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tgmsunmontue · 6 months

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Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 1/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

PROLOGUE 1978

He’s sitting at the table, dragging a spoon through his oatmeal when Nick staggers into the room, scrubbing at his face with one hand and stopping his pants from falling down with the other. His chest is covered in little red bite marks and not so little scratch marks and he raises an eyebrow.

“Good night?”

“Wild. Absolute hellcat. Amazing in bed. But man, I really need to cut back on drinking, you know what I thought I saw last night?”

“What?”

“You know that new hoover I bought? I swear I saw it change into an insect, like a butterfly, but then I blinked and it was back as a hoover.”

Pete laughs, points to the hoover standing completely inanimate in the corner of the room.

“You mean that one?”

“Yeah… the bag was unfolded into these big wings…”

“Man, your mind must be a weird and wonderful place and –” he’s about to say he should lay off other stuff as well when he catches movement in the doorway and there’s an attractive woman standing there wearing nothing but one of Nick’s shirts and what he assumes are her own underwear. “Good morning. I can’t believe Nick hasn’t offered you coffee yet. Or introduced us. My name’s Pete, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Carole, nice to meet you too.”

Nick’s spluttering about not having time to do introductions, how he was just about to bring her breakfast in bed, but Pete just laughs and decides to make himself scarce for the rest of the morning.

… … …

PART ONE – the coming together

Pete runs his hands over the body work of the Kawsaki Ninja. It’s body is in solid shape, but it’s been customized in some way, the internal bits not like the standard engine, but he can figure it out. He’s good with engines.

“You’re beautiful… shall we go for a ride?”

“Oh, we can’t get her to start up…” the mechanic says, walking over and wiping his hands on a rag before shoving it into his back pocket.

Pete turns the key and the engine immediately thrums into life and he grins.

“Must have the magic touch.”

… … …

A week later, out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees his bike standing upright, like some kind of robot but when he turns to look properly it’s just his bike and he shakes his head and he convinces himself that he needs to get a proper night sleep. Maybe stay where the sounds of Goose and Carole having sex don't wake him up in the middle of the night.

… … …

The wedding and Bradley being born are highlights for Pete in the early eighties. Carole and he get on really well and he’s so happy, feeling the reflection of joy from his little adopted family. Happy for years so when he loses Goose the sharp and sudden contrast is crushing. The darkness, the guilt, the missing piece… it drags him down. He tries, he really does, knows that the people around him are worried but he can’t bring himself to care.

He is certain, that the crash, when it happens, should have killed him. He’d been drinking again, not caring about anything much, but instead of dying his bike seems to wrap itself around him like a protective casing and rolls down the hillside. He can hear the scrape of gravel and snapping of branches; he fully expects to never wake up from the injuries he is surely sustaining. A voice close to his ear mutters this is a stupid fucking way to try and die and he lets out a wet laugh. People saw him go over the side, stopped to help and he’s taken to a hospital where he is cleared from anything other than some grazes and bruises. He’s told he’s very lucky, that he must have a guardian angel and he knows that some people are thinking about Goose, but he’s starting to think about his bike.

When he gets out, his bike is in his garage waiting for him. No one mentioned getting it for him. It’s only been twenty-four hours and his bike is in pristine condition, not even a layer of dust. Like he didn’t even take it out. There is definitely no evidence of the same fall that he experienced, no scratches or scrapes in the body-paint and he runs his hands over the body reverently, not understanding what or how, but knowing that there is something definitely special about it. And for some unexplainable reason it’s chosen him to be with.

It’s a turning point, he stops drinking so much, squares his shoulders and takes a deep metaphorical breath and begins living his life again. Carole and Bradley are still there. Flying is still there. Weirdly and a little confusingly Iceman is still there, along with Slider, orbiting him like they maybe expect him to explode, touching base regularly but never getting too close.

