#when i first got into it there were less than 20 chapters. look at us now

[soaptaculart]

Um I like Dungeon Meshi. Btw

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Yay!! New multi-chapter fic in honor of 800 followers!!

I'm a sucker for tropes and mean Leon is one I can't keep out of my head. If you're not good at math then this is the fic for you! (also don't mind me slipping some Sky lore in here...)

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 1

Growing up, college had always been a big dream of yours, leaving you fantasizing day in and out about all the possibilities that would open up, along with actually getting to live through the renowned “college experience”.

In reality, college was a lot harder than you were expecting. Your parents had told you to jump right into it after high school, fearing taking a gap year would ruin your good streak. The stress was starting to get to you and it was only a semester into your freshman year. All the tests, projects, and general studying really wore down on your mental health, not to mention you were failing the one math class you had.

You couldn’t tell your parents, no, they’d probably have a heart attack, especially since that math class was a prerequisite to another class that you needed to take. They were already worried enough that you hadn’t picked a major yet, so who knows how they’d take the news that you were failing right off the bat.

It was hard enough that you were feeling homesick. This was the first time you’d ever been this far away from home, studying at a university when you would’ve been perfectly content going to a community college closer to home. Your roommate was nice, but the two of you weren’t growing any closer than mere acquaintances, so it always felt awkward to just exist in your own dorm room.

Your eating habits worsened with the lack of any real food within five miles of campus. Sure there were a couple fast food chains on the campus itself, but they closed incredibly early. By the time you finished studying, which was around six in the evening, it had already closed. Not to mention that when they were open, the lines were comically long. University food was out of the question after you got violently ill from their “chicken nuggets”, so you were left with the little money your parents provided once a week to order takeout or make quick trips to the store to buy a frozen meal. Only one, since the mini fridge in your dorm was almost always occupied by your roommates stuff.

Everything was so exhausting and you were way out of your comfort zone having to use the community bathrooms for all your hygienic routines. Walking in always made you feel like you were interrupting a meeting in the president’s oval office with how many nasty looks you were given when all you were trying to do was brush your teeth.

The first thing you saw whenever you opened up Canvas was a massive F staring you down from the little box that comprised the majority of your math assignments and tests, making you feel less than worthless. This one semester alone helped you understand why so many people dropped out, this was hard.

By now you’d already gone to your math professor multiple times asking for redos or extra credit work. He was probably sick of seeing you since you showed up after almost every single assignment’s grades were submitted.

“Heeeyyy, Mr. Lebovic..” You said after knocking your knuckle against his open door to grab his attention. “Listen, about that last quiz, I-”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand before gesturing towards one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk. You hurried to sit down, watching nervously as he slowly pulled his eyes off his computer and onto you. “I get it, you don’t need to explain yourself.” His relaxed tone and faint smile was enough to ease your nerves a bit, letting your shoulders slump with a sigh. “You’ve been trying really hard, I can easily recognize that.”

You nodded eagerly, licking your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off again. “I’ve been looking into studying options that might help you. Resources are scarce for this material, but I think I finally have a tutor to help you out.” 

A wave of relief washed over you at the mention of tutor. Maybe you wouldn’t have to face the wrath of your parent’s disappointment after all! “Oh.. o-okay…” you stuttered, eyebrows furrowing as you silently beckoned him to continue.

“I teach another math class, it’s higher level, but I have a student in there that’s just taken up tutoring the material you’re learning.” Your professor seemed just as happy as you were about the opportunity. “His name is Leon Kennedy, he’s got one of the study rooms in the library from three to five in the afternoon on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

It took you a second to process everything Mr. Lebovic was telling you before you scrambled to pull out a sticky note and a pen to write all the information down on. You heard the older man chuckle softly, looking over at him when he held out a small piece of paper to you. “I wrote it down already for you, don’t worry.” You wished you could’ve thanked him tenfold, but his office hours were closed for the day now, so you said a quick goodbye and hurried back to your dorm, holding onto the piece of paper like a lifeline.

Contrary to what your math professor thinks, you knew the name “Leon Kennedy”. You had a couple friends that you hung out with occasionally out in the grass in front of the science building and they’d brought him up before. The few vague bits of info that you’d heard weren’t flattering, painting this Leon in quite a bad light; the stereotypical jock in a frat flying by on a full-ride scholarship. However, he was your saving grace now and you needed to develop more of an unbiased opinion of him if he was going to help you raise your grade from an F.

“Yeesh, sorry I’m not better at math or I would’ve helped you.” One of your friends, Sky, spoke up as they read the piece of paper your professor gave you yesterday from over your shoulder. “Even if you were better at math, I still wouldn’t trust you.” Ella, your other friend, laughed out.

“Ha ha, yeah, Sky failed math four times. Big whoop.” Sky waved their hands dramatically before walking over to sit down next to Ella in the dead grass. “Seriously though, you’re better off taking a failing grade and dealing with your parents. Kennedy is the devil incarnate.”

“The devil incarnate sounds easier to put up with than my parents, so I’ll take my chances..” You grumbled, taking a seat on a medium-sized rock close to the pair. “Maybe he’s turning a new leaf? Deciding to tutor?” 

Sky crossed her arms and rolled her eyes which made Ella elbow them in the side before giving you a sympathetic smile. “Maybe so, but please just be careful. I don’t want you having to put up with some jackass that has an ego bigger than Texas.” 

You nodded with a slight frown, moving your foot side to side lazily to push the grass blades around. You didn’t even think to consider the repercussions of studying with some random junior. “I’m sure it’ll be alright. Besides, just tell Sky and I if he’s giving you any trouble. I know damn well no man likes to put up with two women yelling in his face.” Sky nodded and pointed to Ella for added dramatics. “Yeah, and I bite. My top six teeth are porcelain so that shit hurts. Trust me.”

Your friends never failed to make you laugh, a slight resolve in a pool full of worries, you suppose. “Don’t worry, you guys’ll be the first to know if Leon is mean.”

“Good. Now, when’re you gonna go see the guy?” Sky rested their arms on their knees before looking up at you. “Uh.. in a couple hours I guess. I already made the appointment.” Your response seemed to surprise both of your friends, giving them a confused look in response to their shocked ones. “Is that.. Is that not a good time?”

“No no, just.. I thought you would’ve maybe taken a little longer to go and see him.” Ella shrugged, reaching a hand up to scratch behind their neck. “Proud of you, taking the initiative like that.” She then looked at her phone before pulling herself off the ground with a small groan. “I got class in a couple minutes. Good luck with the frat boy.” 

She patted your shoulder as she walked off towards the larger building on campus, leaving you and Sky alone for the rest of the time. Part of you wished both of your friends could walk you to the library when the time came, but having Sky was enough. “So.. Leon’s bad bad?” You needed a bit more clarification on the guy you were going to spend one-on-one time with, something to calm you down after running through countless scenarios in your head.

“He’s not all bad, 'least I don't think. I’ve exchanged a few ‘hello’s’ and ‘excuse me’s’ with him here and there since we apparently frequent the same building.” Sky scooted over to the rock you were sitting on, placing the back of their head on your legs. A couple brown leaves blew over from a nearby tree which they grabbed and crunched with their hand. “I haven’t personally experienced any bad happenings around him, but he is part of a pretty notoriously rowdy frat, so you have to promise me that you’ll only study with him on campus and never go to that frat house or any frat house in general, alright?”

Sky pointed up at you, poking the underside of your chin which made you laugh again and swat their hand away. “As much as I rave about wanting to have the stereotypical college experience, going to a frat house was never part of my daydreaming.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” They switched their fingers to give you a quick thumbs up before letting their arm flop down into their lap, eyes closing with a sigh. “Anyways, besides all that, wanna go get some food? I don’t have another class today and you’ve got about an hour and a half to spare, so actually you have no choice. Get up.”

You stood up with a shake of your head once Sky pushed off of your legs who stood up as well with a small stretch. “Don’t burn me at the stake, but I kinda want grocery store sushi. I’m feeling lucky.”

“Please don’t.” You sighed, pocketing the piece of paper before beginning to follow behind Sky as they started to walk across the grass. 

After the two of you shared a sandwich from some random shop not too far off campus, Sky walked with you up to the library, stopping just before the front desk. They agreed to not wander in with you under the condition that you’ll go to their dorm straight after to discuss details.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Most of what you heard about this guy meant he was bad news, though you really didn’t have much of a choice when it came to seeing him. Like your math professor said, there weren’t a lot of options when it came to studying the material you were learning. Sure you had the internet and other students in the class, but you preferred the idea of a tutor since you’d already exhausted yourself trying to follow along with various youtube videos. You needed the in-person teaching, it just stuck better in your head that way.

Slowly starting to walk, you made your way over to the study rooms lining the back of the library. The rooms seemed pretty private with the only window being on the door, which had glass nearly top to bottom. Thankfully the rooms were numbered and Leon had texted you which room to go to when you made the appointment with him, you had no idea what he looked like and you didn’t want to look like a creep eyeballing people through the door until you hopefully found the right person.

Standing off to the side, you could see the number you were looking for sitting above the door, taking a brief moment to collect yourself and hype yourself up to talk to someone who didn’t have the greatest reputation. Set aside everything you’ve heard and just hope for the best..

You took in a deep breath as you strode over to the door, glancing inside through the window before knocking to let him know you were there. The table was angled off more to the left so you didn’t immediately see him until he leaned over the table to see who had knocked. Confidence left you as soon as you made eye contact with Leon due to the groan you could hear through the door. It took you a couple seconds, but you eventually managed to get your body to work with you, hand turning the handle to let yourself in.

“-the last thing I need..” You caught the end of his little rant to himself as you opened the door. The saying “fake it ‘till you make it” is harder than it sounds since your entire body decided to betray you, deciding that shrinking in was the best move. Quietly, you shuffled over to sit across from him at the table, placing your backpack in your lap in some weird way to provide comfort in this situation.

“You weren’t supposed to show up.” Leon grumbled, sitting far back in the tilted chair as his feet lifted the front end of the chair slightly. His arms were crossed and he was giving you probably the nastiest look you’ve ever seen, next to your parents, of course. All you did was sit there giving him a blank stare. It was obvious what he’d said, yet the sheer forwardness of that snide comment had you more than confused. “What?-”

“You weren’t supposed to show up.” Apparently he felt the need to repeat himself with some added bite, barely letting you get a word in. “No one ever shows up to these shitty tutor- whatever the fucks.”

Wow. Okay. “Uh..” You didn’t even know what to say to that. It completely caught you off guard. You’d run through countless ways this interaction would go in your head, but this wasn’t one of those ways. The two of you sat in a very tense silence with Leon just glaring at you from across the table, continuing to rock back and forth in the chair.

Without uncrossing his arms, Leon lifted a hand and waved it around slightly while shaking his head. “Are you actually still gonna sit here orrr…?” The sound of his voice finally snapped you out of shock, causing you to shoot your gaze down to your backpack, fumbling with its partially broken zipper. “I-.. Mr. Lebovic recommended you..?”

You pulled out a few of your failed assignments from your bag before setting them down on the table with shaky hands, keeping your eyes glued to the papers to avoid that burning stare the man in front of you has. “I need-.. I need help..?”

“Do you?” Leon let the chair fall forward, his sarcastic tone starting to make your whole body tremble. “You don’t sound like you do.” He snatched one of your assignments from the table and held it up, pursing his lips as he studied the various red marks made on it closely. You chose to not respond to that, letting your hands rest on top of your backpack so you had something to squeeze.

He turned the page around, the sound of the paper wobbling the only thing you could hear right after the sound of the central heat blowing through the vent in the room. Suddenly, Leon started chuckling to himself, shaking his head incredulously as he flipped the paper back and forth a couple times before letting it fall back to the table. “This is terrible!” His laugh grew louder as he tilted his body to the side to pull out his phone, taking a picture of the assignments you’d put on the table. 

How on earth were you supposed to react to that other than just sitting quietly? He was actually making fun of you right to your face. Hell, he might as well point and laugh if he’s going to be this brasen. 

The most you could muster up was a quiet yet high-pitched “... huh?” in response to him. This whole ordeal was spiraling a little too fast for you to keep up with. You were expecting to put up with some grown man with a bratty attitude or even just a very uninterested, not all there jock with how Leon’s been described to you, not blatant bullying.

“Huh?” He mocked, taking one last look at his phone while loudly sucking on his teeth before pocketing it again. “Anyways, this is actually sad. How are you managing to fuck simple math up like this?” He roughly grabbed all the papers on the table and stacked them before partially tossing them back at you, some slipping onto the floor. “You’re too far gone, even I can’t fix that.”

You let out a gasp when the papers were tossed at your face, scrambling to catch some of them. Pushing the chair back, you leaned over to grab the few that fell on the floor, desperately holding back tears. “Please, you don’t understand.” You pleaded, voice cracking as you tried your best not to start crying in front of him. “I-I need to pass this class. I’m passing everything else, I just can’t keep up with this one!” You were speed-talking to try and argue your case, sitting back up with the small pile of papers that you struggled to stack properly.

Leon started rocking back in his chair again, arms back across his chest as he watched you with squinted eyes. The corners of his lips soon turned up into a smirk, taking in your sorry state before rolling his eyes with a dramatic groan. “Alright, alright, stop whining, jesus..” He cleared his throat, letting his head fall over the back of the chair. “I’ll help you only because I feel bad for you.” It’s not like he was going to admit that he was being forced to be a tutor, no one needs leverage over him like that

You couldn’t help but give a small smile despite his implication. It was a start. “And I’m not gonna do it today, either.” Well, the sooner the better, but still, it’s a start.

He then stood up from the chair, fixing his jacket with a sigh. “If you show up even a minute late on Friday, I’m not helping” and before you even had a chance to reply, he walked out of the room, the door shutting with a slam which made you flinch. Luckily, you were a very punctual person when it came to this kind of stuff. This was important, so if you had to show up early, so be it. You hurriedly shoved your assignments back into your backpack, not even fully zipping it up before rushing out of the study room, back through the library, and to the dorms.

“He said that?!” Sky yelled, quickly wiping their hand over their mouth to quiet themself once you shushed them. “I don’t really feel comfortable with you going to another ‘study session’ with that guy if he’s just gonna bully you.”

“I wouldn’t call it bullying-”

“He was bullying you.”

“OKAY! So what if he was?!” You fell back onto Sky’s bed with a sigh, arms splayed out with your legs dangling off the side. “I can handle it. As long as I get my grade up, who cares?”

Sky sat down next to you on their bed, giving you a sad look as you sat yourself up with your elbows. “I care. So does Ella. You shouldn’t put up with that just for a grade. I’m sure if you explain to your professor and-”

“And what? Tell him that I’m a grown woman getting bullied over something I should know by now?” You sat yourself up fully now, leaning forward to place your elbows on your thighs as your head rested in your hands. “It’s only until finals are over and we’re already halfway through October. Maybe I won’t even need that much time, maybe I’m just missing one simple… math move and it’ll get the gears in my brain moving again.”

You tilted your head to the side to look at Sky, head now resting only in your right hand as you took in their annoyed look. “Trust me. I can handle this.”

“If you say so.” They ran their fingers through her hair before looking away from you, directing their attention forward to stare off at nothing. “Just remember that I bite and I’m not afraid to use my fake chompers on that no good-”

“I don’t wanna think about escalations right now, but thank you.” You chuckled, playfully nudging Sky with your free hand before moving it back to hold your head up with the other. Though you were trying to convince Sky on this, you were mostly just trying to convince yourself that you could handle this. Handle Leon and his.. alluring charm..

Only until finals, maybe even sooner.

[thepaperpanda]

Fondle Me || Neteyam x fem!Omaticaya reader

Summary: Your friendship with Neteyam came with a little benefit of fondling and sharing steamy kisses from time to time. Now, you are ready to take your relationship to another level

Warnings: smut & sweetness ❤🔥

Word count: 3390

Author: Rouge

A/N: prior to reading, it’s important to know that: the reader is female Omaticaya ✤ characters are aged up (Neteyam is 20, reader is 19) ✤ a few things are in Na'vi language ✤ despite being seriously injured during Skirmish at the Three Brothers, Neteyam survives ✤ you'll find a glossary underneath the fic

Divider by wonderful firefly-graphics

My first kiss is still fresh in my mind. The spring afternoon was steamy, and a deserted hut was muggy, despite the lack of doors that allowed the air to circulate. Sitting on the cot, I pondered who I would like to become in the future. In some cases, I needed time for myself, time I could spend thinking and losing myself in distant thoughts. After peeking inside, Neteyam sat next to me to ensure that I would not be alone. His prowess at finding me everywhere made it impossible for me to stay alone for too long.

As we sat and talked, we discussed everything, including our hunting classes and our teachers. Our friendship began at an early age, since his family was well known in the neighborhood. Neteyam was the first boy who truly became a friend to me. The tease he gave me was not aimed at hurting me, but rather at making me laugh or blush. His jokes suddenly came to a halt, and he looked at me in a completely different way he had never done before. Suddenly he leaned over and kissed me, just like that. It was a gentle, sweet, hesitant kiss at first, but once he was sure there was no resistance within me, his lips brushed more firmly against mine. In a soft, brushing motion, he kissed me again; Neteyam's tongue flickered over his lips and onto mine. After I sighed, he embraced me and we kissed again. Although we were both so young, only fifteen at the time, we were extremely curious about everything, especially corporeality. My mouth parted soon after, and his tongue snaked in and ran along mine. It was the first time I'd kissed anyone, and I felt my body reacting, even though I was slightly afraid. As I ran my hand through his dark hair, I felt a sense of comfort. The kiss deepened as we shifted. His hand reached down and rubbed along my breast, teasing the nipple through my clothing as I felt myself becoming wet. It was no secret to me that Neteyam's hands and mouth were turning me on. When Neteyam drew back and gazed at me intently, he traced my face with his hands before touching my lips with his slender fingers. When he stuck one in, I suckled it, and I realized I had made the right choice when I saw the look on his face: so blissful and primal. In no time at all, the finger was gone from my mouth and Neteyam kissed me once more, this time more hungrily, and I moaned into his mouth. A raised voice from his parents searching for him tore us apart faster than if someone had walked into the hut. As I jumped off my previous position, I cupped my cheeks as if I were cooling them down and wiping them off blush. As our eyes locked, we began a new chapter in our lives. We grabbed each other's hands and walked out of the abandoned hut. As we got outside, he squeezed my hand before releasing it; it was obvious that he wanted to keep a poker face so as not to draw unnecessary attention and questions, and I fully agreed with him. While waving at his mother, he walked away, somehow managing to hide his flushed expression from her. The first kiss I ever had was that one.

My memory of that moment is still vivid years later. The few moments we shared over the next few years - never extending beyond kissing and cuddling - proved that we were better as friends, regardless of how hot we felt together. Yet the more time passed, the less hesitant Neteyam became in showing his affection towards me; he wanted more, I was certain.

Neteyam pays me an unannounced visit one day and stands near my cot, watching me, completely silent. 

My focus is on making arrows and I do not notice anything around me, humming a soft song my mother used to sing for me when I was a toddler.

“Y/N,” Neteyam whispers and only his tone breaks my state of thoughtfulness.

Looking up at him over my shoulder, I whimper, "Dear Eywa, you scared the hell out of me. Please don't do that again. What do you want, Net? You were on patrol with your parents, I thought.” As he places both of his hands on my shoulders, gently rubbing me with his long fingers, I stiffen. "I missed you, Y/N," he replies simply, but his voice has a dark quality to it.

I put the arrow down; my eyes are closed and I am enjoying his warmth and firmness of his touch - it is a feeling I have yearned for. I can hear a small shift behind me, and then, suddenly, I feel a hot sensation spill over the crook of my neck - his lips brush gently against my skin, leaving me breathless. “Neteyam,” I whisper, barely moving my lips.

As he bites my ear shell, he asks simply, "Don't you want to try?"

Turning my face toward him, I place one of my hands on his already flushed cheek - all I see in his eyes is an unfulfilled, primal longing. My voice is no more than a whisper as I ask, "Are you certain nobody will bust in here on us?"

"Yeah," he replies, nibbling on my earlobe once again, and I sigh profusely.

While I want to tell him this is not a good idea, the other side is far stronger - I crave him, and this craving cannot be silenced anymore. Oh shit, I think to myself after the contractions in my lower abdomen that are the pure sign of arousal building in. 

It's clear that Neteyam knows exactly what he is doing to me, and his expressions make me confident he will not stop; that cocky grin of his dancing in the corners of his lips.

After resting my forehead against his for a few moments, I nod in approval. My waiting has been long, but I wanted to make sure Neteyam felt the same way about me as I did about him. On the cot, I let him lay me down; my eyes never left his.

A much-longed kiss is a real beatitude when he leans forward and starts making out with me. His hands move to the piece of clothing covering my breasts, and within the blink of an eye, he removes the piece of clothing covering them, leaving my chest bare, exposed to his hungry eyes. After undoing the strings of my loincloth, he throws it aside - now I'm completely naked in front of him and blush covers my cheeks even more. Neteyam watches my hips flexing in tiny circles as pleasure builds. As his palm brushes against my engorged clit, he cups my pussy with his hand, and I moan as my hips jerk. My soaking entrance is rimmed by his finger for a brief moment as he chuckles. I spread my legs for him as he dips his finger inside me, teasing me while my hands knead my breasts slowly. Neteyam's finger slips out soon, and he removes his hand, bringing it to his face so he can lick my juice from it before bringing it down to my mouth. Taking in a mouthful greedily, I enjoy the taste while pleasing him with my tongue and mouth.

As I cup him boldly between his legs, Neteyam's cock throbs under my hands. It feels larger than I remember, but I caress it lovingly and his eyes close as he enjoys the sensations I am bringing. His finger is finally removed from my mouth and he steps back.

I lay down, as Neteyam slowly undoes his loincloth and slips out of it, and I run my fingers along my inner thighs, caressing the outer lips of my pussy, watching him carefully. When I see his semi-hard cock, I lick my lips, and he smiles, knowing what I want.

Neteyam strokes my hair as I sit up and reach out and caress the hot velvet skin as I improve my position on the cot. It twitches and I watch it lengthens. I lick the head of his dick and he gasps. Just as I'd heard other women speak about those matters before, I swipe my tongue along his shaft while cupping one of his balls lightly in my hand. Neteyam gasps heavily.

I can't completely wrap my fingers around Neteyam's thick base as I finally suck the head fully into my mouth. Saliva runs down my chin as I fondle his balls with one hand and rub his dick with the other. I feel his hands on my head as I move my mouth back and forth, my tongue rubbing against the sensitive skin on his shaft. Before dipping down to lick his balls, I pull back and run my mouth and tongue down one side, then back up the other side of his shaft, earning a deep, animalistic grunt from him.

Grasping at my hair, Neteyam pulls me away from his balls and back to his cock.

My hands and tongue ran along his shaft, making him moan again as I sucked him in greedily. I take him in deep and suck him as I slowly pull my mouth back. I slip one of my hands down to play with my pussy, I am able to relieve the burning sensation built there already.

"Not yet," he orders firmly, taking my hand away. As I moan sadly around him in my mouth, he gasps, "Do it again, Y/N."

Neteyam's hips start to fuck at my mouth as I moan and hum for him. As my hand rubs faster and faster along the shaft, his balls begin to tighten up. I pull my mouth back to concentrate on the blood-engorged head of his cock.

He clenches his fingers around my head as he tenses up, grunting.

After the first stream of cum hits my back of the mouth, I choke for a moment, yet I swallow and continue to jack him into my mouth. My tongue pools with warm cum as he releases a few more streams. My cum-coated tongue runs along the highly sensitive head of Neteyam's dick while he moans and shakes, just for me. A few more spurts and he finishes cumming. Before I pull away, I lick his cum from my mouth and scoop up a few drops of it with one of my fingers as I doe-eye him, smiling innocently.

Using his finger, he wipes off the last drop of cum from the corner of my mouth and smears it across my lips. In the same way he kissed me the first time, Neteyam bends down and pulls me to my feet, licking my lips with his tongue.

Suddenly, my pussy twitches as his tongue licks up his own cum and dives into my mouth, slowly dancing with mine.

He gently pushes me back to the cot, murmuring, "Sit down." When I follow his command, he kneels down in front of me.

As his hands sweep down my legs, they are lifted up and thrown over his shoulders. My labia were lightly skimmed by his fingertips as they traced along the inside of my thighs. His breath runs through the sticky wetness of my arousal as he leans forward and breathes in deeply. I feel my hips buck slightly as his breath triggers my senses.

As Neteyam holds my hips still, he says lowly, "Easy. Mmmm, I love your scent, oeyä 'eve."

My senses are set ablaze by his words, so I whimper. I feel and hear him inhale the scent of my arousal, as if savoring it. Neteyam's tongue snakes out to scoop up the moisture gathered on the outer lips of my pussy before I can catch my breath. As he continues to lap, he hits all of my sensitive spots except the one I want him to lick; I moan loudly, closing my eyes. The pulse in my head, heart and clit is pounding as his tongue works its way between my folds and rim along the outer edge of my hot pussy, pushing in. Neteyam's nose barely brushes my clit, and I whimper as his tongue licks up inside me. I writhe on the cot as he giggles and pulls back. "Rutxe," I beg.

I can feel a tremor running through me as Neteyam asks, "Please what?" His voice is rough from arousal. "I want your tongue to fondle my cunt," I moan helplessly, grasping my nipples and pinching them hard.

Again, he chuckles as he presses his face back to my hot pussy, attacking my clit and making me shriek and moan as his teeth gently nibble it before he begins to suck on it, then I feel him inserting two fingers into me, stroking my velvety inner walls. He moves his mouth lower and his thumb strokes the highly sensitive nubbin as his tongue enters me again and again.

My orgasm peaks as Neteyam takes my hot clit into his mouth and sucks on it again, then begins to hum, sending shivers throughout my body - then I start to shudder. While my hips lift off the cot and I cry, I can feel my eyes roll back from the unbearable pleasure. It takes a few minutes for me to recover from that, as he lightly licks and nibbles at my pussy still, his eyes never leave my flushed face. As I finally stop shaking, he kisses his way up my slender body, nestling himself at the apex of my legs. I reach down and take Neteyam's cock in my hand - he's hot and hard again.

It's Neteyam's turn to moan as I rub the head of his cock along my slick clit; my body shivers in response, my lips parted as I watch his blissful expression. He takes my hand away and replaces it with his own when my juices coat the head of his cock. My legs wrap around Neteyam’s waist and help him slide deeper in as he guides his dick deep into me. Upon reaching the end, he lets out a husky grunt.

