━ made your accounts public?”

“━━ before you speak,” Nick interrupted as Chris gave him an annoyed look and Matt groaned. “Here he goes.” Matt whispered into the mic. “I was just going to say she should introduce herself!” He yelled in defense as he put his hands up. “Oh shit, true.” Chris gestured to you. “Hello everyone, I am Y/n and I am a friend of the triplets and Matt’s girlfriend.” You started to introduce. “I like how she said a friend of the triplets and not just Matt’s girlfriend.” Nick laughed. “You know it babe.” You replied, laughing in your seat. “Anyway, I am nineteen. I am from Canada, and moved to LA around two ━━ three years ago? Yeah. Sorry, what was the question before?” “See, Chris? She has manners. You need to learn some.” Nick teased. “Shut the fuck up. The question was what’s it like to date an influencer?” Chris asked. Matt turned his head toward you.

“I’m not really sure what it’s like to not date an influencer since Matt was like . . . my first “real boyfriend” you could say, but I would assume it’s similar to a relationship with a non-influencer. You do the same things: dates, sleepovers, movies, etc. But he’s away sometimes,” you shrug, “when you guys went on tour, Matt was away a lot and we had to do long distance for a bit. I think it was hard for both of us ━━”

“━━ more for me.”

“━━ but it’s what happens when you date someone as famous as you guys are. I know what I was getting into, same with the social media part. I knew I would be on camera sometimes, especially because you guys vlog and other things. You guys respected my want to be off camera and I remember, Matt was so worried when we got together because we really liked each other but social media was his job, but I was fine with that! Of course I would be.”

“I was so worried,” Matt breathed out, “like I had mentioned before that I did what I do and she had mentioned that she didn’t want to be online, but when it got serious I didn’t want for this whole thing to be ruined because of what I do, you know?” “Of course,” Nick butted in, “and especially hate that she could’ve gotten ━━ no offense Y/n.” You nodded, “none at all. Completely agree.” “You would’ve felt a little scared, no?” Matt and you nodded. “I didn’t, and don’t, want her to be effected negatively from it. I mean, it’s inevitable really, but still. I couldn’t help it, still can’t, I’m her boyfriend.” “I knew what I was getting into,” you spoke, “it’s what happens in most male celebrity, youtuber fan bases. You guys get hate too sometimes.”

Chris nodded. “I think me and Nick were a bit unsure too. We had known you for awhile and we liked you. We talked to Matt about it too. Just saying like “watch out for hate,” and “support her,” and shit like that. You didn’t need any help at all.” “Like I said, I knew what I was getting into. I have friends that are dating some popular content creators and we have talked about it before. That’s how I know what to experience and how to deal with it. Thank you ━━“ there was a bleep as you said her name “━━ love you to bits.”

“What is it like to be on the podcast?” The youngest boy asked, looking at his phone and then to you. “To be honest? It feels great. I have seen this set from when it was just an idea to it actually happing and it is truly amazing to see what these boys can do.” You we’re honest, these boys had such great ideas and it felt unreal to see them come true. “Matt, you have such a nice girlfriend.” A laugh that sounded more like a giggle came out of Matt’s mouth. “Thanks. She is.” He replied, moving the mic. There was laughing around the table.

“This would’ve been super awkward if you were like “no, I hate her!”” You joked. Nick put his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know what I would do if that actually happened.” “Well good thing I’m not going to say that.” Matt spoke, looking at his girlfriend. “Thanks. What a man everyone,” you clapped your hands, “get yourself someone like this guy over here.” You pointed to him.

“Yes!” Nick yelled, clapping too. “And, there’s two other brothers . . . but one is gay. He is still available? Boys? Hit that line. And Chris’s too,” you pointed to the long-haired brother, “it’s too often he tries to get into the bed with me and Matt because he hates sleeping alone.” You whispered into the mic. The camera moved to Matt nodding and then to Chris as he started to protest. “No! You’re just over too often. Stop hogging my brother. I slept with him first ━━ wait!” He puts his hands up. You moved your hand over you mouth in shock as Matt leaned his head against the table and Nick copied your movement. “Not like that! I meant we,” pointing to Matt, him, and Nick, “had sleepovers before you did.” “Bitch, don’t bring me into this.” Nick chimed in. “Real.” You agreed.

“Let’s just move on!” Your boyfriend suggested as he lifted his arms up. “What is like dating a triplet?” He asked. “It’s not that much from dating a regular guy, apart from the fact that either one of these kids is following him everywhere ━━ mostly Chris ━━“ which earned a “what?” from the guy “━━ and sometimes I’ll like . . . steal a sweater or some sweats or something from Matt and then I’ll just be on the couch and one of the boys will come in and be like “I’ve been looking for that” and it gets confusing.” You laughed. “But besides some of those confusions, it’s like dating a guy and having two best friends that come with him.” “A package deal.” Nick agrees. You snapped your fingers at him, “yes. Exactly like that. And it’s so fun. It can get annoying, but what’s any kind of relationship if you don’t get annoyed?” “Yeah guys. I may be annoying, but you still like me.” Chris jumped in. “Yeah, sometimes I doubt that.” “Me too.” The other brothers agreed. “That was so inspiring.” Nick said. “Thank you.” You did a fake bow in your seat.

“You also help keep the house clean since you practically live over at our house.” Matt added. “I do, I do. I literally have clothes and my skincare shit at you house. And a toothbrush ━━”

“━━ And a toothbrush.” Matt said at the same time. “It’s convient for sleepovers!” Nick explained. “And also because you do just live here. There have been so many times where I’ve knocked on Matt’s door and then opened it and Matt’s just playing games while you’re chilling in his bed.” You nodded, shrugging. It was true. “Dude ━━ I have gone to wake up Matt for the day and I won’t even notice she’s there until I hear her move or some shit cause she’s all up under the blankets. Surprised you’re even under the blankets with Mr. Blanket stealer over here.” Chris points to Matt as Nick nodded his head and you laughed.

“I just tug em’ back. Or he just grabs me. This kid . . . I swear it’s like I’m never close enough.” “I just run hot you’re always cold.” Matt retaliated. “You run hot because you steal all the blankets!” Nick yelled. “I feel sorry for Chris every time you guys have to share a bed.” “Do you really though?” The boy in question asked. “. . . Not really, no. I like my blankets. Maybe you can teach him to share Y/n.” “I will certainly try.”

“And she can teach you fuckers to clean,” Matt retorted, “every time I go into your room it’s like I am walking through a morgue.” After he finished there was a “hey!” from Chris and a “that’s not true!” from Nick. “Keep me out of this.” You held your hands up in defense. “I will clean what I need to.” “She’s like a second mom.” Chris compared. “Don’t say that. That’s weird.” Matt muttered into the mic. “Yeah, this is like the same argument as the use of mommy and daddy.” Nick agreed. “Now, you just made it weird,” Chris pointed at Nick. “How about we move on so we can stop this from getting even weirder.” Matt clapped his hands.

“Yes. Next question. You watch our videos I would assume?” Nick asked. “Of course, who would I be if I didn’t?” You replied. “Period.” Chris replied. Nick gave him a side eye, “anyway . . . How do you feel that people are writing fan fiction about your boyfriend?” You covered your mouth with your hand. “What?” Matt asked, looking scared. “You guys are going to hate me for this.” You spoke. “You didn’t make one about Matt did you?” Chris joked. “No! I wasn’t that weird. But a canon event in every girls childhood ━━ and I mean every single one - was writing or at least reading fan fiction. Brittany Broski is so real for talking about it. Me? It was the guy who played in Doctor Who. The 2000s one.” “David Tennant?” “Yes. I was an avid Wattpad user. You could catch me on there every fucking day dude. I think I still have my account.”

A scream filled the room as everyone looked at Nick. “We have to find it and go through it. But . . . I still can’t believe you used Wattpad.” “Dude, ask any mentally unstable female girl and I promise you, she will tell you she did. I don’t use it anymore, but I was obsessed.” “Are the videos awkward to you because you used to write shit or no?” Chris jumped in. “A little bit. I mean, it must feel weird getting fan fiction written about anyone. But I think because I’ve been in that spot and writing it that I understand a bit more,” you admitted, “the videos are great ━━ like every video of yours is - and it’s so funny to see your reaction.” “We need to bring you sometime if you’re up for it.” Matt suggested. “Maybe?” You shrugged, dragging the word out. “It would be super funny.” Nick commented. “Oh for sure, but I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to that phase in my life.” You grimaced.

“Hashtag trauma.” Chris responded. “Please never say that again,” Nick murmured. Matt agreed with a “that was so cringey.” “Really though,” you laughed, “you get it.” Chris got up from his seat and high-fived you. “Have you guys ever read fan fiction outside of filming?” “Oh, switcharoo question. I mean, I have to check and find stories and make sure we don’t get demonetized. I don’t know about these two.” Nick answered first. “I haven’t, but I find it weird that Matt has wattpad downloaded . . . And that he asked people to send some to him.” Chris spoke. “It’s not like that!” Matt yelled, putting his face in his shirt. “Matt, honey. It’s fine.” You joked. “Oh my god.” His voice was muffled from the sweatshirt.

“Is that how you got into reading like . . . Actual books?” Nick asked you. “Not really. I’ve been a reader since I learned to read, but it probably had some effect on my reading.” You responded. “I read a lot now, too. Like if you guys are filming I’ll just hangout im Matt’s room or something and read.” “She’s always reading.” Matt said into the mic. “No actually. We could be getting picked up by Matt and this kid is in the passenger seat with a book in her hand. How can you even read in the car?” Chris blurted. “I actually don’t get car sick. I think I’ve been car sick once. I sleep in the car too. And I have the best naps in the car. It’s just something puts me to sleep. I’m not sure what.” You explain. “But yeah, I do read a good amount. I’ve got Matt to read a little too. Chris would you ever read?” “Probably not,” he answered,” just have too much going on. And no offence, but if I have time off I’m not going to sit down and read. There’s so many other things I could do.” You nodded your head, “to each their own.” “I’ll like nap or something. I feel like we’re all avid nappers.” Chris asked.

“No, totally. I love napping.” Matt answered. “Me too.” Nick agreed. “I’ll only get up if I have to.” “I’ll only get up if Y/n gets up or if Chris wakes me up. There’s not a lot that will get me up. Except if I need to pee or we have something that day.” Matt added on. “It’s true,” you nodded, “he will not let me go. And if I get up, he will get up and pull me to the couch if I’m not already on it and just lay there.” Your boyfriend nodded. “Hey, at least you have a personal pillow.” Chris added on. You nodded again. “You should by lucky? You know how many girls would want Chris to do that?” The blonde boy continued. Chris made a weird face. “Hey guys, make a fan fiction about it.” Matt looked at the camera. “No!” Chris yelled, slapping Matt’s finger that was pointing to the camera. “I’m just kidding, I don’t really care as long as they’re not super weird and gross.” “Cheers to that.” Nick agreed.

“On this note, I think we should wrap it up.” Nick announced. “That was today’s episode, it was amazing. Everyone thank Y/n for coming on the podcast.” Chris faced you, speaking into the mic. “It was an absolute pleasure. I would love to come back if you would have me.” You thanked them. “Of course. We won’t let you leave.” The blonde boy joked. “Just kidding, but still, thank you for coming on and we will see you guys next time. Bye!” Everyone waved to the different cameras before it showed you in your seat with Matt sitting next to you. “He’s secretly clingy.” You said before the camera shut off.

[ghost-bxrd]

okay so this is an idea I’ve seen brought up maybe once before, but maybe Jason (before the Bats find out who he is) accidentally lets something slip that makes them realize that he’s literally, like, a child (seventeen, sixteen, I’m not sure how old he is at that point exactly, but either works)

and Bruce “adoption addiction” Wayne promptly looks at this obviously traumatized teenager and decides that he should adopt Red Hood.

I just think Jason would be so confused (maybe a little pissed too)

I’ve touched on that a little bit in What you’re longing for (you claim to abhor)!

I think this trope is wayyy underrated. Like, Jason is still so, so young. Basically a child. Even if he died at sixteen and then spent two years with the league (even if we’re counting the time he spent dead as aging). He’s barely even legal when he returns to Gotham. Or if we’re being generous let’s say he’s nineteen.

Doesn’t matter, he’s barely out of his teens (maybe he’s still IN his teens if you bend the timeline of your fic a little) and he’s experienced horrors that would have most people become utterly unable to function. But Jason? That boy takes his trauma and channels it into anger. Which, not exactly healthy, but well.

Anyway, getting off topic:

YES. Jason is still basically a kid when he debuts as the Red Hood, and you know what else he is? A good boy who’s not gonna touch any alcohol until he’s officially 21.

“But why would he do that? He grew up in Crime Alley! Ain’t nobody got time for age limitations!”

Hear me out! Let’s assume he grew up in a household where his father, Willis Todd, drank quite a lot on the regular in addition to his mom’s addiction. Jason experienced the aftermath of this (perhaps domestic violence?) every time his dad returned from a job/jail and he grew to loathe any and all substances, including alcohol. Knowing Jason and his convictions it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume he’d never touch a single drop of alcohol at all.

So that’s one way he could slip up while taking to his goons (and having the bats overhear) or even straight up talking to one of them where maybe Dick banters a bit and goes “Hey, perhaps you should chill out a bit. Have a drink maybe” and Jason just instinctively goes “Fuck you Dickwing, I’m seventeen/eighteen/nineteen! I’m not allowed to drink!”

And Dick just— bluescreens. And immediately goes to tell Bruce, obviously.

OR

The Bats assume Jason is this old guy (Bruce’s or Drathstroke’s age maybe) and consequently they keep alluding to things that happened way before Jason was ever even born and at first he’s so? Confused??? But eventually it just gets really annoying and eventually he just— snaps.

“How the fuck would I know which Nokia gen hit the market that year? I was born in fuckin’ XXXX, I’m an iPhone kid!”

“Stop referencing the Cold War dipshit, I’m fucking seventeen! I’m glad I remember my own damn birthday!”

“I don’t know, I was like— two back then.”

Bruce, obviously, would take .1 seconds to realize:

“Omg. That’s- that’s a whole child. That’s a whole damn TRAUMATIZED child, killing people and sawing off heads. Omg someone must have hurt him so bad. Don’t worry tho, son, Batman’s got you. You won’t have to hurt anybody ever again. We’re here for you. Would you like the room next to Tim’s or Dick’s?”

Meanwhile Jason: “what the fuck”

[maahzz]

— I'm Yours

MariaHill X FReader

Summary: When you return from a mission with some injuries your girlfriend will see you, and what was supposed to be a conversation, some lectures and hugs ends up becoming something more.

Warnings: age gap (legal), oral sex (r receives), fluff, romantic.

Author's note: English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.

You came back from a mission with a big wound, bruises and a split lip. Sitting on a bed in the medical, her attention was drawn to the beautiful woman who entered.

— I heard you got hurt.

gave an awkward smile, — Yes, it's a gunshot wound. At first I didn't even realize it, the pain only really came after the adrenaline wore off.

Maria sighs and sits down on a chair next to the bed — You need to be more careful. — Maria says, she seems upset, she always gets like that when you get hurt. It's her job to protect and love you, and when you get hurt she feels like she failed. You've already lost count of how many times she tried to make you give up going on missions and convince you to work inside the base, alongside her.

— I know... — you say and look at her with a small smile, she nods and smiles at you and then remains silent for a few seconds, looking at the report that was on the table next to her bed, already tired you decide to break the silence — At least the mission was successful, we got the data we needed.

She smiles again and nods, looking a little more relaxed when she sees how well you look, — You did good... and I'm proud of you.

She gets out of the chair and comes to you, — let me see... — She examines you carefully, she looks into your eyes and then to her mouth — more specifically to her bruised lip — she runs her hands over your arms where there is a large bruise and you know what she's thinking.

— It was nothing, don't worry.

— I hate that. — she murmurs and becomes quiet again and then she just pulls you close, giving her a small hug and kissing your forehead — My beautiful little girl, you are too good...

You smile, but then your expression changes, — Not a little girl, I'm nineteen… I'm already a woman. — She looks at you and smiles, giving you another kiss, this time on the cheek and sarcastically murmuring "of course."

You enjoy the feeling of your girlfriend's affection and wrap your arms around her neck — I love you, old lady.

She laughs — I'm thirty-three... I'm not old, I'm just experienced. — You laugh at her and she looks at you seriously, but she also pulls you closer and gives you another kiss, but this time on her lips. It's passionate and she doesn't release it this time, she just stays like that for a few seconds.

You return the kiss with the same passion, her hand goes down from your cheek to your neck, Maria looks at you and smiles, she climbs on top of you and starts kissing you intensely and you can feel your pulse increase. You close your eyes and enjoy her kisses and the feeling of her warm breath on your mouth, she stays in that position, kissing you passionately. Slowly she lowers her lips to her neck, you feel her tongue touching your skin as she kisses and nibbles gently. You let out a light moan as her tongue caresses your neck, briefly separating from you, she carefully takes off your shirt, leaving your sports bra visible. Carefully she lies completely on top of you, the feeling of her chest — still covered — touching you is electrifying.

You briefly remember where you are, and how embarrassing it would be if someone walked in and saw the erotic scene that was unfolding — Isn't it dangerous to do that in the infirmary? — you asked, your voice came out trembling and accompanied by a groan.

— Probably... But who cares? — Maria looks at you with a raised eyebrow, she clearly doesn't care. And she soon goes back to kissing your neck, leaving some marks as she caresses your boobs over her bra. She stays like that for a few seconds until she separates from you and with your help frees your beautiful boobs from the damn bra.

Without wasting time, Maria wraps her mouth around her right boob while massaging the other. You just enjoy the feeling while letting out moans. Maria leaves her right breast and then goes to the left. — Maria loved yours boobs, she loved to delight in them. She also liked her moans, they were like music to her, music that made her very excited.

you start breathing faster and faster, finishing with your boobs, Maria removes her shirt and all you do is admire her. Maria leaves a trail of kisses and hickeys across your belly, making you increasingly hot and wet. She then moves away from you a little and looks into your eyes, she smiles — Do you want me to stay down here? I bet you're all wet. — she says while playing with the hem of your pants. You try to speak but the words won't come out, so you just nod, your heart is beating fast and you feel your cheeks burning.

— Use words, Princess. — Maria looks at you and waits for your answer, she waits for words, not just a simple nod, but a real answer.

— Y-yes… — Maria smiles again. Now that she has permission, she undoes the buttons on your pants and takes them off your body, revealing your black panties with a damp stain on them. Maria doesn't hide her smile, she starts kissing and slowly nibbling the inside of your thighs, you place your hands on her head, your fingers caressing the back of her neck as you try to guide her to the right place.

— Such a needy little girl… — she murmurs while playing with the hem of your panties.

— Maria, p-please.. — you couldn't take it anymore, you were thirsty for your girlfriend's touch.

Being as thirsty as you are, Maria takes off your panties and fitting between your legs, she stares at your wet pussy. You moan when you feel the touch of her tongue on your pussy, she looks up, trying to meet her eyes and then smiles. — You like that, don't you? — she says and goes back to sucking you. She moans with pleasure at the of you taste.

You can't help yourself, your moans getting louder and louder, you start to breathe harder and close your eyes enjoying the feeling of her mouth on your clit, you can feel it, it's great, you just want her to keep doing it forever. Maria sucks your clit hard, and you feel your pussy tighten, you need more, much more.

— Maria… I-I need you.

Maria licks your pussy one last time before pulling away, and, looking into your eyes, she brings her face closer to yours and brings your lips together in a quick kiss. — My girl needs me, hm? Do you want my fingers stretching your pussy? Is this what my girl wants? — she says as she teases you, running her fingers lightly over your folds.

— Yes, lov- — your sentence was interrupted by a moan, you were taken by surprise by Maria who, without even a warning, put two fingers inside you. You were tight, but very wet, which made Maria's job easier, your pussy swallowed her fingers perfectly. Her moans became louder as Maria moved in and out of you, she brought yours lips together, muffling your sounds. Maria alternated speed, driving you crazy.

Maria moved her lips away and placed her forehead against yours trying to catch her breath, both with your eyes closed and again without warning, Maria added a third finger. You felt your walls tightening and you hugged Maria, in the process you left some marks, but she didn't care. Increasing the speed, she felt you were almost there, and skillfully she used her thumb to rub your clit. With that it didn't take long for you to reach the peak, your breathing quickening along with your heartbeat. A heat and a tremor rose through your body, the feeling of pleasure took over you as your fluid, whitish and thick liquid took over Maria's fingers.

After a few seconds, Maria removes her fingers from you and takes them to her mouth, sucking your sweet cum, she moans at your taste and then kisses you, making you taste yourself. Panting, you smile, after the difficult mission it that was all you needed. Not only you, but Maria too, she was addicted to you and loved taking you to the extreme. She felt more pleasure giving pleasure than receiving it.

Maria walks away and collects your clothes that were scattered around and hands them to you. — What do you think about a second round?... In a more suitable location.. — Maria makes the proposal with a mischievous smile and you smile back. this definitely wasn't going to end anytime soon.

[artyandink]

Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen

Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

(divider credits go to cafekitsune)

A/N - Feedback is my fuel ❤️

three - landslide

PREVIOUSLY ON LMF:

I looked down at my hands, the hands that could’ve stopped everything, stopped her suffering, the hands that were only a flight of stairs and a trip down the hall away. My ignorance at the time was crippling. The cruel thought that Lucy was safe and sound. It resulted in Olivia losing her mom and everything she knew, and having to live with her auntie.

Not that I’m not the best option, but if I’d picked up my metaphorical magnifying glass and looked closer, I’d see. See that things were wrong. Someone was after her, I didn’t know who, but one psycho was out to kill her, and succeeded.

The one of many times someone’s success felt like it twisted my heartstrings. The worst success.