Work too settles back into a sense of normalcy, although he makes a few changes to his will to make Bradley his sole beneficiary and Carole his emergency contact. They combine households, his own deployments making it pointless to have his own place when all he wants to do with his leave is spend it with them. He comes back from one deployment to find the old hover in the garage beside his bike and he frowns, carries it back inside to Carole.

“This was in the garage…”

“I swear I threw it away. Maybe I was just meaning to throw it away…”

“Does it not work anymore?” Pete asks.

“You know, it really does, it’s just so heavy and I can’t be bothered carrying it up and down the stairs so I bought a lighter one.”

Pete just looks at it, remembers Goose’s grumbling about imagining it turning into something and his fingers tighten around the handle.

“I’ll keep it in the garage to clean up after myself.”

“Okay, I’ll believe that when I see it!” Carole teases, but Pete knows she’s teasing because he’s a neat-freak, his years in the Navy not allowing for mess to just lie around. Everything has a place and it needs to be tidied away back to that place when he’s finished with it, whether it’s on a carrier, in his plane or in his garage. He’s had to relax with regards to some of that with Bradley and the fact he’s simply a kid that leaves his things everywhere, but his own bedroom and garage remain safe spaces.

More years pass and he catches more glimpses of both his bike and the hoover in forms that are definitely not a bike and hoover. He doesn’t mention it to anyone else, doesn’t even know what he could begin to say. He does talk to them though, just quiet murmurings under his breath while he cleans them and studies the internal workings, and the fact it’s so different makes him feel justified that he’s maybe not meant to have seen these types of inner workings. So while he keeps them and talks to them, they never talk back. Never do anything more out of the ordinary and some days he forgets that they are simply not a standard motorbike and hoover.

He ends up being deployed with a squadron that has both Iceman and Slider and when he ends up in the shower with Iceman, his hand wrapped around both their cocks, some of their previous interactions suddenly make a lot more sense. He has to ignore Slider’s knowing looks for the rest of the deployment, but he also gets the heavy intense gaze of Iceman watching him whenever they’re in the same room and he’d put up with a lot to have that apparently.

When he gets back Bradley has finished his first year at school and he and Ice have struggled through a talk. About them. And their feelings. It had been horribly awkward, and he’d once had to explain to Goose about why he enjoyed anal sex, but this conversation with Tom takes the new first place in his list of awkward conversations.

He hopes they never have to have another one.

… … …

Jake is ten when his uncle first brings home the old beaten-up cockpit of some type of plane and gifts it to him as his tenth birthday present, despite his parents’ grumbles about it taking up precious space in the barn. It’s not a cockpit that he recognizes at all, not one anyone recognizes when he asks around, but he doesn’t care. He sits in it and pretends he’s flying, runs his hands over the dials and wonders what they’d look like all lit up. It’s his favorite place to sit and do his homework, to sit and listen to music and also hide away from the world when it gets to be too much.

He starts doing it up, sanding away rust and buffing the metal to a gleaming shine. When he’s around thirteen he goes out the there are a few parts sitting in a pile just outside the barn door and he takes them inside, has to drag some of them they’re so big. He doesn’t know how to weld, but he knows who to ask to teach him. He can already see how some of the parts are meant to fit together.

“Where did the spare parts come from?” Jake asks that night over dinner, and his father frowns at him.

“What parts?”

“Uh, there was just a… small pile near the barn this morning. I tidied them away,” Jake says, know as long as he keeps the space contained and up in the lofted part out of the way his father doesn’t really care what he does in there.

“Huh. I don’t know, maybe your Uncle Andy dropped them off?”

Jake doesn’t think that’s the case at all, but there’s no other explanation that he can think of. As years pass more parts turn up and he no longer asks. There’s something… weird about it. Not bad weird, but definitely odd. He’s older now, knows the inner mechanics of the ranch trucks and his pick-up. He’s visited the airfield and spoken to some of the pilots, asked questions and been interested enough for them to show him the inner workings of the engines. This is nothing like anything he’s seen before, and yet it feels and looks older. So. Weird.