There has never been anyone who has filled me with as much as he does. The pulse of his body throbs in tangent to mine. My hips flex and Neteyam smiles before pulling out slowly. When his penis slips out, he bites his lower lip a little, then pushes in all the way back in with one powerful move.

As he continues pushing in followed by slowly, agonizingly pulling out, the feeling and sensation within me grow more intense.

My voice is breathy, "Nì'ul, Neteyam!"

A look of concern crosses his face as he looks down at me, stopping.

I doe-eye him while running the tip of my tongue along the bottom of my parted lips as my hair is spilled on the cot, my nipples are dark and hard, and my body is flushed with desire.

Even though he's already aware of the answer, Neteyam asks, "What do you want me to do, little one?"

"Fuck me," I plead, "I want you to fuck me, to possess me, to claim me yours."

With a dark chuckle, Neteyam picks up the pace, soon pounding into me hard; the cot is rocking back and forth with the rhythm of Neteyam's powerful thrusts. Upon hearing my moan, he dips his head down to bite and lick my nipples. Neteyam gasps and takes one of them into his mouth, sucking hard; I cry out and rake my nails along his back, leaving red marks on his sweaty skin. He shudders and moans. In order to grind his hipbone against my clit, Neteyam pushes into me as hard as he can, grunting sharply. As my hips twitch towards his, I pull him down for a hot, tongue-filled kiss. Once again, Neteyam picks up his pace; he rubs my calf with the free hand as he leans into the other one, frowning at the painful throbbing on his cock. “Y/N… Fuck, I-I can’t any longer…” With one arm around his neck, I pull him closer, and the other I wrap around his waist. I whisper, "Cum for me," directly into his ear. "Your seed in me is what I want, yawntutsyìp."

I watch Neteyam's facial expression changes as he begins to come. "Ma Eywa! Sran!" “Neteyam! ” I yell as my fingers work on my clit, rubbing it viciously and bringing the most intense orgasm to me. The first spurt of his cum lands inside my hot, clenching pussy and milks my inner walls. Neteyam pulls out of me quickly and he lands another one on my abdomen. More cum spurts and oozes out as he straightens up and strokes himself rapidly.

Watching me lean over for a soft kiss, he lies on his side. "It was fucking amazing," Neteyam murmurs. As his breath still needs to be calmed, he allows me to rest my head against his chest that rises and falls rapidly.

I lightly trace the edges of the old bullet wound left on his chest with one finger. "I'm glad you're with me, and that you're safe. I thought I had lost you then..."

Neteyam grabs the blanket situated nearby and covers us both. Taking my palm in his hands, he places a kiss on its surface. "Don't think about it anymore, Y/N. Nga yawne lu oer.” In the end, he turns me onto my side and spoons up behind me, and we fall asleep together; his warm breath bathing the back of my neck, sending some shivers down my spine.

I woke up some time later, alone. Taking a slow look around my hut, I find no sign of Neteyam; the only thing that reminds me of him is the sex scent filling the air. Whenever I think of Neteyam, I either smile or just sigh, feeling the warmth spreading throughout my body.

All of a sudden, my attention is drawn to something neatly wrapped in a piece of cloth lying beside my bed. A slight frown crosses my forehead as I slowly stand, tightening the blanket around my figure and picking the thing up to examine it closely. It is a handmade necklace decorated with lortsyal's wings - it's a fine piece of craftsmanship. My lips part slowly, and I exhale deeply, covering them with my curled hand. Gifting clothing or jewelry to someone means keeping them close to one's heart; it is a widely practiced act. Therefore, Neteyam has the same feelings for me as I do for him, I think to myself as I cradle the necklace close to my chest. I have never received a gift as beautiful as this one. With a smile I look in the darkest corner of my hut. A waytelem I made for myself gleams in the dim light of the eclipse while hanging on the wall. As I think about adding a bead to it, the bead telling the story of my relationship with Neteyam, a smile spreads across my lips. Although we aren't officially mated, I know Neteyam treats me genuinely and seriously. “Ma Eywa, please hear me out,” I whisper to myself, offering my sincerest prayers to our Great Mother. “The depths of my heart are filled with love for him. Please, please allow me to become his other half, Great Mother.” While I pray quietly, at the gleaming stars above, I don't realize curious eyes are watching me the entire time. I come quiet when I hear my cot cracking, and I smile to myself as I recognize the smell as my nose twitches - it's Neteyam's strong scent feeling my nostrils.

Curling my lips in a tiny smile, I turn to him slowly.

A warm smile spreads across his face as he silently invites me to join him, and I am delighted to do so. After wrapping me in his strong arms, he rubs my back and shoulders in long-lasting strokes. “Oeyä narlor ‘eve,” Neteyam whispers, kissing all over my face.

There is only one thing I know at that moment: I never want to part with him. For that, I'm willing to sell my soul.

Glossary:

oeyä narlor ‘eve - my beautiful girl

oeyä ‘eve - my girl

yawntutsyìp - darling

Ma Eywa - o Eywa

nga yawne lu oer - I love you

nì'ul - more

sran - yes (colloquial)

rutxe - please

lortsyal - shimmyfly

waytelem - songcord

[corrupted-nightshade]

List of things that point towards Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru being kissers of boys with connections to eachother

(If they did kiss though is another story)

Note: the list will be divided into different sections with space in between. So don't go speed scrolling through if you don't want spoilers. :"3

Some of these are less serious, but are still included because all the more content for these two sillies.

--- Last updated: April 26th, 2024 Note: Make sure to check the original post if viewing a reblog version in case Tumblr does not update things under the "read more" like it used to be able to.

Various

572. This number is used frequently as a ship number for the two as "GoGe" the ship name can also be produced as "GoNatsu". Go means 5 and the rest sound similar to 72. These numbers ironically show up accross the series a few times and also in official merch. (Some examples being a clock in season 2 episode 1 stopped at 5 hours 7 minutes 20 seconds or a Gojo teddy bear priced at ¥57,200)

JJK official fanbook

"Q: Please tell us his first impression when he first met Geto. A: Bangs."

"Q: He seems to be aware that he is handsome, but doesn't he want a lover? A: I can't imagine Gojo being faithful to a particular woman."

"Q: Is there anything you are particular about Geto's character design? A: Bangs"

One of Gojo's songs & one of Geto's songs given to them. "Shame on you" by "Avicii" (a break up song) for Gojo and "Come back Home" by "Two door cinema club" for Geto. Stated in volume 3 chapter 24.

The sheer amount of times Geto shows up in MMVs for Gojo and how they display the impact Geto had on Gojo (For example, the latest MMV for volume 26's release)

Their birthday's solar terms tying in with parts. (Geto being "Risshun" beginning of spring & Gojo being "Taisetsu" heavy snow.)

Rings for them that were released on August 8th, which is "Pairing day" in Japan

.

.

.

Jujutsu Kaisen 0

Geto's kesa is specifically a Gojo kesa

Gojo stating in 0 that

"I've always believed... ...Love manifests the most distorted curses." / "This is my personal theory, but there's no curse more twisted than love."

Even after 10 years, Gojo recognized Geto's smell. (The mall scene after Yuta & Toge fought the curse)

Geto renaming someone to "Sato" because

"That's what I've decided, so Sato is better."

This sunset scene

Gojo's veil is black & Geto's veil is white. Gojo's veil causes darkness, Geto's does not. [Peep who reminded me]

The song "This is pure love" not only plays over Yuta & Rika vs Geto, but also plays over Geto & Gojo's conversation

The way that Geto looks at Gojo & says his name, and how Gojo looks at Geto & says his name

Geto's blushing face at Gojo that we were robbed of in the anime

Some of the lines from the JJK 0 light novel lines

"Yet Gojo's bandage-covered eyes kept watching, kept following the shape of Geto's soul."

"But to Gojo Satoru, he was —— '————, ————' '...ha.' When he heard the words Gojo blurted out, Geto couldn't help but laugh. Such embarrassing [...] words. Even why they were students, those words had never been said before. 'You should've at least cursed me a little before the end.' December 24, 2017. The curse called Geto had been well and truly exorcised."

.

.

.

Season 1

JJK Juju stroll

"Q: What kind of person is your type?" Gojo: "[...]The one who seemed nice. With the notable bangs."

yes, i know who he stated but the way he answered was so half arsed as he struggled to come up with an answer as an example of his type. 💀

.

.

.

Season 2

Again, the way they look at each other and say each other's names (There's another picture with Gojo looking at Geto, but I'm missing it right now)

THE HECKIN GOJO & GETO VALENTINES CAKE??

They literally even have a themed honeymoon place???

Geto makes sure Gojo has his favorite soda. :3

Part 1 / volume 8 - 9

The intro for season 2 part 1

"Even after I got to know the smell of you, different from mine"

"In such a color as if it were a silent love"

"I've got a curse word for you stuck in the back of my throat"

The outro for season 2 part 1:

"Even trivial conversations are fine Show me your blushing face once more"

"It only exists here I want to touch you"

The fish in the outro

The flowers in the intro & outro. [Peep who reminded me]

The purple ones (Located on table in the part where older Gojo is sitting in a chair by a window) are possibly Primula/Primrose flowers. They can represent young love, beauty, desire, desperate, and can be a symbol of spring and renewal/new beginnings. etc.

The yellow ones (Located in the part where Gojo & Geto are sitting together with their hands & cans of soda surrounded by the flowers) are possibly osmanthus flowers. They can represent love, passion, happiness, beauty, etc.

[See here , here, here , here , here , here ]

Geto not answering Tsukumo Yuki's question of what kind of woman is his type more than once

When Geto is asked by Haibara if he would like a sweet or savory souvenir, Geto says

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

Part 2 / volume 11

This whole image (Geto in the glasses on the left, and Kenjaku's silhouette on Gojo's face on the right)

Season 2 part 2's "Specialz" intro hidden meaning

Despite the following about Geto's state, Geto's body still instinctively reacted to stop Kenjaku from hurting Gojo.

"Q: Fake Geto's arm was moving during the Shibuya Incident, but how much of Geto's consciousness remains in the body? A: Not much. He was moving like how a dragonfly whose neck was torn off can move."

Fun fact: Some owls pair/bond for life (Whether the owl is supposed to be Geto's because Kenjaku is using Geto at the time or it's not Geto's animal because that is Kenjaku is up to you)

.

.

.

Volume 26

The Camilla flowers with snow. Not only do they represent Gojo well with their meaning, including one meaning being unchanging/strong love alongside modest love / beauty for pink, but flowers are given to different dates. The birth flower of February is this flower, said to bloom on the 3rd of this month. Aka Geto's birthday.

Chapter 236

Gojo actively chose to fight on December 24th (a day considered romantic for Japan) which is now the day both Geto and him have died on. Even Kenjaku acknowledges the days significance with

"Ha ha! How romantic. Isn't it gross to make plans with each other on Christmas eve?"

These lines

Both Gojo & Geto's volumes' numbers can have bad meanings in Japan. 4 can mean death & 9 can mean to suffer/agony. (I put this under volume 26's section because of the spoiler)

---

There's likely more, but this is what we could think of right now. XD If you have anything you want to add on, feel free to send it my way because the more help the better & easier this is. (^w^ ) Same for any corrections to the list (as it's just me writing up this post and I may make slip ups)

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 4

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 4/? 3.1k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ There are some things Eddie isn’t used to hearing, and mean even more when coming from you.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: mild angst I guess? that's it :)

“Well I for one think the first lady’s new ‘Just Say No’ campaign is a great idea, it’s long overdue if you ask me,” said Mrs. Hutchins, to which your mother nodded in agreement.  

You stared down at your plate and poked at your green beans with your fork. 

“It’s about time there was a war on drugs, it’s gotten out of control in this country,” Mrs. Hutchins continued, reaching for the gravy.

You shoveled the green beans into your mouth to keep it occupied. You figured getting into an argument with Mrs. Hutchins over Reagan’s policies was not exactly what your mother had intended for the evening. Besides, it wasn’t worth your energy anyway.

Your dad gave you a silly look from across the table and you smiled at him.

You looked back down at your plate and thought about Eddie Munson again. This time it was about how he’d looked at you when you told him you’d be here. 

You wondered what Eddie would say to Mrs. Hutchins. He had an opinion on just about everything and you were certain he would not withhold it. Not for your mother’s sake, not for anybody. You suspected that it got him into trouble more often than not but there was something you admired about that.

You tucked into your risotto and tuned out the conversation.

He was sitting so close to you today. So close that a ringlet of his soft hair grazed your hand when he leaned over. So close that you could smell him. The same scent that enveloped you in the hallway the other day, although this time less bright notes of shampoo, more deep notes of leather and musk. There was that faint cigarette smell and something else too that you couldn’t quite place, like the warmth of his skin that was distinct and yet indistinguishable. 

Normally you were not keen on the smell of cigarettes. It lingered on just about everything. In restaurants and car seats, especially in homes. It clung to the clothing of heavy smokers with a stale musk that you hated, but on Eddie it didn’t seem to bother you. In fact, you were hesitant to admit that you almost liked it. 

“Andrew, why don’t you tell us about your new job,” suggested your mother.

You glanced over at the man sitting next to you, hardly able to believe that this was once the boy who used to collect G.I. Joe figures rather than play with them as intended. 

Andrew cleared his throat. “My job is to diagnose and correct issues with computer hardware, figure out what isn’t working and order and replace the corresponding parts. Occasionally it’s a software issue, in which case I can troubleshoot and reinstall certain programs.” he said, adjusting his glasses. He looked just about as thrilled to be here as you were.

“Do you guys sell computers there?” asked your dad.

“Yes, though my work is primarily in computer repairs, not sales.”

“You know I was telling my daughter here that I really think computers are going to be the future,” said your mom.

“Oh yes, absolutely. Personal computer sales have quadrupled in the last few years, all thanks to the Commodore 64 being so affordable,” said Andrew. “In fact I really think they ought to have computer classes in every school. I think I read recently in the paper that only 48% of schools have them.”

Your mom’s eyes lit up and she turned to you, “Do they have computer class at your school, dear?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. Not yet.” 

“Well maybe that might be something worth suggesting to the principal.”

“I doubt I would have much say in something like that.”

“I’m just saying, it’s worth a try, dear.”

You smiled curtly and glanced down at your plate again, scooting your green beens around in the excess gravy. 

“Speaking of school, why don’t you tell us a little bit about how your job’s been going? I do hope the students are behaving,” your mother continued.

“Oh, they have their moments but overall it’s been alright,” you said, “We’re studying The Catcher in the Rye in my senior class.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows, “Oh that book,” he said with a little laugh, “It’s a bit strange isn’t it? All I can really remember is how he kept calling everyone a phony all the time. I never understood it.”

Of course you didn’t. “Yeah, the stream of consciousness seems to throw some readers off. A lot of people end up missing the point.”

“What is the point anyway?” asked Andrew, but before you could respond Mrs. Hutchins interjected.

“Don’t you think that book is a bit inappropriate for children? I remember when Andrew brought it home all those years ago. At that time some of the ladies in my church group were trying to get it banned in schools. Clearly their efforts were unsuccessful.”

“My students are teenagers, not children, in fact some of them are already adults,” you said, and thought about recommending Fahrenheit 451 to her but figured the joke would be lost.

“Still, I think teenagers are too young to be reading about,” she lowered her voice, “hookers.”

You bit your lip and looked down at your plate again. It took every ounce of self control not to laugh. You glanced over at Andrew. He looked like he wanted to evaporate.

“I’ll tell you what,” continued Mrs. Hutchins, “Kids are getting into more and more worrisome and bizarre things nowadays. Did you see that special on the local news? There’s this game called Dungeons and Dragons and some people suspect that it’s a gateway, luring children into devil worshiping cults.”

This time you did laugh. “I really don’t think there’s any truth to that. The student I tutor plays that game. He talks about it all the time. It really is just a fantasy game that you create your own adventures in.”

“Well that’s what it might look like on the surface, but on this special they were talking about all the signs to look for if you suspect your child might have been lured. Now there’s the obvious symbolism like goats and pentagrams. Then there’s listening to heavy metal music — that’s a big one. Apparently there’s all sorts of hidden messaging in those songs, especially if you play the tapes backwards.”

Andrew’s face was in his hands.

“Boy, that sounds terrifying,” said your mother with furrowed brows before taking a bite of her pork roast.

You thought about Eddie Munson again. He certainly fit the description, though you were doubtful he actually worshiped Satan. You supposed there was no way for you to really know. He had quite a habit of talking about, well, just about anything besides school, but you doubted he’d openly admit to something like that. 

It was strange for you to think that you had really only known him for less than two months. It felt like you’d known him forever. 

If he did actually worship Satan, you supposed it wouldn’t really bother you. What you could tell was that he had a good heart. What you also could tell is that there was nothing you could say to Mrs. Hutchins that would change her mind.

______

Much to the disappointment of your mother, sparks did not fly over dinner. That was obvious enough for her not to arrange another, much to your relief.

The weekend came quickly, and it was a long one, which meant more time with quizzes to grade, and boxes that you had procrastinated unpacking. More time alone with your thoughts. 

Historically you never minded being alone, typically you relished in it. Lately you had been doing everything you could to combat the oppressive silence in your apartment and the noisy chatter in your mind.

On Saturday you practically wore out your records, exhausting your entire collection as you did some much needed cleaning. 

On Sunday it was difficult to get out of bed, so you just left the radio on when your alarm clock went off.

On Monday you sat on your living room floor in front of your TV and thumbed through the quizzes that you gave out on Friday, marking each one with your green grading pen.

You paused when you got to Eddie’s. 

There was a little drawing of a dragon at the bottom of his quiz along with a note that said “Slay me!”

You smiled for the first time that day, fingers tracing the lines where his pen met the paper, feeling the subtle indents left behind by it. 

You ran down the ten questions, he got nine of them right. You gave him a 90% and circled the A- at the top of the paper. At the bottom you wrote “You sure slayed this quiz!” with a little smiley face.

______

Eddie Munson had a way of creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. It was like he had taken up permanent residence there, like a song stuck in your head.

It was far a better song than the sad and angry one that had been playing on repeat for months now, and at this point you would take any break you could get from it.

On Tuesday you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he smiled at you on Friday when he turned in his quiz. It was playful and warm.

On Wednesday he sat across from you after school. He was wearing a flannel shirt under his usual denim vest today. It was refreshing to see him in color for a change. The vibrant red suited him. He’d rolled his sleeves up, revealing a tattoo that looked like a cluster of flying bats.

“So, how did you do on your history test? Did you get your grades back?” you asked, bringing your attention away from his forearms. 

“Yeah, uh,” Eddie shifted in his chair, glancing off to the side, “I got a C,” he said quietly.

You nodded, your expression neutral, though there was a softness in your eyes. “How do you feel about that?”

Eddie looked surprised, “I…” he paused for a moment, blinking, “You know, honestly, when I first got my test back I was actually pretty happy about it,” he said. “I mean it’s better than I usually do, way better than an F.”

You looked at him curiously, “You said, ‘at first’ did something change?”

“Well, I mean a C is good for me, but — “ he glanced at you sheepishly.

“Then a C is good!” 

He looked relieved. “Oh, well in that case, then yeah. I guess I am pretty happy about it.”

“Eddie,” you said gently. He leaned forward at the sound of his name. “You don’t have to worry about impressing me, that isn’t what this is about. I just want to help you graduate, not be valedictorian,” you said, “I’m proud of you.”

Eddie beamed at you with those big brown eyes of his. Suddenly he glanced away, blinking quickly as he lifted a hand to scratch the side of his head to shield them from view. 

You leaned closer, sensing the shift in his body language. When he turned to face you again you could have sworn his nose was a little flushed, his eyes wetter than usual.

“Sorry, I don’t hear that a lot.”

Your chest tightened. You wanted to leap across the desk, scoop him up in your arms and tell him that a thousand times, but instead you just smiled softly and said, “Well, get used to it.”

He smiled at you again, big and broad. He fidgeted with the rings on his fingers and for just a moment you swore you could see past the hair, the patches and chains, straight through to the boy he once was, getting F after F. You could see the disappointed looks from everyone around him reflected in those eyes of his. He must have gotten used to them, steeled himself to them, resigned himself to the letter.

You felt the tears start to burn behind your eyes and you searched for anything to change the subject. “How did your campaign go on Friday?”

His lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “Found three new recruits actually, just last week.”

You raised your eyebrows and blinked, clearing your eyes of any evidence. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. I knew it the moment I saw ‘em, two freshmen sitting all by themselves at the end of a lunch table. They’d been there for weeks, just the two of them. You can always kinda tell with the freshmen, they just look like little lost sheep, ‘specially these two. One of the kids was wearing a Weird Al t-shirt,” he said with a laugh, “And that’s when I was like, ok, these kids should sit with us for a change. Well it turns out they’ve been playing DnD for ages, and they’ve got a friend in another lunch period who plays too, so now we’ve got three new members, which is great because, uh, we were kind of hurting for them.” He chuckled softly.

Eddie had an energy about him that was bold and magnetic. It sucked you right in. The timbre of his voice was bright and warm. It was oddly soothing. You enjoyed listening to him talk, watching his hands as they gestured wildly, which you figured was a good thing since he did a lot of talking. 

“Some kids just need someone to show them that school doesn’t have to be all bad, you know? I know that’s what I needed.” 

You imagined freshman Eddie sitting in the cafeteria by himself, lonely and lost, with his curly mop of hair much shorter than it was now. 

“Us freaks have to stick together, you know?”

You nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t exactly popular myself,” you admitted. “Actually I used to help run an after school mentoring program in Indianapolis. A lot of troubled kids came through there, but it was so rewarding to watch them come into their own, find a place they felt like they belonged, you know?” you said, “I miss that part of my old job.”

Eddie rested his hand against his cheek and hummed in agreement. He looked like he was miles away and yet absolutely present all at once.

“I’ll admit that teaching wasn’t my first career choice, but it’s rewarding in a way that you just… can’t achieve by sitting alone and writing stories by yourself.”

Eddie smirked and gave a thoughtful nod, “That has its own rewards though.”

Your eyes twinkled. “Oh yeah, it definitely does.”

You shifted the focus toward his schoolwork. Today you helped him work through some equations in Trigonometry. Truthfully it took some refreshing on your part, it had been ages since you’d done it and you were more than a little rusty. Math was never really your strong suit anyway. The nice thing about formulas is that once you understood them you could just simply apply them and solve. Math seemed to be something that Eddie was naturally pretty good at though. You wondered if it had anything to do with having to deal with numbers frequently in his campaigns. 

“Alright, I think that about wraps it up for today. Not sure about you but I’m getting hungry,” you said.

“Ok, I’m parked right over there,” he said pointing out the window to the van in the near empty  parking lot. “We can walk out together. You never know what sort of monsters might be lurking in the shadows at this hour,” he said with a look of exaggerated suspicion.

You chuckled and your heart fluttered in your chest, “Sure, actually I’m the red sedan a few spots down.” 

“Great, I know a shortcut,” said Eddie.

You both packed up your things and headed down the main hall towards the gym. 

It was when you rounded the corner that you saw them — Jason and Patrick filling their water bottles at the drinking fountain. 

You gave them both a little wave, which they returned half-heartedly. There was a curious expression playing on their faces which you had hardly a second to study before you passed. Eddie didn’t even look at them. 

You could feel the tension in the air, and their eyes on you as you both left out the back door.

Eddie reached into the pocket of his vest and procured a pack of cigarettes. “Sorry, do you mind? I’m totally jonesing right now.”

“Oh no, it’s fine.”

Eddie gave a gracious nod and popped a cigarette between his lips. He flicked the lighter and his mouth was washed in a warm glow, illuminating the smile lines already prominent on his young face. They suited him.

He blew the smoke away from you with a relieved sigh and you walked toward your cars together in comfortable silence. 

The sun was low in the clear blue sky, casting a golden light over the parking lot. The leaves were just starting to change in fiery orange and yellow patches. You could smell autumn in the crispness of the air, in the leaves that had already fallen as they skittered across the asphalt. 

Eddie ducked his head under your car in a swift motion and looked around suspiciously. “Coast is clear, no monsters.” 

You gave a big belly laugh. “Good thing I have you to keep me safe.”

The wind caught his hair as he rose to his feet and turned to you. “For you? Anything.”

Eddie Munson was beautiful like a neon sign at night. Beautiful like graffiti, like an empty street that beckoned you to wander down it.

You could feel your heart pounding as you smiled at him, turning to putty at his words. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“See ya.” He gave a little bow with his head and waved as he turned toward his van.

You got into your car and set your bag on the passenger seat, letting out the breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in. You could hear the roar of the stereo as Eddie’s van came to life two spots over.

You couldn’t help but steal another glance at him. His hair swished and swayed as he bobbed his head to the beat. He was wild like the summer wind as it ripped across a field. 

His eyes caught yours again and he flashed you a smile, bright and blinding.

If there was once thing you were certain of in that moment, it was that Eddie Munson was going to be the death of you.

At least you couldn’t get in trouble for your thoughts.

______

A/N: Oooo we've got a revelation on reader's part and next chapter I've got some really delicious moments in store so sit tight because this burn is gonna be slow but oh boy is it gonna be worth it!

I have one request — If you read and enjoy this, especially if you ask/asked to be put on the tag list, I ask in return that you reblog AND tell me what you like about this fic, even just something short and sweet! Please engage with me, it’s all I get in return for writing a story that you love for free 💜

Tag list: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @newlips

@msgexymunson @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieeddiesgf @idkidknemore @miahellagreat @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @strangerthings1983fan @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @hayleylatour @catherinnn @maximizedrhythms @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @delightfulpeanutpiebiscuit @ruby-dragon @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @bbyhargrove @eddiemunson011 @secretdryrose @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @chaoticgood-munson @edsforehead @hanahkatexo @lori7311 @eddiemunsonsbedroom @chainsawmunson @beep-beep-sherlock @mantorokk-writes @emily-roberts @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting along each week, it means the world to me!

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 23

Hey, guys! This story is back, baby! And is the start of the four chapters that are all one run on chapter basically. You'll see why at the end of this chapter I held off until I got the resolution written.

I still have some room on the tag list but not much, only six slots. So once it fills up, that's it, I will take no more requests for the list once it hits fifty.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22

****

There wasn’t time for Eddie to see Steve and Wayne before the show, well for any of them to see their loved ones before the show, really.

Eddie’s knee was bouncing as hard as it was when he played in front of Steve for the first time.

They had all met Metallica at the sound check and had hit off, much to everyone’s surprise. But they had their own pre-show rituals and Corroded Coffin had theirs.