I remembered the desperation that I had when I first investigated Lucy’s murder. The wild look I had in my eyes when I spotted myself in the mirror, and then one like a wounded animal when I wound up battered in a hospital. I didn’t want to go through that again. Not the false hope that I’d get somewhere. I didn’t need it, I didn’t want it, I couldn’t handle it. I’d possibly go feral if I found out the truth, but all the same, Lucy needed me. It was always me and her. When she was nineteen and I was eleven , not wanting to let her go because she was everything I had and more.

I hadn’t had that stable of a home life growing up. My dad cheated on my mom with his secretary and left her when I was three. Mom did the next best thing to dealing with the loss of her husband, which was filling herself brain high with any booze she could find. Lucy had taken the job of taking care of me, and she did a damn good job at it. Even got rewarded with an apple pie, white picket fence life to boot. I couldn’t have been happier for her, because she deserved every bit of happiness she got.

Even if I didn’t want to deal with the inevitable pain of investigating into my sister’s murder, I owed it to her. I needed to bring whoever killed her to justice.

I reached for my phone, dialling the first person that came to mind who’d help me with this case. I bit my lip, jogging my leg as I waited for him to pick up. ‘Hey, darlin’.’ I heard Beau’s voice from the other end, cherry as ever. ‘What can I do for ya?’

“Hey, Sheriff.” I breathed out, looking at the cassette player with stony eyes. “What d’you say to reopening a cold case?”

I slammed a dusty, yet rather small, file down on my desk, with Jenny and Beau gathered around it. “This is what I have from six years ago. My sister, found by me in the backyard, eleven stab wounds in her chest. Cameras were off, no prints, killer didn’t go through the garden as there were no prints. It rained that night, so footprints were washed away.”

“Tough case, huh?” Beau sighed, folding his arms. “No prints, no murder weapon at the scene- the killer ain’t giving you much to work with.”

“No kidding.” Jenny looked over the case files. “Lucy didn’t have any enemies, by what this file says.”

“She didn’t.” I shook my head, sitting on the table. “Luce, she was… an angel, to say the least. Kind to everyone, always optimistic. I’ll be damned if anyone hated her.”

“No motive.” Beau muttered, looking up at me with slightly raised eyebrows. “Could this just be a random crazed psycho?”

“No.” I shook my head again, rubbing my chin. “Can’t be. Whoever it was knew how to get inside the house and through to the back. Only somebody who knew Lucy could do that. Somebody I know or someone she knew murdered her, and I ain’t resting until I find them.”

“Do we at least have any leads?” Jenny rubbed her forehead, looking over to me. “Any at all?”

“The cassette.” I shrugged. “It’s the last thing she left to me, and judging by the sounds behind the voice, it’s Lucy’s 42nd birthday party. I remember it, Mark was doin’ bad karaoke in the living room.”

“So this is essentially a note, but no suicide involved.”

“Somebody was sending threats.” Beau figured out, pointing at the case file with his pencil. “Think about it. Her voice ain’t exactly chirpy in that recording. Maybe a threat was sent, that she was gonna die soon.”

“A necklace.” My head perked up, my fingers snapping. “One of ‘em, it contained a raven’s feather. Or some of it. Lucy was a folklore major.”

“So she’d know it symbolises death and/or loss.” Jenny added, nodding. “That’s a start.”

“That also narrows it down.” Beau nodded, all of us going into a rhythm. “Somebody had to know she’d understand this reference, which also means someone close to her- good work, Belle.” He patted my knee proudly, giving me a broad smile. “At least you’re closer than you were before.”

“Hold on, though.” I held up a hand, frowning as a thought piqued my interest. “If that’s the case, if Lucy wanted to warn me… why now? Why at Olivia’s sweet sixteen?”

“Maybe it was something personal, something important to her.” Jenny shrugged, running a hand through her hair. “Maybe she wanted Olivia’s sixteenth to go smoothly, as if some threat would resurface at that time.”

“That’s what’s stumping me. Which person who we both know would possibly wanna harm my sister? Me, I’d understand, I don’t get on with everyone, but Lucy? Doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Is Lucy’s phone still kept safe?” Beau asked, deep in thought. “Maybe there’s some voicemails on there.”

“I’ll have to dig them up.” I replied before hearing a ping on my phone. I took it out, seeing the name lighting up on the screen, which made my eyes widen. I hadn’t seen this name in ages, not since eleven years. Not since I was 29, and I don’t know why I saved the number.

“Who is it, darlin’?” Beau frowned slightly, his lips also pouting imperceptibly as his eyes flickered down to my phone.

“Again with the darlin’?” Jenny chastised, and he let out a small noise in protest. My eyes were glued to my screen, trying to figure out if I was seeing things right. Jenny confirmed for me, snatching the phone out of my hand and taking a look at it, her eyes widening when she saw the name. “Cal Joyner.”

“The cheating dad Cal Joyner?”

“Yeah.” I nodded breathily. “He’s… here. In Montana.”

“Your dad in town, the cassette tape, this can’t be a coincidence. If it is, I’ll eat my hat. And trust me,” He chuckled deeply, “I love my hat.”

“There’s also how you can’t eat a hat.” Jenny contradicted with a judging look.

“I’m the sheriff, Hoyt, I will eat my hat if I damn well please.”

“Right, let’s get off the subject of eating hats.” I interrupted with a snicker. “I’ll talk to Cassie, see if I can get her and Denise to maybe research into possible news stories surrounding Lucy’s death. Maybe also get them to help with figuring out why my deadbeat dad is in town. You guys maybe look through the case files or whatever you can scavenge, see if you can find anything worthwhile.” I raised an eyebrow, looking between them expectantly. “Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I didn’t find Denise at the desk in Dewell and Hoyt HQ, so I went straight to Cassie’s office, knocking before opening the door to find… Cassie and Cormac mid-make out. They jumped apart, wiping their lips while Cassie got off the desk, trying to act as if nothing happened.

Well, it’s not everyday that you catch two grown ass people making out on a frickin’ desk.

“Woah, Cassie, get some.” I teased, leaning against the doorframe with a grin. “You too, Cormac, haven’t forgotten you. Montana’s Thor Odinson- now, would you be a stud and give Cass and I a mo’?”

“Gladly.” Cormac hurried out, and I closed the door behind him, turning to Cassie with s as chuckle.

She opened her mouth to speak, but I waved her off. “Beau and Jenny won’t hear a thing.”

“Thank you.” She smiled in relief, breathing out with her hand on her chest.

“You’re welcome. Now, we have a bit of a problem.” I frowned, running a hand through my hair. “We’re reopening my sister’s case.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Indeed. We’ll need all the info we can get from you and Denise on the matter. My dad’s in town too, so I’ll have to see what’s up with that.”

“Wait- Cal Joyner?” Cassie raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “Cheated on your mom, left when you were three Cal Joyner?”

“The very same.” I nodded, making a face that said I was feeling awkward. You lot can put that to your imagination. “Yeah, so I have to find out why he’s in town now when evidence from my sister’s case has suddenly resurfaced.”

“I’ll get on that with Denise.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry I interrupted your getting on with Cormac.” I winked with a smirk, unfazed when she looked at me in exasperation.

“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” She sighed.

“No, absolutely not.”

I was sitting on my living room couch at midnight, flicking through my photo album of when I was growing up. Lucy’s broad smile and shining eyes when she saw baby me in Mom’s arms just after I was born. Another my first birthday, and Lucy was helping me blow out the candles. Lucy’s eleventh birthday, the last time Lucy was innocent and unassuming before Dad made off with his mistress. Lucy’s sweet sixteen, where she celebrated with Dean, her current best friend, me, a couple of family members and friends, including Mark, who was our next door neighbour’s son at the time. It was safe to say that Mark had always harboured a deep seated jealousy of Dean.

My eyes landed on a photo of Harry and I at a bar, and my heart felt like it was breaking all over again. The guy’s brunette hair and laughing brown eyes had always pierced my heart in a way that I couldn’t fathom. It hurt to know that those eyes didn’t look at me the way they used to anymore.

Harry was the first and last relationship I had after my sister was killed. After the car crash and I was in a bad place, which I labelled as the ‘withdrawal symptoms’ of stopping my investigation, I found him in an unexpected collision in a mall. He brightened everything somehow, made me feel like the only girl in the world until I found a text in his phone along with a very inappropriate picture.

Rhea: See you tonight, handsome ;)

I couldn’t help but think that he was just pitying me, pretending so he’d get the satisfaction that he helped someone to some extent. But here I was, moping over a guy like I was some hormonal teenager rather than a mature 40 year old. For a relationship that didn’t even feel real at this point.

After that point, I’d sworn off love and men entirely, instead deciding to focus on Olivia. The beautiful little girl who was my last blood reminder of my sister. Well, the last morally sound reminder. For the first three years, in the pursuit of my sister’s murderer, I’d neglected what I really needed to preserve. So I’d set up a rule - that men weren’t my priority.

“Aunt Isa?” Olivia was at the door to the living room, rubbing her eyes tiredly. I sat up, frowning as I saw her looking exhausted but freaked.

“Yeah, sweetheart? It’s late; are you ok?” I asked softly, my motherly instincts kicking in as I saw her trembling slightly. I didn’t wait for a response, setting the album aside and opening my arms. “C’mere, darlin’.” She hurried over, curling up in my arms. I held her tight to me, stroking her hair as I rubbed her back, my chin resting on her head as I let her calm down a bit. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Nightmare. About mom’s death.”

“You didn’t see your mom dyin’, sweetie.” I kissed her hair lovingly. “It wasn’t real.”

“I imagined it. Filled in the blanks, and it was like I was watching.” I heard her voice tremble, which broke my heart at every quiver. I hated seeing my baby girl upset.

“Oh, Liv.” I whispered, kissing her forehead. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry you had to imagine that.”

“Is this how you felt?” She questioned timidly, looking up at me, her blue eyes pleading me to be honest. “When you… when you found her?”

I paused, thinking about it. “If I was to describe it, it’d be like my world’s walls were fallin’ down. It was that, plain and simple. Your mom, she was an angel. Like you, she never truly got mad, she cared no matter what you did, she gave a lot of credit where it ain’t due. She took care of me even when I was your age and mopin’ about for no apparent reason, even though she worked a job. She couldn’t be more prouder of you, wherever she is.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” I nuzzled my cheek on her head. “You’re such a beautiful girl, Liv. So smart, and kind, I know for a fact that if your mother was here, she’d never wanna let you go.” I stroked her hair, remembering Lucy. Her smile, her laugh, her tendency to call everyone ‘love’ because she had a damn lot to give herself, her frightened voice when making the tape…

I couldn’t focus on that. Instead, I hugged Olivia tight, focusing on her. She needed to feel safe. Deserved to feel safe, and that was what I could do for her. I started to softly sing the song that Lucy sang Liv when she was a baby, gently rocking her. It was Landslide, by Fleetwood Mac.

“I took my love, I took it down, I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills 'til the landslide brought me down...”

I was sitting in Jenny’s kitchen with Beau and Jenny, of course, the latter busy making lunch since I’d handled our breakfast. I was, again, scrolling on my Instagram, most of my feed Harry and Rhea the redhead. The guy even had the audacity to tag me in a photo, which I didn’t respond to or react to. Beau’s eyes followed mine, locking on the screen with a frown. “That’s Harry the jackass. Why are you lookin’ at photos of Harry the jackass?”

“He’s with the redhead he cheated on me with. Rhea.” I explained with a sigh, and he snatched the phone, not giving me time to protest as he looked at Rhea with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he smirked, nodding.

“I see the appeal.” He chuckled, looking at me playfully. Jenny gasped in horror, swatting his arm while I looked at him incredulously, taken aback by his audacity. “I mean, she’s gorgeous-”

“Beau!” Jenny scolded while I looked away, starting to internally panic. He… thought Rhea was gorgeous? Did he really? Was Harry justified in leaving me because I wasn’t good enough?

“I’m messin’ with you!” Beau raised his hands in surrender, taking another look at the photo before handing my phone back to me. “Sweetheart, Harry the jackass doesn’t even know who he’s lost. This Rhea girl? Doesn’t even hold a candle to you. She’s an LA three, or a Texas one. You are a ten in both worlds, darlin’. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.” I sighed in relief, rubbing my face. Jenny patted Beau’s shoulder, giving him a look that said ‘I was about to rip your head off’. “You got me there for a second.”

“I got Hoyt too.”

“Yes, he did.” Jenny nodded, glaring playfully at Beau. “If you’d said that truthfully, no joking, I’d rain down hellfire.”

“Well, I’m glad I was just poking some fun.” Beau smirked, then patted my knee. “You’re gorgeous, Southern Belle. Ain’t no messing around there.”

I was about to smile and give him a compliment back, but I got a call from Cassie, and I picked it up, putting it to my ear. “Talk to me, Cassie.” I said, taking a breath out while a small chuckle threatened to escape my mouth.

‘Hey. Uh, Cormac just spotted your father at the Blue Fox Diner.’

“Cormac, huh?”

‘Yes. Now, we’re keeping an eye on him, but you should get over here quick.’

“Gotcha.” I nodded, then cut the call, turning to Beau. “Sheriff, can I have you as backup? So I don’t blow up at my dad?”

“Yeppers, let’s go meet the man who ruined your life so I can make him feel guilty.” He stood up, slinging his jacket over his shoulders.

“Beau, as be nice as you can.” Jenny chastised, but he shrugged.

“Sorry, Hoyt, no can do. If she hates him,” Beau made finger guns at me, “then I hate him.” He turned the finger guns on himself. “Can’t help it, it’s principle. Now, c’mon, Belle. Let’s meet this dude.”

I walked into Blue Fox diner, Beau rubbing his hands in excitement. “D’you mind if I get one of them there sandwiches?” He looked like a giddy schoolboy, and I rolled my eyes with a smile and nodded. Beau was always a sucker for Donno’s sandwiches. As he practically skipped off to get one, I found Donno staring at me. I locked eyes with him, then he broke into a small smile.

“Elle.” He said in a deadpan voice that did not match his face, but I’d come to know over the past two months that Donno was a lot more compassionate than he let on.

“Donno.” I grinned, feeling more at ease. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too.” His eyes went down to my stomach, where I found that my hand was resting protectively over my healing bullet wound. “You were shot.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you ok?”

“I was shot, good eye.” I nodded, chuckling as I looked down at my feet. “But hey, I’m doing fine. Healing.”

“Good. I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Then he pointed to a booth, where a balding man was sitting. “That’s your dad. If you’re looking for him.”

I gave him a genuine smile, my eyes furtively glancing to that booth. “Thanks, Donno.”

“You and Sheriff. You make a good couple.”

I didn’t really know what to say to that. “Uh… thank you, but we’re not a couple.” And with the awkwardness now in play, I turned on my heel and met up with Beau, who was now holding a sandwich and munching on it. I nudged him, nodding to the booth which Donno had led me to, and he clocked Cal instantly. His eyes narrowed, and he swallowed his bite as we sat down. “Cal Joyner.”

“Can I help you?” He asked, looking between Beau and I with a confused expression.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen, sir.” Beau introduced coldly, his eyes steely as he looked at my father with pure disdain in his eyes. I’d mentioned my family history to him, which made him have a deep seated hatred with my dad.

“Deputy Isabelle Joyner.” I added, which, as expected, made Cal’s eyes widen as he sat up straighter, a wide grin cracking on his face.

“Isabelle?” He whispered, tilting his head as he scanned me. “You’re… oh, God. It’s really you. My little girl.”

“Back up for a moment, cowboy, I’m not here for a family reunion.” I frowned, drumming on the table with my fingers. “I’m here to know why you’re in town. My last contact with you was eleven years ago, and that was on a voice call.”

“It was my granddaughter’s sixteenth birthday.” He excused, looking at me incredulously while his fingers played with his collar, and I locked on the mannerism immediately. “I had to visit, right? But this town’s so big, i-it’s hard to find anybody-”

“You’re lying.” Beau pointed out, expression unchanging. Cal turned to him with an outraged expression.

“Excuse me, young man?”

“Flattered, but I’m forty. Ain’t that young.”

“He’s right, Cal. You’re lying.” I frowned, my fingers still tapping out an insistent rhythm on the table. After all these years, he’d had a character arc going from scumbag to scumbag.

“Isabelle.” Cal gasped in disbelief. “Cupcake, you’ll believe this man over your father?”

“Not to be cheesy, but this man is one of the most noble men I know, so I’m sure I can trust him over a man who’s been out of my life for thirty seven years.” Cal was ready to convince me otherwise, but I held up my hand. “You’re fiddling with your collar. First sign of anxiety and possible lying. Big Sky is rather a small place, everyone knows everyone, so I don’t see how it would take you long to find me. Third, defensiveness. Trying to detach me from someone I trust- so tell me, how can I trust you?”

“You can’t.” He whispered, but his eyes, which I shared (to my disgust), looked into mine with a silent plea. Which I ignored.

“There it is. The one thing I couldn’t do and never did: trust you.” I scoffed, and Beau leaned forward, taking the lead.

“See here, Mr Joyner, you are Belle’s father, and I will respect you that much, but a lot’s happened that somehow coincides with your arrival.” He explained with a low, intimidating tone. I glanced towards him, taking in his set jaw and raised finger. “Now, you’re gonna tell your daughter why you came back after all this damn time or we’re gonna find out usin’ methods that you won’t approve of, ie hard questioning and digging into the evidence we have, which I bet will uncover some nasty secrets.”

“It’s good that you elaborated.”

“Yeah, it is. Now, Mr Joyner, you need to speak up before we find out ourselves.” Before Cal could reply, we heard a loud bang and a scuffle, and when my head turned, I saw Donno wrestling a guy with a gun to the ground. Beau turned to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Stay put.”

“You know I can’t do that.” I protested, reaching for my own holster, but he grabbed my wrist with a warning look. I wanted to argue, but I knew what he was insinuating. I wasn’t healed yet, so I couldn’t fight.

“Stay. Put.” He then pulled out his gun, holding it up at the assailant. “Sheriff’s department, hands where I can see ‘em!” My eyes were locked on him, ready to jump in and help if need be while Donno was growling at the man for almost pulling a gun on me. I saw Tonya getting up from her chair, pointing behind me with a gasp.

“Elle!” She cried out, looking terrified. “Behind you!” I whipped around only for my head to snap back around, the muzzle of a gun connecting with my temple. My vision went blurry as my head spun, but I could make out an unfamiliar figure in the haze that I instantly tackled blindly, collapsing onto the floor in an undignified heap coupled by what felt like a gigantic needle through the hole in my stomach. I coughed for a moment, my hand covering the area as I was roughly rolled onto my back amid the struggle between Donno, Beau and the assailant. I managed to make out the silver glint of a knife, so I quickly crossed my forearms over one another and held them over my face so I could catch it just in time.

After what was a struggle for a few seconds, the guy seemed to have a change of heart, throwing the knife aside and getting me in the temple again with a gloved fist this time.

Neither of them felt great.

I heard Cal protesting against something, and Beau’s shouts as the former was seemingly roughly dragged away, my vision going from blurry to borderline black as I tried to recall… what the guy looked like. I could remember… grey hair, possibly Mexican… or Hispanic… strong… build… 6’ 4”…

“Belle! Stay with me, damn it! This is Sheriff Arlen, I need paramedics and backup…”

LMF TAGLIST:

@deans-spinster-witch @hobby27 @nancymcl @winharry

Let me know if you want to join the taglist, and do reblog or comment with your feedback, I’d appreciate it! Comment if you want an author’s cut :)

Love, Arty 💕

[peachiemilkytea]

ᴘʀɪᴢᴇ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ

Pt 1 , Pt 2

Summary: you’ve always worked at Frebear’s diner as an engineer. Since your dad is long time friends with Henry Emily. Though life gets overwhelming with home life and work.

Parings: Michael Afton x Reader

Warnings: slowburn, semi strangers to enemies to lovers, more so strangers to friends to lovers, mention of Y/N, AFAB!reader,

A/N: I am so excited to be bringing this series onto Tumblr. I am a little nervous considering this is the first series I am purring onto tumblr- please enjoy! I love hearing about critical criticism from others. Tumblr writers are like.. deities to me so 😭 I’m really nervous.

WC: 28K

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In greek mythology, humans had four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Zeus split them into two separate people. They long for their other have. they throw themselves into relationships to search their lives for their other halves. A woman who was split from a woman looks for her other half, a man who was split from a man looks for his other half, and a man who was split from a woman looks for his other half. When a person meets their other half they are struck by their senses of love. A sense of belonging to one another. They don't want to be seperated from each other, not even a moment. The soul of every lover longs to be whole. We look for our other half to find ourselves. This is apart of Aristophanes Tale of Love.

I hope I can find my other half soon so I can get out of this house. I muffled myself further into my pillow. Making it cover my ears. Yet no matter how much I rolled back and forth I'm still hungry! I sighed and got up from my bed. Passing by my mirror. My hair was a bird's nest. I strike a pose in the mirror with a smile. Then walked downstairs where all the noise was coming from.

In the kitchen was my mom leaning on the kitchen counter. A red turtleneck, fluffy curly outward hair, and mom jeans with a belt. Another woman known as my best friend's mother, Darlene Jo. Brunette big curly hair going down to her shoulders with bangs leaning to the side. Chestnut eyes with natural shadows. In a green striped suit jacket, a collared ruffle shirt, and a pendant on the collar. A black skirt with black heels. Sitting at the table. Always a sweet face. Gossiping like they always do.

"Mom, do we have anything to eat?" I whined annoyingly.

"Did you look, Dottie?" Mom says calling me by my nickname. I opened the fridge, looked at it, then closed it again. I turned to my mother, holding out my hands to the fridge. My mother looked down and shook her head.

"Oh (Y/n)! You're becoming so big, how old are you sweetie?" Darlene asked.

"I'm nineteen," I answered causally, pulling out leftover lasagna out of the fridge. Reaching up past my mom to grab a plate. I put the lasagna on a pan and lit up the stove.