… … …

His mom passes away a week before he turns fifteen. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to have a birthday in the future without remembering the grief of his mom dying. Pete and Tom are great, but they’re not his mom.

… … …

Sally stretches her wings out and basks in the sun, she doesn’t transform much anymore, enjoys staying in the plane form which Maverick seems to enjoy the most. Not that she’s ever shown him her alternate form, she’s old, but she’s not lost her mind. Plus the paint and oils that Maverick uses are top of the line and she’s not felt this good in years, won’t be letting go of this lifestyle in her twilight years if she can help it. When she’s too tired to fly, or doesn’t feel like flying she simply doesn’t, which she’d first thought would cause anger, because humans do seem quick to anger. But not Maverick, instead he’d run warm hands over her nose, murmuring quietly under his breath and asking her what was wrong, then given her a complete overhaul, which she can only liken to a spa pamper day she once heard some humans refer to.

… … …

“Name’s Bronco,” the blue car introduces himself, voice gravelly and the plane doesn’t transform, but he can feel that he’s being judged.

“Original,” she says dryly. “You a friend of Bumblebee’s?”

“I know him. Wouldn’t say we’re exactly friends,” Bronco mutters, because there’s no point in lying. The old plane hums and he wonders if she’s going to say anything else.

“Let me tell you how it works here.”

She describes the humans, explains that Maverick is their human, the one that all the other humans around here seem to defer to, even when he does something that no-one else can make sense of. There is Iceman, who isn’t here very often, but occasionally turns up. Then there is Bradley, who Bronco is already familiar with. Ninja is surly, doesn’t seem to care about anyone other than protecting Maverick and only seems to tolerate Sally because she’s the only one who can protect him up in the sky.

Then there are all the others. Dozens of the fuckers. Minbots who take on the forms of everyday human appliances which he himself would find incredibly demeaning. Except for the fact that there are so many of them, and they’re not all old, but they do range wildly in actual usefulness. Sally says that many of them just turn up, and he raises one of his eyebrows at that, hears the crunching of metal at the movement but he’s yet to allow Maverick to touch his innerworkings.

Bronco doesn’t particularly like Maverick, instead likes the kid he often has with him. Bradley. He’s got more of a fun streak and Bronco likes that. He knows refusing to work for Maverick annoys Sally, but he doesn’t care. He works for Bradley and that’s more important to him, the way the kid laughs and runs a hand over his hood and dash, like Bronco is a treasure rather than a beat-up old relic. As Maverick shows him how to oil his pieces, explains how things should work, but how Bronco is special in some way he can’t explain, he finds himself warming to the older human a little. Just a little.

… … …

It’s been a while since he’s been out to the hangar and he’s impressed, the outside still looks old and like a strong wind would blow it away, but inside there’s a new coat of paint, there’s a large well-lit work bench, a line of about five bikes, the Mustang and a car. Well, an old blue Bronco. Mav’s never shown any interest in doing up cars before, and he didn’t mention buying one.

“When did the Bronco arrive?”

“Oh, are you admitting you actually organized that one?”

“No. I’m not admitting to anything. Who’s going to be driving it?”

“Well, no-one at the rate I’m going. It won’t even turn over for me. Don’t know what Bradley does, but he must wiggle the key just the right way but it turns over for him perfectly each time.”

“Are you teaching him to drive?”

“Yeah, he’s seventeen. Of course I am.”

“God, when did he get old enough to drive…”

“When we weren’t watching.”

… … …

The yelling and screaming is short lived, no-one shifting an inch, Pete refusing to say anything as to why he pulled the papers. Bradley’s feeling of betrayal apparent with every shouted word.

When he drives out to the hangar both Bradley and the Bronco are gone.

Pete hopes like hell that the Bronco is actually like his bike and the hoover, not that the hoover ever saved his life, but Ice still denies all knowledge of the Bronco, and the Bronco only ever started for Bradley, so he has to hold onto the hope that it will keep him safe.