“Fuck,” Jeff said, coming back from the bathroom. “I think I’ve thrown up more times tonight than I did that time we all thought it would fun to main line tequila shots for two hours straight.”

Everyone winced in sympathy. That was a bad time for everyone all around.

“Who would have thought that after years of hard work,” Brian said, “that we would be opening for Metallica? Holy shit, this is our lives!”

Jeff smiled, looking a little less green around the gills. “Mandy said that if I waited for us to be ready, we would never take that chance,” he said, rubbing his hands on his pants. “And she’s right. We’ll never get a chance like this ever again.”

Gareth chewed on his thumb, gnawing at it worryingly. Eddie got up and put his arm around their youngest member. “Hey, this isn’t us selling out. This isn’t us giving up our dedicated following. This is us testing the waters to see if this is something we would enjoy doing.” He kissed the top of Gareth’s head. “We won’t know if we prefer smalls gigs at the Nightmare Hole over stadiums, if we haven’t played stadiums, okay?”

Gareth nodded. “I’m just being ridiculous.”

Jeff came over sat down on the other side of him. “No you’re not. It’s a valid concern. But Eddie’s right, too. How do you know you prefer intimate sessions over roaring crowds if you’ve never played to those roaring crowds?”

Gareth sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

Brian tilted his head. “It’s the sound, isn’t it?”

All three other members turned to him. Gareth’s jaw dropped. He opened and closed his mouth several times trying to refute Brian’s claim, but found he couldn’t.

Jeff twisted in his seat to look at Gareth a little better. “Loud noises bother you?”

“Gare-bear...” Eddie said softly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Gareth blushed and looked at his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. He shrugged. “I never thought about it. Until Bri said something, I didn’t even realize that might be why.”

Brian had been digging in his bag while they talked and chose that moment to brandish his find. “Tada!” He waved the noise canceling headphones around like a flag. “Wear these!”

Gareth stood up and gingerly took them from Brian and help them tenderly. He looked up Brian like he was a god damned hero.

Brian tapped on them. “Just plug them into little sound device they gave us and bam! No more sound. Or at least very little.”

Gareth fell on his friend giving him the biggest hug. Brian hugged him back fiercely.

“I just want to make sure you have fun out there, okay?” he whispered.

Gareth nodded.

There was a knock on the door and a stage manager poked his head in.

“Five minutes guys.”

Gareth straightened up and composed himself as his friends strapped on their instruments.

They all filed out but Gareth hung back for a moment. Eddie turned and smiled at him.

“Come on,” he said fondly, holding out his hand. “Let’s go make some noise.”

Gareth laughed. “Hell yeah!”

*

Steve was showed to the VIP box where a lot of people were already there. Some of them he knew like Gethin and Miranda. Wayne, too. Most of them were complete strangers and suddenly he felt like he didn’t belong here.

Everyone else here was family. Steve wasn’t even a boyfriend. Not yet anyway. They had barely kissed the once before this landed on their laps. Eddie even had to cancel his tattoo appointment for today. That’s how new this all was.

He took a step back. Then two. He was about to turn and run when Miranda spotted him.

“Steve!” she called out, making every head turn his direction.

Which did not help his feelings inadequacy in the slightest.

She leapt to her feet and dragged him over to sit between her and Wayne.

“I’ll introduce you all after,” she said. “So glad you could make it. Jeff was saying he was worried you wouldn’t be able to because of work.”

Steve blushed. Which meant Eddie had been terrified. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

She raised an eyebrow and twisted around to look him in the eye. “You sure? Because it looked like you were going to bolt to me.”

Steve shook his head. “I would have found somewhere else to watch them. But I don’t belong here with family and the significant others. I’m just...me.”

Miranda slumped down in her seat with a sigh. “Steve, of course you belong here. Eddie only had two people in the whole world he wanted to see him open for one of the biggest metal bands in the world. And you’re sitting next to other one.”

Steve looked over at Wayne who chuckled.

“Do we have to tie you down, Steve?” he asked fondly.

Steve shook his head. “No, sir. I’ll be good.”

Wayne hummed. “Glad to hear it. Now quiet down. My boy is about to play.”

Steve smiled for the first time since arriving at the arena.

The house lights went down and the stage lights went up. Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees, chin propped up on his fists. Eddie was always beautiful to behold, but fuck. Like this, under the spotlights? He was incandescent.

Eddie leaned into the microphone and introduced his band to the audience.

“We don’t usually play other people’s music, but we got permission to do this one,” Eddie said. He nodded to Brian, who grinned.

Corroded Coffin’s bassist began to play, the first few notes in and the crowd went apeshit. Completely crazy. Steve turned to Miranda. “Shit. I think I know this one. It’s Master of Puppets, right? From Metallica?”

Miranda nodded. “Damn straight it is.”

Steve was on his feet screaming in an instant. Everyone was cheering and having a good time. Maybe he shouldn’t be here, but until someone said something, he was going to cheer Eddie on the loudest. He loved his metal boyfriend with all his heart.

*

Eddie stumbled off the stage covered in sweat and higher then he’d ever been on weed. The rest of the band was jumping and screaming too. There was no greater feeling in the world.

They got better than front row seats to Metallica as they watched from backstage.

Even after thirty-five years they still knew how to bring the house to their knees.

They celebrated with the band for a bit before their families were ushered in. Eddie had even cleared it with the band for Dustin and his friends to come meet them but only for five minutes.

Dustin and Mike were freaking out, but Will hung back, still shy. But Lars came over and talked to him for a minute and that really made Will’s day. Hell, his entire year if he was being honest.

They all filed out leaving the ten family members alone with the boys of Corroded Coffin. Gareth’s parents and twin were fawning over him calling him brave and saying how proud they were of him breaking out of his comfort zone.

Jeff’s dad and Mandy’s mom were huddled over in the corner with the couple, just hugging each other tight. No words needed.

Brian had his sister and Cecil and his sister chatting excitedly, hands waving about as they broke down their favorite moments of the concert.

Eddie picked Steve up and whirled him around kissing him soundly on the lips. “Baby, did you see us out there?”

Wayne chuckled. “Oh just him and about thirty thousand other people.”

Eddie kissed him on the cheek fiercely. “I’ve never felt anything like it! It was so amazing.”

“You were amazing, Eds,” Steve said. “All of you were. It’s you guys were made for that stage.”

Eddie kissed him again. “I’m so glad you were able to make it! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to come.”

Steve kissed the side of Eddie’s mouth tenderly. “Well you see I had a cancellation this afternoon, so I was able to shift my schedule to accommodate my boyfriend opening for Metallica.”

Eddie blushed. “I’m sorry I had to cancel, baby.”

“I’m not mad, sunshine,” Steve assured him. “I’m happy for you.”

They kissed again.

Wayne waved Steve off so that he could hug Eddie. “I’m proud of you. Now don’t be getting too famous to see me, you hear?”

Eddie’s eyes welled up and his pressed his lips together. “I would never. I promise. I’ll always come to you, I swear it.”

Soon it was time to pack it all up and hit the road for home.

Everyone said their goodbyes and they all parted ways. With Eddie promising to stop by the shop tomorrow to reschedule his appointment.

Steve was beaming. High off the euphoria of watching Eddie live out his dream. He had never felt like this about anyone before and he couldn’t wait to tell everyone about how awesome Eddie did and how the crowd went wild for their music.

*

He really should have seen it coming. He should have been prepared. But he wasn’t.

Eddie didn’t come into the shop that day, because he called instead. Metallica had offered to let them opening for them for the rest of their tour. For the next two weeks, Corroded Coffin would be going on the road with one the world’s biggest metal bands.

And leaving Steve behind.

He fought hard to be happy for his boyfriend. But everything between them was too new. Too tender.

They didn’t even get to say goodbye in person and Steve was left with that feeling of not being good enough.

For anyone.

****

Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee

[spnhunter4life]

Familiar Chapter 2

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: little bit of canon typical violence

A/N: This story was originally meant to be a one shot. But then I decided, "You know what? I'm not really happy with this ending. I'll just write one more little chapter to wrap things up." 🙄 Well guess what? If you've been following my work, you know that things always turn out longer than expected. So my 'little' wrap up chapter ended up being kind of long and had to be brought to a stopping point. So here's chapter 2 for you, and you can expect a third chapter as well! That will definitely be the last chapter though (she says with way less confidence than she would like).

Thanks to everyone who has liked, commented on, or reblogged the first chapter! I'm completely blown away by how many notes it's gotten. If you missed the first chapter, read it here!

Summary: Y/N comes back from a walk one day only to realize she can't remember where she was or what she was doing. The new case she and the boys were working must be abandoned in order to recover her memory.

Masterlist

Two months had passed since the shapeshifter hunt, and despite Sam’s encouragement, I still hadn’t said anything to Dean. He was making it extremely difficult for me to ignore my feelings for the older brother the way I always used to. Between his constant pointed looks and making up excuses to leave us alone together, I was about ready to snap.

My dreams about Dean were becoming more frequent too. With thoughts of him almost always on the forefront of my mind, he regularly featured in my dreams. I still had dreams like the one the shapeshifter had taunted me with, but these dreams had branched out into more sweet versions of Dean that left me longing for him even more.

I woke up from one such dream – one where Dean and I were in our very own house, snuggled up together on the couch, a movie playing in the background as we talked – in the back of the Impala. I looked around and saw that we were still on the interstate. We were on our way to Nebraska to check out a new case Sam had found. Four teenagers had shown up dead, all apparently drowned, but their bodies nowhere near water.

“How much further is it?” I asked.

“About 20 miles,” Dean answered.

I sighed and leaned my head against the window. Sam met my eyes in the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow in question. I just shook my head. He glanced at Dean and back at me, smiling at the small frown on my face this gesture caused. He was getting annoyingly good at figuring out when I had been dreaming about his brother.

By the time we got to a motel, I was irritated and in need of some time away from both brothers. I told them I was going to walk to the diner we saw about 10 blocks away and bring home food for everybody. It would give me time to clear my head. I really needed to find time to talk to Sam about stopping all the teasing and trying to be supportive. Even though it wasn’t his intention, it was only making things worse.

~~~~~

“There you are!” Dean’s relieved voice greeted me as soon as I walked in the door.

“Seriously, Y/N, what took you so long?” Sam chimed in. “We were getting worried. I think Dean was about ready to start a search party.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, not sure why they were so worked up. “I haven’t been gone that long.”

“It shouldn’t have taken you an hour and a half,” Dean argued. “Where’s the food?” He added almost as an afterthought.

“What food?”

“The whole reason you left was to get food,” Sam told me. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” I answered. Then I thought about it. What had I been doing? I was certain I hadn’t been gone for very long, but then, I realized that all I could remember was the walk back to the motel. “Just walking I guess? I don’t actually remember.”

“How can you not remember?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know!” I yelled, frustrated and confused.

“Ok, well what do you remember?” Sam asked.

“I remember… waking up in the Impala on the drive here. I guess I kind of remember getting to the motel. Other than that… I’ve got nothing.”

“Come here,” Dean said, gesturing for me to walk over to him. 

“Why?” I wondered.

“Just come here.”

I walked over to him and he immediately began feeling around my head.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking for a lump or some other injury,” he said, continuing his search.

“I think I’d know if I hit my head,” I told him, backing out of his reach.

“Apparently you’ve lost your memory. How are you supposed to know what happened?”

“If I’d been hit on the head hard enough for it to affect my memory, don’t you think I’d have a horrible headache at the very least?” I reasoned.

“Point taken. But clearly something happened. We need to figure out what.”

“Let’s just all head towards the diner,” Sam suggested. “We still need to eat, and maybe something on the way will jog Y/N’s memory.”

Nobody had any better ideas and he was right, we did still need to eat. So we went outside and started walking towards the diner. We’d made it six blocks when Sam stopped us. This particular part of town was the area where commercial buildings started being replaced by residential. There were multiple small businesses scattered throughout the neighborhood. Some buildings were obviously both people’s place of work and their home. 

“Do you think you might have gone in there?” He asked, pointing at the music store across the street. Through the window I could see guitars spaced out on the wall, a row of pianos under them. I loved the piano. I grew up taking lessons and badly missed being able to play. It was an easy, surefire way for me to calm down and clear my head, a fact both brothers were aware of.

“You did seem stressed when you left,” Dean agreed. “I’d actually be surprised if you didn’t go in. And that would explain why you were gone for so long.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t explain my memory loss. Think about it. An hour and a half, just gone. What are the odds of me forgetting such a specific chunk of time? Someone had to have done this to me. We need to find out who. And why.”

“I agree. Which is why I think we should go in,” Dean said. “If we’re going to find answers, we need to retrace your steps. We have nothing else to go off of.”

We crossed the street and Sam led the way inside. A little bell above the door announced our arrival. I scanned the room, looking for anything familiar but coming up empty. I walked over to the line of pianos, lightly running my hand along the tops of each one I passed. I stopped at the fourth one in line. A blur of memories raced through my head, but nothing that would help solve my current memory loss problem. 

This piano was very similar to the one I grew up playing. I remembered the hours spent on it, favorite songs learned and played enough times to become annoying to my family. The very same songs forgotten about when they became too easy and a new favorite came along. I placed my hands on the keys and played a few chords.

“Anything?” Dean asked. I just shook my head.

“Oh! You’re back!” Exclaimed a balding man who appeared out of the back room. He was probably in his early 50s and had a very friendly, cheerful demeanor. “You decided to buy this lovely instrument after all?”

“Uh, no. Unfortunately I have nowhere to keep a piano. No, I was just… passing by again and couldn’t resist,” I told him.

“Well, if circumstances ever change, I’d love to help you out!” He said.

I thanked him and placed my hands back on the keys, playing the opening notes to an old favorite song.

“Have you had a lot of business today?” I heard Sam ask.

“No, it’s been pretty slow today. But then, Mondays usually are,” the man answered easily. 

“I figured it must be a slow day when you recognized Y/N so quickly,” Sam said, subtly fishing for information.

“Well she was the only one in the store at the time, but even if there had been 20 other people around, she plays so beautifully I could hardly have missed her.”

The conversation ended there. Or at least, I think it did. I lost myself in the song I was playing, and all other noise faded away. Once finished, I turned around to face the three men. The owner of the store was looking at me with the appreciation of a fellow musician. Sam looked impressed as he always did when he heard me play. Dean… I couldn’t quite read the look on his face. The closest word I could come up with to describe it is awe. But I knew that wasn’t right.

The store owner glanced at his watch and regretfully informed us it was closing time. He thanked us for coming in and I thanked him for letting me play. The three of us exited the store and started walking in the direction of the diner again. 

We stopped in a couple more stores we passed that I might have gone into in an effort to destress. A small little used bookstore that was absolutely packed from wall to wall with books and an antique store, the kind that always reminded me of my history loving father and the countless stores he took me to growing up. Neither of these places sparked any memories either though, and as far as we could tell, I hadn’t stopped inside earlier.

“Well we have some explanation for where you were at least,” Sam said when we’d been seated at the diner.

“Yeah, but we still have no idea what happened to me. How are we supposed to get my memory back when we don’t even know where to start?” 

“I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out. We always do,” Sam assured me. This wasn’t much of a comfort to me at the moment, and Dean seemed to realize that.

“We’re going to figure it out, Y/N. I promise. I’d never let anything happen to you. You’re our priority right now. Everything else gets dropped until we figure this out. You’re our new case. Have we ever not solved a case?” He asked.

I smiled, feeling more confident with my situation. He was right. There was nothing we couldn’t solve when we worked together. 

“What’s our next step, then?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” Dean admitted. 

“Our next step is going to the motel and getting some sleep,” Sam answered. “It’s getting late and we have no leads. Our best bet is to sleep on it and get a fresh start tomorrow. And who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and your memories will be back in the morning.”

I didn’t really want to wait. I wanted to solve this now. But I knew Sam was right. We had nowhere to start, and being low on sleep wouldn’t help anybody, so I grudgingly agreed to this plan of action.

~~~~~

When I woke up the next morning, I kept my eyes closed and just laid there for a minute, working up the energy to actually get up. I heard the deep, even breathing of a sleeping person coming from the direction of the beds and the occasional shuffling of paper or clacking of a keyboard from the other side of the room. 

I rolled over so I wasn’t facing the back of the couch and was greeted by a rare sight when I opened my eyes. The unmistakable sounds of research I’d heard were coming not from Sam as I’d assumed, but Dean, up before his brother, the notorious early riser.

“What time is it?” I asked as I sat up. He looked up at me.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted. “It’s… almost seven.”

“And Sam’s still sleeping?” I asked around a yawn. Dean still picked up on the disbelief in my voice.

“I know, right? Lazy ass. Of all days to sleep in.”

I chuckled at his annoyed teasing and went to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. When I stepped back into the room, dressed and teeth brushed, I saw Sam up and rifling through his duffle.

“Hey,” he said. “I don’t suppose you remember anything?”

“Unfortunately, no,” I sighed.

“Ok. Well I guess we should go get some breakfast and discuss next steps.”

“No need,” Dean interjected. “I already came up with our next step while you two were catching up on your beauty sleep.”

“You did?” I asked, surprised.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” He answered. Before he could continue, Sam interrupted. 

“How long have you been up?”

“I don’t know. Couple hours.” He took a drink from a to go cup of coffee that I hadn’t even noticed he had.

Sam glanced at me, the look on his face one that he reserved for times he wanted to say ‘You two are so meant to be together’ but couldn’t say it out loud because Dean was in the room. He had said it to me on more than one occasion when Dean wasn’t around, which is how I know what the look translated to. 

“Anyway,” Dean continued. He picked up a phone book that was laying open beside him. “I found this psychic in town that should be able to help us. I figured we’d stop by her place after breakfast.”

“A psychic? I don’t know, Dean.” The thought made me nervous. Most of the people who advertised themselves as psychics were phonies. And even if this one wasn’t – which I didn’t know how Dean could be sure of – what if she wasn’t able to help? What if she saw something I didn’t want her to see? I’m a pretty private person, and the thought of someone digging around in my head is incredibly unappealing.

“Hear me out,” he insisted. “I’ve done my research, ok? She’s the real deal.”

“How can you be sure?” Sam asked.

“Because. I’ve done my research,” Dean repeated. “Look,” he said, spinning the laptop to face us. It was open to a website for The Amazing Annabelle. “There are dozens of reviews on here, and every one of them says she was able to help. And look at this.”

He slowly scrolled down to the bottom of the page, showing off the dozens of symbols and sigils scattered throughout. A lot of them I recognized as protection from various supernatural beings. There were a lot that I didn’t recognize too. They clearly marked her as knowing about the world of supernatural creatures though. Unless she had just pulled together symbols she thought looked cool in order to give herself an air of authenticity.

“Alright, fine. But a few good reviews and a bunch of symbols used by hunters doesn’t exactly prove that she’s psychic,” Sam argued. I had to agree. I didn’t want to hurt Dean’s feelings since he’d clearly put some time into this and I knew he was just trying to help, but psychics made me nervous. There was no way I would agree to go unless we knew for sure she was legit.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing. Which is why I talked to Bobby,” Dean responded. So this was the reason he was so confident. Bobby was highly respected among the hunter community. If he gave his approval on this Amazing Annabelle, then we really couldn’t doubt her abilities. “He said he’s not super familiar with her, but he has heard of her. She’s good at what she does and someone who can be trusted.”

“Ok,” I agreed. “Breakfast and then a visit to the psychic. I suppose the worst that can happen is she isn’t able to help.”

~~~~~

The first thing I noticed about Annabelle was how… normal she was. With the exception of Missouri, all the other psychics I’d ever seen were dressed in over the top outfits, their places decked out with all sorts of nonsense that was supposedly necessary for them to do their job.

If I’d seen this girl on the street, I would never have guessed what her occupation was. She was about our age and short, standing a full head below my 5’ 6” frame. And she was very pretty. I noticed both Sam and Dean’s immediate appreciation of her beauty. She was wearing white leggings and a purple shirt, her night black hair was in a messy ponytail that suited her very well, and her golden brown skin was flawless.

“What can I do for you?” She asked when she opened the door. Dean cleared his throat before answering.

“I’m Dean. This is Sam and Y/N. We were hoping you could help us with something.”

“I gathered that much,” she smiled. She opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Come in.”

We stepped inside and she led us to a room that had an armchair and a comfortable looking couch as well as a round table with four chairs. She sat in the armchair so the three of us settled ourselves on the couch, Sam and Dean on either end and me between them.

“So. What can I help you with?” She asked again. 

“Do you have any experience with trying to recover memories?” I asked.

“Some, yes,” she said. “It really depends on how the memories were lost. Some are easy to find. Some take work, but can still be found with patience. Some, like in the instance of an injury to the brain, can’t be recovered.”

“We don’t actually know what happened. That’s part of what I need to remember. Our assumption is that magic was involved though,” I informed her.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she assured me. “If you’ll come with me?” She stood and moved to the table, gesturing for me to sit across from her. The boys came and stood close by to watch.

“I’ll need some information from you in order to know where to look,” she said. “Give me as much detail as you can about these memories. How long ago was it? How much time are you missing? Is it relating to any specific object or person? Anything you can give me will help.”

“It was yesterday,” Sam explained. “She has an hour and a half chunk of time just missing and we have no clue why.”

“What were you doing when you lost your memory and how did you realize you’d lost it?” 

“I was just walking from our motel to a diner to get some food. I only realized what happened because I couldn’t actually remember why I left the room and I definitely didn’t think I was gone that long.”

“Ok,” she said, taking my hands in hers. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and instructed me to do the same. “I need you to concentrate as hard as you can on the moments from that walk that you can remember.” 

Then she chanted a couple lines of Latin and suddenly I was back on the sidewalk outside the music store. I was walking in the direction of the diner once again when I hit a block. It was like an invisible barrier I couldn’t pass. I tried to go around it and when that didn’t work, turned around to go the other way. No matter what I tried, I was stuck where I was.

And then I was back at the table with Annabelle, Sam and Dean hovering over my shoulders.

“Well?” Dean asked.

“I still don’t remember anything,” I told Annabelle.

“I know. Your memories were definitely blocked using magic. It’s a stronger magic than I was expecting. It’s up to you to decide how important it is that you get them back. If you want to continue, I’m going to have to put you into a trance in order to access them.”

“Is that dangerous?” Dean asked.

“It can be. But only if you don’t have a good anchor,” she answered.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“I’m going to have to send Y/N deep into her subconscious to find answers. Doing this requires an anchor, a tether to reality, someone to bring her back. Otherwise she could be stuck in her own subconscious with no way out."

“That’s not a problem. Both of them would be willing to do that,” I told her.

“I’m sure they would, but your anchor can’t be just anyone. It has to be someone with a very strong emotional connection. Normally I recommend close family members or significant others for this sort of process. I’m assuming they are neither?” 

I hesitated. The answer, of course, was no. But I didn’t see how I couldn’t have a strong enough connection with them for this to work. Living the way we did – being with each other 24/7, trusting each other with our lives – created a very strong bond. Not to mention the way I felt about Dean. But maybe if it was one sided it wouldn’t work. And I wasn’t about to say that Dean was the safer bet because I felt our connection was stronger.

“Dean can do it,” Sam announced.

Dean and I both whipped our heads to look at him. I was sure the shock, irritation, and minor panic I could see on Dean’s face was mirrored on my own. I knew we were panicking for entirely different reasons though. For Dean it was worry that he wouldn’t be a strong enough connection for me. He didn’t want to risk me not coming back. For me it was worry that Sam was going to rat me out. And boy would we have words if he did.

“What?” He snapped at the death glares we were both now fixing on him. “You know it’s true. You’ve known Dean longer than you’ve known me. You two get along so well and know each other so well that if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’d known each other your entire lives. I promise your emotional connection is more than strong enough to handle this. And I swear if either one of you tries to deny how close you are right now, I will not hesitate to punch you.”

I looked at Dean at the same moment he looked at me. There was uncertainty in his eyes, but his jaw and shoulders were set in determination.

“I can leave you alone to discuss it if you’d like,” Annabelle offered.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Dean said. “It’s up to you of course – you’re the one taking the risk – but I’ll do my best to bring you back if you’re willing to trust me to do it. Otherwise we can try to find another way.”

“Of course I trust you. That’s not even a question,” I told him.

He watched me for a minute, weighing the sincerity of my words.

“Ok,” he said. “What do you need us to do?”

Annabelle stood up and moved to a shelf full of drawers on the edge of the room, opening different ones and pulling things out as she explained.

“As I already said, I’ll be putting Y/N into a deep trance. The magic is blocking your memories on a conscious level. Sending you into your subconscious will allow you to access them, but only while you’re in the trance. Once you’re awake, you’ll forget everything again.”

“Then how does this help us?” Sam asked.

Annabelle set everything she’d grabbed down on the table and then opened a cabinet underneath, grabbing a clear glass ball and setting it in the middle of the table.

“It helps, because you and I will be able to see everything she’s seeing while she’s in the trance.”

“What about me?” Dean asked.

“Since you’re the anchor, you’ll be inside her head too. You’ll be able to see and hear everything. Sam and I will only be able to see, so you’ll need to pay particular attention to things you hear as you’ll be the only one who knows those details.”

She began combining her ingredients, crushing leaves and mixing together powders and liquids.

“While she’s out, I need the two of you to be absolutely silent,” she told Sam and Dean. “You’ll both be fully aware of the noises happening around you. It could be tricky getting to the hidden memories, and distractions won’t help. Once we’ve found the information you’re looking for, we’ll need your anchor. At that point I need Dean – and only Dean – to start talking to her.”

She now had a liquidy brown paste in front of her. She dipped her finger into it and began drawing symbols on my forehead.

“It doesn’t matter what you say. Your voice, as well as your physical connection, will lead her back into consciousness.”

“Our physical connection?” I asked.

“Yes. You’ll need to be holding hands during this,” she said. Done with my forehead, she quickly drew an intricate swirling knot on the palm of each of my hands. She drew the same design on both of Dean’s palms and then worked on his forehead as well. I assumed the design was identical to mine. “Dean, if you’ll sit across from her, we can get started.”

She sat in one of the two empty chairs and gestured for Sam to sit in the last one. 

“Alright. I need you to tell me everything you can remember from the time just before your memories disappeared. Once you’re under, you won’t be able to talk to me. The more details I have, the easier I can guide you to the missing time.”

“I already told you what I remember.”

“No. I need more. Tell me exactly what the last thing you remember is. Is it walking out the door? Did you get a ways before you forgot? What were you thinking? What were you feeling? What could you see, hear, smell? Give me everything you can remember.”

“Well… I don’t remember leaving the room. I kind of remember getting to the motel, but that’s a little hazy. I guess the clearest memory I have is waking up in the Impala about 15 minutes before we got to town.”

“Ok. Let’s start with that then. What details can you give me about that?” She prompted.

“I don’t know. Not much. We were in the car. On the interstate. Dean had Metallica playing. I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say,” I told her. If this is what it took to get my memories back then I was screwed. Coming up with little details from hazy memories wasn’t exactly easy.

“That’s ok. Don’t worry. How about how you were feeling? Can you remember that?”

I’d just had a dream about Dean. So a big mix of emotions. Happy, sad, longing, irritation. Irritation. Yeah. I definitely remembered being annoyed when we got to the motel.

“I was annoyed. When we got to the motel. I remember being annoyed. I imagine it’s why I left to get the food. And Dean said I seemed stressed.”

“Great!” Annabelle praised. “What else? Do you know why you were annoyed?”

“Um…” How to answer that truthfully but without giving anything away. I looked between Sam and Dean and remembered how Sam had picked up on what I’d dreamt about and silently teased me about it. “Just an argument with Sam.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“What argument?” Dean interjected. “You guys didn’t even talk to each other.” 

“No, but just because we’re not as close as you two are doesn’t mean we can’t communicate without having to say anything,” Sam said.

Dean looked shocked. No doubt he was wondering how often we’d had these silent conversations. Little did he know, they were always about him.

“Ok. Anything else you can give me?” Annabelle asked.

“I know I went into a music store and stopped to play one of the pianos. I don’t actually remember doing it though. Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got enough to work with. Remember, I need the two of you to stay quiet,” she told Sam and Dean. They both confirmed that they would. “Ok. Dean and Y/N, take each other’s hands and close your eyes.” 

She waited for us to follow her instruction before continuing. A stream of Latin, different from the first time, fell from her lips and I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into my subconscious. It felt a little like drifting off to sleep, so gradual that you’re somehow both aware and unaware of it at the same time.