"You're growing up too fast, you've certainly grown into a young woman. Oh do you remember the times you and Cheryl would go to the park? Then you would push her on the swing? Oh memories~" Darlene swooned in memory lane with nostalgia twinkling in her eyes. I chuckled at the memory and nodded my head subtly.

They went back to gossiping. I got curious and listened in while I reheated the lasagna. Apparently a new girl named Betty just got stationed at my moms office. Going on about how Betty doesn't do her job right and bosses other people around. She would boss my mom around about what should be in the paper and what not should be. Which was just a bunch of bogus. Then my mom told her off politely, schooled her. She is a journalist. Darlene is a lawyer. I always loved listening to her cases and crime stories. Though it's classified I'm an expectation.

There was this one case where four employees were killed at Chuck E Cheese, one was injured. The shooter was Nathan Dunlap, a 19 year old former worker. He was full of rage after being fired 5 months after the incident. He went into the restaurant and ordered a sandwich then played arcade games. Dunlap hid in the bathroom till closing time. Once it was closing time he came out of the bathroom with a pistol. Dunlap shot Sylvia Crowell, she was cleaning the salad bar. She was 19. Shot closed range from her right ear. Ben Grant was vacuuming till he was shot close to his left eye. He was 17. Colleen O'Connor begged for her life on her knees till she was shot by Dunlap in the top of her head. She was 17. Bobby Stephens survived the shooting. When he came back from taking a smoke break out in the back. He thought the noise inside the restaurant was kids popping balloons. He was 20.

When Stephens came back inside he unloaded the dishwasher. Though Dunlap came through the kitchen door and shot him in the jaw. Stephens played dead. Dunlap made Marge Kohlberg unlock the safe. She was 50. Once it was opened Kohlberg was shot in the ear. He took the money and shot her in the other ear after he saw her move. The manager that fired him wasn't there. Stephens escaped through the back door. There was an apartment complex, Mill Pond. He alerted the people there that others had been attacked and shot. He was hospitalized at Denver General Hospital. When the police arrived they found the bodies. Crowell was half alive and they hospitalized her. Though she was brain dead and died from her injuries in Aurora Regional Medical Center.

Dunlap ran away with 1,500 dollars of cash and game tokens. He was arrested at his mothers apartment a few hours later. Darlene actually met Stephens and Dunlap. She got more facts on the shooter and the full story from the survivor. She said how he was behind bars when she interrogated him.

Nathan Jerard Dunlap, born April 8, 1974, was raised by his adoptive father and biological mother, who married each other when Nathan was a few months old. He had never met his biological father. His mother had schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Atleast twice in Dunlap'slife, he tried to commit suicide.When Dunlap was 14, his adoptive father asked the psychologist at Overland High School to evaluate him, and testing revealed signs of hypomania. Scary stuff, I know. I don't know how Darlene does these cases.

"Vivian, don't worry about that girl. Sometimes we need to put up with arrogant people." Darlene says, taking a sip of her coffee. I noticed my mom's coffee on the counter next to me. I slowly snuck my hand over to her coffee. It looked good! I wanted a sip! Mom smacked my hand away. I jumped away holding my wrist jokingly offended.

"I guess you're right, Dottie, you left your comic books all over the table in the living room." Mom said, stroking my cheek and holding my chin.

"I'll go clean it in a second mom, Darlene what's been happening? Any cases?" I asked, rubbing my hands together.

"Nothing you need to know Missy, that is until Viv leaves." Darlene winked, leaning her cheek on her hand. My mom gasps dramatically and holds her hand on her chest.

I chuckled and left the kitchen. There was a pile of my magazines on the coffee table. I groaned at the sight. Since when did I become such a slob? It's fun being a slob though. Lazing around all day. Now that's the dream. I picked up my comics. It consisted of Akira, Vampirella, Daredevil, Spider man, and etc. The phone rang on the nearest coffee table next to the couch. I dropped my comics back on the middle table. If it's another advertisement call. I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I asked, holding it up on my shoulder and picking up my scattered comics again.

"Hello (Y/n)! Can you come down to the diner? I have some new plans to show you." My good friend Henry Emily, a close friend of mine. He was friends with my dad in high school. Henry was invited over by him to have dinner with my family. Ever since I first met him at dinner I warmed up to him. I could sneak out sometimes to see him and helped him around the diner. He is a family man, very joyful. A ray of sunshine. He always had bright ideas to make others happy and do what he loves. If he would be a flower he would be a sunflower. Sweet as honey. A teddy bear of a man. His smarts were outstanding! It always amazes me at how his brain works. My best friend!

"Yeah I can come down, I'm excited to see those plans. I'll be down there soon." I said and hung up. I dropped all my comics again and put the phone down.

"Mom! I'm going to the diner!" I yelled and ran to the kitchen. Peeking out from the hallway. I don't need permission to leave but I should at least tell her where I'm going.

"Okay Dottie be safe!" Mom said and walked over to me. Holding my face and kissing my cheek. That's going to leave a mark. She's wearing red lipstcik. My nose scrunched from all the love and affection.

"Mooommm!" I whined.

"Bye (Y/n)!" Darlene waved.

~~~~

"Thank you for coming (Y/n), I got some new ideas for the animatronic I'm working for you." Henry said, waving his hands around excitedly.

"Is this about Trickster? Oh! Now you got me all excited!" I said with a bounce in my step.

"Yes it is! I got the blue prints all ready and I was hoping you'd come and help me pick out the materials you want her to be made with." Henry asks, looking down at me. Trickster was a jester animatronic that he was making for me that is inspired off of me. This little project has been going on for months now. He led me inside his office and opened the door for me.

I looked over his desk. There were blueprints of Trickster. A clown animatronic with (h/c) (h/l) hair and a hat that has outstretched on two sides with jingle bells. The hat was (f/c) and white. Around her neck was a ruffled collar that stood out at every end. There were light reddish pinks on her cheeks and nose, red lips, and blue eye shadows. Jingle bell dangle earrings hung from her ears. A (f/c) corset with a ribbon tying in the middle. Ribbon bow straps around her arms that were also (f/c). Pearls that slung down her arms, neck, and thighs. A (f/c) tutu that pointed outwards with jingle bells on the ends of it. A lace thigh harness. Jingle bell ribbons around her wrists and thigh. Lastly was Mary Janes with white Lace ruffled socks to top it all off.

My pride and joy. I came up with this design with Henry. I remember the awe on our faces when the final design came to be. Now it's time to choose what to make it out of. What I didn't notice was how Henry was admiring me. My fingertips traced the thin lining of the blue prints drawing.

"I was thinking that for its endoskeleton we would give it a thin skeleton with all the wires connecting in the middle. The shape of it will be similar to the human skeleton. The head should be smaller than the body. The wires will make it move and the control flannel. That will be in the center. The chest capsule. The control planned will be programmed with movement and commands to give to Trickster. Then we'll have a voice box in the throat that you've picked out." Henry rambled writing what he was saying on another piece of paper next to the blueprints on top of a folder labeled 'Trickster prototype.'

"You should probably make her out of light-ish things. Nothing too heavy that the endoskeleton couldn't take. Maybe something like aluminum and steel? For the wires we can use rubber. The servos will be all around. Arms, legs, hips, you know the rest. The sphero RVR will be in the parts that most need support like the chest, legs, head, and arm. The tensorflow will be with the motherboard in the chest or it can be in the head. Either one is okay really. It's just to do tasks. The cameras should be in the eyes too. How does that sound?" I explained tapping the pencil on the desk against my lips. Moving my fingers to what parts should be where.

I learned this geeky computer and robotics stuff from my science robots club. It's an engineering club that they held when I was back in high school. I took what I learned and ran wild with it. Though I was teased for it. Always being called a nerd and being thrown in trash cans.

"You always amaze me (Y/n)," Henry said, pushing his hair back with a grin looking down at his newly made list of things I rambled about. I nodded bashfully.

"I should get back to work now but we'll hang out later (Y/n), how does a movie and dinner sound?" Henry asks, rubbing his hands together.

"Sure! I'd love to see the twins again." I beamed. Sammy would always jump in my arms and make me hold him. He would never leave even for his parents. Always a quiet little sweetheart. He would read books with me. He would sit on my lap and flip through the pages after I read them to him.

"I'm sure he and Charlie would love to see you. Now I should get back to work, we'll have it on Friday at eight." Henry said and sat down at his desk. I was leaning on it using my arms as support.

"I'll see ya later Henry," I hugged him leaning into his touch. He held me back and rested his head on mine. Henry pulled away but I was still holding onto him. He chuckled and hugged me again. I finally pulled away. I closed the door behind me.

Maybe I should go bother Will. I walked to the office that wasn't too far away from Henry's office. On the door read 'W.A." I knocked on the door and walked right inside. There William Afton sat at his desk tapping his finger on his desk while his other hand held his head stressfully.

"Sod off, I didn't even tell you to come in." William groaned not looking up from his work.

"Wow, not even a hello?" I said smirking, leaning against the doorway. He finally looked up from his work. He softened with a smile, lifting his head from his work.

My friend, William Afton. A sophisticated man. He is practical and cold. Though at the same time he is a tease. I met him through Henry. He is known as Henry's best friend and partner in the business. Henry brought me in to work to have me help around and spend more time with him. Henry introduced me to Will when he was coming out of the spring Bonnie suit. We would see each other more and more around the diner. Though he ignored me and was annoyed at me trying to talk to him every time, till I dealt with animatronic fix. I repaired the broken Spring Fredbear parts. He was actually amazed at my work! Though he wouldn't admit it, it still showed. Since then we've been friends. Let's just say, it took a year for him to warm up to me...

"Come here dearest, have you come to help us again?" William asked, his British accent slipping out. He went back to working on the papers.

"Yes I have, I just got done talking to Henry about our little project. Relax a bit, Will." I said, walking behind him and rubbing his shoulders.

"You know how I love that, duchess." He sat back leaning into my hands. When he gets stressed he gets snappy. The last thing I need is him being snappy. I love little moments like this. He's rarely showing his sweet side. I feel him relax under me.

"Now what's got you so stressed out?" I asked him palming his back. He sighed happily leaning his head back.

"Just work. I have so many papers on the company's taxes and ordering more supplies. Food for the chiefs, materials for the animatronics, more plates and silverware, and you know the rest. Just keeping the building running. It's been so stressful lately." William pauses on his words as if he was forgetting his worries.

"Adulting is hard. I feel bad for you. Why don't you take a break?" I patted his shoulder. He picked up his pen and started signing off his papers.

"Because my job is very important, (Y/n)." William said not looking up from his papers.

"When's the due date?" I asked, tilting my head.

"In two weeks." William said. I picked up his pencil and threw it far away. He looked up at me with a gruff on his face. The corners of his lip twitched.

"Oops." I said smiling. William sighed leaning back in his chair. Tapping his finger against the desk.

"Guess I'll have a break, so dearest, what did you have in mind?" William asked, putting his elbows on the table, his fingers intertwining together, and resting his hand on the back of his hands.

"Want to play cards?" I suggested pulling out his card deck in his desk side drawer. I shuffled them on his desk.

"What will we play?"

~~~~

The door slammed behind me. I was kicked out of William's office by yours truly. All because I won a game of monopoly.

Maybe I should become a millionaire.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Benjamin Effect - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!OC (Kate Benjamin-Mitchell)

Length: 3.2k

Warnings: (Childhood) Enemies to Lovers; Mentions of Goose and Carole; Angst; Feelings of Abandonment; Tension; Strained Relationships; Daddy Issues; Questionable Decisions; Age-Gap (about eight years), but Everyone is Very Much Adult; Female OC with Physical Description

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: With Maverick and Penny's wedding drawing closer, Rooster is called upon to convince Maverick and Penny's first daughter, Kate, to come around to the idea. Of course, Rooster and Kate have their own history to work through and Kate is definitely not going to make it easy for him.

Note: Amelia is Maverick's biological daughter in this too. Kate is about eight years younger than Rooster, but is very much an adult. She's in her late 20s and Rooster is in his mid/late 30s.

Part 2

Master List

Rooster should have known that Maverick had an ulterior motive for taking him out to dinner.

If Maverick wanted to just hang out and catch up without any additional bullshit, he would have simply set up the grill and they would have shared a few beers outside on the back porch. But buying him dinner at a restaurant was a move that Maverick played when Bradley was young and easily swayed by the promise of French fries and ice cream sundaes. And, apparently, now too.

“You want me to do what?” Rooster asked his godfather, staring over at Maverick incredulously.

“I need your help in getting Kate to talk to me again,” Maverick explained casually.

“Kate? Your daughter Kate?”

Kate, who went by Katie as a kid, was Maverick and Penny’s daughter from one of their previous will-they-won’t-they situations. She was a surprise addition to the family and a near-death sentence for Maverick when Admiral Benjamin, Penny’s dad, found out about her. But by the time that Kate was born, Penny and Maverick were both completely dedicated to co-parenting.

So, why did Maverick need his help with getting Kate to talk to him again? And why did Maverick think that Bradley of all people would be a good candidate for that job?

Bradley and Kate were never close.

There was several years difference between them—probably eight or so, if Bradley did the math right. And Bradley thought that she was a whiny brat whenever their paths crossed as kids. She was always upset whenever Maverick and Bradley did something together without her and she complained until she got her way, which Maverick always gave her in the end.

The last time that Bradley saw Kate, it was at his mom’s funeral. And he hadn’t heard from her since the paper pulling incident. That was eighteen, nearly nineteen, years ago now. For fuck’s sake, he just found out that she went by Kate now instead of Katie.

“Yeah, you remember her, right?” Maverick asked, folding his arms underneath him.

“I mean, yeah, but why do you need my help?” Rooster inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“She doesn’t . . .” Maverick started to explain but then he trailed off. Maverick sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, before turning back to Rooster. “I wasn’t the best dad for her. I wasn’t around and I didn’t make the right efforts when I needed to because I got caught up in my own demons and fears. And she—and I understand why—hasn’t forgiven me for any of it.”

“I’m still missing the part where I fit into this whole scheme,” Rooster replied honestly.

“I’m hoping that since the two of us started to reconcile and address what happened in the past with our relationship, that you could help me do the same with Kate. To at least help me show her that I’ve changed and I’m taking my personal relationships seriously.”

“So, you want me to help you steal an F-14 to patch things up with your daughter?” Rooster asked sarcastically, earning a sigh from Maverick.

“No, I just . . . maybe just talk with her about what we worked through. I’m prepared to do all of the talking and amending on my own, but I need help convincing her to talk to me in the first place,” Maverick explained softly to Rooster. “She just shuts down every time that I try to make amends or bring up the past.” 

“So, that’s why you took me out here?” Rooster asked, glancing down at his plate. “To try and bribe me to help your daughter talk to you again?”

“You love the French fries here,” Maverick pointed out, earning an incredulous look from Rooster.

“I did when I was nine,” Rooster corrected Maverick.

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, trying to get the conversation back on track, “will you help me? Or at least just try? If she doesn’t come around to you, then she doesn’t come around to you, and that’s fine. I just . . . I want to try to make things right with her. Before Penny and I get married.”

Rooster could hear the sincerity dripping from every word that Maverick spoke. And he recognized the borderline desperation in Maverick’s eyes. And as Maverick’s best man, this seemed to fit into his promise to help Maverick with wedding preparations.

And maybe Rooster did really like the fries here and the special sauce that they always came with.

“I feel like I’m going to regret this,” Rooster groaned, lowering his head for a moment. “But, sure. I’ll try and help you. I’ll be your wingman with this.”

“Thank you, Bradley,” Maverick stated sincerely, smiling softly. “It means the world to me, really. And Penny too.”

“Can it count as your wedding present then?”

~~~~~

Kate Benjamin wasn’t exactly the warmest or friendliest person by her own admission.

She took after her grandfather, retired Admiral John “Pike” Benjamin, more than her mom in that regard. Penny could talk and comfort any person off the street. And Penny gave people the benefit of the doubt, believing that people changed and second chances were only fair.

Kate did not share her mother’s forgiving disposition.

People could change. People did change. But that didn’t mean that Kate was willing to forgive, forget, and sing kumbaya with them afterwards. Second chances were earned, not given. And Pete Mitchell was on his seventh or so chance in Kate Benjamin’s book.

“I just don’t understand why he’s so suddenly interested in settling down,” Kate complained over the phone to Amelia as she sat in rush hour traffic.

“He’s retired now,” Amelia pointed out, sitting up in her bedroom.

“So, he’s bored? That’s why he wants to marry Mom?” Kate huffed, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Bullshit, is what I say.”

“He seems really sincere this time,” Amelia replied calmly, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Amelia didn’t respond for a moment and Kate could hear a background conversation between Amelia and their mom. Kate waited patiently, staring at the same blue Honda that she’d been stuck behind for what felt like hours when Amelia returned to the call.

“Mom wants to know how far you are from home.”

“Around forty-five minutes. Give or take. Are Grammie and Pop there?”

“Yeah, they flew in this morning. And Maverick and Rooster are joining us for dinner.”

“Rooster?” Kate repeated, clearly confused. “Who the hell is Rooster?”

“Bradley,” Amelia translated for her sister.  

“So, they’re talking again?” Kate muttered gruffly.

Kate remembered Bradley. She remembered how he called her a brat. And she remembered telling him that his name was stupid in retaliation. And Kate stood by that sentiment. ‘Bradley Bradshaw’ was one of the most ridiculous names that she had ever heard in her life. It wasn’t quite Philip Philips, but it was damn close.

“How in the hell did he get . . . never mind, because I don’t care,” Kate cut herself off.

“Mom also told me to tell you to be on your best behavior.”

“I’m always on my best behavior, Ames,” Kate insisted innocently, though her smirk betrayed her words. “Tell Mom that everything’s going to be fine.”

“I will. See you soon, Kate.”

“Bye, Ames.”

Amelia hung up the phone and Kate switched back to the radio while she inched through traffic.

So much for a quiet family dinner with her mom, sister, and grandparents after a long week of work. But she knew that she was going to have to get used to Maverick —if he wanted the title ‘Dad,’ he was going to have to earn it—and Rooster too.

~~~~~

Rooster sat in Penny’s backyard with Amelia, Grammie Joan, and Pike, which is what everyone except for his immediate family called him, while Maverick and Penny went to pick up dinner.

“You’re a Lieutenant Commander?” Pike asked Rooster, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, sir. Got promoted after that mission with Mav.”

“A well-earned one then,” Pike mused grimly, glancing over at the Kawasaki. “Maverick told me what he could about the mission. You’re either really smart, or have a lot of dumb luck, kid.”

“Or both.”

“Or both,” Pike echoed, nodding along. “And you just transferred back to North Island then?”

“Yeah, I was stationed out at Oceana most recently, but after the mission, I thought that it was finally time to return to the West Coast, so I put in the request and it was approved. And now I’m working as an instructor out here.”

“How many years are left on your contract?”

“Two and a half,” Rooster replied, doing the math in his head.

“And do you think that you’ll stay on after that’s up?”

“Don’t know,” Rooster answered honestly. “I’ll have to see what life looks like then.”

“Smart. Focus on what’s right in front of you,” Pike agreed, nodding curtly.

“Kate’s home!” Amelia exclaimed when she spotted Kate’s car pull into the driveway.

Without another word, Amelia stood up from the table and hurried around the gate. Grammie Joan smiled when she heard the two sisters reunite from the other side of the fence and shuffled down to Rooster and Pike’s side of the table.

“Have you met our Kate?” Grammie Joan asked Rooster, sitting beside her husband.

“Back when we were both kids, but not for a long time,” Rooster answered honestly.

“She’s grown into quite the firecracker,” Pike chuckled, waiting patiently for his two granddaughters to return. “Her mother says that she takes after me. Maverick seemed to agree with Penny, though he didn’t say it to my face.”

“I think that he still gets flashbacks about the ass chewings you gave him in the eighties and nineties,” Rooster joked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Which time?” Pike asked, seemingly amused.

“Oh, be nice, John. You know that if Kate sees you giving Maverick a hard time, she’s going to give him an even worse time,” Grammie Joan replied knowingly, shooting her husband a look. “And I’m not sure that Maverick can survive the two of you at the same time.”

“Well, if he’s going to finally marry into this family, he’s going to have to learn,” Pike pointed out gruffly.

“Don’t hold onto the past, John. That flyover business was so long ago,” Joan dismissed with a wave of her hand. “It was before the girls were born. Let it go.”

“Rooster?” Pike asked, out to prove a point.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you ever done a high-speed pass over an air traffic control tower?”

“Never as the pilot, no.”

“What about a high-speed pass over an admiral’s daughter? You’ve ever done that, Rooster?”

“No, sir.”

“See?” Pike told his wife, who shook her head at him again. “Not normal conduct.”

“Oh, get over it, John.”

The back door opened, cutting off Pike and Joan’s back and forth. Amelia trotted down the stairs first with Kate Benjamin—or Katie Mitchell, which is what she went by the last time that Bradley was around her—close behind.

But the woman that stepped out of the house was not anything like Rooster expected.

Kate seemed to be a perfect mix of her parents. Her hair was dark, like Maverick’s, but wavy, like Penny’s. Her smile was far too mischievous to come from Penny, but Kate walked with Penny’s seemingly flawless grace. And when they locked eyes, Rooster realized that Kate seemed to have inherited her mom’s captivating gaze.

He subconsciously straightened his back a bit as Kate walked past him.

Kate greeted her grandmother first with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before greeting her grandfather in the same fashion. And when she straightened up, the breeze blew the scent of her shampoo—which was something sweet and flowery—in his direction and let the subtle natural highlights in her hair to catch the sunlight.

A sharp pinch in Rooster’s side caused him to whirl around to spot an annoyed Amelia.

“Stop staring at my sister like that,” Amelia stated quietly, looking disgusted. “We eat out here.” 