… … …

When Bradley leaves, Bronco goes with him.

He doesn’t ever show himself to Bradley, not yet.

But he does listen as Bradley talks to him.

Asks him questions.

Like why his gas gauge never changes despite the miles they travel. Bronco knew he was a smart kid, but he still doesn’t say anything.

CHAPTER TWO

#Caring Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide #hangster #Top Gun Maverick #AU #TF and TGM crossover

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memento-rory · 3 months

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back with another kalynn request !! also do u do nsfw for her cus i gotta get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 some time or another🤞 anyways basically playing gartic phone with the usual gang, her, weston, hoover, jake, miklyee ( i think that’s the last twos names?? ) and one of the starting prompts is abt u and kalynn! which kinda gets her going into a tangent about how she misses u, basically just tooth rotting fluff!

-🫐

yes i would love to do nsfw for her 😌 also this is such a cute scenario i’m giggling. (haven’t watched a gartic phone in a MINUTE so i’ll be skipping over a lot of the gameplay, and i’m not super well-versed in the last two’s personalities so no one else really comes up lmao)

you’re about half an hour into the game, the next round about to begin. you type in a prompt, something silly like, “weston wearing a pair of pants 10 sizes too big,” hitting submit.

everyone else gets their prompts and yours is “ryland adams dressed like chappell roan” and you let out a cackle, drawing it to the best of your ability.

after you submit your drawing and they all get sent out, you hear kalynn speak up.

“oh if this is what i think it is, it’s making me sad.”

weston laughs and you can immediately tell he’s responsible for whatever the prompt is.

“why is it making you sad?” you ask, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“you’ll see.” is all kalynn says, with a short huff.

“i fear i may have to find whoever made my wonderful girlfriend sad and break every little bone in their little body.” you murmur menacingly into your mic. weston tugs at his collar dramatically to his camera.

the round goes on and you receive your last picture, and it’s unmistakably a drawing of you and kalynn kissing (it’s not a good one by any means, but it’s distinguishable) with little hearts around the little stick figures.

you light up and immediately type out “(Y/N) GIVING HER PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL GF KALYNN A BIG SMOOCH” before pressing submit.

weston is presenting, and he presses the button to start. “okay, the prompt was, ‘(y/n) and kalynn being the cutest girlfriends to ever girlfriend!’” he says, his voice going high. he clicks next to reveal another drawing. it’s similar to the one you received, but each of your little stick figure selves are holding coffees in one hand, holding hands with the other.

“see! this is why i was sad.” kalynn exclaims, “(y/n) is so far away and it’s making me miss her so bad.”

“aw, kalynn!” you say, giggling at her pouty face, “it’s okay! we’ll be together again soon.”

“not soon enough, i’ll tell ya that!” kalynn frowns, leaning into her mic as she speaks. “can’t believe weston would do this to me. why do you have to remind me of such things?”

“PLEASE DON’T BREAK MY BONES, (Y/N), DON’T BREAK MY LITTLE BONES.”

#rory answers #🫐#kalynn koury x reader

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universitypenguin · 1 year

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Chapter XIII

The Princess & The Lawyer

Summary: A scare with her stalker causes Princess to take matters into her own hands. Meanwhile in Idaho, Lloyd finds himself between a rock and hard place.

Word Count: 8,058

Masterlist

Warnings: Description of a physical assault with a blunt weapon, stalking, harassment, dangerous encounter with a semi-wild animal, cowboy/ranch work, illegal drug trade, and corruption. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Author’s Note: I wish this installment hadn’t taken so long, but between going on interviews and then changing jobs, the past few months have been crazy. Thank you for waiting, encouraging me, and sticking with this story.