~~~~~

Dean’s POV

As Annabelle’s chanting trailed off, a picture of my surroundings slowly began to take shape. I recognized it immediately. It was the inside of the Impala – from Y/N’s perspective. She was in the passenger side backseat, her usual place.

“Can you hear me Y/N?” Annabelle asked in a calm, soothing tone. “If you can hear me, I want you to get out of the car.”

I watched as my hand – No. Not mine. Y/N’s – reached for the handle and then she swung her legs out and stood up.

“Great. I’ll do my best to guide you to your forgotten memories, but this is mostly on you. If you seem stuck, I’ll help you figure out where to go, but otherwise I’ll stay quiet and let you figure things out for yourself. Now I need you to focus for me. I need you to think about the motel.”

The background around us flashed through a series of images. Different motels we’d stayed at over the years.

“The motel you’re staying at now,” Annabelle clarified. “The one you got to last night.” 

The flashing images slowed and came to rest on one. 

“That’s good, Y/N. Now I need you to focus on your emotions from last night. You got to the motel and were annoyed with Sam because you’d just had an argument.”

Y/N’s mind flashed back to the backseat of the Impala, Metallica’s Fade to Black playing through the speakers. She was looking at Sam in the rearview mirror, his eyebrows raised. I could tell by the view shifting back and forth that she was shaking her head. Sam looked quickly at me and then back to her, smiling. And then, memory over, we were back outside the motel. 

That’s it? That was their argument? No wonder I’d missed it. What did it even mean? I caught myself just before I actually asked these questions out loud, remembering Annabelle’s instruction to stay silent.

“You wanted to take a walk, so you offered to go get food for everyone,” Annabelle continued. I watched this memory version of Y/N walk out the door. “You stopped at a music store along the way. Did you stop anywhere else?”

We all sat in silence as we watched Y/N walk for several blocks, never stopping. She looked around as she walked, frequently turning her head to look at different things. I remembered Annabelle telling me I would be the only one with access to the sounds in her memory and started paying attention. I heard the chirping of birds, the occasional car driving by, a bell ringing inside a store as someone opened the door. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Y/N walked past a group of teenagers and I listened in to their conversation. They were discussing the loss of their friends. The information I got from them was useless as far as Y/N was concerned, but I memorized their faces so we could question them once we’d helped Y/N and were ready to work the case we actually came here for.

She walked for another block and then stopped outside the music store. She stopped for a moment to look at it, and the world around me disappeared as she relived a different memory. I saw a child’s hands on the keys of a piano. I heard the music being played, a simple melody of Jingle Bells that the child was singing along to. I heard a grown man singing with her. The song ended and she looked up into the smiling face of the man I knew to be her father.

She crossed the street and walked into the store, heading straight for the pianos and trailing her fingers over them as she walked by, much as she had her second time through with me and Sam. She stopped at the same piano she did with us. Having seen the childhood memory, I now understood the draw to this particular instrument. 

I listened as she played a complex set of chords that transitioned into a haunting melody. I was entranced, as I always was when she played. It was clear it was something she deeply enjoyed and missed. I was startled as Annabelle’s voice cut in over the music.

“What did you do next? What happened when you were done playing?” She asked. I suppose this part of the memory would be particularly boring to her and Sam, who couldn’t hear what I could. Not to mention it wasn’t exactly helping us find out what happened. We did need to keep moving, I supposed.

The memory jumped to the last few notes of what had to be a different song entirely. Then Y/N turned around and saw the store owner standing there, listening intently.

“You’re a wonderful pianist,” he told her. 

“Oh, that? I was just messing around,” she mumbled at the compliment. 

I listened closely to their conversation. While he was pretty low down on my suspect list, he was also technically the only person on that list as he was the only person we knew to have interacted with her. Nothing sparked my suspicions though.

He continued to praise her abilities, she continued to brush them aside, and he asked if she had any interest in buying the piano she’d been playing. 

“I would be very happy to sell it to you,” he told her. “It’s not often I get to sell an instrument with the confidence it will be used and well loved.”

She politely turned down his offer and then told him she needed to be going, that her friends were expecting her to be back soon.

She left the store and continued her walk. Although I couldn’t actually feel her emotions, I could tell that playing had calmed her down significantly. There was just something about the way the world looked to her now.

She made it another half a block before she stopped. I could discern no reason for this. She simply stopped walking. After a few minutes it became apparent that something wasn’t right.

“This is where you got stuck the first time we tried finding your memories, isn’t it?” I heard Annabelle ask. “Whatever happened to block your memories, this is where it happened. The magic is still putting up a fight. I need you to push back. It can’t stop you from seeing. It’s all in your head that you can’t go any further. Just keep walking.”

We all waited for a couple minutes as she struggled with pushing past whatever spell was holding her in place. 

“You can do it,” Annabelle encouraged. “You’re stronger than the magic is, I promise. Keep walking.”

Another minute passed and I knew she was winning because noises – which I hadn’t even realized had disappeared – started filtering through. It was like hearing something from underwater. Muffled, hard to make out, but definitely there. Then, all at once I could hear voices clearly and we were moving forward again.

I heard the sounds of a struggle coming from the alley in front of her. She quickly walked to it and then slowed to a stop just outside, listening. There was the unmistakable sound of chanting and underneath it, gurgling. 

“Perfect,” she muttered under her breath. She reached into her boot to grab the silver knife she always had with her. “Wish I had my gun right about now.”

She peeked her head around and saw a teenage boy standing over another one. An endless stream of water was spewing out of the lips of the boy on the ground and he was choking on it. The chanting boy was facing her. The second she stepped into the alley she’d be spotted. But the drowning boy didn’t have time for her to find a better plan of attack.

She rushed in and the boy stopped his chanting when he saw her. He started a different chant, just a few words, and then he raised his arm, flinging her into the building beside her. The knife she’d been holding went flying out of her hand. I desperately wanted to run to help her, to make sure she was ok or to kill that boy. I didn’t know which desire was stronger, but I reminded myself that it didn’t matter. This was a memory. It was all in the past and I couldn’t change it now. I just had to watch and learn what I could. That’s how I would help her. Because now we had his face and we could track him down.

Hand still stretched out to hold her in place, he looked back to his original target, now desperately gasping for breath. He continued his chanting, and the poor boy on the ground only lasted a few more moments.

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N asked him. “What could he possibly have done to you to deserve that?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” the boy snapped at her. “No one does.”

He started marching in her direction.

“You should have left it alone,” he snarled. “If you’d just kept walking, everything would be fine. But now you’ve seen too much. And you have to go too.”

He started up his chanting again, directing it at Y/N this time. I could hear water falling from her mouth and hitting the ground. I could hear the sound of her gurgling and choking. I couldn’t bear it. How had she gotten out of this?

“Thomas!” A sharp female voice called from the other end of the alley.

The chanting stopped as the boy looked in the direction of the voice. Y/N immediately started coughing the water out of her lungs and gasping for breath. She looked at the person who had spoken. She was a woman in her late 40s or early 50s at a guess and she was fuming.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked as she smacked him over the head. “Don’t you think you’ve left enough bodies behind? Do you want to attract the attention of a hunter?”

“She saw me! What was I supposed to do?” He protested.

“You were supposed to have not killed another person to begin with! We talked about this! I’ve covered your messes your whole life, but I can’t hide murdered teenagers. Especially when you’re as sloppy about it as you’ve been and especially when you don’t even tell me about it!”

The boy hung his head in shame. But not guilt. Apparently he’d been raised to do a better job of hiding his crimes. Witches. I hated them.

“Well I have to kill her now. She’s seen too much,” Thomas argued.

“No. We’re already far too at risk of hunters coming to town. You can’t add another person to the body count. Especially so close to your father’s store. Do you want him to find out it's you killing people? About the fact magic is real, and you use it? No. We’ll erase her memory and send her on her way. She won’t be a problem.”

The witch grabbed an already made hex bag out of her purse and placed it in Y/N’s immobilized hand, forcing her fingers to close around it. I knew that she would have been fighting to get free, but since she was completely stuck there were no visible indications of this. I had been in that position more than once and knew the frustration of being unable to move.

The boy’s mother started up her own chanting and the memory we were in started fading to black. It continued with Y/N standing just outside the music store. She seemed confused at first, looking around as if trying to get her bearings. Then she turned and headed back in the direction of the motel, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

“Ok,” Annabelle said. I’d forgotten she was even there. “It’s time to bring her back. Go ahead and talk to her, Dean.”

At the mention of my name, I saw my face flash through her mind. I was sitting beside her on a couch and smiling. I didn’t remember this particular day. It could have been on any given day at any random motel. 

I wasn’t really sure what to say, and just babbling whatever words came into my head seemed silly, but getting her back was more important than my discomfort.

“Y/N,” I said, pausing to think of my next words. The memory in her head changed. Now, rather than seeing from her perspective, I was in an outsider’s point of view. And I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. “What the hell is that?” I gasped out. 

With a mix of excitement, shock, and confusion, I watched a guy who looked remarkably like me – although it couldn’t have been because I knew this had never happened before – lift Y/N in the air, spin her around a couple of times, and then set her back on her feet before leaning down to kiss her.

“I thought we were in her memories,” I said.

“You are,” Annabelle answered.

“No we’re not. We can’t be. That never happened.” 

“Then it must be a memory of a dream. Focus, Dean,” Annabelle instructed. “Be her anchor. Bring her back.”

I tried to concentrate on my job, but all I could see was the image of us kissing playing over and over in my head. 

“Can you please think of something else?” I practically begged her.

I was grateful when the memory – or whatever it was – flickered and changed into something else. Only this was no better. We were kissing again, only this time sitting on a very nice couch in a very nice room. It changed again. Sitting in the front seat of the Impala together, just the two of us. Kissing. Another change. I had Y/N pressed up against a wall. We were really kissing in this one.

It changed again and I breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d pulled up a random memory of her in one of her college classes, back before she quit school.

“Ok,” I breathed out and then cleared my throat. “Ok.” If I thought I didn’t know what to say before, I was really stuck now. What was I supposed to say to her after seeing all of that?

“Ok,” I said yet again. “You need to come back now. You have to find your way back. Sam and I are waiting for you.”

“It’s not going to work,” Annabelle said. “She’s trying too hard to keep her memories in control to focus on finding her way out of the trance. Y/N, don’t worry about what memories surface during this. Your only job is to come out of it. Listen to Dean and don’t worry about anything else. And Dean. Don’t worry about finding the right words. Say whatever comes naturally. That’s what she needs.”

Say what comes naturally. This would be a lot easier if I didn’t know Sam was listening to my every word. But Y/N was counting on me. I took a deep breath to prepare myself.

I said her name again. The memory of the classroom flickered to one of me in the driver’s seat of the Impala, singing along to Led Zeppelin. Y/N was in the back, singing with me and Sam was smiling in the passenger seat, refusing to join in.

“If I’m being honest with you, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say right now. But you trusted me to get you out of this and I’ll be damned if I let you down. So I need you to do your part too. Find your way out of this. Come back to us.”

Memories flashed by as she searched for a way back into consciousness. I saw memories of real things, memories I shared. Us in the car, in motel rooms, on hunts. Her patching up a knife wound on my bicep, me holding her close and carrying her after her run in with that shapeshifter. There were more memories of things I didn’t recognize too. More dreams, I suppose. Us out on what could only be interpreted as a date. Us curled up together in bed, talking. Us dancing together in an empty parking lot, a slow song playing from Baby’s speakers. And more dreams of us kissing in various scenarios.

It would have been so easy to get lost in all of these memories, in seeing myself the way she saw me. And in wondering how she could apparently dream about me so much, apparently have feelings for me, without me ever knowing. But I made myself focus on being her anchor.

“Do you know how glad I am that you’re a part of my life? I sometimes wonder how I ever managed without you. And you know you can’t leave me and Sam on our own. We wouldn’t last without you. We’d probably kill each other.”

I watched as the countless swirling memories of us switched to ones of me and Sam. She remembered more than one instance that proved me wrong. She thought about all the times Sam and I had leaned on each other and kept the other going. She was essentially telling me that while she appreciated the sentiment, she knew we’d be fine without her.

“Alright, fine,” I said. “Maybe we’d get by fine on our own. That doesn’t mean either of us want to. You’re too important to us. So come back to us,” I repeated. 

She seemed to be flipping through her memories, as if looking for the right one to bring her back.

“Come back to me.”

I became the focus again, a memory of me standing outside on a bright sunny day and laughing at something she’d said flitting into her mind. But she pushed it away to start looking again.

“Don’t worry about the memories, remember?” I told her. “Just focus on me. Listen to my voice. Try to feel my hands,” I encouraged her. Different memories floated by again, pulled up at random by my words, or maybe the tone of my voice. I didn’t know. They almost all circled around just the two of us though. More dreams of us kissing flashed by.

The shock I felt at these images was lessening and I was beginning to be more comfortable with them. So, following Annabelle’s advice, I let myself respond naturally. I let go of the tight leash I usually kept on my natural inclination to flirt. It wasn’t something I’d ever done with her, not wanting to scare her away. If only I’d known how she really felt.

“You know,” I drawled, wishing I could flash her a smile. “If you wanted to kiss me so badly, you only had to say something. We can definitely do something about that. But only if you come back to me.”

There was a rush of memories flipping by so quickly I couldn’t make anything out in any of them. Then everything went black and I became aware of my own body again. I tentatively opened my eyes and saw Y/N sitting across from me, Sam and Annabelle on either side of us. 

I smiled a little. I wanted to know if she’d found her way out so suddenly out of embarrassment and a desire to escape or excitement and anticipation. 

“Don’t forget, she won’t remember any of what just happened,” Annabelle warned me. 

“I know,” I said. That wasn’t a problem. It was a lot easier to take a shot when you could see clearly. And I could finally see everything.

Chapter 3

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

[ao719]

Vancross

Vancross - One Step Forward, Two Steps To Hell (Chapter 20)

Most of the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: A group of friends embark on their final year at Vancross Institute with the hopes of making it their best year yet. When a new face with a complicated family plagued by secrets and rumors arrives on campus, new friendships are formed, a new relationship blossoms, and threatening challenges arise.  

Title inspiration: The End - Thomas Day

Main Pairing: Liam x F!OC

A/N: Multiple crossover series. There will be random sprinkles of canon throughout this story, but for the most part, it’s pretty much out the window. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warnings: This series will contain nsfw material, language, some alcohol and drug use, and is not suitable for minors. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

Liam stared at Trystan, and he swore his heart momentarily stopped beating as he took in his tense demeanor and the look of dismay in his expression. 

“Liam,” Trystan nodded.

“Hi …” Liam stepped aside to allow him in, and Blaine and Alia stood from the sofa when they saw him, both their bodies tensing. When Liam shut the door, he turned to face him as the other two approached. He was afraid to ask, not knowing what he was going to say, but he forced the words out. “Did you hear anything?”

Trystan nodded. “I, uh …” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I think we should sit,” he said as he gestured to the sofa.

Liam stared at him warily for a moment before the four of them walked to the sofa and sat down. He continued to eye Trystan, watching as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hands together. He remained silent for a few moments; despite taking the entire flight from New York to mull over how to approach this conversation, his words seemed to fail him at that moment. 

“Trystan …” Liam broke the silence as he continued to stare at him. “What is it?”

“It’s … it’s not good news,” Trystan cautiously replied.

Liam felt his chest tighten. “What do you mean? Is Croía alright?”

“From what I know, she is … as ok as can be expected.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Liam snapped. 

“Liam,” Blaine admonished as he looked at him. 

“I’m sorry, I just—” Liam let out a breath, looking back at Trystan with pleading eyes. “Who did you talk to?”

“I got in touch with Jonas first,” Trystan said. “And I found out that he was fired.”  

“What?” Blaine’s brows furrowed. “Why?” 

“Because when Croía landed in Drakovia on the Cordonian royal family’s private jet, it became obvious where she’d been,” Trystan replied. “Jonas never informed them of where she was … per my instruction. They fired him less than an hour after they arrived and he was escorted from the grounds. He didn’t call to tell me himself because he thought Croía would have told me.”

“What did he say about Croía?” Liam asked, feeling his palms begin to sweat.

“Nothing,” Trystan answered. “He hadn’t seen her since he was let go. So I reached out to Everett, another guard that I was close with and who I kept in touch with now and then …” Trystan inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out as he met Liam’s gaze. “Wednesday morning, my mother instructed Lydea to assemble a few of her guards — Everett was one of them — and they were sent here to collect Croía’s belongings.”

“Wednesday … that was the last day Alia and I heard from her,” Liam said. “She hadn’t seen your parents since she’d arrived, but sent a message to tell me that she was having dinner with them that night and that she’d call me later to tell me how it went, but … I didn’t hear from her after that.”

Trystan nodded. “While they were having dinner, my mother sent guards to her room to have it searched … knowing she wouldn’t dare bring them with her to dinner, she had both of Croía’s phones confiscated, which is why no one’s been able to get a hold of her.”

“Both?” Alia questioned. “How did she find out about the other … the one for you? And does she know that’s what it’s for?”

“I don’t know,” Trystan answered. “She might know … or it was just found alongside the other so they took both.” 

“But why take the phones?” Blaine asked. 

“Because they don’t want her to have contact with anyone on the outside,” Trystan replied, looking at Liam again; he knew he was probably at the top of that list. “Croía … when she agreed to have dinner with them that night, knowing her, she was probably thinking — hoping — that they were just finally making time to see her, but she unknowingly walked right into a trap. And my mother … she has no intention of letting her come back here.” 

“Why?” Blaine questioned as he glanced at Liam, watching his jaw tick. 

Trystan chewed the inside of his cheek; there was no easy way to say what he needed to. “She’s planning to force Croía into an arranged marriage.” 

“What?” Liam’s brows rose in surprise. “To who?” 

“I don’t know,” Trystan shook his head. “According to Everett, this has been in the works. There’s been a ball planned for weeks now. I’m assuming she was planning to somehow get Croía home at some point, but then she chose to visit …” 

“Why the hell wouldn’t this Everett guy tell you any of this before now?” Liam asked. “You said you kept in contact with him. He didn’t think to reach out and fucking tell you about what they were planning?”

“Because number one, Everett didn’t even know Croía and I still talked. No one there does, and it’s always been that way for her protection,” Trystan explained. “Jonas didn’t even know until I told him after I learned he was going to be her charge while she attended Vancross. Number two, there’s probably only a select few who knew the true reason for this ball and I can guarantee Everett wasn’t one of them. He found out its purpose after they returned from getting Croía’s stuff because they had a guards meeting that evening to go over the preliminary security measures for the night of the ball, and it was mentioned then by Lydea because she had to explain the sheer importance of why no one could afford to fuck up.”

“I don’t understand,” Alia said, shaking her head as her eyes flickered between Liam and Trystan. “Why? Why are they arranging a marriage?” 

Trystan met Liam’s gaze again, knowing he’d understand the weight of what he was about to say better than anyone. “Because they have officially named Croía my father’s successor. She’s now Crown Princess … and the future Queen of Drakovia. I’m guessing, like most kingdoms steeped in tradition, they want her engaged or married before she takes the throne.” 

Liam furrowed his brows as he let out a sharp breath, trying and failing to wrap his mind around what was just said. Croía was being married off … because she was going to be Queen. 

“That makes no fucking sense,” Alia spat. “Your parents, especially your mother, have done nothing but treat Croía like garbage and make her feel incapable and less than her entire damn life, so why the hell would they want her to take the throne?”

Blaine looked at her; it was very rare to see Alia snap or even raise her voice, but this news about Croía — who had become one of her closest friends — had struck a deep nerve. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Trystan said. “I’m waiting for a call back from Everett. He’s trying to gather whatever intel for me he can, but he needs to be extremely careful. I’m hoping to hear from him soon. I know that none of this is much to go on, but I knew you were waiting for some kind of explanation and I didn’t want to tell you any of this over the phone … which is why I came.” 

“What …” Liam trailed off, throwing his arms up in frustration and worry. “What the fuck are we supposed to do? We can’t just leave her there and let them do this to her!”

“I have no intention of letting them do anything,” Trystan stated as he looked at Liam, determination filling his eyes. “I’m going to get her out.” 

“How?” Blaine asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Trystan answered honestly. “I need to wait and see what Everett can tell me … and I’ll go from there. What I do know is that I made a promise to Croía years ago that I would never let them force her into an arrangement like this, and I have no intention of breaking that promise.”

“I’ll help,” Liam said matter-of-factly. 

“No,” Trystan shook his head adamantly. “I am not asking you—”

“You’re not asking me anything,” Liam interrupted. 

Trystan sighed. “Liam, you can’t—”

“You can’t expect me to sit here on my ass and do nothing while she’s fucking trapped there,” Liam spat, his tone sharp and cold. “And I wasn’t asking because I sure as fuck don’t need your permission. I’ll do something to try and get her out with or without you.”

Blaine and Alia shared a glance before looking back at Trystan. “We want to help, too.” 

Trystan stared at them. He didn’t want to get Liam any more mixed up with his family than he already was, and getting Croía out of Drakovia was going to be no easy feat. He also knew, however, how Liam felt about his sister, how protective he’d come to be of her, and that he would do anything to get her out of this situation and back with him; that went for Blaine and Alia as well, who Croía had become close with. He didn’t doubt that if he refused to allow them to be a part of this in some way, they would go rogue and try to do something on their own, and with their worry and emotional investment, it would be something foolish and impulsive … something that could end up doing them and Croía more harm than good. 

There were things neither Liam nor Croía knew, things discovered during the investigation he was doing with the Cordonian monarchs. Had he known Croía was planning on going home, he would have tried to warn her without jeopardizing their plans, but he didn’t know, not until she called him from the Drakovian airport … and he didn’t answer the phone because he was busy. She left him a message to let him know. By the time he’d gotten the message, it was too late. He never got the chance to warn her, and the guilt he was feeling at that moment as he looked into Liam’s pleading gaze was insurmountable; he couldn’t help but feel responsible. 

In trying to shield them both from the truth until they had all the answers, they had unwittingly let Croía walk blindly into the snake’s nest. Trystan couldn’t tell Liam the truth behind his parents’ backs, just as they didn’t tell Croía behind his, but he couldn’t — wouldn’t — let him or her other friends walk into a trap of their own, either. 

“Fine,” Trystan reluctantly agreed. “But however we do this, we do it my way. And that’s not up for debate. And Mags and Cameron can’t know anything about this …” He sighed. “They’ll try to stop me, or worse, offer to help and put themselves at risk.”

“I won’t be telling my parents, either,” Liam said.

“Did you tell them about not being able to get in contact with her?” Trystan asked.

“No,” Liam shook his head. “I didn’t say a word before I left. As far as they’re aware, we’ve all arrived back here.” 

Trystan didn’t want to keep anything from Constantine and Eleanor, having gained their trust, but Liam was determined to help him, and keeping it to himself was the only way to ensure the prince didn’t go rogue behind everyone’s backs. “Very well,” he nodded. Just then, his phone rang; he quickly pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen, glancing up at the others a heartbeat later. “It’s Everett.” 

Liam watched anxiously when Trystan answered the call. 

“Hey,” Trystan greeted him. “Where are you?” He paused, listening for a moment as he glanced up, seeing a knowing, worried look in Liam’s eyes as he stared at him. “Have you seen Croía at all?”

Liam held his gaze, watching him as he listened. When Trystan nodded and mouthed that she was ok, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

“No, don’t relay any messages to her. I don’t want to risk anything and I don’t want to give her false hope either. Just … keep as close of an eye on her as you can without drawing suspicion to yourself,” Trystan said. “What were you able to find out?” Several moments of silence passed before his head snapped up as his body straightened. “What did you hear?” Liam watched Trystan’s brow furrow as he listened to Everett; his eyes shifted in different directions as if he were taking in the information being given to him on the other end of the phone and piecing a puzzle together. “Are you sure that’s what was said?” He closed his eyes with a sigh when he was answered. “Ok. If you find anything else out, give me a call, but I’ll be in touch.” 

When Trystan ended the call, the other three sat forward. “Well?” Alia asked. 

“He hasn’t found anything … not yet, anyway, but he’s going to keep looking and listening for anything that may help,” Trystan explained. “But he did overhear something that makes me believe there was never any intention of Croía choosing a suitor at this ball. I think my mother plans to choose for her …” 

Alia’s brow furrowed. “What makes you think that?”

“A lot of the reason why she treats Croía the way she does is because she sees her as too naive and not cunning enough, not willing to do what it takes for the sake of not our country’s crown but our family’s crown,” Trystan explained. “She’s seen as too meek. Too empathetic. Too compassionate.”  

“So why choose Croía as their heir at all?” Liam asked.