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Amelia replied, ending the argument.

“How was the drive?” Pike asked Kate, who missed all of Rooster and Amelia’s conversation.

“Not too bad. Traffic, but what else did I expect?” Kate joked, moving to take the seat across from Amelia. “How was your flight in?”

“Not too bad.”

“Maverick was a gentleman and picked us up from the airport,” Joan replied with a kind smile.

Joan was clearly trying to put in a good word for Maverick with Kate, probably under the direction of Penny. Rooster, however, didn’t miss the grimace on Kate’s face at the mention of Maverick. Joan simply smiled wider and gestured over to Rooster.

“And you remember Bradley, right, Kate?”

“Yes,” Kate replied, reluctantly turning to Bradley. “Though I hear that you go by Rooster now.”

“I do,” Rooster agreed, nodding along. “And I hear that you go by Kate now.”

“I do,” Kate returned, looking bored with him.

“You heading home to your apartment tonight?” Pike questioned his granddaughter, ending Kate and Rooster’s staring contest.

“No, I’ll stay the night. We’re supposed to do some errands tomorrow morning for the wedding.”

“Have you met any nice men recently, Kate?” Grammie Joan asked her eldest granddaughter.

Kate immediately grimaced at her grandmother’s question. Amelia snuck a giggle until Kate kicked her shin under the table.

“No, Grammie.”

“Don’t pressure her, Joan,” Pike grunted, leaning back in his chair. “Better that she’s single and working hard at a good paying job than wasting her time with some no-good dumbass freeloader.”

“Yes, but this wedding planning has me thinking about the girls’ weddings,” Joan replied wistfully.

“Here we go,” Amelia murmured under her breath.

“One wedding at a time, Grammie,” Kate reminded Joan gently. “How is the wedding planning going around here anyways?"

"It's not,” Amelia answered, sharing an amused look with Rooster. “Mom’s mostly busy with the bar and Maverick doesn’t want to make any decisions without her approval. And he’s still trying to move all of his stuff over here.”

“He’s living here now?” Kate asked, immediately on the defensive. “At the house?”

“No, he’s rooming with Rooster for now.”

“Oh.” Kate’s gaze flickered over to Rooster, causing him to subconsciously straighten up again. She seemed to study him for a moment before asking, “How’s that going then?”

“It’s going well,” Rooster replied, trying to keep Maverick in a good light.

“So, he’s living in Miramar full time then?” Kate asked, still analytical.

“Mostly. He has the hangar out in Nevada, but he’s here more.”

“Lovely,” Kate replied dryly.

“Speaking of Maverick, I believe that’s them,” Pike stated, glancing down the driveway.

Kate got up and headed inside and Amelia followed after her sister. Penny and Maverick stepped inside and Kate hurried into her mom’s waiting arms. Penny squeezed Kate to her chest while Maverick stood behind them, smiling at their interaction.

“Oh, I’m so happy that you’re back home,” Penny breathed out.

“I’m not that far away, Mom,” Kate reminded Penny softly. “But it’s nice to be home.”

“How was the drive?” Penny asked Kate, letting go of her eldest daughter.

“Not too bad.”

“Good.” Penny turned to Maverick, who was clearly waiting for some kind of acknowledgement from his daughter. “Aren’t you going to greet your dad, Kate?”

“Maverick,” Kate greeted him stiffly, unwilling to call him ‘Dad.’

“It’s good to see you, Kate,” Maverick returned quietly, clearly subdued.

“Likewise.”

“Help him with the food, please, Kate,” Penny told her eldest daughter.

Kate took one of the bags from Maverick and quickly moved to put distance between them. Penny and Maverick shared a look before following Kate out into the backyard again. Amelia carried out some plates and utensils while Kate pulled out the takeout boxes.

“Amelia, can you grab the wooden spoons for the salad?” Penny questioned, glancing over the table.

“I’ll do it,” Rooster offered immediately, standing up. “You need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re all set. Thank you, Rooster,” Penny replied with a smile.

Rooster nodded, glanced over at Kate, before he headed inside. Maverick was in the kitchen, putting away some extra plates and pulling a few drinks out of the fridge.

“How did it go with Kate?” Rooster asked, opening drawers to look for wooden spoons. Maverick sighed, causing Rooster to pick his head up. “That bad, huh?”

“Could have been better,” Maverick sighed, grabbing some beers from the fridge. “But I suppose that it could have been much worse too.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Rooster glanced out the window, watching as Kate talked with her sister and her mom. Catching himself staring at her again, Rooster turned back to Maverick, who seemed to be unaware of Rooster’s sudden staring problem.

And that was good. For Rooster’s personal safety.

“Did she at least acknowledge your existence?”

“Only when prompted.” Maverick shook his head at himself. “I guess I’ll have to just keep trying to make things right with her.”

“I don’t think that she’ll make it easy for you.”

“No, she won’t. But I’m not going to let that stop me.” Maverick turned around and squeezed Rooster’s shoulder, smiling up at him. “Thanks again for trying to help me out. With making amends with her. I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course, Mav,” Rooster replied quietly.

They walked outside together to join the Benjamin family for dinner. Rooster ended up seated next to Kate somehow but they didn’t really acknowledge each other. It wasn’t until the wedding got brought up by Joan that they even looked at each other.

Well, that Kate looked over at Rooster. He still seemed to have a bit of a staring problem.

“So, you’re Maverick’s best man then, Rooster?” Joan asked kindly, causing Rooster to nod.

“Yeah, I am.”

“And Kate and Amelia are both the maid of honor?”

“Yeah, we’re sharing the position,” Kate agreed, sharing a glance with her sister.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how much I’m going to be able to do to help because of school and everything,” Amelia replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“I can handle most of it,” Kate insisted, looking down at her plate. “The only big thing that I should need your physical presence for is the maid of honor dresses.”

“Either way, it seems that the five of you will be spending a lot of time together over the next few months,” Joan stated with a kind smile.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Rooster spoke up, earning a sharp, curious look from Kate. “And to getting to know you guys more.”

Kate tilted her chin up a bit, challenging as she met Rooster’s gaze again. Amelia glanced between the two of them and stuck her tongue out. Penny and Maverick also shared a look, but Maverick signaled to Penny that it would be fine.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a lot of fun,” Kate replied dryly.

Part 2

[108garys]

Manny Sherman dialogue transcribed

I really enjoyed transcribing the little hope puritan dialogue a bit ago despite it being one heck of an undertaking and I've always wanted to do a similar thing on a much smaller scale(this time) so as an afternoon task I pulled up a video of the four Sherman tapes and typed out his on screen dialogue, it'll be good for writing him and better understanding his vocabulary and maybe some time around I'll do something a little more substantial like Randolph Hodgson's journal but that aside I feel Sherman's dialogue flows really well and does a great job with characterisation, can you believe there's barely more than a thousand words from him all up? Regardless I've tried to follow the in game captions on the video which can be a little hard at times due to white text on a grey background with the occasional white detail obscuring stuff but I believe I got it at least 99% accurate and beyond that I added in places in brackets that he laughed but not the uncaptioned sounds of him getting his ass kicked because I thought one added something and the other wouldn't(and here's the video I used)

(interrogation - tape 1)

Manny Sherman. Born January one. Nineteen fifty-six.

Come on, you already know all this. What do you want?

What's this?… Huh… You've been doing your research, haven't you Special Agent Munday?

What are my favorite television programs?

Describe my first pet.

What were your friends like as a child?

What is this?!

You taking a survey or you trying to learn something?

Would it kill you to be direct?

You wanted to know what inspired me? As if I wasn't an original?

Well… maybe there was one man I found myself a little fascinated by.

Henry. Howard. Holmes.

Why? Because he was numero uno.

America's first. The guy invented the trade. He set the benchmark, you know?

Learn your history, Munday. Read a book.

You think because I stuck a blade in some people and get off on it I'm not smart?

I, heh… 'allegedly'… killed 13 people before you got smart enough to find me…

__

(interrogation - tape 2)

…had to build my own little castle, just like Holmes did.

Most people like me do their business where their target lives. That's just asking to get caught.

Holmes had the right idea. It was all about the honeytrap.

You bring me some smokes? Like I asked?

Lucky Reds? Yes! These are like gold in here. Damn that's good. So yeah, the honey pot.

Holmes built a hotel about a mile from the World's Fair and CALLED it the World's Fair Hotel and bought ad space in the papers alongside ads for the expo.

Rubes from far and wide assumed it was the official hotel!

Ma and Pa Kettle take a train in from Nebraska, takes three days, they roll up into that joint ready to rest, get to their room… and whoops- what do ya know… Holmes had a gas pipe hidden under the bed and poisons them.

Or maybe he pulls a trap door on them.

Maybe he separates them and makes one watch through a window while he slits the other's throat.

That's the advantage of a honey pot: no shortage of targets.

That's why I picked all those houses north of the airport.

That whole neighborhood was scheduled for demolition and yet…

All those lovely realtor ladies must not have gotten the memo.

Call up as a contractor, tell them I'm flipping, have them meet me out there… and look at that… we're the only two people for miles.

The first couple times I'd wait for a plane to fly over, just to hide their screams, but…

after a while I realized they could scream as loud as they wanted.

No one was gonna hear a thing.

That's what I remember most.

Those screams.

You can try to understand why I am the way I am. You can forensic science up all the data you want.

But you'll never know… You'll never know, Munday… You'll never really know how it feels when you watch the fire burn out of somebody.

__

(interrogation - tape 3)

(laughter)

A whole carton this time? You trying to get on my good side or something?

Think I'll save them.

What? No questions? What's going on with you, Munday?

You seem different.

(laughter) I see that that glimmer in your eye, you little devil.

I can keep secrets, man… we all have them.

That prosecutor is trying to get numbers out of me. Know that?

Of course you know that. Numbers. They got Holmes for 27… but we know he was closer to 200, right?

Can you imagine that? I wish I'd had the time to try and beat that.

Sure they know about those nice realtor ladies… they got families after all.

But the numbers the D.A. is asking me about… I think he knows there's some people out there- rejects… misfits… the kind of people that when you see them coming you look the other way.

Does anyone notice if they go missing?

My father always told me to leave my mark on the world.

I never knew what he meant by that- not until I watched that first girl bleed out.

I call it art. That's my signature on society.

It's not murder, it's an aesthetic response to what this has world made me.

Ask people to list killers, and they'll drop five, ten on you before they can't think of any more.

Ask them to name the detectives that caught those killers- no one is going to say a damn thing.

No one knows them. No one cares.

No one makes movies about them.

No one puts their faces on t-shirts.

No one gives a shit.

(quiet chuckle)

I've left my mark on the world…

…have you?

__

(interrogation - tape 4)

You want to know what it means to be a killer?

You ever been to the art museum downtown?

They got this painting by a guy… forgot his name. Famous painter.

He did portraits of slaughtered cows hanging on hooks.

You take a normal person to a slaughterhouse and they will puke their guts out.

You make it into a painting and suddenly it's art.

There's no difference between the two. Not really.

Don't look at me like that. You know I'm right.

You get it. I know you get it.

You got to do something that matters. Make people feel something they've never felt before.

Shatter the illusion that any of us are really in control.

Think of the most profound thing you've ever done… the most beautiful thing you've ever created… and I promise you… it's nothing compared to watching the life bleed out of someone.

To see the fear in their eyes, to feel them pawing at you for release, to hear them pleading- begging…

That moment when someone realizes they are at their end…

That's when you feel it. That's true art.

That's what you have to be- an artist… a sculptor… an architect.

I see the gleam in your eye, Agent Munday, You're not fooling me.

Oh, look at you now, huh?

Am I going to be your first?

Well come on then- I'm right here.

This room is soundproof- you don't even have to wait for a plane to fly overhead.

There… There you are… I see you now.

Not bad… not bad at all.

Bare hands can feel good, huh?

But the blade makes for such a prettier picture.

You've got potential. Agent Munday…

If you truly want to be an artist.

__

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @ctrvpani @aydeenchan

@tinynightmarewoman @kindheartedgummybears @mybrainrotforreal (Know idea as ever with this character on who'd be interested in this but it was a good exercise at any rate)

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

the link to the masterlist is here picking up right where we left off. hope you love <3

09. Up for A Vote

Freddie drew in a deep breath, thinking hard about where to start. She hadn’t spoken about Daniel like this since she’d first met Millie and Jem. Hadn’t had to, and especially hadn’t wanted to.

“I met Daniel when I was fourteen,” she began, fixing her eyes on the control panel in front of her. “I was born in Oxford, see, but my family moved to Vienna when I was two because my father got a job at the university. But, eventually, he got another job at Oxford University again, so we moved right back, to the same house we’d lived in before. But there was a new family living next door by now. It had been twelve years since we’d left.”

She smiled ruefully, continuing, “I met Daniel when his mother made him knock on the door with flowers for my mother. I remember they were tulips, a pale shade of yellow. They were beautiful. So was he, by the way.”

Here, Rosie laughed quietly to himself but didn’t make to interrupt.

“Anyway, we fell in love very quickly, even though we were fourteen and fifteen at the time. He was my boyfriend within a month and we stayed that way, never once ever thought about looking elsewhere. When the war broke out for us back in ‘39, when I was nineteen and he was twenty, he enlisted immediately. He joined the RAF because his father had been a pilot. They trained him as a fighter pilot and he got assigned to flying Hurricanes - he was good at it, too. Survived the Battle of Britain, when they were sending fighters up constantly. He would be dogfighting three times a day, sometimes, for hours at a time. He’d get two hours of sleep most nights. The Luftwaffe threw everything at them. But Daniel, he - he was just so good at what he did. Always did it smiling, too. Always found it hard to complain. He told me that he could never bring himself to mind when he’d get called out once again, even if it was the middle of the night and he’d only just fallen asleep, because he knew with every German fighter he took down he was making the world safer for me. Said he didn’t want us to have to raise children in a Britain where everyone was speaking German.”

Freddie laughed quietly, swiping away the tears which had gathered under her eyes. “He hated that I can speak German, by the way. He used to hate it when I spoke it to him. He couldn’t understand me, of course, so I’d call him all manner of sweet names and tell him I loved him in all these poetic ways and he’d demand that I stop so insistently it’s like he thought I was cursing him.

“Anyway,” she went on with a shake of her head, “I followed him to war, obviously. Well, as much as I could. I asked him how I could get myself closest to him and he told me mine would be the last voice he heard before a mission and the first voice after if I became a wireless operator, so that’s what I did. That’s why I lied and said I couldn’t speak German when I enlisted - so that I’d get to talk to him, look after him in my own small way. He put in a good word for me with one of the RAF higher-ups and got me assigned to the same base as him.”

Her smile faded as she realised she would have to speak the part of the story she hated, the part which brought it to its end. She tipped her head back to rest against the seat and shut her eyes. “He went down on a Monday in March 1941. The 10th. Shot down by a Messerschmitt. His plane went down in flames and crashed not far from the airfield. He’d been so close to home. 

“I was working at the time, guiding some of the others through the landing. I remember thinking they sounded strange over the radio but I figured it must just have been a particularly bad mission. I always thought I would know immediately if Daniel had gone down, would just feel it or something, I don’t know, but I hadn’t. And then after interrogation and everything his squadron leader came to find me, took me to a private office, and told me what had happened.”

Freddie was breathing heavily, trying to speak around her tears. Two and a half years later and it still ached as if it had happened yesterday.

“I didn’t believe him at first, of course, but the other fighters in the squadron had all seen it. They sat with me for hours, assuring me over and over again that they weren’t mistaken, that he was gone, and that he wasn’t coming back, because I kept insisting that he might have survived and they needed to look for him.

“But,” she continued, “he hadn’t. So they gave me his footlocker and the responsibility of seeing to it that his belongings went where they were supposed to go. I kept a few things, of course, gave a few things to his closest friends, then sent the rest to his parents. I visit them every time I go home and they always welcome me like a daughter but I find it -” She had to pause to breathe heavily, choking on her own words. “I find it so hard to look at them now. His mum, she - she has his smile.”

Freddie had her eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep in the tears even as they fought to free themselves from behind her eyelids. In spite of her best efforts they came stumbling down her cheeks anyway, the taste salty in her mouth, the wetness cold on her skin. Her eyes were starting to itch because of them, the back of her throat starting to taste strange.

“Oh, Fred,” Rosie said quietly, watching her fighting to get herself under control. Gone was the playful, vibrant girl from merely minutes earlier who’d pretended to shoot down the Luftwaffe’s finest. As much as he missed that version of her, longed to make her smile again, he couldn’t help wanting to scoop up this version of her and cradle her to his chest, whisper about all the good things in the world until she remembered she was the best of them.

Rosie’s soft words, his sympathy, made her sob. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the tears away, and started apologising for how she’d thoroughly collapsed in on herself when her descriptions of Daniel had been intended to be happy. 

But Rosie only hushed her softly. He reached for her, curled one arm beneath her knees and the other around her waist and lifted her into his lap.

Freddie curled into him immediately, instinctively. She couldn’t find it within herself to be ashamed of how she was seeking comfort in another man while crying over her lost love. She tucked her head beneath his chin, held on tight to his shirt, buried her face into his neck and tried to drink in the smell of him, the warmth of him, the feeling of him - secure, reliable, safe. Alive.

“You can’t ever go down, Rosie,” she started saying, her voice wet and thick with tears. “You always have to come back. Always. Do you hear me?”

“Always,” Rosie assured her, tightening his arms around her, bringing her closer into his chest. “I’m not gonna leave you behind, Fred. I promise.”

“I take promises very seriously, Rosie,” she told him, sniffling. 

He smiled in spite of himself. “Me too.”

“You can’t break it,” she insisted. “You have to keep coming back. Every time. You have to.”

“I will,” he assured her, soft and sincere. “I’ll keep on comin’ back, sweetheart. You’ll get sick of hearing my voice on your radio.”

Finally, mercifully, she giggled. It was wet and weepy but it was enough. “I won’t,” she disagreed. “I like hearing your serious pilot’s voice over the radio.”

Rosie grinned, tilted his head down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “You making fun of me, Fred?”

He could feel her smiling against his neck. “Absolutely.” Her tears were slowing now, as was her breath. He could feel her breathing deeper and yet her tight grip on him never faltered.

They lapsed into silence as she calmed down. He listened avidly to her breathing. “You want me to take you back to your bunk?” he asked after a while.

Freddie inhaled deeply. “I just want to sit here for a little while longer,” she confessed, shifting just slightly closer.

She worried, momentarily, that Rosie would think her clingy, demanding he let her stay in his lap when he’d only given it to her out of kindness. But all he did was keep on holding her, resting his cheek on her head. Slowly, he began running one gentle hand up and down her back, over and over again in a steady rhythm, until, eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

Freddie woke up in her bunk in the pitch darkness with a sick feeling brewing in her stomach. The whiskey, she knew. All around her were the sounds of breathing, the hut now full of wireless operators shifting and sighing softly in their sleep.

Meatball shifted briefly at the foot of Freddie’s bed, smacked his lips, and then settled. Freddie laid still.

“Mils?” she whispered into the dark. She’d woken facing Millie’s bed and hazarded a guess that she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“Yeah?” Millie whispered back after a beat.

“How are you feeling?”

Millie shifted in bed, presumably rolling onto her side to face Freddie, and hummed. “Drunk,” she said. “Jem stole another bottle anyway.”

“Did she get away with it?”

“Of course she did,” Millie replied. “They had fewer people working the bar because hardly anyone was in there. She got behind the bar under the guise of getting me a glass of water to sober me up and slipped straight out. No one saw the bottle tucked under her arm, I’m sure, but even if they did, no one asked.”

“What did you do while I was gone?”

“Talk,” Millie said. She yawned. “Had a pillow fight. Played with Meatball for a bit and then took him out to go to the toilet. Then came back in to go to bed.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Millie scoffed softly. “Not as much fun as you were having, I’m sure.”

Freddie groaned. “What did he tell you?” She’d hoped Rosie would have dropped her off with few words to share about their time together.

“Oh, you know,” Millie said airily. “Just that you’re the best dogfighter he’s ever seen.”

Freddie groaned once more. She lifted her head off of her pillow just to slam it down over her ears, lest she be reminded of her idiotic drunken actions.

Millie was laughing when she removed the pillow. “Don’t worry,” she said around her quiet giggles, “he thought it was cute.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” Freddie despaired into the darkness.

Millie kept on laughing. “He’s smitten with you, Fred,” she assured her. “I can tell. I don’t think there’s anything you could do now that would change that. If anything, your little performance tonight has just made him like you more.”

“I’m still embarrassed,” Freddie told her.

Freddie couldn’t see it but Millie was grinning. “I’m sure you are. But I wouldn’t worry too much. He set you down on your bed and tucked you in like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. He was so gentle with you, so clearly enchanted. He had stars in his eyes, to tell you the truth.”

Freddie smiled to herself, turned her face into her pillow as though to conceal her blush even though Millie couldn’t see it in the darkness. She thought back on her time with Rosie, on the emotional rollercoaster that it had been, and sighed before venturing, “I told him about Daniel.”

“You did?” Millie sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” Freddie confirmed. “I’d only intended to talk about what he was like, really, but I ended up telling Rosie the whole story. Started crying and everything. Inconsolable, I was.”

Against her will, Millie laughed.

“But I think I feel better now,” Freddie continued. “I’ve not been fair to him, really, being so hot and cold. At least now he knows why.”

“You probably needed a good cry, I reckon,” Millie observed. “Especially into Rosie’s arms,” she added as an afterthought. Freddie could just imagine her smirking.

Freddie laughed softly to herself. “I won’t disagree.”

They lapsed into silence, both thinking hard on different things. Freddie suspected Millie might have finally fallen asleep before she spoke up softly once more, less certain and less jovial than she’d been before. “He’s looking after you, isn’t he?” she asked. “Rosie?”