Chapter XIII

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were counting down the seconds until you could end this call but Weston Tafferty was in prime form tonight. Even though you’d clocked out thirty minutes ago, he seemed to think your personal time was fair game for work-related conversation. He continued to fire off questions as you struggled to fill in your eyebrows and carry your end of the conversation. If he didn’t wrap this up soon, you’d still be on the phone with him during your belated family birthday dinner.

“Why wasn’t I cc’d on your emails to Detective Roth?” Weston asked.

“I’m not using my work account for those messages. Roth set me up on their encrypted server.”

“And this prevents you from emailing me how?”

“Wes, that information is too sensitive to share.”

“Hmmm. I’ll give you a pass for now, but next time, make sure I’m in the loop. I also noticed you haven’t been using my spreadsheet system. If you don’t comply with departmental requirements, I’ll have to write you up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay. Listen, I’m already off work and I have plans. Email me the details and I’ll take it up with HR.”

A while ago this sort of micromanagement would’ve sent you through the roof. Tonight, other stresses were taking up too much mental space for you to care. And thanks to Weston’s call, you were running ten minutes late. You tapped your phone to check the time and realized ten minutes had become fifteen. Great. Your Mom would kill you if you were late to your own party.

Another icon on the home screen caught your eye. There was no little red number hoovering in the corner of your message app to announce new texts.

There had been no new messages for a week.

Aiden had just… stopped. It should feel good, but your nervous system was screaming. An impending sense of doom settled over you and kept you trapped in the house all week. Your gut said this ceasefire was temporary and Aiden was biding his time.

You’d filed a complaint with the police and he'd gone no contact. It was disorienting. Just when you started taking Aiden’s threats seriously, he stopped making them. Filling out the paperwork at Metro had stripped away the delusion you’d maintained last week. Writing the incidents in black and white on police forms laid waste to your sense of security. As the silence had stretched from one day into two, and then into four, fear sank deeper into your consciousness.

Staying locked in Lloyd’s house forever wasn’t an option. If it were, you’d do just that. But your parents had already delayed your birthday celebration because of the Singapore trip, and backing out now would demand an explanation you weren’t prepared to give.

Checking your reflection in the full-length mirror, you frowned. Thanks to Aiden’s threats about your apartment, you’d avoided going home, so the only dinner outfit you had was the dress Lloyd gave you in Singapore. Unfortunately, the skirt didn’t cover your knees. Self-defense lessons with Landon and Jake had left them covered in ugly bruises.

There was no way Vivan wouldn’t notice and then your mother would make a fuss. You tried covering the marks with concealer. As you were applying setting powder, your phone buzzed. Hands full of makeup, you glanced at the screen.

A message read: Here.

You were expecting Jake and tapped ‘K’ in reply.

There was a noise from below as the front door opened, then the scuff of sneakers on tile. You tossed the concealer into your makeup bag and rinsed your hands before heading downstairs.

“Hey, Jake! Guess what? No new messages today. He’s gone from obsessed to silent. It’s crazy…”

You turned the corner and froze. The visitor wasn’t Jake.

“Zach!”

He removed his sunglasses, hooking them on the top button of his shirt.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming by,” you said.

“I texted. Jake’s working late. He asked me to check in, said there’d been trouble with raccoons knocking over garbage cans.”

“Yes… Racoons.”

“Everything okay?” Zach asked.

“Absolutely.”

He cocked his head. “Yeah? Who were you talking about before?”

“Uh… I was scheduling a follow up with a witness. A witness in another case. He was responsive at first, like, obnoxiously, but suddenly… you know. He’s ghosting me.”

“You seem nervous.”

You needed to lie - convincingly.

“I’m fighting with Vivian, and my birthday dinner is tonight. It’s going to be interesting.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah. Just family drama.”

“Hmmm. Jake’s been cracking his knuckles all week, which is never a good sign. I checked the location history on our work phones and saw Landon and Jake have been stopping by regularly. What gives, Y/N?”

“That sounds like an invasion of privacy,” you said.