“Well,” Trystan sighed. “I’m exiled. Lydea gave up her position in the line of succession to run the Royal Guard. Kaspar and Emika enjoy theft and torture too much to even be considered fit to rule. And it would complicate Astrid’s dating and sex life too much for her liking.”

“You still have three other siblings,” Blaine scoffed.

“And they’re—”

“Illegitimate,” Alia interjected.

Trystan nodded. “Vasili, Sebastyan, and Marguerite are my father’s children with his mistress; they have no legal claim to the throne. Which only leaves Croía.”

“Go back to your mother choosing for her,” Liam said. “What do you mean?”

“I think my mother is going to try to put someone on the throne who’s going to do her bidding once my father steps down next year … once she no longer holds her position of power.” 

“How would they do her bidding?” Blaine asked. “I’m no royal, but wouldn’t whoever Croía potentially marries merely be a consort or whatever and therefore not have any real power?”

“Normally, yes,” Alia answered. “When a female in a royal bloodline marries, her husband is not allowed to take the male form of her title because they would essentially outrank her.” 

“But they can get around it if granted the Crown Matrimonial,” Trystan said. 

“What the hell is that?” Liam questioned.

“Everett said he overheard Lydea speaking to my mother in passing and that he heard something about a Crown Matrimonial mentioned. I asked if he was certain that’s what he heard, and he was absolutely sure. When he said it, it clicked … it all makes sense …”

“What is it?” Liam repeated. “And what makes sense?”

“If offered as part of a marriage agreement, the Crown Matrimonial would grant the betrothed the power to co-reign equally as King, not consort.” Trystan shook his head. “If that’s what they’re planning … whoever is chosen will be a legal co-sovereign of Drakovia alongside Croía … which would give them the same power in making decisions as her and, as King, they’d technically outrank her, so there wouldn’t be much she could do to argue their decisions even though it would be her throne by right. And it makes sense because they know Croía wouldn’t rule as they have … but they’ll have someone there that will …” 

“Why the hell would they give someone that much power over their throne … over their heir?” Liam asked. 

“The only way it would be offered is if there was a guarantee of it being of use to them,” Trystan replied. “They’re not just going to agree to hand over their throne to an outsider — people they typically despise — without getting something in return. Something big.” 

And because of what they uncovered from the investigation, Trystan had an idea of what that something pertained to. 

“Why step down at all then?” Alia questioned. “What’s the point?”

“All Drakovian monarchs have to step down at the age of 65, which he’ll be next year,” Trystan explained. “Some old King claimed that stepping down at that age would prevent Drakovia ever being weakened by a monarch past their prime. For some reason, no one’s ever thought to challenge that tradition.” 

“If they’re so willing to give an ‘outsider’ that much power, why not just put one of the other three on the throne?” Blaine asked. “I understand they’re considered illegitimate, but your father’s bloodline would still remain, right?”

“Yes, but my mother would never agree to that because she wants one of her children on the throne so her bloodline is there as well,” Trystan answered before looking at Liam. “Croía would ensure that for her.” 

Liam’s jaw tensed as he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat over the implication of Croía being used or, worse, forced to carry on that bloodline. Over his dead body would he allow that to happen. He cleared his throat and let out a breath. “So what are we going to do? What’s the plan?” 

Trystan thought for a moment, searching his muddled mind for the best path forward based on the little information he had. “I think our best bet is the ball,” he finally said. “It’ll be crowded with other guests and is our best option for getting her out less noticeably.”

“When is the ball?” Liam asked.

“A month.”

“A month?” Liam repeated incredulously. “We can’t leave her there that fucking long!” 

“We don’t have a damn choice,” Trystan retorted. “I don’t want her staying there any more than you do, but we have to play this carefully and meticulously for it to work. And this will give us time to plan because we have to have a plan going in.”

Liam sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as his other hand balled into a fist. It’s not as if he had much of a choice but to go along with it, but to have to wait a month wasn’t going to be easy. He was already hanging off the edge. 

“Li, he’s right,” Blaine said. “We have to go into this with a full-fledged plan, not only for our sake but Croía’s.” 

“I know,” Liam grumbled. 

“I’ll let Everett know so he can get us whatever information we’ll need and can use leading up to the ball,” Trystan said. “For now … I have a few days before I’m expected back in New York, so we can work with what we know and start to try and formulate something …”

****

A few hours later, the four of them sat in the living room with boxes of pizza stacked on the coffee table in front of them; Blaine and Alia had offered to go grab something for them to eat while Trystan talked to Liam. 

Trystan tried to lessen Liam’s qualms about Croía’s situation; Liam listened and simply nodded at all of his attempts to do so, but he knew nothing he said was going to be of any help. He could tell the young prince was trying to mask his worry and stress as best as he could, and while he saw right through it, he didn’t push him to voice any of it. 

Once Blaine and Alia returned, Trystan reached out to Everett to let him know of their intended plan; the guard offered to help in any way that he could and promised to find out as much as he could about anything pertaining to the ball. Trystan also reached out to Jonas; he knew he’d be more than willing to help. 

“So, I take it that this isn’t a ball we’re going to be able to waltz right into?” Blaine said before taking a bite of pizza. 

“No,” Trystan laughed wryly. “Security is tight on a regular day. It’ll be extra tight that night.” 

A knock on the door paused their conversation; Liam stood from the sofa to answer it while Blaine and Alia shared a glance and subtle, conspiratorial smiles.

When Liam opened the door, his brow furrowed when he saw Olivia, Rashad, Simon, Kennedy, Tatum, Dionne, Peter, Zaira, Evelyn, Alexei, and Henri all on the other side. “Hey,” he greeted them as he stepped aside to let them all in; they filed in one by one. He shut the door and turned to see them all facing the living area; he stepped into their line of vision, looking at them questioningly. “What are you all doing here?” 

“Blaine and Alia called a little group meeting on their way to get your pizza, so we all met at mine and Kennedy’s suite,” Dionne answered. “They told us what was going on with Croía.”

“They said you’re planning to get her out of there,” Peter added. 

“And we want to help,” Kennedy said. “In any way that we can.” Tatum tipped his head to Liam in agreement as he placed a hand on her shoulder. 

Trystan stood from the sofa and came to stand beside Liam, who let out a quiet breath as he looked at each of his friends. “I appreciate that, really, but … no. It’s not a good idea. You don’t need to get mixed up in whatever this is.” 

“Well, thankfully, you don’t get a say,” Olivia scoffed, and he shot her a look. “You can give me that look all you want, but it’s not going to change my mind or anyone else’s. We’re helping.”

Rashad crossed his arms over his chest. “Whether you like it or not.”

Liam shook his head. “You guys—”

“Croía is our friend too,” Zaira interrupted, and Evelyn nodded her agreement beside her. 

“What she said,” Alexei subtly smiled as Henri nodded behind him. 

“So, tell us what we need to do to get our girl back,” Simon said. 

Liam stared at all of them for a moment; their expressions didn’t falter, silently telling him in no uncertain terms that they were not backing down. He then glanced over his shoulder at Blaine and Alia, and they both shrugged innocently; the amount of pizza they returned with, which was far more than enough for just the four of them, now made sense. Finally, he looked at Trystan beside him; Liam had agreed to do this his way, so this decision rested with him. 

Trystan looked over the group in front of him and after a few long moments, he subtly nodded, giving his approval. 

Liam looked back at his friends. “We don’t have anything planned yet, we’re just … going over some details.” 

“Fill us in,” Simon said as he clapped Liam’s shoulder before heading toward the living area, followed by the others. 

Liam and Trystan both turned, watching them all get situated on the large sectional, reaching for slices of pizza. When Liam looked over at Trystan again, his brow knit at seeing the corner of his eye glisten. “You ok?”

“This is all she ever wanted,” Trystan quietly replied, gesturing toward the group as he looked at Liam. “When Croía came here to Vancross … the one thing she wanted more than anything was to just make some friends.” He glanced back to the group, watching them all for a moment. “She found a lot more than that …” 

*******

Stepping outside from where his last class of the day was held, Liam started toward his building; he weaved his way through the crowd of other students before his steps quickened once through the thick of it. 

It had been two weeks since they returned to campus, two weeks since Trystan had shown up outside his door to tell him what was happening with Croía and why nobody had heard from her … two weeks since they decided to work together to get her back. 

Liam stepped inside his building and opted for the stairs, bounding up them two at a time as he held his heavy backpack in place over his shoulders. Once at the top floor, he turned down the hall toward his suite; he opened the door and stepped inside, met by the chatter from the others who were there. 

Their suite had become the makeshift headquarters of their covert operation. 

“Have fun today?” Trystan asked.

“As much fun as classes can be,” Liam replied.

“And do you have any homework?” another voice sounded playfully, earning a snort from Trystan. 

Liam glanced over, giving his brother a look at his question, which was nothing more than a joking attempt to “parent” him. 

A few days after arriving at Vancross to tell Liam what he knew, Trystan headed back to New York; he returned just a few days later with Leo in tow. They’d been there ever since. 

Trystan had reached out to Leo himself to ask if he’d be willing to help with the undertaking of getting Croía out of Drakovia; he trusted him, but more than that, he knew Liam was on edge and figured having his brother around might help to keep him grounded. Leo agreed without an ounce of hesitation, and the two used one another as their excuse for being away. 

The Cordonian monarchs along with Cameron and Marguerite were under the impression that the two old friends were catching up at a motocross event in the South of France. The timing worked out in Trystan’s favor since the side investigation he was helping them with was at somewhat of a standstill while they continued looking for that smoking gun they needed. 

Over the last two weeks, Everett had kept Trystan as up-to-date as he could on Croía, but couldn’t tell him much other than she was unharmed, and he only knew that from seeing her in passing. The guard couldn’t speak to her as his position gave him no reason to, and he couldn’t ask those who may know more because it could draw suspicion.

The ball being held in Drakovia, which they learned — much to their luck — was a masquerade, was now two weeks away, and while they had a fairly solid plan in place, there were some obstacles they were working through and details they were still hashing out.

“How’s that going?” Liam asked Leo and Trystan, tipping his head toward the kitchen counter.

“About the same,” Trystan answered.

“I’m not in yet,” a voice called out from where they sat at the counter, having overheard the conversation. Crown Princess Amalas looked over her shoulder and smiled at Liam. “But I will be soon.” 

Set up in front of Amalas were three laptops, all running a hacking program. Liam glanced between the three screens. He had no idea what he was looking for; hell, he had no idea what he was looking at. To him, it was just a bunch of random letters, symbols, and numbers that auto-scrolled and kept changing every time he blinked. 

They’d been working on breaking into the Drakovian palace’s servers to access the guest list for the ball. It was one of the obstacles in their way; they needed to access the guest list in order to add to it. 

Before he left for New York, Trystan mentioned how he wished he could ask Cameron’s friend Luke for help getting their hands on the guest list, knowing he’d be able to find a way to access it. Alia chimed in and suggested asking her sister. The Crown Princess of Monterisso had a reputation for her technological skills and Alia was certain she’d be more than willing to help knowing how close she and Croía had become. Amalas may seem hardhearted to others, but she had a soft spot for her baby sister. 

Just as Alia thought, Amalas agreed. She arrived at Vancross two days later; she was staying in Alia’s suite but had set up her equipment in Blaine and Liam’s as that’s where everyone had been meeting. 

Alia walked past Liam and looped her arms around her sister’s shoulders from behind. “Still working on it?” she asked, having just arrived with Blaine after their last class.  

“Yes,” Amalas answered. “Their firewalls are …”

“Complex?” Blaine interjected.

“Yeah,” Amalas nodded. 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Trystan replied as he moved toward the kitchen island. He glanced down at what was lying on it as Liam and Leo came beside him. “Everett sent us the details for the outside security perimeter earlier,” he explained as they looked over the Drakovian palace blueprint that Jonas had managed to get ahold of and send him; the perimeter had already been marked on the diagram. “They’re going to have two guards positioned in each of these locations,” he said as he pointed to a few spots marked with an ‘X’. “The entrance I will use is here,” he tapped a finger to a spot at the back of the palace; the exiled prince couldn’t be seen and needed to sneak in. “It’s accessible from a secret tunnel that runs beneath a back road behind the palace.” 

“What about your siblings?” Leo asked. “Should we be particularly worried about any of them being there and being a problem?”

Trystan shook his head. “Vasili and Sebastyan may be present in the beginning, but they’ll be scarce and then leave; Bas will be wallowing in his anger and Vasili will be trying to calm him down. Astrid, if she bothers to show up at all, will be too focused on the suitors so she can move in on those who aren’t chosen. And my mother isn’t going to allow Kaspar near the palace, which means Emika will be charged with keeping him away.”

“Why wouldn’t she allow Kaspar there?” Liam asked.

Amalas snorted. “Because he’s a goddamn klepto, that’s why.” She looked over at Liam. “Did you know he’s barred from entering several countries, including Monterisso and Cordonia?”

“What?” Liam and Alia both said in unison. 

“Years ago, he stole the Crown Jewels of Monterisso,” Amalas answered, earning a gasp from her sister. “Obviously, we got them back, but mother and father didn’t take too kindly to it and barred him from stepping foot in our country again. And as for Cordonia, he tried stealing the Cordonian Golden Apple.”

“You guys and your fucking apples,” Blaine snorted.

“Like I said,” Trystan began, “my mother isn’t going to risk having Kaspar anywhere near the palace that night. The only one we’ll need to worry about is Lydea.”

“Pfftt,” Leo scoffed. “I could take her.”

“No, you can’t,” Trystan said matter-of-factly. “Lydea can be lethal when she wants and needs to be. I think it’s best if I handle her. She’ll be able to fight, but I have an advantage.”

“What’s that?” Liam asked.

“I’m better,” Trystan said confidently.

****

Later, while Amalas still worked on getting into the guest list, Liam, Blaine, Trystan, and Leo sat up on the roof after everyone else save for Alia, who was inside the suite with her sister, had left. 

Holding his breath with the hit he’d just taken, Leo passed a blunt to Liam; Trystan watched from his seat across from him as he put it to his mouth. It wasn’t hard to see that Liam had been on edge the last couple of weeks — understandably so. He wasn’t doing much to hide it. Hell, he’d been on edge himself, but he was better at controlling it than Liam. 

It’s why Trystan had made a decision earlier that he knew Liam wasn’t going to be happy about. 

When Liam passed the blunt to Blaine, Trystan cleared his throat. “Once Amalas gets the list, the decision has been made that Leo, Blaine, and Simon will be the ones added under the aliases, which she’s still working on coming up with.”

Liam snapped his gaze to him as he exhaled. “What about me?”

Blaine and Leo shared sidelong glances as Trystan held his stare. “Liam, you’re too emotionally invested to be on the inside.”

“Everyone involved is emotionally fucking invested in one way or another,” Liam retorted. 

“Yes, but not in the way you are,” Trystan replied. “I know how you feel about Croía and how protective you are of her, and while I both respect and admire it, under these circumstances, those feelings are a liability. You’re already a ticking bomb. I’m not going to let this plan’s success hinge on whether or not you’ll be able to control yourself.”

Liam shook his head. “That’s bullshit!” 

“Li—” 

“No, Leo!” Liam shot his brother a look. “He’s asking me to leave getting her out of there in everyone else’s hands!”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you,” Trystan said sternly. He knew he was upset, but he wasn’t going to change his mind. “This is how it’s going to be done.”

Leo glanced at his old friend. Yes, he was right that Liam was a ticking bomb, but so was Trystan, and this little rift between them was bringing down his usually stoic facade. “Look, maybe Liam can—”

“He agreed that we would do things my way,” Trystan interrupted. “This is my way.” He looked back at Liam. “So either get on board or get the fuck off the ship.”

Liam stood from his chair, grumbling obscenities under his breath as he made his way off the roof without a backward glance. A moment later, Blaine stood. “I’ll go talk to him …” 

Leo sighed when he disappeared from view and looked over at Trystan. “Look. Tensions are high. And I get it. But don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick,” Trystan said, “but he needs to realize this is the best way. I understand he wants to be there and help, but you know I’m right, Leo. He’ll be fueled by emotions going in and that’s not going to do us any favors.” 

“I know,” Leo nodded. “And I’m sure deep down, he knows that too. I’m just saying … he’s worried. He’s already on edge. You both are …” 

Trystan looked at him and let out a breath. “Sorry. I just … we only have one shot at this. We can’t afford to fuck anything up.”

“I know.” 

“I’ll go talk to him,” Trystan said as he went to stand.

“No,” Leo held up his hand to stop him. “Give him time to cool off. Because he can be a dick, too, when he’s pissed off and I really don’t want to have to get in between the two of you if things take a turn.”

“You don’t think I could take him?” Trystan quipped.

Leo snorted. “You probably could, but I can tell you from experience that he’d put up one hell of a fight. You’d both come out looking a little worse for wear.” 

Down in the suite, after sharing concerned glances with Alia and Amalas, both of whom saw Liam storm inside and slam his bedroom door behind him, Blaine knocked on his door; when he didn’t answer, he opened it anyway. Liam was pacing the length of his room with his hands clasped behind his head. Blaine took a step inside and shut the door behind him, leaning against it as he folded his arms across his chest.

“What?” Liam snapped.

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Blaine said. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Liam stopped his pacing. “Did you know you were going in with Leo and Simon?” 

“Not until about 20 minutes before everyone left tonight,” Blaine explained. “He told me and Simon together while you were talking to Leo and said that he was going to talk to you about it.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is,” Blaine agreed. “But you know he’s right.” Liam looked at him. “He is. And I get it. I get why you want to be there. If the shoe was on the other foot and it was Alia, I’d be absolutely fucking feral, and the second I saw her, all bets would be off. Which is exactly how you’ll be if he lets you go in. You’re one thing going wrong away from losing it as it is.”

Liam threw his hands up in both frustration and defeat. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“You’re doing everything you can,” Blaine answered. 

It had been three weeks since Liam had last heard from Croía, and each day that passed took its toll on him. He wasn’t sleeping well, and between classes, assignments, and late nights working with everyone to put a plan in place, he was more stressed than he ever remembered being before. 

This just added to everything else. 

Liam let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.” 

“I know you’re worried,” Blaine said, “but at the end of the day, we have to trust that Trystan knows what he’s doing.” 

*******

A week later, the entire group was gathered in Liam and Blaine’s suite with Trystan and Amalas standing before them; she’d finally hacked the guest list and had spent the last several days putting together aliases for the three that would be going in with Trystan. 

With everyone there, Trystan explained that he’d reached out to an old friend who owned a cabin in the mountains just outside of the Drakovian border in Rivala; they would be arriving there the night before the ball. Amalas also planned to get into the security feed now that she hacked the server; she was going with them to monitor that and pass along whatever information she could to Trystan once he was inside. Olivia, who wouldn’t take no for an answer, was tagging along to help her with that task. 

In the week since their rift on the roof, Trystan and Liam hadn’t spoken about what was said between them. Trystan figured Liam was still upset and was waiting for what felt like the right time to approach him. Liam hadn’t sought Trystan out to speak to him privately because everything he said about being too emotionally invested was true; he was still struggling with getting his emotions under control and didn’t feel like proving Trystan’s point. 

Trystan did, however, agree to let both Liam and Alia come with them after talking to Leo and Amalas. Next to him, they were closest to Croía, and they thought it might help to keep Liam calm if he came along. 

Everyone else was staying behind at Vancross. They didn’t want to draw suspicion with their entire group suddenly being MIA. Their job while the others were gone was to stave off anyone who might come asking questions about where their friends had disappeared to.

Once Trystan finished explaining the details about his friend’s cabin, Amalas stepped forward. “I’ve given each of you an alias as a noble from Rivala,” Amalas said, handing Blaine, Leo, and Simon each a piece of paper. “You have a week to commit them to memory. They’re basic and boring because you don’t want to make spectacles of yourselves. Putting you on the list was risky in itself because we don’t know how exclusive the list was to begin with, so we don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.” 

The men stared down at the information they were to memorize about their assumed identities. “What is this?” Blaine scoffed. “Lord Elias Lambros? What happened to the list of names I gave you?” 

Amalas cut a pointed glare in Blaine’s direction as she settled a hand on her hip. “I’m sorry, I don’t think Phil McGroin, Mike Rochburns, and Ben O’Verbich would have worked out very well.”

Blaine snorted at hearing her say them. “I thought they were pretty great.”

“Ben … Ben O’Verbich?” Leo chuckled as he looked at Blaine.

After three weeks of stress, exhaustion, and worry, that dose of levity seemed to be the thing everyone needed at that moment. Suddenly, the entire room broke out into hysterics. Simon and Rashad bent over, placing their hands on their knees as Leo and Trystan stumbled into each other, holding their stomachs. The others all joined in and laughed as Amalas smirked and shook her head. 

“What?” Blaine chuckled as he glanced around the room at everyone. “They were good names!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge Liam’s reaction … just in time to see the sliding glass door leading to the balcony shut. The sound caused the room to fall silent as everyone turned their attention to the door Liam had just disappeared out of. 

It was the thing everyone needed … except him. 

“Shit,” Blaine mumbled as he turned toward the door.

Trystan stepped in front of him. “I’ll go,” he said. “You have an alias to study up on.” Blaine sighed with a nod as he turned away. 

When Trystan stepped outside, the balcony was empty, and he glanced up at the ladder that led to the roof; he walked over to it and began making his way to the top. Just as his head poked over the last rung of the ladder to give him a view of the roof, he saw Liam pick up one of the old chairs they had set up in their makeshift lounge; he swung it up over his head before slamming it to the ground with an anguished growl, and Trystan winced. 

Letting out a breath, Trystan pulled himself the rest of the way up to the roof; once he stood, he slipped his hands into his pockets. Liam turned to look at him, having heard the scuffling of his feet; his jaw tensed as he turned away, lacing his fingers together at the back of his neck as he tipped his head back and looked at the night sky. 

Trystan slowly made his way over, stopping right beside him, and the two stood in quietness for several long moments. 

“I can’t laugh …” Liam finally broke the silence. Hearing his voice crack, Trystan glanced over to see the moon illuminating a wet trail on his cheek. “I can’t laugh with her being stuck there and imagining what she’s going through, which is the worst, by the way. All I can think of are the worst possible outcomes. Of how she’s being treated. Of what she’s thinking and feeling.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I can’t laugh,” he whispered. 

“She’d want you to laugh,” Trystan said, earning a scoff from Liam, but he ignored it. “And if she knew her absence was causing so much turmoil … I don’t know if she’d be surprised or feel guilty.” 

“Both,” Liam said. “She’d be both.” 

“Probably,” Trystan nodded. “And if she knew you and I had a row over how to get her out, she’d be angry with us both … and also feel guilty about it.” 

Liam looked at him, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry … for how I acted the other night. I just …” He sighed. “I want to help.”

“I know you do,” Trystan nodded. “And you are, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I’m sorry, too. You’re not the only one who’s been on edge.” 

Liam shook his head. “I’m the only one letting it get the better of me, it would seem.”

“When I said you were too emotionally invested, I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” Trystan said as he looked at him. “Croía … I don’t think she’s ever had someone wear their heart on their sleeve for her the way you do … not even me. And I know you’re worried. But I promise you, Liam … we will get her out. You have my word.” 

***************************************

Perma Tags (if you’d like to be added or removed for this story, please let me know): @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @emichelle @sweetest-marbear @indiacater @gibbles82 @the-soot-sprite @ladyangel70 @esmckenzie @dcbbw @burnsoslow @deb-1106 @bbrandy2002 @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis @foreverethereal123 @choiceskatie @sirbeepsalot @gnatbrain @openheart12 @sincerelyella @superharriet @queenrileyrose @aestheticartsx @kingliam2019 @indiana-jr @bascmve01 @rainbowsinthestorm @emkay512 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @forallthatitsworth @walker7519 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @princessleac1 @21-wishes @appleone @tessa-liam @pixelatedpassion @malblk21 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @forthebrokenheartedthings @nomadics-stuff @differenttyphoonwerewolf

[bumpkinspice0]

Recovery Time: Chapter 6

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You throw Joel a Birthday party... and end the night with a dance

Warnings: Angst soothed away by fluff, verbal fight, Past trauma, Joel has big feelings and some dirty thoughts, mutual pining

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 6: Happy Birthday Joel Miller

It’d been 3 days since he let his birthday date slip and you’d been plotting ever since.

You stand nervously in the kitchen just waiting for him to come back home— and you feel like a fucking idiot. The sun had set. He went out to check the traps 45 minutes ago. You’d turned on the generator less than 30 minutes ago and pulled his birthday cake, a bastardized version of apple crisp, out of the oven 20 minutes ago. Now you’re just… standing there. Staring at the door. Like a fucking idiot. 

You’re nervous for absolutely no reason other than this was a surprise. You’d been nervous just thinking about it all day. Your nerves were apparently so obvious that he asked if you were alright a handful of times. You weren’t too good a lying but you managed to get him off your sent. You want it to be perfect, but you don’t even know what that means. This wasn’t really a traditional party. Hell, this wasn’t even a party. It was a night to take a load off. To relax. To forget about… everything. An illusion really. A chance to pretend that everything was okay.

This was Joel’s night, his first since he got here. Whatever he wanted. A ‘thank you for tumbling into my life, I think we’re friends now’ party. 

But maybe this was stupid after all. Childish and dumb. You should quit while you're ahead. Turn off the generator and say you just made some apple crisp for shits and giggles. You should—

Your heart nearly leaps through your throat when the door opens. Gus rushes in first, slowly followed by Joel. He looks… confused. Reasonable reaction.

“What’s… what’s this?” He asks slowly, glancing around at the random strung Christmas lights crisscrossing the ceiling. He’d surely seen the ones strung across the yard too, “You turned on the generator?”

“I did.” You answer with a small smile.

He slowly paces around the living room, blanketed in golden rainbow light.

“For?”

“Your belated birthday,” You raise your hands and give some weak spirit fingers, “Surprise.”

He pauses, facing away from you. You see his shoulders tense, the rest of him almost frozen in place. The telltale sign he was uncomfortable. Oh no. You immediately feel like you need to explain yourself. The words come pouring out of you at lightspeed before you give him a chance to say anything.

“I-I know a lot of people don’t feel like there isn’t anything to celebrate anymore, I did too, but you deserve it. Everyone deserves something. I know it’s not much but I made… Well, it’s not a cake but it’s like apple crisp and you can have the stereo playing as long as you want. The TV too. We don’t have the best movie selection but you can pick whatever you want tonight. I even brought up a bottle of wine. I know it’s not—”

“Stop,” His gravel voice cuts through your stammering in an instant. “Just… stop it.”