Freddie smiled quietly. “He is,” she assured her. 

“Good,” Millie decided.

Freddie wasn’t sure at which point they both fell asleep. It seemed like one minute they’d been talking and the next they were waking up, groggy and nauseous and groaning about banging headaches.

For all of their complaining, however, it was clear that no one felt worse than Jem. Her head was down the toilet before they’d even woken up and there it stayed for the better part of the morning until she felt brave enough to follow them to breakfast. Mercifully, she’d been too drunk last night to even consider changing out of her dishevelled uniform, so she traipsed behind the group as she was.

The table of wireless operators had clearly seen better days. Freddie was shivering even while she sat wrapped in her blanket, Millie had her hands over her eyes and was complaining to anyone who would listen that it was too bright inside the mess hall, and Jem’s head was on the table. She would have face planted into her porridge had Paddy not swiped the bowl away at the last second.

“How much did you lot drink last night, anyway?” Amy asked, amused, around a sip of coffee. She and the other girls who had spent their night in the officers’ club weren’t looking too sprightly either, but they didn’t look quite as half-dead as Freddie, Millie, and Jem. They’d drunk a lot but not two entire bottles of whiskey’s worth, as in Freddie’s case, or three in Millie and Jem’s.

“Too much,” Freddie mumbled, clutching her blanket tighter. Her teeth were chattering and she couldn’t even begin to stomach the thought of food right now. Even the sight of it was making her feel queasy. 

“Not enough,” Millie disagreed, groaning and pressing her forehead to Freddie’s blanket-clad shoulder.

She’d wanted to drink away the reality of Brady being gone, Freddie knew, had wanted to drink so much that when she woke up she could believe he was back. But she couldn’t and he wasn’t. MIA or POW, Freddie wasn’t sure, she just prayed he wasn’t dead.

“Look alive, Fred,” Paddy said suddenly, though she didn’t look much better herself. “Rosie’s Riveters are coming over.”

Freddie lifted her blanket and covered her face, then rested her forehead on the table the same as Jem had. She’d embarrassed herself enough in front of Rosie last night, he didn’t need to see her pale and sickly as she fought the demons of the morning after as well.

“Ladies,” Pappy greeted as they neared. Rosie and his crew took seats at the empty table beside them, echoing their own greetings as they did.

“You okay, Fred?” Rosie asked, an amused smile in his voice. She could tell he had taken up the seat behind her from the closeness of his voice, wondered if he’d had to shoo anyone away for it or if they’d all just known to let their fearless leader take it.

“No,” she replied, her voice muffled from where she was speaking into both the blanket and the table. 

“You should eat something,” he told her, obviously noticing the untouched breakfast she’d pushed away from herself the second she’d sat down. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better,” she objected.

Rosie laughed and leaned forward until he could rest his hand on her back, heedless of the eyes of the rest of her table - except Jem, of course - on him. “Come on,” he encouraged her, dragging the bowl back towards her. “Just a little.”

“No.”

“For me?”

“No.”

“Ouch.” He knew his grin was so wide he was giving himself away to all of her friends - not to mention his crew, who were sure to tease him relentlessly about this later - but couldn’t seem to hide it. 

“Fred’s got a weak stomach,” Millie explained, swaying slightly as she tried to sit up straight and face Rosie. “She throws up when she’s anxious, when she’s overwhelmed, sometimes when she’s sad, and of course when she’s hungover. So you’d be better off not loading her up with ammunition, Rosie, if you want to know the truth.”

Freddie was sure she’d never been this embarrassed in her whole life. The problem was she couldn’t even deny it because it was completely true. She’d been the same ever since she was little, had apparently inherited it from her father.

“Mils,” Freddie complained all the same. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s the god’s honest truth, Fred, and you know it,” Millie countered. Freddie could hear the other girls giggling.

“Tell me you’re not thinking of liquidating your assets right now, Freddie, please,” Pappy all but begged. 

“Go away,” Freddie grumbled.

“Our old squadron officer used to call her ‘Prime Minister’,” Jem said, audibly grinning even though her face was still pressed to the tablecloth. “Because she’s always bringing it up for a vote.”

“Fighting words from someone who spent the morning with her head down the toilet,” Freddie retorted, finally sitting up. She let the blanket slip off of her head and pool around her shoulders, rubbing at her eyes and covering her mouth as she yawned.

“Leroy!” barked Squadron Officer Jones as she came stomping into the mess hall.

“Fuck’s sake,” Millie muttered, turning back to their table.

Freddie shrank into her blanket, pretending she hadn’t heard Jones’ call of her last name.

Jones wasn’t fooled. “Section Officer Leroy!” she snapped, marching up to their table.

Freddie sighed but didn’t look at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Congratulations,” Jones said dryly, clearly insincerely, “you’ve been promoted. To Flight Officer. Your reassignment training starts today at 1400. Your new CO will pick you up outside your hut. Don’t keep him waiting.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Freddie replied. Her heart had dropped.

“Get excited,” Jones said coldly. “You and I never have to work together again.”

“Lucky bitch,” Millie muttered.

Behind them, Pappy snorted.

Jones slapped Freddie’s new insignia down on the table, turned on her heel, and left.

Freddie watched her go, waited until she had left the mess hall, and then she mumbled, “Fuck.”

[crush-like-that]

Now that you mootified me, there will be so many asks from me😈 but I will send a few condensed ones to start off with

to begin:

TOP FIVE RIORDANVERSE BOOKS GO!!

TOP FIVE APOLLO CAMPERS EXCLUDING WILL GO!!

TOP FIVE NAOMI SOLACE AND WILL HEADCANONS GO!!

DID YOU LIKE TSATS, NOT READ, OR DISLIKED AND WHY??

and last- but CERTAINLY not least-

Naomi Solace headcanons for my brain rot🫶🏻

Thanks in advance for the brain rot, and I apologize if this got sent in twice; my tumblr crashed as I was submitting the first one😡

Yippie!!!

top five is ROUGH uhmmmmm

Titan's Curse and the Last Olympian are so up there. I also really love the Son of Neptune. I'm rereading all the books again for the millionth time but this time I'm annotating so I can actually pic favorites, but I'm still on SoN so I can't make up my mind on the rest yet 😭😭

top five EXCLUDING WILL?!?!???!?!?!? HE'S LITERALLY MY FAVORITE HE'S MY BBG I LOVE HIM WHAT. (can't) call me basic but I LOVE kayla and austin. Also Lee and Michael hold a verryyyyy special place in my heart. Can I say myself? KIDDING. uhm uhm uhm. I don't remember any others woops

UGH I love Naomi and Will!!!! 1. Will is the textbook definition of a Mama's Boy. and his mama KNOWS IT. She's so proud of him 2. Naomi isn't really the best at telling people what she's thinking or how she feels about them (i e "I'm proud of you" "you did really good!" "you have such talent for (said thing)") but she always ALWAYS makes a conscious effort to tell Will she loves him 3. Will may be a sixteen year old, 6'4'' grown child, but he will still curl up in his mama's arms. 4. Will didn't meet his grandparents til he was 12. He had been a year round camper since he was 10. When he turned 11, Naomi moved back in with her parents. After a bit, Will went to 'summers only' for a year 5. When Will can't sleep, he'll listen to some of Naomi's older songs, the ones she'd sing for him when she was still writing them.

Plus one... two. 6. Like alot of young kids, Will liked to hold strands of Naomi's hair when he was pretty young. She kept it long and curly, and Will loved the texture. (and this is why Will likes to play with Nico's hair) 7. Will was born with brown hair, the same light brown that Naomi has. When he was claimed by Apollo, most of his hair went blonde. (happens to every child of apollo)

I personally LOVE tsats. I really don't think it was that good of a book and, as always with Rick's books, there are many time inconsistencies, but I still love it with my whole heart. Nico was my favorite character as soon as he was introduced, blah blah blah saw myself in him, blah blah blah other traumatic stuff that made me love him more, now he's queer and i'm crying because he's like me blah blah blah, and BOOM! TSATS! It's very dear to me because I get to see these characters over come their problems and... it's jsut very emotional

NAOMI FOR THE WIN!!!!! @mediumgayitalian has some really good Naomi writings

She met Apollo at one of her first gigs at a local bar. She thought he was some fancy fella from a band. They 'dated' for a bit before he had to go. Naomi understood, a good musicians life was never stationary. She was nineteen. When she was found out she was pregnant, she ran away from home, absolutely terrified of what her good Christian parents would think if they found out she had gotten knocked up by some no good rocker.

It was just them for a while, Naomi and her little baby. She never acted like she was always alone. Always said "us" and "we". She was never alone, she had her baby. She had to bounce around from place to place, looking for working, looking for a place to stay. A month before Will was born, she finally found a stable job and apartment. Naomi loved Will more than she thought she ever could, seeing as she already loved him so much before she had even met him. They were never separated- hell, until he started kindergarten, Will went to work with Naomi. All her coworkers loved him, his gap-toothed smile and face that lit up like the sun. That's all Naomi ever needed. Her son. Her sun. And, of course, he became her muse. Every song she wrote was about him in some way. Something about the sunshine, or a baby's laugh, her strongest love, her will to live. Her music started to get popular. Naomi would pinch Will's cheeks, "all because of you," she'd face. Will would giggle in return. Sure, he didn't entirely understand what it all meant, but if Naomi could keep him happy, she would do anything. Will was about eight when Naomi started opening up to the possibility of touring. It was nerve-wracking. Her stability, which she had worked so hard for, would be gone. She'd be bouncing around again, but this time she'd have Will with her. She was more of a "we" than she thought before. After some convincing from her friends (friends? coworkers? other women her age with children she was able to speak to occasionally? it was all the same) Naomi decided that the tour would be good for Will. The money she could get off of it... She could give Will a good life, better than what she would be able to do on her own.

She hadn't expected Will to hate the tour life as much as he did. He had to spend more time alone or with a babysitter, away from his mama. She wasn't there to tuck him in every night. He was sleeping in hotels or on a bus, not in his bed that had always been right by hers. Then, right around Will's tenth birthday, Naomi started to notice some odd things. Odd things that put Will in danger. So they went to New York.... And Will went to camp. Naomi, now she won't admit it, but she cried for weeks after she dropped him off. She couldn't sleep without him there, now completely alone. Alone for the first time in her life. She missed her baby boy, his sunshine smiles, his laughter, his stubborn curls- Hell, she missed the fact that they couldn't be in separate rooms for more than five minutes before Will started to get nervous. She missed the way he'd brush through her hair whenever he was sitting next to her, how he always curled up to her side and tucked himself under her arms. So for the first time in ten years, she called her mama. Naomi was 30 when she moved back in with her parents. She couldn't write songs any more, every one came out sounding wrong, half complete. Things didn't make sense. So she worked on their farm, helped them keep up the chores and maintain the fields Most of her cousins worked for the family business too, so she saw them almost daily either out on the fields or while dropping off shipments. She could feel the way they judged her. She left with that baby years ago. Now she's here and her baby ain't. How must she look as mother? If only they knew, how hard it was for her. So, with Chiron's permission and direct instructions of care (how stupid is that, Naomi having to learn how to take care of HER baby from someone else) Naomi brought Will home for the school year. Her parents LOVED him. They adopted the roles of Gammie and Pawpaw quickly. "Oh look at that smile," they'd coo and pinch at Will cheeks. But Will didn't laugh the same. He was hesitant, shakier. Wore an ace bandage around his wrist. His arms and legs were littered with light scars. Hell, his hair was blonde now! Will, always her baby, didn't look like her baby. Naomi was scared for him. But Will was still a kid, he'd run and laugh with her cousins' kids, he made friends at school, he shared stories of what life was like during the rest of the year (even though Naomi had heard it all in letters), he Pawpaw out with the animals on the farm. Her baby was back. She wouldn't be able to keep him for long, and god knew how much different he was gonna be next time she saw him, but for now she had her baby.

woops sorry that was a long one

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 29. brb x oc

a/n: this chapter went everywhere three times before I wrote this version down. Also, when I found out that a+ man beef Bradley Bradshaw speaks Spanish I love my fucking mind.

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: mentions of Carole's disease, Bradley deals with a lot of shit :(, Bea worries a lot.

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

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@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22

-

“BALL!”

Beatrice quickly snatched her head towards the direction of the said ball, cupping her hands together to toss it over the net, hitting the opposite side with a slam.  It’s their first day of practice, their team of six separated into three so they’d play against each other in this empty open gym.

She didn’t know how Evelyn did it, maybe her parents helped her out a bit - not that she’d ask her about it - on keeping it vacant until they were done. Beatrice,Shells and Carmen were together, while Evelyn, Eliza and Jennifer were the opposing ‘team.’ Beatrice now remembered why Evelyn was team captain, denying as she might, she had the presence of a Navy Vice-Admiral within herself. She commanded the court without ever raising her voice and her firm stares were enough to understand where everyone was doing something wrong.

She was serious about this game, just like she was with everything else, with an eagle’s focus on doing a good job no matter what. Beatrice admired that so much, she wished she could have just the smidge of confidence Evelyn had for certain situations. She was still nervous about this game, nervous about the other team, nervous about letting people down.

Evelyn didn’t tell them much about who they’d be playing up against only that they are a professional team. She didn’t prod Evelyn either, she knew that the other woman would share information with the others when she felt like it. They stopped the practice a few times whenever Evelyn commented how their poses were off or if their set wasn’t strong enough.

It was intense but it had a good reason to be. “Alright,” Evelyn says after they’ve been practicing for one whole hour, “Water break guys.” She keeps the ball next to her side, following the other women as they sit on the benches close to the water cooler. They were sweating and panting like dogs, it’s been a while since they had such a strenuous workout like that. Even if she and Shells had Tiff’s class, their bodies got used to it now but when it came  to volleyball their joints just screamed from time to time thanks to disuse.

Carmen was the first to break the silence when the others were still drinking water, “Hey Ev, what can you tell us about this other team?” she asks, her bright pink hair pulled up in a ponytail with some strands sticking to her temples and forehead.

Evelyn thought about it, bringing the water to her lips to take a sip, “They are ‘professional’,” she air quoted, “As in they were part of regional championships but had…certain issues.”

“Issues?” Eliza asks, her hazel eyes shining with worry, “What issues?”

“Temperamental issues.” She says, “They are a bit over the top and think they are great. I actually met their team captain back when Prof.Richards told me and she is…” Evelyn’s face grimaces for a second, “...something else.”

Jennifer, the youngest of them all at the age of twenty three, scratched her hair underneath the headband with a frown, “So they won’t make this easy on us.”

“Nope, doesn’t help they are all clearly younger than we are.” Evelyn says, “They are eighteen to nineteen at best, the captain actually called me old timer.” The collective gasp of surprise and disgust echoed around the empty gym, but this was Evelyn and Evelyn always had a comeback, “So I just told her to fix her diapers before talking to me and I don’t think she appreciated it.”

They laughed together, but Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows with worry with her chuckle faltering into silence, squeezing the edges of the bench they were seated with a frown, “They will come at us with a vengeance.” she whispers, “You said they had temperamental issues, they’ll definitely throw insults at us…or worse.”

“I’d like to see them try and pick a fight with us,” Shells laughed, “I know karate, I can put them down in seconds.”

They all stared at the blonde with confused glances, Carmen arching one eyebrow “Weren’t you like eight years old when you left karate class?”

“I still know the basics!”

Evelyn frowns, holding up a hand to stop the conversation, “We are not going to beat anyone up.” Shells deflated with a scowl, crossing her arms over her bust, “This is for charity, we are just doing this because Professor Richards was one of the nicest people while we were in college, this is just a favor to him.”

The other girls quietly nodded, Shells muttering a ‘this is some bullshit’ under her breath before they got back to practice. She couldn’t say if it was because Evelyn explained the opposite team would be younger than they were or because they got a bit pissed about the captain calling Evelyn an old timer - which was messed up since her and Beatrice are both twenty nine, so she took offense to it as well- but they were a lot better than one hour ago.

Fire in their eyes as they tossed the ball back and forth, no score in mind, but Beatrice’s side definitely won according to Shells. Their time was up when they heard people wandering inside, quickly grabbing their things to get out of there and give them space while still regaining their breathing.

Beatrice stepped out and immediately smiled, seeing the Blue Bronco parked not too far from there with Bradley leaning on the hood with his hands on his pockets. He tilted his head in her direction when he heard the sound of voices, smirking as he pushed his lower back off the hood, “Who’s that?” she heard Carmen ask, watching Beatrice speed up her step to meet Bradley halfway, “Wait, that’s Bea’s boyfriend??”

“We told you she was dating,” Shells added, trying to hold back a snicker when the three other women just stared wide eyed, “Why the shock?”

“God, good for her,”Eliza commented, “She deserves someone better than that prick.”

“He’s really tall,” Jennifer whispers, still staring at Bradley and Beatrice, “And big,where did Bea find him anyway??”

“At the Hard Deck, he’s an aviator.” Evelyn said, she knew the three women had no malice in their questioning and no second guesses if Beatrice deserved Bradley or not. They were just genuinely surprised, and happy, that Beatrice had someone. “You guys know she’s working there.”

“I mean, yes,” Eliza adds, “But wow, what does the Navy give their pilots? I expected them to be…I don't know, skinnier.”

Meanwhile, Beatrice leaned up to kiss his lips with a little smile, completely oblivious to her friends chatting a bit farther from them, “Hey, gorgeous,” he coos, “How was practice?”

“It was fine!’ she replies with a smile, “I’m a bit sore but it’s okay, I just need to get used to it again.” She turns her head to where her friends were, seeing they were all in a circle talking amongst themselves Evelyn looks back at Bea, giving her a smile and a ‘go on’ motion with her hand, signaling she didn’t have to stay. The brunette nods, waving them all goodbye as Bradley takes her bag from her hands, tossing it on the backseat before they get inside.

Beatrice sighs, frowning at how sticky she is thanks to sweat, pulling her ponytail up into a bun to cool her neck a bit more. When he drives them away from the open gym, his eyes dart to the left with a furrow of his brows. He didn’t know if he was seeing things, but he was sure he saw the same red truck from the supermarket back on Halloween on the opposite side of the street, parked with its windows up.

Something inside of him made him keep his eyes on the truck by the rear view mirror until it disappeared. Now, he could be very wrong and it was just a coincidence that a similar truck was parked close to an area where Beatrice would be, but the back of his mind told him to keep that truck’s memory fresh in case he’d need to.  Again he chose to not tell Beatrice, not yet at least, seeing it would only make her feel nervous about coming back.

He couldn’t see the plate numbers from where he was, but he noticed there was a bulldog decal glued to the trunk, a simple white one of a bulldog growling at the viewer. Bradley moved his gaze away when they were far enough, trying to shake the uneasy feeling when Beatrice talked to him about the game and the team they’d go against. There was a pang in his heart when she said the other team called Evelyn, a twenty nine years old, an old timer. “Ouch,” he touches his chest, “What does that make me then?”

“They were just stooping low, Roos,” she says, laughing at him, “The girl wanted a reaction out of Ev and she just told her to change her diapers before talking shit.And if I’m completely honest you look nothing like your age.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, Leo is one year older than you and he had a bit of a breakdown when I told him how old you were.” she says, shrugging, “So you look a lot younger than you are.”

Rooster chuckled, puffing his chest as the words hit his ears, straightening himself on the seat. That was an ego booster if he ever saw one, he couldn’t lie. He had a giddy smile on his lips as he repeated the words over and over in his head, “I’m flattered.” he says, dropping one of his big hands from the wheel to her thigh, rubbing the fabric of her leggings as he drove them away. 

After taking a quick shower once she got home, she couldn’t help but take a good look at her bare reflection. Normally she wouldn’t do that, but she’s been noticing how easier it has become after a few months, having someone like Bradley being so…interested, certainly helped.

He called her a goddess. Never would Beatrice describe herself as one, she could call herself pretty, but a goddess? Her damp hair framed her face, water droplets sliding down her neck to the valley of her breasts, disappearing on the curve of her stomach. While she hasn’t changed much physically - she still had her soft stomach and hips- Tiff’s class certainly gave her more muscles than she thought it would.

Her thighs were firmer now as did her arms, but she still remained the same as she was even before she joined. Beatrice bit her lower lip, running her fingers to a fading hickey on the side of her neck, twisting her body and seeing that the one on her left buttcheek was disappearing as well. 

She smiled however, even if her cheeks reddened with the memories of these past days or how Rooster decided he’d spend most of his leave with her, in her house, even bringing some of his stuff to sleep in. And he loved her. He loved her without any shame within himself. She cupped her own cheeks, feeling the warm flesh touch her cooling palms, closing her eyes with a smile.

It was a dream come true. Something people said a girl like her would never get unless she changed her body. But he got interested in her, with her body like this! God and he was so, dare she say it, insatiable in a way she had never had someone feel for her before. It’s the way he’d rake his eyes down her body, or how he’d kiss her neck or how he’d pick her up in his arms during love making. When he talked to her before they went to the wedding, about how he didn’t want her to doubt herself around him, she was surprised she didn’t cry.

Maybe that’s why the confession came out like it did, from both of them, she felt so relieved and happy with him. She wouldn’t trade this feeling for the world. With one final smile at her reflection, she slipped on dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a red and green flannel before she walked out towards the stairs.

She blinked in surprise seeing him at the bottom of the stairs, supporting himself on the railing and smiling up at her, “I’m sorry,” she said softly while her feet padded down the steps, “Did I take too long?”

“No, I just wanted to be here when you walked out.” he says with a grin, letting go of the railing to pick her up, supporting her ass on his arms and carrying her down the rest of the way. She laughed, holding herself upright by hugging his neck, thanking him once he put her down, “You look very comfortable.”

Beatrice smiled, the sleeves of her flannel fell over her hands - just how she liked it - before she pulled the sleeves up to run her hand through her hair, “I am. I really needed a shower, especially after today.”