Suddenly the air feels heavy. You’d done something. You’ve offended him somehow.

“I– I’m sorry. Did I—”

“I told you,” He turns around, an anger in his eyes you hadn't seen before. Or… maybe it was pain? You instantly feel small. “I fucking told you to forget it.”

You’ve overstepped. Massively overstepped. You fucked up. Oh god, you fucked up.

“I just wanted to—I know you—”

“You don’t know anything.” He spits, taking a step closer. You reflexively take a step back. You know he’d never hurt you, but fuck he was terrifying, “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. Stop actin’ like you do.”

His voice booms, threatening to shake the log cabin walls. Even Gus cowers behind you. He’s scary. He’s absolutely terrifying. The silence that lingers is somehow even louder than his outrage. You don’t want to say anything else. You don’t think you could if you tried.

Even if you could speak, it wouldn’t matter anyway. He turns to leave almost immediately, slamming the door behind him. 

You fucked up.

________________

Joel stumbles in the dark out past the property, the glow of lights fading in the distance. 

He wants to scream. He wants to find something and kill it. He wants to cut a hole in his head so all the memories can come pouring out and he’ll never have to feel them again. He wants to be numb. He wants to be free of this, even though he knows he never could be.

Her face is still crystal clear in his mind, just like it was every day. That sweet smile. Big curly hair. Those bright eyes you could never say no to– Sarah. His beautiful, perfect daughter. The only person he’s certain he’d ever truly loved. The one who deserved to live. He wants to purge every memory of her but never let them go simultaneously. How could you just forget the best thing that ever happened to you? He tried to. For years he tried.

No parent should ever have to bury their child. The pain never stopped. The bottomless pit he could never dig himself out of. It’s like it happened yesterday. And tonight you brought it all boiling to the surface. Things he fought so hard for years to keep buried ten feet deep.

Fuck you. Fuck you for doing this to him. 

A frustrated roar rips from his throat as his fist makes contact with the closest tree. The pain is instant and only serves as a distraction for a few fleeting seconds. Still, it’s more welcome than the boiling cauldron of other emotions brewing. 

Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. 

Guilt seems to blanket over all of them now that the initial rage is fading. The look on your face while he screamed at you is something that’ll be tattooed on his mind forever.  You didn’t deserve this, him and all the fucked up baggage he came with. You’d been nothing but kind since you dragged him here and tonight he spat in your face.

You were like her in a way— Like Sarah. Stubborn and too damn smart for your own good. A compassionate soul that wanted to share it with others. Someone who always had a positive outlook on life. What did you blurt in the middle of your stammering? 

Everyone deserves something.

If only you knew how wrong that was when it came to him. Joel deserved the early grave he dug for himself, but you came along and pulled him out of it— and this is how he repays you?

You didn’t know. There’s no way you could have— and yet that still doesn’t seem to ebb away any of the anger still simmering just under the surface. ‘Is that all I am anymore?’ Joel thinks. ‘An angry old man?’ He didn’t want it, all this hate. He wanted to be better for you.

You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. That’s what he spat at you— but whose fault was that? You tried. You tried so hard for him to let you in, and he always shut the door in your face.

You saw him like a bird with a broken wing, fallen from its nest. Something innocent that needed help that only your skillful hands could deliver. If only you knew what he really was. 

He wanted to protect you from himself in a way. If you knew everything he’d done, everything that made his brother run from him, you'd never look at him like you do. He’s caught your passing glances a few times, those beautiful eyes peering around the corner— studying him like a bug. But if you knew him, really knew him… You’d probably never want to see him again. Just like Tommy. 

Maybe he’s really just protecting himself in the end. That’s what he’s good at. 

It felt good to be desired. Not for his skills or connections, but just as a man. That faint swell of masculine pride and desire pumps in his chest, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. You did that to him.

You wanted him. 

He wanted you back. Badly. 

You both spend your entire days together, yet when he goes to bed at night you’re still all he can see when he closes his eyes. He’s not sure when it happened. Daydreams of you he’s ashamed of. Would you be like how he imagines? What would you taste like? How would his name sound lustfully drooled out of your mouth? 

He’s found relief by his own hand one too many times just thinking about it, but he somehow just knows his imagination will never compare. 

And he’ll never find out.

He can’t. He can’t stay here. Someone like him was a cancer in your home. He knew that. He knew it.

And even so, the prospect of leaving you here alone was getting harder and harder to imagine. 

A sharp ruff from behind pulls him from his thoughts. He turns to see Gus standing, all four paws planted and squared for a fight. Joel worries for a moment he’ll have to fight this damn dog off but he doesn’t make a move. If Gus wanted a fight he would have pounced on him when his back was turned. No, the dog wanted his attention. 

Gus sits, huffing an annoyed grunt as he does so. Somehow the message in the animal's movements rings clear. 

Our girl’s upset because of you. Get back there. Get back there and fix this.

Joel groans, sliding down to the ground against the tree he just assaulted. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” he asks the dog, sighing into his hands. The dog huffs again and cocks his head. ‘Intuitive little thing,’ Joel thinks.

Part of him just wants to stay here. Sleep out in the freezing cold and come back in the morning and pretend nothing ever happened. An unlikely scenario since he knows for a fact you’d come hunt him down eventually and scold him for staying out in the cold so long. It begs the question though, could you both just ignore this? Forget about it and move on. Probably, but he doesn’t want to.

You deserve an apology. You deserved something from him, even if he couldn’t tell you why. He can’t tell you about Sarah. Fuck, he can’t tell anyone about Sarah. He doesn’t owe you an explanation but maybe he could fix the night. Give something back, just say thank you, anything. 

Just as long as you wouldn’t completely hate him, he’d be happy.

Lilly comes wandering up and takes a defensive seat next to Gus and it’s the final kick in the ass he needs.

With your little family sitting in front of him, waiting for him to get off his ass and make things right, he slowly raises back to his feet. 

He sighs, leaning against the tree. He’s not as tired as he used to be a few weeks ago. He can bear some weight on his leg again. You did that. You put him back together again. You fixed him. He can fix one night. 

“Time to be a man, Miller.”

____________________

The tears came so suddenly. It’s embarrassing, which only makes you cry harder. You sit there in the kitchen corner weeping into your hands like a teen girl on prom night that got stood up. Yeah, embarrassing.

You must look particularly pathetic because even Gus didn’t stick around to comfort you.

Why did this bother you so much? You’d been called every name in the book working as an apocalypse medic. You’d seen death countless times, you’d told families they’d never see their loved one again, you’d been through absolute hell at the hands of others, so why did a few harsh words from Joel stab so deep?

Because it was him. Because you wanted something from him. It wasn’t quite rejections… but it was close.

Part of you wanted to scream at him too, find out what his fucking problem is. You offer him home comforts and he does this? Childish. The other part of you thinks he’s right. He told you to forget it and you went ahead anyway, thinking it would all be fine.

 He was right. You didn’t know anything about him. Almost nothing. He wouldn’t let you in. 

But why should he? Why should anyone? He didn’t owe you his life story or undying loyalty because you did what any rational good person should do. Yes, you saved his life, but something like that isn’t weighed in favors and secrets. It doesn’t require repayment.

Joel didn’t owe you anything.

So why did you really try to throw this little party? For you. For selfish, arrogant reasons. You were looking for something to make you feel human again and this was the best option. Everything in your life had to be justified. There can’t be enjoyment just for enjoyment's sake. Everything had to be done for a reason— and tonight he was that reason. Joel Miller was making you feel human again.

When the second realization about his birthday hits you, the pit in your stomach drops even deeper. 

You knew the date seemed so familiar, probably because you wanted to forget it. Everyone did. September 26th, the day the world ended. Joel’s birthday was on fucking outbreak day. Of course he’d want to forget whatever horrors he’d seen that day. Every year a constant reminder. What a horrible coincidence to carry with you. Terrible luck of the draw. 

Still, in the absolute mess you find yourself in, you’re still angry. You’re angry at him. Frustrated he’d talk to you that way. React so callously and scold you like a child for trying to do something kind. Suddenly, it feels like you’re back at square one with him. You want to scream at him, you want apologize profusely— you just want to cry.

You’re not sure how long you sit on the kitchen floor but eventually the tears stop— and then the door opens.

You pop up from the floor, wiping your cheeks one last time with your sleeve as if that would even hide your red puffy eyes.

He stands there in the open doorway, remorse painted on his pitiful face. Good.

“Darlin’... have you been—”

“I’m fine,” You spit, wiping your face in the most threatening way you can manage, “Here to yell at me more?”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, turning to close the door. Gus and Lilly scurry in before he does so. They immediately come to sit at your feet. Did they… go get him for you? Well, at least you know whose side they’re on now. Joel scratches at his neck, seemingly unable to make eye contact, “I don’t suppose I’m sorry is enough here.”

“It’s a start,” You cross your arms and lean back against the counter, letting out a heavy sigh of your own. You were angry, yes, but he’s allowed to be angry too. He made a boundary and you deliberately stepped over it thinking everything would be fine. He’s not the only one at fault, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

His head instantly snaps in your direction, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just—you— I didn’t expect— I’m sorry. There are things that I just don’t—”

He stammers and trips over his words but the message is clear. He’s trying. He’s really trying and that counts for something, however small. 

“You wanna… talk about it?” You extend an olive branch.

“No.” he bites out just a little too quickly. You see him immediately kick himself for how harshly it came out. There was more here than met the eye— you decide to drop it. If he doesn’t want to say, then it’s not your damn business. 

Again, You were both at fault here. You for sticking your nose where it didn’t need to be and him for just being an ass about it. You were both being children here. 

Time to grow up.

You start, “I’ll turn this all off. You don’t have to—”

“No,” He cuts you off abruptly, “It’d be a waste to— You went through the trouble I mean.”

You smile, “Would you still like to have a birthday party, Mr. Miller?”

“I–” he pressed his lips together, suppressing some more outrage, “Can we— let’s call it something else. Please.”

“Okay,” you nod quietly. Not a birthday party. That’s just fine. It’s still his party. You take down two glasses and pour some chokecherry wine. You push his glass closer. He’s hesitant at first but eventually comes to the counter. He takes his glass and you raise yours to his. “To an ongoing recovery.”

He huffs a small smile and tinks his glass to yours, “To not dyin’, I suppose.”

You can’t help but cringe when the simultaneously bitter and overly sweet liquid hits your tongue. You notice he does the same. You’d hoped a year of sitting dormant in the cellar would help the flavor calm down— apparently not.

“Wow, that’s... something,” He wheezes, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, it is. But like I said—” You exhale before downing the rest of your glass, “It gets the job done and I haven’t gone blind yet.”

You hold your resolve for a few seconds, feeling rather proud of yourself, before breaking into a coughing fit from the burning in your throat. 

“Jesus Christ, girl,” Joel pats your back in an attempt to comfort you, despite the smile plastered on his face. Well, at least he’s smiling, even if you look like an absolute moron right now. 

“Smoothest in the county,” You wheeze, wiping a stray tear from your eye. You feel the heat in your cheeks rising and you can’t help but laugh at yourself a little. He tries to hide it but he does the same.

“You really are something, Darlin’,” He grins, taking another, much smaller, sip from his glass.

 And just like that, the air between you two was breathable again.

“So,” Joel leans against the counter, arms crossed, “What do you usually do on nights like this?”

“Well, this is your party,” you lean next to him, “What would you like?”

He opens his mouth for a millisecond before closing it again. He turns away from you, eyes darting to the ground. What was he thinking about? What was he going to say?

“You said you have music?” He asks. You absolutely know that’s not what he was originally going to ask, but you still gesture to the far corner of the living room where the dusty stereo and cassette collection lay.

He strolls over, taking a cursory glance at the packed shelf. Art may have liked the isolation but he kept a good collection of music to keep him sane. One of the few things you think he loved just for the sake of it. So many things here had to have a purpose, a reason for existing in this well-maintained space. Something to aid in basic survival. Music probably did, in a way, have a purpose here. All anyone had to gain from it was joy. A memory. A feeling. Just another thing to make you feel human again.

Joel makes his selection and places it in the tape player with a defined click. You expect to hear Johnny Cash or something like what he’s been teaching himself to play for the last few weeks. Instead— he’s picked Elton John. Art had a ‘best of’ collection of his work. Admittedly one of your favorites in the tape collection.

The familiar slow, melodic piano rumbles through the ancient speakers. You recognize the song instantly. An unexpected choice but not unwelcome either. 

Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me

Joel stands with a small grunt and turns to face you, hand outstretched.

“Dance with me.”

Your brows immediately shoot up, “Dance with you?”

“This is my party, isn’t it?” he drawls, “You said we can do what I want. I want a dance.”

You say nothing, dragging your fingers across the counter before making your way towards him. Every hair on your body stands on end as you approach. He stands there waiting in the center of the living room, bathed in mismatched Christmas lights. 

You suppress a gasp when you take his hand and he pulls you into him, flush against his chest. Hesitantly your hand goes up to his shoulder while he lowers his to the small of your back. You swear the sensation of his massive hands on you sends sparks shooting down your legs. He starts to sway you both gently in rhythm.

“I don’t really know how to dance,” You admit.

“Me neither,” he responds, “Learned a little in high school, though.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, back when stagecoaches were still new.” He scoffs, pulling you away for a slow and somewhat clumsy twirl, “To be fair it was just square dancin’.”

“Oh, well, this is prime square dancing music.” You attempt to joke, hiding your reddening face against his chest. He huffs a small laugh and rests his chin on your head. It’s more intimate but at least you don’t have to look him in the eye now. You just barely hear his heartbeat above it all. Strong and steady, a little faster than you expected. You try to lose yourself in music, hoping it will ease your new anxieties that boil over from just being this close to him.

I can't find, oh, the right romantic line

But see me once and see the way I feel

Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm

But these cuts I have, oh, they need love to help them heal

Don't let the sun go down on me 

Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see

I'd just allow a fragment of your life– to wander free

The chorus is grand and beautiful, nothing that should be associated with Joel and your awkward side-to-side swaying. And yet… it seemed so right. The two of you were so small, and somehow the only thing that mattered in the world.

In your time living at the end of the world, you’ve found it’s not the acts of heroism and grand gestures that kept you going. It was the small things. A hello. A hug. Drinking the worst wine in the world and having an awkward dance with a practical stranger. A kiss. The small things.

And even though this was his night, you still got what you wanted— you felt human again.

“Happy… recovery, Joel.”

“Thank you, darlin’.”

___________________________

It was perfect. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was. He can’t recall the last time he’d listened to music for reasons beyond getting code from Frank. He can’t even recall the last movie he’d watched. No… No, that’s not true. It was ten years ago on his couch. Has it really been ten years? He does his best to push the memories aside and just enjoy the moment.

Yet here he was in almost the same exact place he was all those years ago when his life changed forever. The irony is not lost on him. And in a way he doesn’t quite understand, it felt… healing. Like he was facing something. Or maybe he’d finally laid some feelings to rest.

You lay there asleep, head resting on his shoulder while some western he’d never heard of played on the ancient little box TV in the background. You’d made a cake. You’d made popcorn, the whole nine yards. It was so domestic. A treat, you called these nights. 

You were right, he supposes. A chance to just pretend everything was okay. To live like normal people used to. A night to not worry about all the challenges tomorrow brought and fall asleep watching some boring movie you’d never heard of. The new American dream. 

A treat.

Even if it was all a fantasy, he’s happy you shared it with him. Just another thing he can never repay you for. 

What could he ever give you that could ever compare to what you’d given him? Himself— he could give you himself, maybe. In a way, his life was already yours. You’d saved it, after all. But if he gave it to you, would you want it? If he took off his mask and showed you the monster that was underneath would you run?

Yes, of course you would. 

Despite everything that happened here, good things didn’t happen to Joel Miller. He was a walking curse, plague and death following in his wake. If he stayed here, he’d drag you down to hell with him. It’s what always happens. 

He can’t let this continue. He can’t let his selfish desires win and take over. 

He had tonight with you, and that’d have to be enough.

[sunlightmurdock]

Trouble In Paradise | 0.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Part | Next Part

Synopsis: After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

Warnings: no use of y/n, age gap (rooster is in his mid-30s, reader is in her early 20s), smut, p-in-v, protected sex, oral (f receiving and allusions to m receiving), face sitting, eventual angst but not rlly in this chapter

…

Rooster has forgotten about the text less than ten minutes after he’s received it. It’s hard to remember much about anything, when the first thing you do upon waking up is nudge back his jaw and leave sweet, open-mouthed kisses along his neck.

His fingers stroke your hair back off of your shoulders, eyes closing. You hum softly against his collarbone, sliding your hand — which had been innocently resting against his navel — under the covers.

He groans softly and shifts as you wrap your hand around him. You stroke him gently, feeling him begin to harden in your hand. He feels you smile against his neck before you press another kiss to his jaw.

You push yourself up, kissing along each toned inch of his chest, nudging the sheets down out of your way.

Rooster watches you through hooded eyes as you settle between his legs and wrap your lips around him. No, he doesn’t think of Amy once.

Not while your mouth works around him, while your fingertips trail his thigh, while your eyes blink up at him. Not while his hand rests on the nape of your neck as he guides you down on him, or when you let him buck his hips softly into your mouth.

Especially not when fifteen minutes later you’re straddling his hips, bracing yourself on his chest as you roll your hips down onto him. No. When you’re resting your fingers on his jaw, your eyes locked on his as you bounce on his cock, Rooster barely remembers her name.

In fact, he’s still thinking of you even after he’s back in his room on base later that morning. He’s just out of the shower, standing at his dresser with a towel around his waist when his phone rings again.

He curses as Amy’s face appears on the screen. She had text him hours ago. He lifts the phone to his ear and pins it between his shoulder, digging through his top drawer for a shirt that doesn’t look like uniform.

“Hello?”

He realises he’s forgotten to say anything, “Hey... Hey, what’s up?” He stumbles, grabbing a graphic t-shirt from the bottom of the drawer. He sets his phone down on the side and hits speaker.

“Are you okay? - You sound tired.”

Rooster is tired. But he’s gotten good at just giving her the highlights while he’s away on deployment, keeping things light so she doesn’t worry about him.

“Yeah, the guys on base just went for some drinks to get to know each other last night. Got in late.” It’s a half-truth. No more than what she needs to hear. After all, he’s not going to tell her about you.

“So you’re getting on okay with the guys out there? - Mav told me you weren’t going to know anyone this time around. I was worried.”

Rooster stands in his T-shirt and white boxers. He furrows his eyebrows, “Wait, you were talking to Mav? — why were you talking to Mav?”

“Because I’m worried about you, Bradley,” he hears her sigh on the other end of the line. “You’re out there all on your own, and you’re dealing with whatever’s going on with us right now — I just wanted to know you’re gonna be alright.”

Bradley steps into a pair of shorts, “‘Whatever’s going on with us’? — You left, Amy. We broke up.”

“You know I still love you,” He closes his eyes. When he opens them again he notices the hickey on his collarbone and sighs softly. “I just… I think we needed time to figure things out.”

What is it with girls and figuring things out? Bradley asks himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Amy waits through the silence, willing him to say something. Anything.

“So what have you figured out?” Bradley asks finally, his tone dry and unamused. She winces at his tone of voice.

“Bradley,” She sighs softly. “I don’t want to throw it all away like this. I love you. You love me too, right?”

He thinks about it for a moment. Of course he does. He isn’t the one who left. He’s the one who proposed, isn’t he? — The one got down on one knee and promised to love her for the rest of his life?

“Of course I do.” Bradley mutters begrudgingly. He lies down on the twin-sized, navy-issued bed. He’s moved it so that it’s by the window. He’s gotten lucky with the room allocation this time around. He’s got a view out over the ocean. On the opposite side, the guys have a view of the tarmac.

“I just don’t think I can go six months without hearing your voice right now.”

He tucks an arm behind his head and looks out of the window, “What are you trying to say, Amy?”

“I just want us to stay in contact while you’re away. Nothing major, just maybe a call a week, a couple of texts. I want us to talk once you’re back.”

His jaw clenches and unclenches. Amy waits for him to answer her. She’s sitting on their shared bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, flicking through a photo album.

“Please, baby,” He closes his eyes as she pleads with him. She knows exactly what she’s doing when she talks to him like that. He falls for it more often than not. “You know I miss you when you’re away.”

He wonders if she has fucked anyone else. Her boss, maybe. He doesn't like the thought. His tongue presses to his cheek as he thinks it over. This girl broke his heart two weeks ago, and here she is, offering to piece it back together over the next six months - maybe to just break it again once he's home.

But, he doesn't want her slimeball boss anywhere near her and he knows that if there's one thing Amy is, it's loyal. So, if she still loves him, he figures that holding onto her until he's home isn't the worst idea.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, “Yeah. We can talk.”

In the moment, he doesn’t think that he’s making much of a commitment. Only, when he’s answering the phone every evening after twelve hour work days, he realises that he’s made more of a commitment than he realises.

You're having a different morning. After dropping him back to base, you find your roommate in the kitchen. Ella is a waitress and you've known her for a long time. She's sitting on the counter, smiling at you smugly with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"So, where's the lucky guy?" She grins at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

You cover your face with your hands and groan dramatically as you pull out a stool to join her, "I wish you saw him. Seriously."

"Out of 10?"

"10." You answer. You fall forwards and rest your chin on your palm, smiling at her, "He was so fucking hot, you wouldn't believe."

"Oh I believe," She laughs as she pushes herself down from the counter and straightens out her uniform. "I believed you last night and I believed again at the crack of dawn this morning."

Your cheeks heat up at the realisation. It isn't like you've never heard the guys she brings home. The place is small and your rooms aren't very far apart. If anything, it just provides room for the two of you to bond over how shitty the guys you've brought home are. Not this time.

"Are you seeing him again?" She crosses the kitchen to fill up her water bottle in the sink. You purse your lips and sigh longingly before you shake your head.

"Probably not. I brought him back from Abi's."

"Navy?" Ella's eyes widen slightly as she turns to look at you. Abi's bar is crawling with sailors, pilots and everyone in between most days of the week. Ella knows of your flirting, but she also knows of your fear of closing the deal. You can't tell whether she's impressed or shocked. Perhaps both.

"I don't think you're comprehending how hot he really was." You explain.

Your week goes the same way it does most weeks. You work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday - this week you have Friday and Saturday off. You spend your afternoons and evenings flirting and listening to classified information from lonely men. You spend your early mornings with Ella or with other friends.

It's as you're headed into work on Thursday that there's a difference.

Bradley has been bored. Deployment always gets monotonous quickly. Especially when he only gets one day off per week. Even more so when he still doesn't really talk to any of his colleagues after almost two weeks on base.

Amy's on a different time zone. She's six hours ahead of him. With her complicated shift pattern and Bradley's long work days, it's 2am when Bradley talks to her. It's as he's rubbing at his eyes and willing himself to stay awake whilst she tells him about her sister's upcoming wedding that he finds himself thinking of you again.

He’s in that shitty twin-sized bed by the window in a pair of shorts, looking out over the bay. She's talking about centrepieces and color schemes.

He's thinking about your head lulled back, lips parted, morning-sun leaving a golden cast on your skin as you rode him that morning.

"Bradley? - Can you hear me?"

He presses a hand to his lips and closes his eyes. Fuck. He holds the phone away from his ear to let out a breath before he confirms, "Yeah. Sorry, honey. I'm here."

When you show up on Thursday at 4pm for the night shift, Bradley has already been and gone. You're informed by one of the other girls that someone came in asking for you that morning. You let her describe the mystery man to you - just so you can hear how hot she thinks he is - even though you know she's talking about him from the beginning.

By Friday, word has gotten out amongst your friends that you have finally 'closed the deal' with a hot, mysterious pilot.

There's a place known as the Strip in Honolulu, which is where your bar is. Your bar is at the quieter end. Tonight, you're at the other end in a much busier bar. You're giggling with your friends as you finish up some drinks.

This bar is loud and packed. You're only here to pregame before you head to one of the clubs further up the strip. In fact, this bar is so busy on this particular Friday that you don't notice the group of servicemen hanging out near the bar.

Bradley tagged along in the hopes that he would run into you. He had been disappointed when he'd walked by Abi's and seen another girl standing behind the bar.

He's been nursing the same beer for an hour, just thinking of which excuses he hasn't used yet that can get him out of this. It isn't that there's anything wrong with this crew in particular, it's just that Bradley doesn't have the energy to forge new relationships.

He wishes for a moment that Phoenix was here. She always called him out on his self-destructive bullshit. Plus, she loved the beach. She was somewhere on deployment too currently, but he had no idea where.

"How could you not get his number?" You laugh and sit back in the booth as you're chastised by eight girls at once. They're happy for you, but chewing you out currently for not securing yourself a way of seeing this 'too-good-to-be-true' man again.

"If it's meant to be, it'll be." Ella decides as she pulls you into her arms and kisses the top of your head. “Props to her for leaving it up to fate.”

"We're talking about sex, E, not marriage!" Rooster hears that line. He turns his head towards the group of girls in the booth in the corner. They hold his attention for maybe three seconds before he's pretending to listen to the guy in front of him again. They’re just a group of college girls being loud and giggly in the corner.

Berlin's going on about the mission in front of him. He’s leaning on the bar and he reeks of cologne. He's just going over things that are already settled and confirmed, and Bradley would prefer it if they just left work at work. Maybe Bradley’s just being harsh because he’s grumpy.

The group of girls catch his attention once more as they leave, purely because one of the girls is laughing too hard to watch where she's going and bumps Berlin's elbow. They lose his attention as quickly as they gained it, until he finds familiar features in the crowd.

You don't see him at all. You're laughing at the friend who had just tripped. Bradley watches as she catches up to you and drapes herself around you, shaking her head in embarrassment.

Rooster furrows his eyebrows. The lighting isn't good and you're moving further away, people are stepping between you and blocking his view. He isn't sure that it's you. Then, someone steps out of his way and Rooster has a clear view of your side profile. His feet are moving before he even makes the conscious decision to go after you.

“Bradshaw, where ya goin’?” Berlin calls out as he clocks that Bradley is straying from the group. Bradley’s broken from his blind conquest for just a moment as he glances back toward his new ‘friends’.

He’s barely listening. He shakes his head and waves Berlin off casually, “I’ll be right back.” They both know he has no intention of returning.

Rooster weaves through the crowd and steps outside onto the strip. Yep, there you are.

You’re in hysterics, doubled over laughing. You’re with friends, one of them has her arms around your waist and she’s laughing so hard that there are tears on her cheeks.

You’re just about straightening back up when you spot him. He watches your face light up. He’s down the street, stopped just outside of the door and watching you with a smile on his face.

“I’ll catch you guys up.” You tell your friends, giggling as you untangle yourself from one and begin towards him. They begin to whisper excitedly behind you. It's clear to him that they've heard of him by now.

“Is that the guy from the navy?” One whispers.

You walk over to him, smiling. He pushes his hands into his pockets, watching your friends as they giggle and stare from down the street.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” You greet him. He’s impressed that you remember his name, lips quirking as you reach him.

“I like your dress.” He speaks softly, not loud enough for your friends to listen in. His eyes rake over you and take in the garment. It’s pretty, and you just make it look even better. But it’s short enough that he could turn you around and fuck you without hardly having to lift it out of the way.

The look in his eye excites you. Is that… jealousy? Your grin widens as you do a turn for him, letting him see it from every angle, “I wore it for you.” You tease.

“Oh really?” He hums, a smirk toying at his features and he raises his eyebrows at you. “You knew you were gonna run into me, huh?”

“A girl can dream.” You let out a longing sigh, then you’re giggling before him. He grins back at you. You catch him looking past your shoulder again and turn, eyes widening as you realise your friends are suspended in anticipation. They’re right where you left them, watching excitedly.

You turn back to him, scrunching your nose slightly as you try not to admit that they’re embarrassing you in front of him.

“Sorry about them, they think you’re hot.” You explain. He looks you over and takes his lip between his teeth. They’re the last thing on his mind right now. The way he watches you has you pressing your thighs together excitedly.

“Do you, um…” You wonder for a moment how to best phrase this. Please fuck me again doesn’t seem like the best choice, but it’s the only thing your mind will generate.

“Yeah.” Rooster breathes, nodding his head. He’s already on the same page.

“Wait here one second.” You turn back and rush over to your friends. He glances back towards the guys still inside, glad they haven’t really noticed his absence.

“Please give me your keys.” Two of your friends drove tonight. They live together, they don’t need two cars. You hold your hands out expectantly. She laughs as he drops them into your hands, then points a finger toward you,

“Do not fuck this guy in my car.”

You wink just to raise her blood pressure a little, then you’re headed back toward Rooster. Bradley pretends not to hear that last part.

You hit his chest, sliding your hand down into his, not slowing down at all as you pass him and head toward the parking lot at the other end of the strip.

Rooster’s fingers slip between yours, he squeezes your hand as he lets you lead him.

“Heard you were looking for me this week.” You tease him, shooting him a look over your shoulder. Once you’re out of the sight of your friends, he pulls you against him and wraps his arms around you.

“Can you blame me?” His hands skim down the sides of your dress. His long strides interrupt the pattern of your walk, causing you to trip and stumble. His arms steady you against him, keeping you firmly against his chest.

You’re giggling as he uses this newfound power to nudge his jaw against the crook of your jaw and nip at your earlobe. Your poor father would lose it if he could see you now.

You press the button on the keys and the lights of one of the cars parked up front flash. You giggle again as you’re pressed against it, turned to face him and kissed on the lips. Maybe this says something about who he is as a person, but Rooster finds himself turned on about how happy you are to see him.

He presses you between him and the car and slips his tongue into your mouth. He’s always been an affectionate guy, but he’s also a private one. He wouldn’t have dared show off like this back home.

“So you missed me?” You ask sweetly as you pull back and look at him. He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb delicately across your cheekbone, nodding his head. That’s as much of an answer as he’s willing to give, but you know he means it.

There’s no point in trying to convince himself he hasn’t jerked off to the memory of last weekend every single morning this week. Having your pretty face right in front of him again just reinforces the thoughts he’s been having all week.

“Come on,” He takes the keys from your hand, pressing his lips to yours once more, “Been waiting all week to see you.”

Your heart flutters. You feel special to know that you've been on his mind.

He crosses around to the driver’s seat. You move into the passenger seat. He drives you back to your place without need for directions. You watch him drive, shifting in your seat to kick your feet over his lap. He rests one hand on your ankle, skims up to your knee and then back down again.

Downtown is alive and busy tonight. It’s almost the beginning of the rainy season so tourists have been making the most of the time they have left before November hits.

You watch them out of the window as Bradley strokes your legs delicately. You glance back at him and he isn’t paying attention to any of them.

You wonder what it’s like to see him fly. He’s calm now, leaning back in his seat, knees parted. His lip is between his teeth.

“Should I be worried that you remembered the way here?” You joke as he pulls into the driveway behind your bronco. He chuckles as he turns the ignition off, “Kinda part of my job to be good with directions.”

Rooster's hands are on you before you've reached your front porch. He slides his hands around your waist, lowering his mouth to nip gently at your neck. You push your ass back against him as you pause to get the front door open.

His hand slides around your shoulder, cupping your jaw and pulling you back against him, exposing your neck to his lips.

"I have neighbours, you know." He can hear how excited you are even when you're trying to scold him. The thought has him smiling softly against your earlobe.

"Best get that door open then, or they're gonna have one hell of a show." His breath against your ear makes you shiver, excitement pooling between your legs as your body remembers exactly what it's in for. You kick the bottom of the door, twisting the key and sighing in relief as it opens first time around.

Rooster kicks the door shut behind you. You turn quickly and press his back to the front door, pressing your palm to his cock over his jeans. Rooster’s eyes flicker down, then he’s looking at you again.

He brings his hands up to hold your face in his hands. You may have brought this man back here with the sole intention of fucking like rabbits, but it’s now that he’s being so gentle and staring into deep your eyes that he has you blushing.

He strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, lifting your jaw so that you have no choice but to look at him. He’s more sunkissed than the last time you saw him, there’s a slight pink to his cheeks from being up in the air all day. The hardness of his brown eyes in the dark makes you shiver. You close your eyes, palming him over his jeans.

“Feeling shy?” Rooster teases. He trails his thumb over your bottom lip. You don’t respond, but that in itself gives him all the answer that he needs.

It’s stupid. You weren’t shy last time. But now you know how good he is, and how handsome he is, and how nice his cock is — it’s enough to make a girl blush. Your eyes are still closed as you lean forward and rest your head against his chest.

He nudges you back, his eyes studying your features. He brushes his thumb against your mouth, parting your lips. Your lips wrap around the digit obediently.

“Look at me.” He tells you. Your thighs press together. You swallow softly as you open your eyes to look at him. “So fucking pretty, baby.” Your lips quirk softly as you try to reset the power balance here by giving his cock a gentle squeeze through his jeans.

He groans softly and ruts his hips forward against your hand.

It's only midnight and you know for a fact that Ella won't be back for at least 3 hours, but you also know that she would not appreciate you getting railed in one of your communal spaces.

Luckily, Rooster seems to be on the same page. He's entering from a different side of the house this time but he doesn't have any trouble finding your room. You're already unbuttoning his shirt, ditching that before he's gotten you inside of your room.

Rooster takes his lip between his teeth, hands skimming up the sides of your dress as you nip at his chest, fingers working at his belt. It takes minimal effort for his hands to just slip under the hem of it and squeeze your ass.

He thinks of you in that club. All the eyes that would've been on you. All the men who would've wanted to be exactly where he is now. It lights a fire in him. He's filled with the need to prove himself to you. To let you know that he's the only one on this entire island that is worth your time.

You gasp as he skims his hands under the material and pushes it up around your waist, letting you fall back onto the bed with a bounce. It’s the grin on your face as you look up at him, eyes wide and excited, that makes him groan as he parts your legs and kneels between them.

Bradley uses the time that you two have alone tonight effectively to demonstrate exactly how much of a tease he can be.

You whine as he noses at your pubic bone. He presses soft kisses to the insides of your thighs, your hips, brushes his tongue over the fabric of your underwear.

He guides your leg over his shoulder, sucking a soft purple mark into the top of your thigh, groaning softly as he does.

“Rooster.” You complain. He revels in the desperation in your voice.

“Yeah, baby?” He teases from between your legs, kissing over your underwear. You can’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this, enjoying the confident glint in his eye when he glances up at you. He gives in eventually, after a few minutes of letting you beg him.

The sound you make when he finally presses his tongue to your soaking core makes it worth it. The way you curl your fingers in his hair and push against his grip on your hips is an added bonus.

He holds you still, coaxing you toward your orgasm with his mouth alone. It’s only after he’s made you cum the first time that he graces you with his fingers.

But not before he gets you fully out of that dress. You’re naked in his lap, he’s in his boxers and those dog tags that make your mouth water. He’s watching each move you make, each rise and fall of your chest as you whine and moan for him. He’s fucking his fingers in and out of you, kissing your neck, your chest, your tits.

“F-Fuck, Rooster.”

He groans as he curls his fingers inside of you, feeling your fingers tighten around his bicep. He grazes his teeth lightly against your nipple, just enough to make you shiver before he wraps his lips around it and flicks his tongue over the sensitive skin.

You whine desperately at you rock your hips down onto his fingers. You need more. He knows it, you know it. But he still has more to prove.

Your eyes widen when he asks you to sit on his face. But, with as good as he makes you feel, you’d do anything he’d ask. You brace yourself against the headboard, moans spilling past your lips as his mouth works against you. His hands squeeze at your thighs and your hips as he encourages you to rock your hips gently against his mouth.

He groans against your core, earning a soft whimper. Your knuckles whiten as you rest your forehead against the wall. Rooster can’t even pretend that he isn’t pleased with himself after he’s made you cum for a second time.

He brushes your hair back off of your face delicately and just admires that comedown glow.

“God, you’re so fucking sweet.” He murmurs, sitting back on his knees. “Look so pretty.”

You groan softly and sling your arm over your face, hiding against the crook of your elbow, “Stop being such a sweetheart.” You lift your leg and kick his chest playfully, gasping as he catches your ankle and holds it out of his way.

He grinds his hips forward against yours. The only thing keeping you apart is the thin fabric of his boxers, which excites you enough for you to prop yourself up on your elbows and glare at him defiantly.

“How do you want me to be?” He rocks his hips gently forward against you, the friction of his cock against the cotton making him shiver.

Your lip quirks up. Rooster stays there, perched back on his knees, watching you smirk up at him. You adore the fact that you don’t need to say anything. The look in your eye is explanation enough.

Rooster leans behind him and grabs a condom from your top drawer. He pretends not to notice the birth control packet in there, deciding that’s a conversation for another - more pressing - time. He glances up at you as he rolls it down onto his length, stepping out of his boxers and moving between your legs once more.

You part your legs further for him, eyes trained on his as you trail your middle finger along your sternum and between your legs. He watches as you stroke it along your core, gathering excitement on the digit and then stroking it teasingly across your clit.

You then raise it to his lips, watching delightedly as he happily tastes you once more.

“Dirty girl.” He murmurs. He makes the most of the way you’ve parted your legs for him, catching his hands behind your knees and keeping them spread for him. He fucks into you in short thrusts, driving himself deeper each time.

The stretch takes a second to get used to, but you don’t let him know that. He praises you softly, grabbing a hold of your hips as he decides that you’ve had long enough to adjust.

It all goes burning white from there.

He's cradling your head against him, his hand firm on the nape of your neck. It's the only thing keeping you from smacking your head against the trendy but lethal exposed brick wall that your bed is pushed up against. He’s pounding into you relentlessly, a stark contrast to how gentle he’s being with you at the same time.

You're folded into the mattress, moaning desperately against his neck. Rooster groans against your earlobe as you press your fingernails into the nape of his neck. The sound alone makes you clench around him.

“Ohmyfuckinggod.” Rooster grunts out, pressing his lips to your jaw. He fills you over and over until you think you might cry if he ever dares to stop. He has to close his eyes, leaning his head back toward the ceiling. If he takes one more look at your fucked out face, he’s going to bust.

You’re trembling already, but Rooster refuses to give in until you’re too out of breath to even moan his name anymore. Your words are getting caught in your throat, all that you can make yourself do is whimper.

Rooster’s lips are all over your throat. His hips stutter slightly at the sound you make when he leaves an open-mouthed, tactfully placed hickey below your ear. He grunts gently, tucking both arms around you and cradling your body against his as he drives impossibly deep into you. He ruts his hips forward in a few more, short, deep thrusts before he’s spilling into the condom.

He discards it before he lets himself settle with you.

Rooster holds you against his chest, brushing down your hair slightly. It’s messed up from being pressed into a mattress, but Rooster smooths it out sweetly until it’s a little less obvious that you just got fucked.

He kisses the top of your head and then trails his fingertips along the length of your bare spine, stopping at the curve of your ass and trailing back up again. The action makes you shiver. You hum tiredly as you lay against him.

“I have to be on base early tomorrow,” He informs you regretfully. You push yourself up, propping yourself up on his chest and turning to give him your best puppy-dog eyes. You bat your lashes at him. He doesn’t have time to hide the soft smile this makes him reveal. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that.”

“No, I see how it is…” you tease him, rolling off of his chest and retreating to the other side of the bed. You’re smiling, just testing what kind of reaction you can draw.

Rooster snakes an arm across your body, grabbing your jaw between his index and thumb, turning your head to look at him.

“How about you give me your number so I don’t have to chase you out of a bar next time?” He moves forward and kisses you. It’s phrased as a question but you both know you’re going to give it to him.

He already has your address, what more is a phone number?

He hands you his phone and watches as you type your number in. His lips quirk slightly as you end your contact name with a ;). Just in case there’s any confusion as to why he’ll be contacting you.

“I’ll get a cab back to base.” Rooster decides. “Leave you to rest up.”

You offer to drive him back but he insists. His car only takes a while to arrive. You walk him to the front door at 3am.

It’s as you’re crossing the hall toward the front door ahead of him that you clock the sound of hushed giggles coming from your living room. You glance back at him over you shoulder and he smiles.

Your friends all fall silent as you walk past the doorway. They’re scattered around the living room, drunk and eating pizza, laughing about the various mishaps of the night. They fall silent as you pass, but their eyes go wide as Rooster passes.

He has picked up his shirt that had been dropped in the hallway and is buttoning it. The top half of his toned chest is visible for all of maybe three seconds. “Ladies.” He greets softly, pressing his tongue to his cheek to keep from laughing at the stunned looks on their faces.

He gives them a polite nod before you tug him outside to wait for his car on the porch. Rooster kisses you and tells you he’ll call you.

Rooster notices the missed call from Amy at 2am only when he’s halfway back to base. He knows that she wanted to discuss the pianist for her sister’s wedding this morning. But, when he thinks back to what he was doing an hour ago when that call was blocked by his do not disturb feature — he doesn’t regret his actions one bit.

At least, he doesn’t regret them right then.

...

Taglist:

@20th-centu-fairy-girl

@nattygee

@blendedcookiez

@em2213

@blindedbyyourgrace17

@vensidia

@wwwpxper

@imhereimqueerandicannotdrinkbeer

@sparrows-corner

@worldsoldestpizzaslice

@needf0rspeed

@saltyturtlejudgeflap

@auggie-16

@666abby6666

@fantasy-addict354

@a-sweet-little-fangirl

@filteroppsidonthveone

@nqberries

@starksbabe

@ahhmeils

@sydneejean

@lizziespidiepridie

@thedeviltohisangel

@levylovegood

@lovingonshawn

@impossiblebagelcowboyfreak

@americaarse

@pleasedontblameme

@sl13-ce

@inglorious-imagines

@spooky-titties

@walkonthewiidside

@sanzuharuchiyoswife

@rororo06

@amandacavill

@serendiipty

@1-800-imagines

@amandarebell

@earth-to-lottie

@darkdaysandfakesmiles

@n3ssm0nique

@littlewhiterose

@lovemesomevesey

@annakatf

@tarohemianrocketmanapspdy

@acdassenza

@shadowvera

@jonginvlog

@simpandslut

@ig5989

@bonnieelizabethparker

@shaded-echoes-recs

@criminalyetminimal

@americaarse

@lunamoonbby

@perpetuelledaydreaming

@everything-i-love-in-life

@xxlilyxx90

@hotchmeeeeeuppppp

@erinwrld

@hootylou

@pizzaprincess07

@thelifeofthelifeofme

@luckyladycreator2

@alanadetigy

@happy-2b-here

@leftpalacellamalight

@tooflef

@alana4610

@spidey-d00d

@unordinare

@shawnsthighs

@ycarlii

@alanadetigy

@marvelsvalhalla

@imdeadinsidesiriuslydead

@cherrycola27

[rubydubydoo122]

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

Bruce couldn’t do this. Sure he fights criminals on a daily basis, he’s fought aliens, hell, he’s been to space, for crying out loud. But he could not look at his dead- undead son. He could barely look at Jason as a 21 year old, much less looking how he had weeks before he died. 

“Bruce, I know this is hard, but–”

“No, Dick, you don’t, because you were off planet to even know what was happening.” It was a low blow. Bruce knew that. He knew he was burning bridges, but he wanted to be alone. He didn’t want his kids to see him break down. He could fix those bridges later. 

For a moment, Bruce could see the fiery 20 year old Dick desperately trying to be let loose, but then Dick glanced at his siblings, “Why don’t you guys go upstairs, while Bruce and I talk things through.” Dick wasn’t asking though, and they knew.

So the four of them headed up the stairs, leaving Bruce with Dick and Alfred.

“Are you going to slap me halfway across the cave again? Are you going to take away my keys again? We’ve been down this road before, Bruce. It wasn’t fun for either of us.” Dick leaned against the table and crossed his arms, “The only reason I’m not screaming at you right now is because I know that I have to be here for those kids. Cass, Tim, Steph, Duke, Damian . They need me here, but Jason? Jason doesn’t need me , he needs you . He wants you.”

Bruce thought about all the things that had driven a wall between him and his second son. “No he–”

Dick groaned, “B, when he saw me come out of the Batmobile instead of you, I could see his expression crumble.”

“When he realized you were in the cave, he was so eager to see you, Master Bruce. He was hurt when you barely acknowledged him.” Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “The boy upstairs is not the broody Red Hood nor the Robin who died in that warehouse yet. He’s the child you brought into this manor to make sure he was loved. The boy, who despite all the darkness around him, still managed to shine brighter than the sun. We’re not saying this situation will be easy, Lad, but you have to try. For Jason.”

“I don't know if I can .”

“Jesus Christ. I forgot you don’t speak Emotions . Fine. I’ll give you a language you understand.” Dick went over to the computer and opened a new Mission planner “Mission: Fun Sized Jason. Rule number 1, Don’t make him upset. Rule number 2, don’t brood more than usual. Rule number 3, Don’t let Jason know something’s up between your relationship with him because that will probably break Rule number 1. Mission Objective, keep Jason happy until we can get him back to full size. Alfred is allowed to add rules and Objectives. Understood?”

And suddenly, Bruce had a little empathy for Damian’s Robin under Dick’s Batman. “Got it.” Bruce gave his oldest son a slight smile. “Honestly, this might be my hardest mission yet.”

Dick and Alfred shared a look, “You’ll do fine, Master Bruce.”

“I’m gonna check up on everyone, I can come back down once I’m done, if you want.”

“I’ll be fine, Chum, I’m just going to call Zatanna and finish putting a bit of info in.”

Dick nodded, “Alright.” He made his way to the stairs, “Goodnight Alfred, Goodnight Bruce, tell Z I said hi.”

Dick’s first destination was the kitchen. It was usually the first place Cass and Steph went after patrol. Because Steph grabs a midnight waffle for her ride home. 

Though when he got to the kitchen, it was just Cass sitting on  the counter with a mug of tea in her hands. She tilted her head, the question of are you ok clear as day. 

If Dick tried to lie, Cass would just see through him. He sat down next to her, “Everything went well with Bruce, it’s just that…”

“It’s strange, conflicting. Seeing Jason.”

“Yeah.”

“He is a cute child.” Cass rested her head on Dicks shoulder. And Dick rested his hand on hers. “Tiny.”

“Yeah,” Dick chuckled, “Like no one would’ve expected Jason to be as tall as Bruce.”

They sat together in silence until Duke came into the kitchen, and Dick patted the space next to him as an invitation. 

“I’ve been thinking, if you, or Bruce, or even Alred, need me to keep Jason company while you take a moment to work through… memories, I’d be happy to do it. I don’t have any history with him, we’re close enough to the same age.”

Dick patted Duke’s shoulder, “You’re a good brother. Just don’t let Bruce throw him on you too much because I’m trying to get him to try .”

“Maybe it’ll be easier for Bruce after he gets over the initial shock. Even Damian was shocked. He didn't even try to stab Jason. He was wearing Jason’s jacket.”

Right! Damian! And it was strange. He was having a very different reaction than Dick had expected. Dick had to talk to him, but first “Did you get a picture?”

A grin spread across Duke’s face. “I already sent it in the groupchat.”

Dick hopped off the counter, “Lovely. I’m gonna go check on him. And then I’ll check on Jason.”

“Anything you need us to do?”

“Um.. yes, there is one thing.” Dick paused for effect, “Go to bed.”

Damian was leaning on Titus in the corner of his room, with Alfred the cat in his lap. It was a strange revelation that his Akhi was his wayward brother all along. Yet, it also made perfect sense. They both were in the League, and Todd had said something about mother taking him in.  He just did not expect Todd to be Akhi . He didn’t even think that Akhi was still alive. One day Damian had been drawing next to him and the next he was gone. Akhi had two modes; Stay still, or protect. He would immediately fight whoever Damian was supposed to spar and pull him out of reach of any attackers. Akhi would hold Damian while mother was busy, or sit next to him, or follow him if Damian started to wander too far. Yet he rarely ever spoke. Maybe that’s why he never drew the connection between Todd and Akhi. Because even though Todd could be silent if he wanted to, he spouted out the signature Robin quips like second nature. Or yelled at father, taking shot after shot, barely giving father a chance to speak. And above all else, behind Todd’s eyes you could see the calculations, you could see him taking in his surroundings or contemplating risks he was willing to take in the moment, you could see him playing out plans in his head to see every possible outcome. Whereas Akhi had alway had a far off look. Like his mind was never really there. 

There was a knock at the open door, Dick leaning on the door frame, “Are you ok, Damian?”

“Tt.” He started drawing swirls into Alfreds fur, and then smoothed them out.

Dick moved to sit next to Damian. They sat in silence, though it felt like Damian could hear Dick staring with concern.

Damian spared a glance at Dick, “Todd spent time in the League. At Nanda Parbat. Under my mother’s care. With me.” Alfred’s fur was suddenly a lot more interesting than it had been minutes ago, “I didn’t even know it was him, not until a couple of hours ago. I’m the son of the greatest detective, and I didn’t even realize that my Akhi was my brother.” It was making him feel young, seeing Todd like this again, “I thought they killed him, but I- I guess they put him in the Lazerus pit after that, and then he couldn’t come back, because he had to come here, but I wish mother had– Todd, He protected me, Baba . It was only for a little while, but he protected me. He showed me kindness.” Damian met Dick’s eyes which were slightly glossy.

“Well, that does sound like Jason. He’s always had a soft spot for kids.” Dick let out a wet laugh, “He was like… your Guardian Angel.”

“That was horrible Richard. Not funny at all.” Yet Damian could feel a soft smile pulling at his lips, “But yes. He was.” 

“It’s his Bruncle instincts.”

Damian frowned, “Bruncle?”

Dick grinned “Brother-uncle. Since you see me as your Baba .”

he groaned and shoved Dick out of his pet cuddling area, “Nope. That’s it. You do not get any more speaking privileges for the rest of the day.” though he could feel a warmth spreading across his chest. 

“Come on-”

“Nope. Bye! Bye!”

“But–”

“Goodnight, Baba .”

And Damian could see Dick completely melt, “Goodnight, Bibic.”

The first thing Jason did after he stormed upstairs was grab his journal from the hidden drawer in his dresser. Screw Bruce, he was going to figure out what happened to him. 

The only problem was the dates only went to April 25, 2018. He didn’t even finish the notebook. The entries didn’t seem like something was wrong–

Sheila Haywood .

There was a gun pointed at his back as betrayal and shock sunk into his stomach. “I lied.”

A blonde woman turned away from him while lighting a cigarette.

He read through the page. Sheila Haywood was…his mom? But what about his Mami? The one who raised him? Does that make her his step-mom? 

Jason scrambled back to the drawer to take out a pen and flipped to the next page. He was going to figure this out. 

First off, Bruce was a lot colder. Like close to Kelvin cold. 

Second, all the scars. There’s a certain amount of scars that made sense for whole vigilante gig, but the amount he had was closer to the amount torture victims had. 

Third, If Ms. Haywood was his mom, is Jason in her custody now? Well, he’s 20, so probably not currently, but did he have to leave Bruce? Is that why his room is pretty much the same? 

Fourth, Why was he at the League of Assassins? If he asked Damian would he give him a straight answer?

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and almost immediately jumped up. And then relaxed when he realized they were Dicks, and they were stopping at the room before his.

He crept closer to the wall to try to catch the words.

“...But I- I guess they put him in the Lazarus Pit…”

Oh.

Guess he had his answer to number four. Though why would he need one? Did it have to do with number two? Maybe number two should be number one, but he’d already written in pen. 

That also probably answered why his eyes were more green than blue. And the white streak. It did feel a bit too emo for him.

He heard a laugh come from the other side of the wall and felt a twinge of jealousy flare in the pit of his stomach. Sure, he and Dick had their good moments, but it wasn’t usually that easy. There was still tension that loomed over any attempts of brotherly bonding. Sometimes Jason wishes Bruce actually introduced him to Dick before he took up the mantle of Robin, because maybe then they’d be closer brothers.

“Goodnight, Baba.” And just like that a wave of guilt washed over him because he had thoroughly misinterpreted their relationship. Jason honestly thought Damian was Bruce’s. They had very similar facial structures. 

And then there was a knock at the door, before it slowly opened, “Hey, Jason–”

“I didn’t realize you were Damian’s dad.”

Dick just gaped like a fish, “I– what?”

“I was under the impression Bruce was the kid’s dad, baba.” Jason swatted Dick with the back of his hand.

“Oh.” Dick laughed, “No. He’s Bruce’s. He’s also twelve.”

“So?” Jason shrugged, “You’re like, 30. It’s possible. And why else would he call you Baba?”

“Stop calling me old! I’m 27! Also, your math makes that barely legal.”

“‘Barely legal’ does not stop Talia Al-Ghul.”  Jason frowned. He thinks he was 18 when that happened. “Hold up, I’m not 18 yet.”

Dick was suddenly standing ramrod straight, “Excuse me, what?” 

That was his scary voice. Abort, abort, abort , “Why was I in the Lazarus Pit?”

“How much of our conversation did you catch?”

“I zoned out after Lazarus.”