Rooster followed her to her kitchen, where she opened a cabinet to pick up a glass and fill it with water. Beatrice blinked, seeing he was just leaning against the wall, staring at her in silence, “What?” she asks with a confused smile, watching him shake his head with a little grin.

“I just like looking at you.” he murmurs, loving how her cheeks immediately redden and she picks up her glass of water, “Because you are just so pretty.”

“Oh my God, stop.” she giggles, looking away from him only for Rooster to step behind her, tugging her close to himself from behind. She looks up at him with her lashes fluttering, “You just like making me blush.”

“That I do, I won’t deny it.” He finishes his sentence by pressing a noisy kiss to her lips, “You still up for going out?”

Beatrice smiled brightly, “Yes! I haven’t been to an amusement park in years!” she says, when he suggested the two of them went earlier that morning she couldn’t hide her excitement. She always loved amusement parks, it was always so fun for her…also when you have a large family, it’s good to have options of what to do when it comes to entertainment. 

Truth is, neither had he and while he had a bit of a distaste when it came to clowns, he couldn’t help but think that’d be a good time for them to spend together. Plus, it was Wednesday, so it wouldn't have a lot of people.

-

There were a lot of people. 

Rooster and Beatrice watched with wide eyes as the crowd moved about the amusement park. While not a huge park, it still had attractions that called people’s attention like roller coasters and a ferris wheel and several stands with food or prizes. 

Beatrice pursed her lips, her hand clasped to his as she looked at the people walking by through her sunglasses, “Well,” she begins, “It’s not so bad, right?”

“It’s not, no,” he says, leading the two ahead. He really thought that there would be less people, if not because it was the middle of the week, because the weather was getting colder. But alas, neither of those prevented people from coming. “Where do you want to go first?” 

“I don’t mind!” she smiles, getting closer to him “Let’s just walk around a bit.”

“Sounds good to me,” he says, bringing her closer to him to press a kiss to her scalp, his arm draped over her shoulders as her fingers played with his. Sure there were a lot of things to do and games to play, but they weren’t in a hurry.

He had a fourteen days leave and god damn it he’d enjoy it however he pleased. And if he wanted to spend it at an amusement park with his girlfriend, he’d do so. He did however flinch when he saw a clown giving balloons to kids not too far from them, subtly trying to avoid the colorful man and hoping Bea wouldn’t notice, but she did, turning her head up to him, “You don’t like clowns?”

Bradley just kept the clown within his line of vision, memories of when he was a little boy and had the unfortunate luck of finding the It miniseries by accident. He had never really recovered from the fear, even if it was small now, part of him was still hesitant about approaching the jolly entertainers, “Not really.”

Beatrice smiled, hugging his torso, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” she says, leaning up to kiss the curve of his jawline but didn’t stop walking when he turned them away from the clown, going farther and farther until the man disappeared from their view. 

He smiles, kissing her scalp one more time,“Going to protect me from harm, are you?” he joked, but he didn’t expect Beatrice to look at him right in the eyes with her face firm, telling she’d always try her best to. God he loved her so much. 

But her attention went somewhere else, her head tilting up when she saw they were approaching the ferris wheel, “Oh wow!” she says, stepping closer to the silver and blue ride “It’s huge! Can we go? The ferris wheel was always my favorite ride!”

Bradley just nodded with a smile, that only got wider when they got in line and she kept looking up. There was something about Beatrice being so excited about stuff that warmed his heart a lot, it was so endearingly genuine, like she wanted to enjoy every second of it no matter how mundane it’d be.

They entered one of the round cabins, sitting next to each other, with Beatrice immediately looking behind her to watch the wheel move up as she lifted the sunglasses to her hairline. “I love this.” she whispers, sitting on her knees as they get even higher, her happy gasp when they could see the horizon - the blue turning into purples and pinks as the sun went down - was one of his favorite sounds, “It’s like we are flying….I-I mean, not that we are– you know how it is to fly, I just mean we are very high.”

“I know gorgeous,” he says, leaning back on the seat to look down to the ground, where the people turned into moving colorful dots the higher they got, hooking his sunglasses on the collar of his white tee. Their cabin stopped on top of the wheel, “Why is this your favorite ride?”

Beatrice is still looking ahead when she says it, a wistful smile on her face, “I dunno, I just like this a lot. I was never one for roller coasters or intense rides like that…me and my nonna would come to the ferris wheel and just spend time here quite often.” she giggles, “Sometimes we’d try to sneak back in line to go again, but never really worked.”

“You two seemed very close.”

Beatrice’s smile dimmed and she sat back down on the soft pleather covered seats as she looked at him, “We were.” she says quietly, “I don’t know, she had a very young soul and always said to live life to the fullest. One time, she picked me up from school and took me to a spa.” she chuckles softly, reminiscing, “Then we went out for ice cream and she brought me home past curfew time. She did tell my parents, but they thought I was with her at her book club.”

Bradley’s own gaze softened when her voice lowered volume, he could identify the pain in her eyes easily when talking about her nonna. “When I was a kid,” he begins, startling her out of her sad thoughts, “My mom and I used to go on the bumper cars. It was dingy, clearly dangerous and there was rust everywhere, but it was so fun. We’d always use the blue car because it was my favorite color.”

Now it was her time to soften her gaze at him, smiling sweetly, “She sounds amazing,” she whispers, “She seemed to be a lot of fun.”

Bradley smiles, “She was.” but then inhaled sharply, scratching his jaw - he still remembered the last image of his mother was of her lying on the couch watching tv - “It’s been…a few years since she passed.” he got home and she wasn’t moving anymore, he couldn’t even call the ambulance with how much his hands were shaking. 

Mav? He couldn’t call Mav. He was alone now, God he was so alone. He was alone and scared and he wanted his mother back and his father and Mav– a soft touch made him snap out of his thoughts, Beatrice’s thumb rubbing his cheek.

She just looked at him with an worried gaze, before she engulfed him in a hug, pressing his face to her shoulder while her hand caressed the back of his head, “It’s okay Brad,” she whispers and he feels his shoulders easing the shuddering and his own breathing calming down, “It’s okay.”

He hadn’t even noticed he was shaking, nor that he was breathing hard, nor that there were tears coming out of his eyes. He just wrapped his arms around Bea’s waist, clenching his eyes shut tight while trying to calm down. He was reminded of how Beatrice told him he made her feel safe and… he noticed that she made him feel safe too. Normally he’d go through these moments alone, in his room, sometimes in his office because he didn’t want anyone to know it, but it felt so good to have her with him.

His heartbeat slowed down and his mind drained out the dark thoughts of what he could’ve done, what he should’ve done, why wasn’t he faster and why hadn’t he paid more attention when she started showing symptoms. His mind only had the soft shushing of her voice and the smell of lavender. She kept caressing his hair, gently combing the golden-brown strands with her fingers, the soft fabric of her flannel shirt reminding him of a blanket with how soft it was, “It’s okay,” she repeated, “You are okay.”

He was okay. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Bradley inhales her perfume one last time before he pulls his head up, his hand coming up to wipe his eyes but she’s faster. She brings the sleeve up to her hand, gently dabbing the tears away from his cheeks “I’m sorry,” she says “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” he’s shaking his head but she continues, ‘I-I didn’t mean to-”

“Bea, stop,” he holds her hand, sniffling to himself, “You don’t–don’t have to apologize. You really don’t.”

“But–”

“No, no,” he sighs, “You couldn’t have known this would happen.” she still looks worried, her own eyes shining with tears as she fidgets with the ends of her now damp sleeve, “Bea…look at me,” she does with much hesitance, her eyebrows curved downwards and big green eyes glazed, “I’m serious, I’m not mad at you…I…” his own words felt stuck to his throat, so he tried to regain his thinking process, “...I’m usually alone when this happens.”

“Alone?” Beatrice frowns, “Brad…”

“I know,” he chuckles sadly, leaning back against the seat and rubbing his hand over his face, “Yeah…fucking sucks. But it’s not your fault, it really isn’t, okay? I know you didn’t mean to…I just remembered a lot of stuff I hadn’t thought about in a while.”

She still didn’t seem convinced if her expression was any giveaway, pushing herself away from him with a deeper frown. Bradley knew, he knew she was beating herself for what happened and overthinking on how that would affect how he saw her.”Gorgeous,” she says nothing, nor moves, “Gorgeous look at me.” she shakes her head, biting her lower lip hard with her fingers clenched together so tight he could see them turning pale. “Bea,” he scoots closer, grabbing her clenched hands in his, rubbing her fingers to bring the circulation back, “Bea, I am not mad at you.”

She gives him a suspicious side glance, “I’m not, I swear.” he brings her hands to his lips, kissing her soft skin before he places her hands on his cheeks just like she does on her own. He keeps her hands there, noticing how her shoulders slowly relaxed and her worried gaze moved back to him.

“...are you sure?’ she asks quietly, looking at him by the corner of her eye.

“I am very sure.” he says, still keeping her hands on his cheeks, “You didn’t know, you made an innocent comment.”

Beatrice looked away from him then returned her gaze, “...okay…” she murmurs, “If…if you are sure…” Bea said quietly, their bodies jolting a bit when the cabin finally moved back down. He stepped out first when they reached the bottom, offering her his hand to which she hesitantly took, keeping her eyes on her shoes or around herself. 

Stupid girl, stupid girl…tsk tsk tsk. Can’t you keep your fucking mouth shut? You’ll lose him, you’ll lose him forever now. You did it. 

Beatrice closed her eyes briefly, letting Rooster guide them through the crowd as she tried to calm herself down now. She hated thinking that her words triggered something out of him, even if it wasn’t intentional, she didn’t want to repeat it. Blinking her eyes open, her vision sharpening to her surroundings, she noticed they had stopped walking and Bradley was looking at her, “...I’m fine!”

“You are blaming yourself.” he says softly, “For something that wasn’t your fault.”

She tries to reply but she’s only able to move her mouth without words coming out, her fingers digging on the fabric of her flannel shirt before she just nodded mutely. She didn’t agree it wasn’t her fault, but she did agree she was blaming herself.

Bradley sighs, taking her to the side of the Haunted House, leaning against the green and purple walls with his hand still holding hers, “I’m serious when I said I wasn’t mad.” she chewed her lower lip again, “I haven’t talked about my mom for a while, you couldn’t have known.”

“But I should–”

“Be careful?” he suggests, “When talking about my mom? I don’t want you to do that, Bea.” she frowns, looking at their joined hands instead of his brown eyes, “I like talking about her, I love talking about her and I wouldn’t want anything more than to talk about her with you.” he got closer to Beatrice, wrapping his arms around her in a hug, her closed fists pressed against his chest as she stood immobile, “You are my girl, you are the woman I love…I’d want to share about her with no one else but you.”

Beatrice made a sound against his chest, then tilted her head up to look at him, looking to where one of her fingers was following the leaves design on his shirt. “...okay, Brad.”

“Okay?” he arched one eyebrow, “For real this time?”

“For real.” She looks up at him with a tiny smile, making him sigh out in relief, kissing the top of her head before he pulls back from the hug. She does feel a bit better, the angry gremlin like voice in the back of her head disappearing until there wasn’t anything else. He brings her close to his side, regaining the same position from when they got to the park a few minutes ago.

The sun was setting and the families in the park were switched now by couples and groups of young adults. The temperature also dropped, making Bea snuggle closer to Bradley and then blink up at him, “How are you not cold?” she asks, looking at his short sleeved Hawaiian shirt, with surprise. 

“Well, someone called me very hot once, as I recall.” he says, smirking down at her and her blooming red cheeks, “So I don’t care much for cold.” Bradley leans down to kiss her head yet again, his free hand sliding into his front pocket as they walk without any hurry through the rest of the amusement park.

Neither of them felt like going to the other rides, honestly they were just happy to walk around. With what happened earlier now in the back of their minds, they thought about enjoying the night before it got too cold for them to stay out.

However, they did have a lot of fun at the games of skill, with Beatrice winning a large elephant plush she’d definitely give to Bianca and Bradley winning Beatrice glowing rings that would run out of battery the second they stepped out of the park. But she did kiss him in thanks either way.

Now they were both sitting on the hood of his car, sharing a huge pink cotton candy as they watched the people walk into the park they were minutes ago. She let the sugar melt in her tongue before speaking, “You know what was my favorite park food?” he rips another piece of the cotton candy with a questioning sound, “Candy apples, not caramel apples. The red ones with the sugar layer around them.”

“You mean the fucking rocks that taste like apples and are meant to break your teeth?” he laughs, then slaps his hand over his heart. “Also, ow? How the hell do you think they are better than caramel apples?”

“I mean, caramel apples are nice,” she smiles at his offended ‘nice??’, eating another piece of the artificially colored sugar cloud “But they lack the crunch.”

“You can put literally anything on a caramel apple to make it crunchy.”

“Sure but then you lose the taste of caramel.”

Bradley huffs, ripping a huge chunk of cotton candy and shoving it into his mouth, “Caramel apples are far superior babe. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to greatly disagree with you.”

Beatrice giggled, bumping his shoulder playfully before offering more of the sweet treat, “We’ll agree to disagree then.” She taps the heels of her boots together as they sit there, tilting her head up to the sky to see the stars glinting above their heads. Once they are done with the cotton candy, Bradley tosses it on the trash can as if it was a basketball. The stick flips in the air before landing inside with a metallic ‘twang’ and her boyfriend fist pumps at the victory.

Beatrice’s smile widens as she tilts her head at him, moving closer so there was no space between them. He lowers his arm so it lands on the expanse of her thigh and his head turns so he kisses her forehead, his mustache tickling her scalp when he does so, “You know, I noticed we had dessert before dinner.”

“Would cotton candy even be considered dessert?”

He tilts his head to the side, “True…caramel apples would be considered dessert since they are so much better than candy apples.” he purses his lips with a smile, giving her an amused look.

“...I’ll ignore what you said so I can ask you if you want to have dinner.” she giggles, “Do you want to have dinner?”

“Hell yeah,” he pushes himself off the hood, then turns around to pick her up by the waist and lift her up before she could do it herself, “I’m feeling…tacos.”

“Tacos?”

“Quesabirria tacos to be exact.” he says with a grin, “They are so fucking good. There’s a food truck that has the best quesabirria tacos I’ve had in ages. Ooh, or al pastor too. Maybe some chicharrón too if I feel like it.”

Beatrice blinks at him with a confused smile, “That was the smoothest Spanish I’ve heard.”

Bradley grins, “Cariño, hablo español.” he says with a shrug, enjoying how Beatrice stared at him with wide eyes and her face turning a violent shade of red, “¿Qué? Soy un hombre lleno de sorpresas mi amor.” he leaned down to press a kiss to her parted lips, his poor girlfriend looking like she forgot how to speak, “Come on babe, do you want tacos or not?”

Beatrice blinked her shock away, then followed Brad inside the Bronco still digesting her boyfriend spoke Spanish as fluently as if he was a native speaker.

He was indeed full of surprises.

[crossdressingdeath]

That's why Carver always becomes a Warden in my playthroughs. Getting away from Kirkwall is exactly what he needs. I always viewed his joining the Templars as him wanting to spite Hawke.

See, I wholeheartedly disagree with the interpretation that Carver joins the Templars to spite Hawke. Carver is fully, painfully aware of how bad the Templars are. If he's in a position where joining the Templars is an option, he's the only non-mage child of the three Hawke siblings; Malcolm and Leandra would've worked hard to stick it firmly in his head that he could not trust the Templars and he could not go near them without putting his father and siblings in danger. If you look at what he approves and disapproves of in act one, he mostly seems to disapprove of things that draw attention to Hawke, thereby increasing their chances of discovery by the Templars. He doesn't approve of Hawke working with the Templars because he agrees with the Templars, he approves of Hawke siding with the Templars because it means the Templars won't pay as much attention to them. In fact he pretty openly dislikes the Templars... which makes sense, given he would have been raised to be very aware that the Templars would've at best taken his father and siblings away forever, and at worst would outright kill them. Carver does not like or trust the Templars, largely because of Hawke and Bethany. With that in mind, why would he join the Templars to spite Hawke? That's not just spite, that is a massive betrayal that would be infinitely worse than anything else we see him do in the game!

The thing people often seem to forget is that Carver wouldn't have had many choices. If he becomes a Templar, he wasn't brought on the expedition. Now remember that most of the expedition got back to Kirkwall long before Hawke's party since Hawke's party had to find an alternate route, and Bartrand absolutely told everyone who asked that Hawke's party was dead. Meanwhile back in Gamlen's hovel Leandra outright refuses to get a job, and Gamlen could barely keep himself afloat on whatever income he's got; Hawke seems to be the primary breadwinner for the family, with whichever younger sibling survives mostly acting as their backup. So here's Carver, nineteen years old, having just been told his older sibling is dead, living in a hovel with as far as he knows his entire surviving family, suddenly painfully aware that the family's primary source of income (Hawke's various jobs) is now gone. And Carver would absolutely have been expected to take up the role of breadwinner. Leandra clearly expects her children to do all the hard work of keeping the family afloat (sure, she yells at Gamlen for expecting her kids to do all the work, but she's not even putting money towards food so she really doesn't have a leg to stand on), and with Hawke gone that leaves Carver as the only one left. And remember the running theme of Carver's banters with Aveline revolving around how no one will hire a Fereldan refugee? And how the one place that might have taken him on—the Kirkwall guard—was convinced not to by Aveline's sabotage? And how most of the jobs we see Hawke doing during the first act would absolutely be at best insanely difficult if not suicidally dangerous for one person to pull off, especially when that person is the only one who can bring in any real income for their family? Yeah. Carver's back would very much be up against the wall during the expedition; he and Hawke probably would've set some cash aside for Leandra and Gamlen while the expedition was ongoing, but when Hawke didn't come back with the rest of the expedition that money would've run out fast. And the Templars will take anyone.

Carver didn't join the Templars out of spite, he joined the Templars because he was a nineteen-year-old Fereldan refugee with no skills beyond fighting, a supposedly dead older sibling who was the main breadwinner of the family, and three mouths to feed! The Hawkes would've been in desperate need of money, and the Templars seem to take basically anyone who can swing a sword and is fanatical, indoctrinated or desperate enough to go along with all the torture. If Carver could've done something, anything else he would've, but he was trapped by the Hawkes' need for money and the fact that no one else would take him on. Or at least not hire him for any sort of position that would pay well enough to feed his family. And DAI makes it perhaps excessively clear that leaving the Templars isn't as easy as just handing in your two weeks' notice; remember, Templar Carver is forced into lyrium addiction just like all the other Templars. By act two the Hawkes might be rich enough to buy the necessary lyrium to keep him going or to help him recover without having to go completely cold turkey, but buying that much lyrium would be suspicious, especially since the Templars pretty clearly know Hawke's an apostate by that point; they're just too wealthy and well known for Meredith to go after them. Plus, as a Templar Carver can keep an ear out for any plans to move against Hawke in a way he wouldn't be able to outside of their ranks. So he's kind of stuck even after Hawke comes back, and even if he wasn't it's not a bad position for him from the specific standpoint of protecting his family, which is consistently shown to be Carver's primary concern.

Now, I admit that I've never actually done the Templar Carver path (I keep meaning to, but he's just so much happier with the Wardens!), but everything about it I've seen or heard about just... doesn't give the impression of someone betraying his family out of spite. It gives the impression of someone acting out of desperation and doing something he finds at best distasteful and more accurately immoral for the sake of his family. And then getting constantly shit on for his "betrayal", when he was just a scared kid doing the best he could for his family. I don't know, the fandom seems to be really hard on Carver for it, but I've never seen anyone come up with a course of action he could've taken instead that would have given him, Leandra and Gamlen the same security that him joining the Templars did.

[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | 15

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : CONTROL - HALSEY

I got the call from Dean, holding my phone to my ear. “Where is he?” 

‘I’m with him. He was covered in blood, Beanie. Down the front of his shirt… he doesn’t even know what happened.’ 

“Just… keep him calm.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “And keep an eye on him. I’m coming. Tell me where you are.” I went to the Mustang, getting in and immediately driving off. I reached the motel they were at, and the moment I saw Sam inside, I gasped. “Samuel Winchester, what have you…” I stared at the shirt, then pulled out one from my satchel. “Let’s get you changed quick, then we can retrace your footsteps.” He didn’t move, so I undid the shirt for him, slipping on the new one. I sat down beside him, and he leaned his head on my shoulder while I reached up to stroke his hair. “Hey, it’s ok, Sammy, I’ve got you.” 

Dean walked in, holding groceries. “You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora. Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan.” 

“Dean.” 

“Room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual.” 

“You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?” Sam scoffed. 

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.” 

“Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?” 

“I don't know.” 

“But you're okay, and that's what matters.” I cut in, my arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Everything else we can deal with.” 

“Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?” Sam fretted.

“Sam…” 

“Dean, what if this is what Dad warned you about?” 

“Hey, whoa, whoa, come on man, let's not jump the gun here.” Dean held out his finger. “We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like, like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?” 

“Just us, just… in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and...” 

“West Texas was a week ago.” I frowned. “Just after we were sure that the dreamwalker was gone.” 

“That’s it. Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month.“ 

“Okay. Retrace your steps.” Dean nodded. “The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so…” He pulled back the curtain, revealing a fingerprint. A bloody fingerprint. 

We were now outside the motel, looking around. “Recognise anything?” Dean asked. 

“Not really.” Sam grimaced.

“Beanie, is there any mojo you could do outside of your powers that could help?” 

“That requires my mojo, Dean, so no, sorry.” I replied as we continued walking, ending up in a parking garage.

”Wait.” Sam stopped, and we turned. “I think I was here.” 

“You remember this place?” 

“No, it just… feels… familiar.” Dean went to the first one, while I took the second. Sam pointed at the one I was going to, all of us converging around the lock. “Yeah, this one.” I pulled out a bobby pin, about to pick the lock when Sam dug in his pockets, pulling out a key. I took it, opening it and revealing a beaten up VW Beetle. Dean groaned in disgust, turning to Sam. 

“Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this.” He grimaced. 

“As if being in a focal epileptic-type episode for a straight week could enable you to steal a Rolls, Dean.” I scoffed, then opened the door of the car. There was blood on the steering wheel and the backseat, which I touched and brought up my blood-stained palm for them to see. “More blood.” Then I reached down the backseat again, pulling out a bloody knife. 

“You think I used this on someone?” Sam gulped. 

“I’m not thinking anything.” I then picked up a pack of cigarettes. “Yeah, this is getting weird. You don’t smoke.” Then Sam pulled out a receipt. 

“Gas receipt. Few towns over.”

“All right. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two.” Dean read out as we found the gas station he bought stuff from. “You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? 'God, this looks familiar', deja vu vibes?” Sam shook his head. “Maybe someone inside'll remember you. Come on.” I unbuttoned my flannel a bit, pulling my beanie off my head as I went inside. Something tells me that this won’t end well. 

“You. Outta here now, I'm calling the cops.” The clerk demanded. 

“You talking to him?” 

“Yeah, I’m talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging.“ 

“This guy?” 

“What, am I speaking Urdu?” 

Sam sighed. “Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything-“ 

“Tell your story walkin’ pal, po-po will be here in five.” He snapped, picking up the phone- 

“Wait, wait, put the phone down.” I stepped in, then pushed the boys to the door. “Sam, Dean, go wait in the car.” 

Dean frowned. “But-“ 

“Wait. In. The. Car.” They left, so then I summoned my courage and cursed my dignity when I approached the guy at the till, resting my forearms on it and turning on the old charm. “Sorry about the fuss. My brother? He has epilepsy.” 

“Does he?” The clerk seemed to buy it. “Kinda sad.” 

“I know, right? I’m trying to provide for the boys, but it’s so hard without a real man to help you, you know what I’m sayin’?” 

“Well, if you need some help, sweetheart, a date or two with me would seal the deal.” 

“Really?” I fake gasped, taking his number. “Also, uh, which way d’he go?” 

“North, Route 71.” 

“Thanks, handsome.” 

“You’re welcome, darlin’.” He pulled a packet of sweets out from the front of the counter and handed them to me, and I winked, taking them and walking off. I reached the boys, already eating the sweets. 

“And that’s how you do it, boys. Route 71, heading north.” 

“Turn here.” Sam ordered. 

“Why?” Dean frowned. 

“I don’t know how, I just know it. Turn!” Dean obliged, and we ended up at a private house with a ton of emergency lighting and cameras installed. 

“Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises.”  I clicked my tongue, then knocked on the door, but nothing happened. 

“Guys.” Sam had gone round the corner, where there was a broken window and a disabled alarm. 

“Well, police didn’t come, alarm system’s disabled.” I cleared the glass, climbing inside. There was a dead body on the floor, so I hit the lights. It was a man, and his throat was slit. Dean covered his mouth, and Sam’s eyes widened while I flickered between Sam and the body.

“I did it.” 

“We don't know that.” Dean scoffed. 

“Yes, we do. The knife, the throat, I…” 

“Ok, we need to figure out what’s going on.” I sighed. “You two, check the CCTV. I’m gonna go to the roadhouse and work with Ash and Ellen to find out what could possibly be causing this. I’m takin’ my Mustang.” I left the house, going over to a garage storage unit and getting into the Mustang, driving off. 

His hands felt like they were everywhere- 

Snap out of it, Ivy. That’s a dream. What’s happening to Sam? That’s… that’s reality.

I ended up at the roadhouse, hugging Jo tightly. “Hey, Jo.” 

“Ivvy.” She sighed, releasing me. “Are you feeling better?” 

“Yeah, but I need a beer.” I chuckled. 

“Right this way, madamoiselle.” We went inside, where Ellen was cleaning glasses. 

“Jo, I have to run some errands,” Ellen walked in, picking up her jacket, “so can I trust you to close up?” 

“Yeah, mom.” 

“I can help, Ellen.” I volunteered. 

“C’mon, Ivvy, no.” 

“I used to work here, Joanne.” I hopped behind the counter and picked up a glass and a cloth. “I know the ups and downs of being a bartendress.” 

“If you say so.” Ellen left, and Jo turned to me. “How’s Dean?” 

“Oh, you mean your one and only?” I laughed. “He’s doing just fine.” 

“And Sam?” 

“There’ve been some bumps, but overall? Fine.” I chuckled. “Who am I kidding? Things are going off the rails.” 

“That’s pretty much a guarantee.” She laughed. “I’m gonna go and restock from the warehouse a few miles down.” 

“You do that, I’ll hold the fort.” I returned to the cleaning of a tumbler when Sam walked in, and I smiled, placing the tumbler down and walking out in front of the counter. “Hey, Sammy. Can I get you anything?” 

“One beer.” He smiled, and I placed down a beer. He took off his jacket, and I saw a circular burn mark. “That looks like it hurts.” 

“Nah, I just had a run in with a hot stove.”

“Where’s Dean?” 

“Back to the motel. We got into an argument.” He scoffed, looking up at me. “Wow, you really hold a torch for him, huh?” 

“For Dean?” I frowned, looking up. No, I don’t, right? 

“I’ll take that as a yes. Cause see, Dean, he likes you, sure, but not in the way you'd want. I mean, maybe as kind of a… a little sister, you know? But -romance, that's just out of the question, he-“ He laughed, “he kind of thinks you're a schoolgirl, you know? I'm not trying to hurt you, Ivy, I -- I'm telling you 'cause I care.” 

“Thanks for the concern, but I don’t, as you say, ‘hold a torch’ for Dean.” 

“I mean it.” He put his hand on mine, caressing the back of it. “I care a lot.” 

“Yeah, we get it, Sam.” I chuckled, but then he cupped my cheek. 

“I could be more to you, Ivy.” He leaned closer, and I felt trapped between him and the counter. “You and I, we’re both special. We’re made for each other.”

“Sam, what’s gotten into you-“ He kissed me, but my hands, by instinct, pushed him away. “The hell?! You’re like my little brother, Sam, just back-back off!” 

“Ok.” He stepped back, then charged forward, shoving me against the counter. I grabbed the bottle of beer I’d drank and hit him across the head with it, mounting both of my forearms on the counter and kicking him in the stomach, and I caught my breath. “You’re gonna regret that.” 

“Make me.” I growled. 

“Challenge accepted, Beanie.” I managed to dodge a punch and throw a counter myself but then, with sudden surge of strength, he took the side of my head and slammed it against the counter. I fell onto the floor, my head rolling to see him approaching me and lifting me into his arms just as everything went black. 

Jo walked on once Sam had left, and stared at the scene. She instantly picked up her phone, dialling someone. “Dean?! Yeah, it’s Jo. It’s Ivy. Ivy’s been taken.”

I woke up, feeling my torso restricted. Music was playing in the background, and Sam was fastening me to a pole. “The hell? What’s going on?” 

“How much do you know about your dad’s death, Ivy?” Sam asked, and I struggled for a moment, testing the waters. 

“You’re not Sam.” I snapped. 

“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart. Answer the question.“ I didn’t say anything, so Sam sighed, sitting down in front of me. His expression changed to one of concern, and he took out a knife, stroking it lightly against my face. “Come on. It's me. You can tell me anything, you know that. Answer. The question.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.”

”My dad and his hunter friends were at the Allegheny forest in Pennsylvania, at least that’s what I knew after the body was found. Everyone was attacked, found dead in different gruesome ways. My dad happened to be the one with his heart carved out. That’s all I know.” I stalled, fiddling with the rope while also keeping it as tight as possible to avoid being caught.

“There were survivors.” He smirked. “John Winchester was part of that group. He was there, and he was the only one who escaped. Because he didn’t stop the father of an unborn child, Mick, from going in to save his comrades. John escaped unscathed, while your dad paid the price. Dead for eight years while his daughter suffered. Then he had the conscience to go after him, but got knocked out. Next thing he knows, he’s kneeling over Michael Rainer’s dead body, holding the knife that did it, dripping with blood.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“My daddy carved your daddy’s heart out…” He sang.

”Tell me you’re lying, whoever you are.” I ordered through gritted teeth.

”I must not tell lies.” 

“If you aren’t, how do you know that?” 

“I hear things.” 

“Why are you doing this, then?” 

“Because we’re all connected. You, me, Dean. We’re both special, especially after little Carter was sacrificed for you. Call it fate, the fact that my dad killed yours.” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” He chuckled. “Besides, you’re bait.” 

“Son of a-“ I dropped the rope, having undone it, and took Sam by the neck. I shoved him against the wall, but he just laughed. Dean burst in, holding up his gun, but then Sam turned the tables, spinning me around and holding his knife to my neck. 

“I begged you to stop me, Dean.” He cried. 

“Put the knife down, dammit.” Dean begged. 

“I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You'd be doing me a favor! Shoot me.” He spread his arms, “Shoot me!” 

“No, Sammy, come on.” Dean shot me a look for help, then turned away. 

“What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Ivy die?” 

Then Dean turned around, flinging holy water at Sam, who hissed and stepped back. “That’s holy water, you demonic son of a-“ I punched Sam, pulling out my gun and shooting Sam in the foot. 

“I’m not opposed to pulling the trigger.” I snarled. I then ran back to Dean, who gave me a quick check. Sam turned around, and his eyes were black, so I took the bottle from Dean and flung some more at him. Sam yelled out, then burst through the window. Dean and I sprung after him, me climbing through the window first and landing lightly. We stalked through the warehouse, looking out carefully.  “So who are you?” 

“I’ve got lots of names.” Sam chuckled. 

“You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?” Dean yelled. 

“You shoulda seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic.” 

“Why didn't you kill me? You had a dozen chances.” 

“Nah, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? You see, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. Should've known you wouldn't have the sack. Anyway. Fun's over now.” 

“Well, I hope you got your kicks. 'Cause you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that.” 

“How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother.” I pulled out the flask of holy water, creeping towards the voice. “See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find. One look at Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door.” I heard footsteps, and then silence. I dialled Dean, cursing under my breath-

‘This is Dean. Leave a message.’ I ran outside and called again, looking around, but then I heard a muffled ring, from under the water.

“DEAN!” I yelled, cutting the call as I sprinted down to the dock. Someone was lying face down, and I immediately knew who it was. “Dean! My god…” I knelt down by him, turning him to his side. He woke up with a groan, coughing, but I steadied him. “Take it easy.” 

“Where’s Sam?” He whispered. 

“I don’t know. Now, c’mon, we need to get you to a safe place.”

I was cleaning Dean’s bullet wound, heavily dousing the cloth with the rubbing alcohol before wiping away the blood. He hissed, pulling his shoulder away, but I grabbed it and kept it there. “Keep still.”

”It hurts.”

“Get a helmet.” I retorted. “And sip some whiskey, this next part’s gonna hurt.”

”I think I’ll be fine, Beanie.” 

“Your funeral.” I picked up some tweezers and started digging for the bullet, making him grip the counter in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning loudly in pain. “Don’t be a baby.” 

“God, it hurts!” 

“Do you want some armour to go with that helmet?” I pulled out the bullet, dropping it into a glass of clear alcohol. “There.” 

“You’re a butcher.” 

“I’m a realist.” I smiled, turning to get the gauze. 

“Are we done?” 

“D’you wanna bleed to death?” I started patching the wound up, cutting the tape with my teeth and securing the gauze. “Hey, Dean?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Was your dad ever in Pennsylvania, around eight years ago?” 

“Yeah, he was, why?” He saw my face, then his eyes widened. “What did that demon tell you?” 

“That your dad was there when the hunters were attacked. He knew that my dad wouldn’t survive and let him go in. But, when his guilt got the better of him, he goes in, gets knocked out and when he wakes up, he’s kneeling by Mick Rainer’s dead body and he’s holding the knife that cut my father’s heart out.” 

“How d’you know that thing wasn’t lying?”

”Demons lie unless it comes to something that’ll really mess with your brain.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “That messed with my brain. I didn’t even hesitate to shoot Sam-“ 

“In the foot, so you have some self-control.” Dean vouched. “Plus, you promised that you’d be the one to pull the trigger.” 

“I never thought I’d actually have to pull it, Dean. At least, not yet.” I then pinched the bridge of my nose. “What if I’m going insane-“ 

“Don’t say that, Beanie, don’t you say that.” He made me face him, his face set determinedly. “You’re the most straightforward person I know.. you keep Sam and I straight, not the other way around. Ain’t no way in hell that you’re going insane.” 

“Well, in that case, I’m going to call Bobby. Knowing the demon in Sam, it’s going after the next closest person to us for bait.” I left Bobby a message, then turned back to Dean. “Rest for the night. Sam’s gonna lay low before getting to Bobby’s house in the morning, and you need to rest your shoulder.” 

“Beanie, you got kidnapped today.” Dean frowned. “Normally ladies are more in shock.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” I shrugged. 

“Yeah, cause you’re not like other ladies.” 

“I am like other ladies.” I smirked. “If all women learnt how to shoot guns, fight and kill demons and other creatures, then I’d be an ordinary Jane. And, to the outside, unsuspecting world, that’s what I am. Unless you count the Fed’s database, in which I’m a wanted criminal.” 

“Alright, you’ve made your point.” 

“Thank you.”

Bobby had Sam tied up and in a devil’s trap, and I was ready. I smacked Sam, waking him up. 

“Hey!” Dean snapped. Sam looked up to the Devil’s trap, then back at Dean. 

“Dean. Back from the dead.” Sam chuckled. “Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach.”

”How about I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?” 

“Oh, careful, now. Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging.” 

“Don’t you worry.” I smiled, holding a bucket. “Won’t hurt Sam. You, however…” I flung the holy water on Sam, making him yell out in pain. “you’re a whole other story. Feel like talking now?” 

“Sam’s still my meat puppet.” Sam snarled. “I’ll make him bite off his tongue.” 

“You won’t be in him long enough.” I started chanting in Latin. “Exorcisamus te, omnes in mundus spiritus omnes satanica potestas, omnes incursio...” 

“Whatever errand boy master plan you’ve got going, you aren’t gonna have Sam.” Dean boasted while I performed the exorcism. “You understand me? 'Cause I'm gonna kill every one of you first.” 

Sam struggled for a moment, then stopped and laughed maniacally. I stopped short in surprise. “You really think that's what this is about? The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan.” He scoffed, and I continued reading. 

“Humiliares sub potente magnu dei-“ 

“Oops.” He grinned. “Doesn’t seem to be working on me. See, I learned a few new tricks. Spiritus in mundus, un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram, domine ...” The fireplace ignited and the room started to shake, and my eyes landed on the burn mark on Sam’s arm. 

“I recognise it!” I yelled. “The burn mark, it’s a binding link! He’s locked himself in Sam’s body!” 

“What the hell do we do?” Dean fretted. 

“I don’t know!”  The walls and ceiling began to crack, and within seconds, the circle was broken. Sam lowered his head, smirking. 

“There.” He chuckled. “That's better.” He moved his head to the side, and Bobby flew into the wall. Then he jerked his head right, and Dean flew into the other. I raised my gun, but I was sent into the wall at the end. He stood up, walking over to me. “I never thought I’d get to meet the daughter of my personal friend, Michael Rainer. Thank my lucky stars. You see, hell is exactly as advertised. It’s hell. And, to my misfortune, your two buddy boys sent me back.” 

“Meg.” Dean snarled. 

“I’m Sam now.” He retorted. “I’ve heard of your little rune predicament, Rainer, and if you were on my side, I’d have considered helping you to get them back. But obviously not, because one doesn’t like the barrel of a gun being pointed at their head.” He flicked his hand, and my head banged against the wall then he let me go, and I fell limp as he walked over to Dean, putting his thumb on Dean’s wound and pressing hard. “By the way. I saw your Dad there - he says ‘howdy.” He pressed harder, making Dean push at his hand to get him off.. “All that I had to hold onto, was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you. Nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect.” Sam wrenched Dean’s hand away like he was brushing off a speck of dust. My eyes landed on the iron poker by the fire, and I groaned, my arms shaking as I pushed myself up. “But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your Dad, and deep down... you know that you can't save your brother. Then there’s your precious Ivy, who you know you can’t save. They'd have been better off without you. All of them-“ I grabbed the poker, ignoring the burn stinging my hand and pressed it hard against the binding mark, gritting my teeth to remove a bit of the pain. Black smoke poured from Sam’s mouth as he yelled in pain,  and he collapsed next to Dean, grabbing his arm. 

“Sammy?” Dean groaned. 

“Did I miss anything?” He panted, but then Dean reared up and punched Sam, who held his cheek in confusion. I checked the swelling burn on my hand, which was a strip that went along the expanse of my palm. 

“That’s one way to check.” I sighed, breathing heavily. “You okay, Bobby?” 

“I’m ok.” Bobby nodded. 

“Good. You two, in the car. Sam, you’re driving.” As we walked to the car, I passed the boys some charms. 

“What are these?” Dean frowned. 

“Charms. To protect you from basic demonic possession.” 

“Neat.” Sam smiled, pocketing his. 

“You boys will be the death of me.” 

“Hey.” Dean smirked. “Knife to the jugular.”

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[namig42]

So fun fact: I really hate Sorn Orlith, the guy of the drow twins. This chapter is absolutely slanderous of him. I like to think Wyll, as a demisexual romantic, would agree with me. Anyways, please enjoy another chapter of my Wyllstarion fic!

Just One Yesterday (Ch. 7)

Read it on Ao3

Summary: This is a modern AU where Wyll is a police officer and Astarion is a sex worker. Despite a problematic start, the two manage to find a connection and have it build in time into something more while also dealing with their demons.

---

Monday night came, and Wyll was back to his usual mission. Find a target, lure them into the car, and get them to the station in one piece. He drove to an uptown district tonight, doing his best to focus on his mission as he scouted the streets for targets. He tried to resist the temptation of going downtown to find Astarion and keep watch on him from a distance, distracting himself instead with a young girl, barely nineteen, who offered him a night of fun and got in his car. He tried to make conversation to keep her mind off where they were going, but even more so to distract himself from thinking about the person he really wanted to see.

That resistance lasted one whole day.

By Tuesday, Wyll found himself coasting down Cazador’s downtown territory, driving and looking for that familiar head of hair. As he coasted through the streets, Wyll passed a corner where he saw the handsome man, though he wasn’t alone. He was chatting with a short, plump woman against a wall, leaning close to her with his arm high up above her head. It looked just like a scene out of one of those trashy erotic romance novels they sell in grocery stores. Wyll slowed even further, but still maintained enough sense not to come to a complete stop.

Wyll’s stomach lurched a bit at the sight, but he knew that the face Astarion made at the woman wasn’t one of love. Hells, it barely even looked like lust. She was blushing and covering her lips as she made eyes at him, but Astarion’s grin seemed tired. It seemed she was too enamored to realize how uninterested he was. Still, she must’ve said something to trap herself further because just a moment later, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her in for a kiss. Wyll’s heart snapped, but he reminded himself that this was a different Astarion. This was the Astarion he had first met in the park by the fountain, the one doing a job. This wasn’t the one that he spent the night discussing literature with, sharing life stories with, or dancing with.

He drove away quickly, not being able to stomach the sight of the one he admired holding someone else and kissing them so sinfully, even if he knew that it was only a job to Astarion. There were no feelings in what he was doing right now. Wyll needed to focus on his own tasks and just make it to Saturday. Saturday was the night he would get to see the real Astarion again, not the shell of him that roamed these streets.

This was not the Astarion that he kissed outside the Elfsong.

On Wednesday, early in the evening before he officially went out patrolling for the night, Wyll decided to take a drive by the Szarr Estate. He wanted to get a good look at the place that he recalled passing by so often in his youth. He parked down the street and decided to take a walk by the estate’s gates. It was common for people to walk around this part of town and sightsee because of how lovely and manicured the Szarr gardens were, so he shouldn’t stick out too much.

Wyll only remembered really looking at the manor during nights in the winter time, when all the lights were strung around the manor and the surrounding trees. He never really considered the building itself. Now though, knowing the horrors that were happening in the mansion just on the other side of the fence, that idealized version of the manor crumbled.

In the evening glow of sunset, the manor was grey and covered with more gargoyles and bat sculptures than Wyll recalled. They must’ve been difficult to see at nighttime, especially with the memory of lights blinding him from most of the architecture. The massive building was three stories tall and spread out, taking up nearly half of the entire estate grounds. It was designed in a gothic architectural style with tall, pointed windows and doors as well as those monstrous sculptures and decorations that lined the rails and window frames. Wyll couldn’t help but think that the whole thing looked like a child’s depiction of a vampire’s lair. The stone, the bats, the gothic style, it was like a cursed cathedral that Victor Hugo would’ve written about in excruciating detail. No wonder there were conspiracy theories of the Szarrs being vampires.

It was a common urban legend in Baldur City that Wyll had never paid any mind to, but now he understood where the whole idea had originated from. With a manor this gauche and stereotypical, it’s no wonder that people made those connections. There was also the fact that Cazador was rarely ever seen during daytime functions and those even more insane conspiracy theories of the Szarrs drinking blood from beautiful youths to stay young and beautiful themselves.

It was all a bunch of nonsense though. Vampires weren’t real. The only monsters that existed in this world were men like Cazador Szarr. Not for what they were, but for what they did.

On Thursday, Wyll drove down the Szarr’s block downtown again and saw Astarion, this time walking along the pavement with a tall, burly man. Astarion was leading them somewhere while holding the big man’s hand. His client tonight didn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, but the dopey smile he looked at Astarion with made him seem like the gentle giant sort. Meanwhile, Astarion looked exhausted and annoyed as he stared straight ahead, hiding his face from the fool he dragged in tow. When Wyll coasted by slowly, Astarion spotted him and the two made eye contact for a brief moment. Wyll smiled softly and wanted to wave at the very least, but the frozen, terrified expression Astarion wore at the sight of him made Wyll freeze himself and his stomach flip. What could’ve made Astarion make a face like that?