Dick crossed his arms and huffed, “No, we’re going back to Talia–”

“Is Bruce depressed because he lost custody of me to Sheila Haywood?”

And that seemed to send a slap across Dick’s face, “How do you know about Sheila Haywood?”

Jason crossed his arms “I’m a detective, Dick.”

Except so was Dick, and he immediately spotted the journal on Jason’s bed. “It was in your journal?”

Jason nodded.

“What’s the last date in there?” Dick sat down on the edge of the bed.

Jason went to go sit next to him. “April 25, 2018”

Dick nodded, his normally clear blue eyes looked stormy.

“Something bad happened, didn’t it?” 

Dick looked like he was contemplating something, and then turned to face Jason, “I’m only going to tell you this because I know if your older version was here he would tell you.” Dick took a deep breath, “You would say, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit, you don’t need to know.” You would do that while leaning against a wall or something.”

Jason blinked at Dick, because that buildup was rude. “I wouldn’t say that! Also, it’s me . I would tell a younger version of me every moment of my life. I’m pretty sure an older version of myself would too.”

“Look, Jason, I was in space at the time. I don’t know all of the details, and Bruce never felt like filling me in on it.”

“What about the report?”

“Ok, yeah, I’ve seen it, but you know the reports are nothing like actually being there, or hearing the story. And it’s never something you or Bruce want to talk about. You’ll probably get the memory back once you’re back to full size.”

Jason huffed and pulled himself into his sheets. “You’re no longer my favorite sibling. You are dead last. Getting my hopes up that you would give me an answer. That was just cruel.”At least he knew there were reports on the bar computer about what happened. He could sneak down there and figure this out himself. 

“Eh, fifth place is not that bad.” Dick stood up, “or are we counting Stephanie?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still in last.” Jason turned over to face Dick as he was leaving, “Though, I do accept bribes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Little Wing.”

“‘Night, Dickiebird.”

[robobrainrot]

The Knack

Chapter 2: It’s Not Stalking

Notes: its a Knockout-Centric Fic with a human OC. Breakdown is alive and well. Optimus is alive and well. Set in the Prime Universe: Post Predacons Rising, Pre-RID15

[Chapter 1 Here] [Chapter 3 here]

enjoy my scribbles ✌️

Two weeks later...

Though he’d loathe to admit it, Knockout had returned to that parking spot three times in the last two weeks. Not that he was counting. His excuse to himself was that it was a pleasant covert spot in the shade. The weather was pleasant in this area at this time of year and he deserved a break.

It was merely a coincidence that it was also the way the human artist walked.

He had only seen them once in his last three attempts. They had been walking with a femmine human and didn’t notice him. Not that it bothered him.

Today, it was exactly two weeks after their first meeting. Same time. Same place. Sure enough, they came walking down the hill. When they were about 20 meters away, they finally noticed him.

In Knockout’s rear view mirror, he saw them smile brightly. They didn’t run over exactly, but their posture straightened instantly. The human paused in their stride for a moment. “Hello again, pretty boy.” With nothing more than a flirty finger wave at the car, they continued down the street.

That was it? What a tease.

…

Against his better judgment, Knockout looked up the username the human had given him. He was very familiar with social media. He used it occasionally to find races and fellow car enthusiasts.

Their account was mostly art stuff. Some occasional rambling posts. Scattered memes.

He learned their name was Kylan and they were an art student at the local university. They liked drawing various cool things they found around town. There was a text post referencing a gorgeous red sports car that they forgot to take a photo of.

Attached to that post was a rough approximation of what he looked like. It wasn’t as good as the one they did live, but considering it was from memory- it wasn’t bad. The detailing on his doors was completely wrong.

He scoffed. The purple scribbles they had added made him look like an illegible death metal band logo. Much less elegant than his custom pattern.

“My decals do not look like that.” He commented indignantly.

“Knockout. Darling,” Breakdown’s voice came behind him followed by two large servos on his hips. “What’s got you so revved up? I could hear you from across the bay.”

He minimized the tab quickly. “Nothing!” He looked up at his Conjux. Even leaning down to accommodate his ample chest, Breakdown was still taller. “Just a personal project.”

“You know I support your car junkie addiction… you don’t have to hide it from me.”

“It’s not an addiction. I can stop whenever I choose to.” He huffed. Knockout placed a kiss on his chin. He traced his servos down to intertwine with his partner’s. “If you want to talk about addiction…” he moved both their hands up his torso. “I could go for another polishing soon.”

The larger mech moved closer to press against him. “Hm… That could be arranged. I just got-”

Knockout’s computer pinged. His screens popped back up with the social media interface to let him know he had a notification.

It was a direct message.

“ OMG! It’s you! I thought maybe the drawing got blown away with all the wind. I hope it made you smile! “

“‘Drawing?’” Breakdown read aloud.

Knockout sighed dramatically. “Can we go back to my seamless distraction?”

The Stunticon looked between the screen and his Conjux several times. “After you show it to me. Have you been sneaking off to be a secret art model?”

“Not yet. I am playing the long game.” He wriggled out of his partner's embrace to walk over to his storage crate. It was mostly full of polishes, buffers and other beauty supplies. He picked up a small glass case. Knockout revealed it to Breakdown with a flourish. “A human left that on my window. Evidently, they were so taken by my lustrous finish that they couldn’t help themself from stopping to admire me.”

Breakdown leaned down to look at the tiny image. He squinted.

“And, they know I’m… not a car.”

He raised a brow. “You showed them your root mode?”

“Of course not. They just… know? They thanked me for letting them draw me– not that I had much choice in the matter. They didn’t ask permission.” He huffed through his vents. “They just knew.”

“And… your solution… is to stalk them?”

“It’s not stalking!” Knockout huffed. “They gave me their username with the drawing. Clearly, they wanted this.”

Breakdown took a deep vent in and out.

“I can handle it.” He placed the image back in his crate. Spinning on his wheels, he turned back to him. He reached up to pull him down to eye level.

“Be careful. For their sake, and yours.” Breakdown brought Knockout’s hand up to his eye patch. The hard gray metal contrasted his orange protoflesh. It was a stark reminder for both of them of past mistakes.

“I will, BD.” He smiled at his partner. “Trust me. This isn’t some Hollywood blockbuster. Nothing drastic is going to happen.”

…

After they started messaging online, Knockout was easily able to trace their IP address to know where they lived but he had never actually driven by their house.

Today was the day he finally got curious enough to look. Kylan lived in an old town house. It was white with brown shutters and looked like a scrap heap.He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected to find but there was no obvious sign of the human. It’s not like he could go up to ring the doorbell to ask for them.

The Aston Martin parked across the street and settled down. He must’ve slipped into power down mode because when he woke up, it was dark out.

There was another slip of paper on his dashboard. He smiled to himself.

Glancing up, he saw the lights on in the second story of the human’s house. Zooming in, he could see Kylan sitting at their desk drawing. They had headphones on, wiggling back and forth to whatever they were listening to.

Knockout never really understood human’s relationship with music. Of course, they were good at it. There were plenty of songs he liked the sounds of. It seemed to affect their species more. He could ask their resident radio wiz about it, but he didn’t want to give Bumblebee that satisfaction.

With that, he pulled out of his spot. He headed to his favorite hiding spot and slid under the gas station canopy.

Knockout pulled the slip of paper out of his plating. This time, it was in a yellow-ish envelope. The artist was upping their game. How fancy, he purred to himself as he pulled out the piece of paper inside.

His optics narrowed at the tiny image.

“A parking ticket!?”

…

Over the next month, Knockout learned that they came home at approximately the same time every Thursday. This wasn’t always because he was there. Their posts had consistency at that time as well.

The Autobots kept him busy with various tasks around their new base. Ratchet always needed an extra hand, even if he didn’t want one. Arcee was still tense around the former-Decepticon but things were easing up. She had gone from openly hostile to occasional glaring. Agent Fowler was a similar story. Whenever the other two sports cars returned from Cybertron, they’d burn rubber until someone sprained something. Then, they’d get another lecture from Ratchet.

Overall, life after the war was pleasant, though strange. There wasn’t anyone threatening him every other minute of the day. He was allowed to just be.

Integrating Breakdown into the team was more of a to-do. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were not keen on the idea. But, with time and conversation, they came to a mutual understanding.

The ex-Decepticons got their own remote warehouse. Originally, they had been staying with all the Autobots, but that lasted about 2 weeks before someone put in a noise complaint. Their little home away from home gave them some much needed space from the other bots. It was dinghy but it was theirs.

Knockout leaned against a crate as he stared at the blankest wall of their space. It was gray metal, like the landscapes of Cybertron. It was distinctly not light the bright colors of the planet he currently resided on. Over time, he had become quite attached to the rainbow of hues that made up Earth’s environment.

“Breakdown,” He called to his conjux, “I think it’s about time we got some color in here.”

[ >> NEXT CHAPTER >> ]

[sirianasims]

Chapter 20

Get the Party Started

I clearly remember how I felt when I got my acceptance letter from Foxbury. I knew that this would mark the true beginning of my life. I would get my dream career, everything was going according to plan.

Even though I had assumed, perhaps a bit arrogantly, that I would get in, I still did a little happy dance in front of the mailbox.

My parents were proud and happy for me, but I suspect they were also looking forward to finally spending some more time alone.

After all, they started dating when my brother was a baby and had never lived alone together.

My own love life was less happy. My girlfriend, Cecilia, who I had been dating for almost a year, told me we needed to talk. I knew what was coming.

She had also been accepted into her dream university, and wanted us to break up before we left.

I knew she was right. We were too young for long distance, and we would both be better off being free while meeting so many new people. Neither of us wanted a messy breakup later in case one of us found someone new.

I knew it was for the best, but it still hurt. Cecilia was my first long-term girlfriend, and I really did love her.

We hung out for a few hours, just enjoying each other’s company one last time. Neither of us wanted her to leave and make it final.

I’m not ashamed to admit that there were some tears when we said goodbye, but I still wished her all the best at her university.

Even harder was saying goodbye to Maggie. She was very old, much older than we ever expected a pitbull to get, and I knew she didn’t have much time left. My parents promised to spoil her completely.

Despite the pain of saying goodbye to everyone, I still felt great when I arrived at Foxbury. I knew that this was where I belonged, my destiny. I had dreamed of this for years.

I immediately started preparing for my first classes, I knew I wanted to be in the top as always.

I also walked around campus, familiarising myself with the new surroundings, especially the common area, Larry’s Lagoon, where the canteen was, as well as a gym, a robotics lab, and a study area.

The very first week, I met Jamie. She just walked over and started talking to me during lunch. At first I wasn’t sure what to make of her. Surely, no one could be that outgoing? The next day, she came over and asked to join me for my morning workout.

She was pretty fit, and it was nice with some company. She could even give me some tips.

I managed a new personal record with her guidance.

At first, I was a little worried that maybe she was interested in me, but it was quickly apparent that she wasn’t into guys at all. We even ended up discussing ex-girlfriends, and I told her all about Cecilia.

Cecilia and I knew each other from school, and had been flirting for a while before meeting up at a coffee shop near the park. I was surprised when she kissed me as a greeting. She then insisted we found a more private place.

We sat in a nearby picnic area. I was a bit shy, and a little startled by her taking the initiative like that, so I nervously messed around on my phone, but Cecilia wasn’t having it.

She demanded my attention. It was honestly refreshing. The few girls I had briefly dated before her were the quiet types, and since I also tend to be quiet until I get to know people, the dates had been pretty lame.

But Cecilia challenged me. She didn’t take no for an answer and she was smart and witty.

Flirting with her was like fencing, both of us taking turns attacking and parrying, throwing smart-ass comebacks at each other.

I don’t believe in soulmates, but if I did, I might have said that she was mine. We matched so well.

When we got tired of bantering, she simply pulled me in for a kiss. No mind games, no insisting that I take the initiative just because I’m the guy.

It was one of the things I loved about her. The simplicity. Everything was so easy with her.

Well, it also didn’t hurt that she was a great kisser.

Talking about Cecilia made me a little sad, but Jamie managed to cheer me up with a few anecdotes of terrible dates she had been on, and just like that, we were friends.

beginning / previous / next

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 20

A/N: Well, guys.....looks like this is the end. NOT!! HAHA I know last time I said there was only one more chapter to this but my muse woke up and after talking over some ideas with my beta @kazsrm67, there are about 3-5 more chapters of this now.

THEN:

Beau gently lays it out for her. How Emily was invited back up to Montana to help with Sunny Day Excursions, how he wants to be honest and truthful with her. 

"I've come to realize that I'm not happy here anymore, Car. I miss the mountains and the fresh air."

"You're going back for her, aren't you?" Carla says, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

NOW:

"It's not like that," Beau objects as he stares at the woman in front of him. "I told you, Em got that letter and it just made me realize, I miss it up there."

"Beau, babe," Carla stands up and walks around the desk. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I've been selfish-" she begins. "-and weak."

Beau watches his ex-wife in perplexity. ‘What is she talking about?’ he thinks and opens his mouth to voice the words, but Carla holds up her hand, silencing him.

“Listen Beau, when I asked you to come back home-” she sighs before continuing. "-I wasn’t completely honest. After Avery’s death, I was afraid to be alone. I haven’t been alone since….well, ever. We got together in our freshman year of college, married a year after graduation; had Em and then after our divorce I met Avery and in a whirlwind got remarried. And then I found myself being a widow with an ex. So I took the coward’s way out. I asked you to try again.

“I knew you had moved on. I met Y/N, remember. Hell, yall were living together for fuck’s sake! I saw that and it reminded me of us when we first got together."

Beau sits there unmoving, flabbergasted over Carla's admission. He keeps his eyes on her as she begins pacing back and forth, between his spot and her desk. 

"I realized that I was about to come back to Texas, alone, as a widow and I was scared. I haven't been a single woman since before college and I was terrified of what that meant."

Beau's heart breaks at her confession. It's true though. From the moment they met in the financial aid line their freshman year of college, he and Carla had been inseparable,  spending every free minute with one another. It was love at first sight for both of them and even back then he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with her.

They'd graduated college and had both entered the workforce with promising careers before taking that next big step of getting married. The first few years were bliss and they felt indestructible.  Even with the unexpected arrival of Emily, they were invincible but by the time Em turned 5, that armor had been chipped and by their daughter's tenth birthday, their relationship was nothing but a shell. 

And then Beau received the final blow when he was served with divorce papers; Carla had filed for divorce, claiming irreconcilable differences. The difference was she had become captivated by a friend of a friend of an acquaintance,  Avery McCallister. And less than a year after the divorce papers were signed, Carla was no longer an Arlen.

"So," he finally spoke. "Once again, you duped me? You pretended to still feel something for me to make me do your bidding. Did you ever love me, Carla?"

Standing up, Beau towers over the brunette,  his chest heaving. "I'm just a pawn in your game of life huh? Well, guess what. I'm done. It's over. We're over. Emily and I are headed to Helena soon, and after her stint as camp staff is finished she can come back to you, if she wants. But I will not be returning. This is goodbye, Carla."

With that he turns and walks toward the door. As his hand wears around the knob, Carla defends herself. 

"I do love you Beauford! You were my one true love for almost my whole twenties. But I let outside factors cloud my judgment. I am truly sorry, honey. I moved on but I guess I didn't expect you to. I'm sorry. "

"I'm sorry too," Beau replies before turning around and looking at his ex-wife. "I'm sorry for not being enough. I'm sorry that I let you down. But I will not apologize for continuing my life. And if she'll have me back, I plan to continue living my life in Montana with Y/N."

He gives a small smile toward Carla and turns the knob and walks out of her office, passing by the receptionist desk and to the elevator.

On the way to the bottom floor, Beau closes his eyes and pinches his nose. 'God, please don't have let me have fucked it up with Y/N. I'll beg if she wants!' he thinks to himself. 

Beau: Hey Y/N. It's Beau. Looks like I'm going to be coming back to Helena. Could we meet up and talk about some things?

Beau wasn't expecting his phone to ring so when it did, he almost dropped the device in the floor.

"Y/N?"

"It's me," she answers and her voice washes over him like a warm breeze. God, how he missed her!

"How you been, sweetheart?"

Beau closes his eyes and just basks in the cadence of her voice until she says something that causes him to pause. His eyes shoot open. What did she mean by that?!

"Wait, what do you mean taking me back?! Don't you still live there? Please don't tell me you've moved back East," he begs. 

She laughs and it brings a smile to his lips and he breathes easier. She explains that she still lives in Helena but isn't there and once again, Beau holds his breath. Had she already met someone and is off visiting her new man? Oh god, please don't let that be it!

"Ohhh," Beau breathes out before asking "where are you?"

As soon as her answer hits his ears, he smiles. She is so close. But why is she in Texas? What brought her to the Lonestar State?

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogarukee @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @deans-spinster-witch @yvonneeeeeeee @tmb510 @globetrotter28

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Nightly Patrol (Shadow Of A Bluejay Mini Chapter)

Word count: 985

I'm having a lot of fun with these mini chapters. They're really useful. Also Artemis is a weird character to write at this point in the show, like she changes so much from interaction to interaction so she might feel a bit ooc in this. I think she just looks up to the reader and lets herself be a bit softer with them.

Series Masterlist

Star City August 30, 20:34 PDT

Dinah's apartment wasn't cramped but it was small. Not that you complained. It was the best home you'd ever had and with the amount of time you spent at Ollie's extravagant penthouse it didn't matter much. You enjoyed the old chairs around the dining table and the refrigerator that creaked a bit when you opened it. Besides you had your own room. That was all you could really ask for.

"Hey, how was the first day of school?" Dinah asked as she came in. She'd been out for work all day and hadn't gotten the chance to talk to you yet.

"It was good. Nothing out of the ordinary" You told her.

"Any homework?" She asked and you nodded.

"I did it during lunch" You told her and she sighed.

"Still no school friends?" She asked. She was right. You weren't the best at making friends. It didn't help that you're first time at a school was middle school. You were a smart kid but that didn't mean you knew how to get along with people in a school setting.

"Nope" You said, bringing your attention back to the book you were reading.

"When are we leaving for patrol?" You asked after moving to the next page. Normally you and Dinah met Ollie at around 10pm after patrolling on your own for a bit.

"Oh, Ollie and I had something come up, do you think you'll be okay on your own for the night?" Dinah asked, that got your attention.

"What came up?" You asked.

"Oh, well, it was a work thing. We just won't have time tonight" She said.

"Oh I know, how about you and Artemis do your first patrol together?" She suggested and you shrugged.

"Okay" You said. Artemis has been joining you all on patrols a couple nights a week since she joined the team. Ollie wanted to train her a bit more himself along with her training with the group.

"That's great, I'll tell Ollie" Dinah said, kissed your head and went to her bedroom.

"They really think they're slick" You said to yourself as you closed your book and went to change into your costume.

Half an hour later you met Artemis at the Star City zeta-tube.

"Oh, hey Bluejay" She said before looking around and noticing a distinct lack of Ollie.

"Where's GA?" She asked.

"Out on a date with Canary. They said we should go ahead with patrol" You explained.

"A date?" She asked.

"Yeah, they're a lot less slick than they think" You said and began hovering out of the alley the zeta-tube was in.

"Now come on, we've got criminals to catch" You told her.

Star City August 30, 23:56 PDT

Three hours into patrol and you've stopped a mugging, a small time electronics store robbery, and helped a lost kid find his mom.

"So do GA and Cannary go out a lot?" Artemis asked, the two of you were taking a break on the roof of an apartment building.

You shrugged.

"They never call it a date but kinda, every once in a while" You said. "That's cool, kinda like you've got two mentors huh?" She asked and you once again shrugged.

"Hey, is everything okay? You seem off" She said and you sighed.

"Roy still won't pick up my calls or answer my texts so working with you feels, weird" You admitted.

"Why?" She asked.

"Cause he thinks you're his replacement" You answered.

"I kinda am"

"No, you're not. If he thinks I'm trying to replace him too then he'll never talk to me again" You explained.

"It doesn't look like he wants too, and honestly too bad for him. He seems like a jerk" She said.

"He's— He got his GED a couple years ago but everyday on my first day of school he'd come to pick me up. Dinah came with him the first time but the next year he came alone and we went out for lunch." You said, eyes glazing over.

"And you started school today" Artemis realized. You nodded.

"I wanted to hope I'd see him in one of Ollie's stupid convertibles but he didn't show" You said.

"Blue, I'm so sorry" She said. She sat down next to you on the edge of the building.

"How long has he been doing it?" She asked.

"Today would've been the fourth year. He was always like the big brother I never had. I used to be so uptight about rules and he taught me how to let go. He used to sneak me out of school, he—"

"He was your big brother" Artemis said, finishing your sentence.

"I just wish he would talk to me again" You confessed and Artemis thought back to the night after her first mission with the team.

Gotham City August 9, 01:16 EDT

Artemis walked out of the Gotham zeta-tube warrily. Someone was here.

She looked around, knocking her bow to face her would be attacker.

"Step into the light, now." She instructed and Red Arrow stepped out of the alley shadow.

"Nice move, it almost made me believe you are Green Arrow's niece. But we both know you're not" He said, approaching.

"Still I'm sure GA and Bats have a reason for lying, so your cover's safe but I warn you... Do not hurt my sibling or my friends." He threatened and walked away.

Star City August 31, 00:02 PDT

You wiped your eyes, though actual tears hadn't formed yet.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I mean no offence, but even my closest friends on the team don't know about that" You said and she smiled.

"Guess I'm one of those closest friends now" She said.

"I guess so" You agreed.

"So does that mean I get to know you're real name?" She asked and you chuckled.

"Yeah, no." You told her.

[ineffable-kelpie]

My first ficlet for the Ace Omens discord server's second "20 Days of Hugs" challenge! The goal is to write 20 ficlets during the month of January, based on randomly chosen prompts.

Office Mates

Rating: G

Wordcount: 971

Prompt: Hugging the other from behind

-

Quick, light footsteps approached Furfur’s office. Furfur rubbed his eyes and made himself look busy. He knew those footsteps. Hopefully Shax would pick someone else to bother this time. Surely she'd learned from last time that Furfur wouldn’t do her any special favors, even if she still imagined he owed her for the lead on Crowley’s collusion with that angel.

There was a time when Furfur would have been glad to see Shax, but ever since she got promoted to ambassador plenipotentiary, she no longer had time to acknowledge lower-ranked demons she used to know. And Furfur didn't need the reminder of how long he'd been stuck in Requisitions while she climbed the ladder.

The footsteps did not continue past the door like he’d hoped, but stepped inside and stopped. “Oh,” said Shax’s voice.

“What do you want this time?” Furfur sighed. “Another ten thousand demons? I still haven’t got…”

He looked up and trailed off. Shax was standing in the doorway, holding a cardboard box and looking like she’d been caught in a trap.

Furfur frowned and set aside the forms he’d been pretending to fill out. “What’s all that?”

Shax looked down at the box like she hated it. “I’ve been reassigned,” she said in clipped tones. “Just. Looking for my new desk. I obviously got lost, excuse me.” She turned to leave.

“Hang on,” Furfur called after her. She stopped. “They did tell me I was getting a new office mate. Didn’t know it’d be you, though. I take it the bookshop siege went badly?”

Shax turned back around, staring at her box and pursing her lips the way she did when she was too upset to form words.

Furfur winced. Pity he hadn’t been able to get her a few more demons. He hadn’t thought it would go badly enough to bump her all the way down to requisitions. He got to his feet and motioned for her to hand him the box. “Here, let me take that.”

She handed it over. There wasn’t much inside, just some office supplies, a cell phone, and something green and spiky in a white bowl. “Is that a plant?” he asked.

“I stole it from Crowley,” said Shax. “The prize of his collection.”

Furfur doubted that. It was very small, no larger than a child’s head, and significantly less appropriate for a demon to decorate their office with. “Right. Well, it’s not gonna get much light down here,” he said, glancing at the flickering fluorescent light overhead.

“I intend to starve it slowly of nutrients.”

“Oh, great.” Furfur set the box in the corner. “We’ll have to share the desk, unfortunately, but I’ll put in a request for a new chair for you. Give me a moment.” He turned back to his desk.

As soon as his back was turned, both of Shax’s arms wrapped around him.

Furfur stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting Shax’s teeth to sink into his neck, or her claws to shred his throat. Neither of those happened. She wasn’t even squeezing him hard enough to suffocate him, just enough to hold him in place. He waited, but she made no move to attack him. If Furfur didn’t know better, he’d say Shax was hugging him.

Which she wasn’t, of course, because demons didn’t hug. Although, she had spent the last several months on Earth, so who knew what odd habits she’d picked up. “Er,” Furfur asked cautiously. “What’s this?”

“I’m demonstrating how easily I could attack you, if I wished. Since you were foolish enough to turn your back on me.” Shax paused. “But. I do need that chair. So I currently have no reason to actually harm you.”

“Okay.” Furfur relaxed, now that he knew he wasn’t in danger. The experience wasn’t unpleasant, actually. Huh.

“I am also,” Shax added, “holding you in place, so that you can’t run away. You have to listen to what I say.”

“Okay?” Furfur had no idea where she was going with this. It occurred to him that Shax didn’t actually need him to request her a chair, since if she discorporated him, she could just take his. He decided not to point that out.

Shax drew a deep breath. “I am. Sorry. That I mocked you for letting Aziraphale and Crowley slip past you. They are…more formidable than I expected.”

Furfur tried to turn and look at her, but unlike some demons, he did not have the gift of turning his head 180 degrees. “Is that all? I’ve already forgotten,” he lied. “Besides, they’ve stuck both of us down here, so I think we can call it even.”

“Quite.” Shax released him and stepped back hurriedly. When Furfur turned around, she was stiffly holding out a fist.

Furfur bumped his fist against hers. “Bad day?”

“The worst,” Shax said emphatically.

Furfur shrugged sympathetically. “Could’ve been worse, though, couldn’t it? If you went up against an angel, you’re lucky all you lost was your job. Could’ve been permanently discorporated.” He was glad that hadn’t happened. This new, humbled Shax was much better company. She was like the Shax he’d used to talk to at the water cooler, who had offered to help him and asked for only an unspecified future favor, which was basically nothing in Hell, in return.

“I suppose my punishment could have been worse, as well,” said Shax, looking around the office. “We’ll be working together again. Like old times.”

“Yeah,” said Furfur, grinning. “Except, this time, we’ve got our own office.”

Shax smiled, showing far too many needle-sharp teeth. “With our combined intelligence, the Requisitions department will soon be ours.” “Okay, one thing at a time, yeah?” said Furfur sitting down at his desk. “I’ll see if I can get you that chair, and then we can go from there.”