Astarion quickly recovered and made some coy remark to his partner that evening as they continued down the street, and Wyll drove off in a hurry.

Dammit, what was that expression? Wyll thought to himself. What was going on in Astarion’s world? Did Cazador know about Wyll? Did Aurelia say anything to him after her release? She must’ve. If Cazador was as nosey as Astarion had implied, then he surely knew who Wyll was by now.

Now that he understood how much danger they were in, Wyll made a point of avoiding that part of town on Friday. Instead, he drove around the Outer District on the east side of town. On a Friday, targets shouldn’t be hard to find, but this part of town was much more fashion forward with all sorts of people dressed to the nines in wild styles. It made it hard for Wyll to tell who was a casual club goer and who was trying to make some money that night.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to look too hard. Wyll and his rundown car stuck out like a sore thumb in this part of town, and it seemed that he had caught the attention of someone. A tall young man who wore a risque ensemble approached Wyll’s car. His top looked more like bondage than clothing with all the black, leather straps that ornamented his torso. He wore baggy black cargo pants on his bottom half that rode incredibly low on his waist. He had soft, smooth white hair that was brushed back from his face, showing off a cocky smile that seemed a bit too full of itself.

He had spotted Wyll parked along the curb and must’ve thought Wyll was looking for an adventure tonight.

He came over to Wyll’s window and knocked softly. When Wyll rolled it down, the man leaned against the door, closing the distance between him and the driver. “Hello there, beautiful,” he led with. The words sounded like they were dripping with sickeningly sweet honey. Wyll felt his body go cold. “Where are you heading this evening?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Wyll answered. He got a look at the man who couldn’t be much older than twenty one. Besides the forward outfit, he also had long black nails, almost like claws. Well, most of his nails were claws. The index and middle finger on his right hand were cut short, making them stand out from the rest of his hand. His fair, olive complexion was enhanced by the heavy eyeliner that brought out his dark, red eyes. In a lot of ways, he reminded Wyll of a younger version of Astarion. Wyll wondered if this was the kind of scene Astarion had found himself in during those party days he boasted about the other night, before Cazador found him.

“Got a date?” the boy asked.

“Not yet,” Wyll answered, offering a polite smile.

“Well then, how about coming to a club with me? Dancing the night away and all that? You look like a good dancer.”

Wyll huffed a bit at the offer, trying not to laugh. Gods, this felt like some alternate universe, but so much less captivating. It reminded him so much of that first night in the park, the way Astarion’s words struck something in Wyll and made him so nervous. That feeling though hadn’t made him feel as revolted as this man’s words did. His low baritone voice made Wyll’s skin crawl.

“Really? And how much would the night be?”

He looked back to the man leaning into his window with the soft, smooth silver hair, continuing his business. “I’m looking for more private company.”

“Private? Well, say no more! I could be your guy for tonight!”

“Well, that is a shame. Tell you what,” he leaned even closer to Wyll. Wyll leaned away from the intrusion in his car. “You’re a handsome lad, and I need a small favor. Help me out, and you can consider me yours for the rest of the night.” The man’s voice lowered in an effort to be enticing.

“Hm… let’s say $1,000. I’m quite in demand around here, you know.”

“I’m sure you are.” Wyll said, unimpressed. “Unfortunately, I don’t have that much with me.” Wyll didn’t even think he had that amount of money in his bank account at the moment.

Wyll didn’t like this bold stranger, but the later it got, the harder time he would have finding another target. It was already past one in the morning, and it had been difficult to differentiate pedestrians and prostitutes in this part of town. Wyll shouldn’t try to do his job in such difficult conditions. It was like trying to hunt for an arctic fox in freshly fallen snow. “What’s the favor?”

“My sister and I have a small bet going on. She says that she’s the only one who can get herself a soft, sensitive type, that I’m too extreme for them. I say that’s a bunch of bullshit.” No, I would agree with her, Wyll thought. The energy this man gave off was much too intense for Wyll. The bold stranger continued, “anyways, if you could come with me to a club, dance for a bit, and meet my darling sister, then I will be more than satisfied and happy to help you with any fantasy you desire. A lovely trade, isn’t it?”

Wyll was reluctant, but he worried if he’d be able to follow through tonight if he didn’t take this offer. Mizora was still hovering over him and pressuring him further not to slip up again after the Aurelia incident. He had been consistent this week and made an arrest every night, but Mizora still didn’t seem satisfied with his work. If he failed while she was still in one of her moods, he worried what may follow.

“Sounds great.” Wyll finally answered with the friendliest smile he could muster. “Where is this club?”

“Oh, it’s not far at all by car. Just a few blocks down the way.” Without an invitation, the man ran around the car and opened the passenger door to hop in. “I’ll give you directions as we go.”

“Fine then,” Wyll spoke as he turned his key and started the ignition. With a few clunks, the car roared to life, and Wyll turned out onto the street. In the passenger seat, the bold stranger was smiling to himself. “This is perfect. Just wait until Nym sees you. She’ll be so envious. She hasn’t had a sweet thing like you in ages.”

Wyll listened in silence as he took a right turn and drove down a new street. “It’ll just be a couple more blocks, then you can pull off to the side of the road.” Wyll nodded, trying his best to roll with the punches. Then, the stranger put his hand on Wyll’s thigh. Gods, not again with this. 

“You can call me Sorn, by the way. I appreciate the help tonight.”

“It’s no problem,” Wyll said with a polite smile. It certainly wouldn’t be if the night went how Wyll needed it to go. Sorn’s hand squeezed Wyll’s leg, though thankfully, it didn’t roam any further up from his thigh. Wyll felt an uncomfortable shiver run through his groin and up his spine.

“So what are you into, sweetie?” Sorn asked excitedly. “I’ve got a whole collection of tricks, and I’m open to trying anything. I’m especially known for my Menzoberanzan Love Trick. Ever heard of it?”

“Can’t say I have,” Wyll spoke while staring at the road. This was the most talkative pickup yet. He wished that this guy would shut up.

“Good. Oh, the club will be just on the right over here,” Sorn said while pointing at a black door on the street. There was a line of twenty people outside of it. Wyll saw a parking space directly in front of the building, but drove straight past it. “Oh, you passed a spot,” Sorn commented, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, it’s something you must experience. If the night goes as planned, I would be most happy to show you.”

“I’ll certainly keep it in mind.” Wyll said, hiding his disinterest as best as he could.

“Did I? My apologies. Hopefully there will be another one just a bit further.”

Wyll had no intent on stopping. He had no intent on going to that club or seeing what this Love Trick was. He did not like the way this man spoke. His honey-slicked tongue made Wyll’s skin crawl in the least erotic way. The sooner they made it to the station, the better.

As they drove further down the street, Wyll could tell Sorn was getting more tense. The stranger’s hand lifted off of Wyll’s leg as the tension increased in the car. “I hope you’re planning on turning around soon. We’ll be further than when we started if you don’t find a spot.”

Wyll stayed silent. Sorn’s eyes went wide, finally understanding what was happening. He went to open the door and jump out of the car.

Wyll locked it quickly and activated the child safety lock.

“Oh, you bastard!” Sorn swore as he jostled the handle, but the panic began to sink in as he realized he was trapped. Wyll sped up the car, zooming through a red light. They were about ten minutes from the station if he drove normally, but he had the feeling he could turn it into five if he sped strategically. As he pressed the gas, Sorn turned to him and began to claw at Wyll. He got a good, deep scratch on Wyll’s face that caused the officer to scream and swerve to the side of the road. Thankfully, he didn’t hit anything as he drove onto the sidewalk and quickly slammed the car into park. Sorn hadn’t let up though. His claws were still poised as he lashed out at Wyll and tried to reach the button to unlock the door. Wyll had a better advantage now that he could focus solely on the fight, but that first scratch had stung. Sorn’s whole hand had dragged over Wyll’s face, scratching his false eye and continuing all the way down to his chin.

The stranger fought like a cat: his claws flurried over Wyll, making shallow but stinging cuts as he leaned over the seat, trying to reach the unlock button. Wyll blocked the scratches with his arms now, taking most of the damage on his forearms while he tried to strategize what came next. He watched Sorn’s hair come undone as he panicked. It fell messily around his head, making him look even more like a cornered animal. “Let me out, you rotten bastard! Let me out, now!” He went from swiping to trying to grab at Wyll’s arms. Wyll took the opening to grapple Sorn, pull him down, and pin him on his lap. Sorn jerked and fought, but he was stuck in the cramped space. Wyll grabbed the handcuffs that he kept on the side of his door and began to cuff his target. “Sorn, you are under arrest for the solicitation of-” Wyll was rudely interrupted by a strong chomp on his groin. He screamed loudly and his grip released. It felt like this man meant to castrate him.

Wyll grabbed Sorn’s head by his hair and ripped him away from his crotch. Sorn took the opening to press the unlock button on Wyll’s side of the car and make his escape. He managed to open the door before Wyll could relock it and bolted down the street back towards the club. Wyll had cuffed one of his wrists, so he was stuck with an accessory, but that didn’t seem to concern him. As Sorn ran away, he yelled back at Wyll while flipping him off. “Get shit on, you pig!”

Wyll held his crotch as he leaned forward in insurmountable pain. He rested his head on the steering wheel as he tried to recover from a pain he hadn’t ever expected in this line of work. Hells, I really screwed that up. He wouldn’t be able to show his face around here again, lest that Sorn guy actually be someone of note and he goes off telling everyone to stay away from the man with the glass eye and the rundown car. He lifted and dropped his head a few times on the steering wheel, hitting his forehead out of frustration with himself. He screwed up the mission just about as bad as he could’ve, got hurt for it, and definitely wouldn’t be able to find another target tonight with this bleeding clawmark on his face.

And the worst part of all this was that Wyll couldn’t help but feel like he deserved this. Luring people in with promises of money and a prosperous evening, only to betray them and prey on their ignorance. His job wasn’t much different than Astarion’s, really. He was the monster preying on innocents, not his targets, but there was nothing to be done. Not while Mizora ordered him to continue with this depraved quest of Zariel’s.

After a few minutes of sulking in his guilt, Wyll managed to sit up and look at his reflection in the rear view mirror. Fucking hells, Wyll thought as he examined the cuts. Those nails must’ve been sharp, and Sorn got him with the hand that had all five claws. There was blood streaming down his cheek, dripping on his black t-shirt. Wyll tried to touch the scratches and winced at how much they stung. They were deeper than he thought, maybe even deep enough to leave a scar. Wyll sighed as he put the car back into drive. Though it hurt, he couldn’t help but think that it was fair for him to be scarred after this revolting job that had no end in sight.

He surrendered himself to his fate and made his way home for the night, hoping that Mizora may be merciful and not make his life any harder tomorrow.

---

Thank you for reading!

[pantherlover]

A Local Habitation Re-Read: Part 5

Hello again! Here's part 5!

Chapter Seventeen:

"Quentin, get something nutritious to go with your soda. A Snickers bar or something." Oh they were both SO lucky May showed up after this.

Oh, poor Luidaeg. She's finally met the person who will eventually be able to remove the geas on her, and she's a person who decides that summoning the night-haunts is an acceptable plan.

Of all the people at ALH, I might like Elliot the most (other than April). I respect a character that can just roll with with an unexpected situation.

Toby mentions that Raven-maids and Raven-men are skin shifters like the Selkies. Given how/why the Selkies were created, this makes me curious about whether the Raven-maids/men were created for similar reasons. In the story published with Be the Serpent, Luidaeg says that she cursed the Siren who murdered her love to join the Sky Kingdoms. Maybe that has something to do with how they came about?

I really do feel sorry for Elliot about Yui. I'm glad they got their wedding after everyone was brought back.

Chapter Eighteen:

Connor is noooooot equipped to help out with quests. You were going to take Toby's car back? *Really*?? You had ONE job, man.

Was Sylvester still the Mad Duke when Quentin started his fostering? I'm pretty sure it was mentioned somewhere, but I can't remember off the top of my head. If he was, that might be why Quentin thinks that 'breaking out into hysterical laughter' is a normal reaction in Shadowed Hills.

Connor's relationship with the Luidaeg is definitely something that I want to try to pay more attention to on this re-read. It would be interesting to see what I can pick up from it now that we know about the Selkies.

Okay, Connor, I understand that your marriage is unhappy, but you're still married. Gently resting your joined hands on Toby's cheek is not cool!

Toby was probably lucky that Alex showed up and distracted Connor; he probably would've gotten a lot angrier than that otherwise.

Chapter Nineteen:

Connor may not be equipped for quests, but he does know his role as coffee-provider.

"We need to talk to [the night-haunts], and this is the only way. Believe me, I don't want to. I'm scared stiff." Toby is the ultimate proof that repeat exposure works.

I think I'm appreciating the wistful 'what-could-have-been' of Toby and Connor's relationship more this time around. I don't think they would've worked out in the long run, but they might've been able to be better friends to each other. It's a little sad that they never got to learn how to be that for each other.

Fuuuuuuuuuck Aaaaallleeeeex. Just - SO many things wrong. First, I feel like he contradicts himself while he's explaining? Does it come naturally or does he not do it to every woman he meets? Second, is it supposed to be a *compliment* that he doesn't enchant every woman he interacts with? Like it means something that he liked her enough to give her no choice in how she felt about him??

I wonder why Gordan didn't sabotage the summoning; she and Elliot got all of the flowers together, she would've had plenty of opportunity. Was she that confident that the night-haunts wouldn't be able to tell Toby anything? Was she hoping that they'd come and eat her? Was she curious enough about the night-haunts that she wanted to see it play out?

The summoning ritual is SO creepy/cool. We don't see Toby doing any concrete 'spells' with her magic; she just forces her way through a situation until she gets a desired outcome. I wonder if having kids is going to make her try to find a more consistent way to do things so she can teach them?

Chapter Twenty:

As much as we learn about them in this chapter, I think the night-haunts are the longest running mystery in the series. I saw a meta a while back theorizing that, after the Roane returned, the night-haunts lost their most stable food source and were in danger of fading unless they found another way to sustain themselves. I'm not sure if this is the direction the series would take them, but it would be a good reason to call in Toby's debt to them.

This might be the first time Toby's ever been described than 'wiser than most who deal with [the night-haunts]'.

The mandrake doppelganger make me sad, and I'm trying very hard not to think that the 'created just to die' part is foreshadowing of any kind.

Forget all the blood magic; Toby's superpower is being able to connect with people so strongly that it affects them *after death*.

Chapter Twenty One

'Backups. They had backups for the backups in this place. It was amazing anything had been able to go wrong: they should've had backups for the people, too.' Funny you should say that, Toby!

'"Look, I'd hug you, but I'd get blood al over you." "I don't care," [Quentin] said, and threw his arms around my neck.' Oh, I'm so glad that Quentin and Toby found each other.

Whatever else you can say about Luidaeg, her bedside manner is still better than Gordan's.

Jan, at least, gets (minor) props for actually planning on telling Toby everything before she died. It is honestly a miracle *anyone* made it out of this alive given how willing everyone was to take their project to the grave.

That's it for this part! As always, please feel free to come talk to me about stuff!

[discodeviant]

HARRINGROVE WEEK, DAY 2: Twenty-Three | Mature | 1.2k

Molly Ringwald’s Wish: Neil Gone

Cake Slice: Pineapple Upside Down Cake

That’s Not Frosting: Praise

Remember what I said about slow, hazy, romantic sex? Well, this isn't quite it yet, but we're getting there 🥰 Enjoy!! <3

Read on AO3 @harringroveweek

Even in the springtime, it might have been too cold for Billy if Steve wasn’t wrapped around him. Curtains shielded their eyes from the harshest rays of light, but it still filled the room with a warm, shallow glow that stirred one awake before the other. Both groaned. Neither moved.

Billy was twenty-three years old.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Steve said into the scruff of his hair, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before pulling him in even tighter. One arm was trapped under Billy’s neck; he grinned and breathed it all in: their bed, their home, their life as two lovers with nothing in the way. “Sleep okay?”

“Mm…” Billy turned his face further into Steve’s arm, further into the light despite saying, “Still ‘sleep.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah?” That voice could have broken Billy’s heart and put it back together again, but it was always held so safely in the same hands that pushed frizzy curls from his face. “Want me to make your coffee?”

“No. Stay.”

“Okay, okay, I’m staying.”

To be with Steve Harrington was to be treated like royalty by the king himself. Gentle hands over his, intertwining their fingers together and having a conversation through shifting thumbs and intermittent squeezing. Billy had never known that with anyone in his life, which made it all the more worrisome when Steve let go. But it was to place that hand on Billy’s waist or his hip, to run through his hair, to massage his back and shoulder. Billy sucked in a hard breath when Steve rubbed too hard into a sore muscle, but he just moved closer.

Steve chuckled. “Were you dreaming about me?” Billy had pressed against his thigh, hips almost flush if it weren’t for the pulsing case of morning wood stiffly between them. He groaned—whimpered, nearly—and rolled his hips once, long and slow, with a pout that he failed to hide. His face was in Steve’s chest now, sleepy and embarrassed and hot just above the sheets. “You are so cute.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so.”

A big, delicate hand scratched down from Billy’s neck to his side, then pulled him in harder, right up against a thigh that pushed up between his legs. He sighed, deep and heavy, utterly blissed, desperate and needy. “Steve…”

“Hm?”

Billy sighed again.

“Shh, baby, c’mere,” Steve said, hand up again to lift Billy’s chin. They met for a short kiss that turned longer as the seconds went by, and Billy shoved more into Steve’s limited space. He chased the flavor, wanting as much as he could get before he lost him again. “Look at me… there’s my pretty boy.”

Billy crooned again, pressing harder against Steve like he was trying to merge with him into one, which he often did when he got shy. And just like every time he did, Steve rolled him over onto his back and kissed him to tell him to lay down, let me do the work. Just lay there and let me love you. Billy was weakest to his kiss when it was everywhere: lips, neck, chest; teeth bared over a nipple, but Steve didn’t bite. Not now. Not yet. He rose back to Billy’s mouth and captured it with his own, brought a hand up to Billy’s chest and rubbed over his pec. Massaged a little. Kneaded into his skin, let his thumb roll over the other nipple and pinch it between his fingers.

“I’m so proud of you,” Steve told him, smiling wider when his head turned away.

“What the hell for…”

“You know what for.” His voice was too sweet for Billy to take, even five years later, even after countless utterances of the same thing. Each one came with something new. Billy getting his own little apartment when they were nineteen, his job promotion soon following. Asking Steve to go with him for his first therapy session. New opportunities that he took in stride and the confidence Steve found with him. “You’re here.” Letting Steve pull him back and hold him at the quarry, trembling and refusing to admit his tears and bloody nose and bloody eyebrow and bloody knuckles, when he was seventeen. “We’re here.” In sunny San Diego after arguing for so long about whether Billy deserved to see it again.

Billy didn’t say anything. He’d have still denied it if Steve asked whether he was crying or told him he didn’t have to, so Steve did neither. He slid his palm back up instead, wiped one teardrop away with his thumb and kissed the other. Kissed Billy’s lips and tongue. Steve said, “I know you don’t want to make today a big deal or anything—“

“Steve.”

“Billy, let me finish.” With a playfully stern glare, he put his thumb over Billy’s lips to keep him quiet. Billy opened up and hooked him in his teeth. It still worked. “I made reservations for nine tonight.”

“Steve…”

“Billy, they’re for our restaurant”—the one they went to for their first west-coast date—“at our table, and I know you think about that pineapple upside-down cake every day of your life.”

He pouted; it was true. “What if they don’t have it?”

“I threatened them to make sure they do.”

Billy laughed, shoved him away, and didn’t fight when Steve pulled him back in with a kiss to his temple. “You’re an idiot.”

“Guess you’ve got good taste then, huh?” Billy laughed and rolled back onto his side, into Steve’s chest, clinging to him with an arm and a leg while Steve scratched the back of his head. He muffled something under Steve’s arm. “What’d you say?”

Billy lifted his head, peeking between Steve and the sheets. “I love you.”

Steve whispered. “I love you too.” Their kiss that time reminded Billy of what he’d woken up from, and it seemed that Steve never forgot when he trailed back down to Billy’s hip and to the waistband of his briefs. Billy’s face was pink and tear-stained, so soft when Steve asked, “Want me to take care of this for you?”

“Please?”

He was just too sweet.

“Anything for you, birthday boy,” Steve said into another kiss that followed his hand under the tight cotton over Billy’s bulge. Under the covers where he could be warm and cared for, still focused on Steve’s eyes and his voice when he said again, “I’m so proud of you, Billy.”

“You mean it?” He’d unraveled years ago.

“Yeah, I do.”

If Billy started crying again, maybe he could admit it this time. Let Steve tell him it was okay because he still had trouble believing it sometimes. “Let it out, baby,” he said with Billy trembling in his hand, a knee shoving hard into his thigh, breathing heavy, stomach tensing, heart beating out of his chest. He came with a louder cry than he anticipated. “That’s it, let it all out…” Steve rubbed him until there was nothing left but the mess on his belly and between Steve’s fingers. “Feel better?”

Billy nodded. Satisfied enough, Steve reached over for a few tissues before pulling the covers down, careful not to get them sticky, and wipe him down as much as he could. “You’re gorgeous,” Steve said. “Do you know that?”

“I’m cold.”

“I know, I know, I’m almost done.”

“Can we sleep a little longer?”

“We can do whatever you want.” With that, the tissues were tossed away, sheets pulled back up over Billy, his underwear tangled somewhere near their feet, and he snuggled into Steve again. Steve closed his eyes, kissed Billy’s head, and slept.

It was a good birthday so far.