“They’re my phones. Speaking of… give me yours.”

He held out his hand.

“No way.”

“Suppose the racoons aren’t just racoons, Princess. Give me your phone. I won’t check the location without cause.”

You hesitated.

Zach wiggled his fingers. “Give it.”

You handed him the phone. Zach tapped in commands as you collected your purse. By the time you’d checked your wallet and keys, he’d installed the app.

“When did you hear the racoons?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“Did the floodlights come on?” Zach asked.

“Ah… I don’t remember.”

You wished Jake had given you a heads up about the cover story. Zach passed you the phone.

“I’ll take a look. Don’t let me keep you, I’ve got my own keys.”

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“Charlene, don’t be a bitch. Let’s talk about this before you do something crazy.”

Lloyd tried to make his tone as cajoling as possible. Facing down the bad-tempered female with death in her tawny eyes, he was willing to press any advantage he could, including charm.

The cow snorted and bobbed her head. He recognized that look and untethered his rope from the saddle horn in response. Through the act his eyes stayed locked on Charlene. She might be a Charolais heifer, but her temperament rivaled the most vicious Jersey bull. He uncoiled his rope and extended the loop to allow for her horns. While he understood his father had been sick, it was a crime not to have de-horned this monster when she was born. Her attitude was defense enough without having weapons attached to her head.

He swung the lasso a few times, getting it into shape.

“Charlene” – so named because all Charolais heifers were Charlene in his book – pawed the ground. Getting her out of the pasture hadn’t been easy and herding her through the corrals was an event he’d rather forget. But he hadn’t expected the sight of the narrow alley into the loading chute would turn her into a psychotic demon.

The rail-road tie fencing of the alley was six feet high and not much wider inside. Charlene had made up her mind about it in an instant, despite the fact she’d probably never seen such a thing before in her life. He’d found most of his father’s herd balked at the loading chute. Even in the pasture they acted half-wild, like they hadn’t seen a human in years. After that discovery he’d installed a series of gates in the alleyway for better control. The first was at the entrance and another positioned in the middle to prevent cows from backing up or creating a crowd-crush. The system worked, assuming the animal went in.

Charlene bellowed and raised her head, puffing herself up. Jane, the quarter horse under him, shuffled back a step. He hoped she had nerves of steel because the last thing he wanted was to snap his neck getting bucked off and finding out what the business end of Charlene’s horns felt like was equally unappealing.

“Can you hurry it up? We’re behind schedule!”

The semi-truck driver called to him over the fence and Lloyd ignored him. He adjusted the rope and turned it so the loop’s bottom strand flipped over his wrist. When he raised his arm, muscle memory kicked in. Without a conscious thought his thumb clenched and his fingers curled, while his elbow and shoulder rolled in a familiar motion. He stood up and put most of his weight into the left stirrup, preparing for the throw. When Charlene’s muscles rippled, he angled the lasso down and threw the loop, relishing the speed as it flew over his hand.

He was still focused on the mechanics of the action when Jane spooked. He’d leaned into the throw which placed his weight in the opposite direction of where she’d run. When she bucked again, he swore and lost a stirrup. Lloyd grabbed the saddle horn and fought to keep his seat.

The lasso sailed over Charlene’s horns despite Jane’s fit. He drew it snug and anchored the rope to his saddle horn. When the little roan under him felt the rope pull, she spun around, leaning back on her haunches. Charlene tossed her head, fighting the restraint.

“Good girl, Jane. You’re a roping horse, aren't you?”

The mare flicked her ears in appreciation. He laughed, surprised at his good fortune. His father hadn’t had many good traits but his taste in horses was impeccable. Lloyd twisted the rope back and forth. Charlene bellowed as it rubbed and moved forward. When he clicked his tongue, Jane backed into the narrow alleyway, dragging Charlene along.

“Hey, kid!” Lloyd called to the driver’s assistant.

“Yes, sir?”

“Shut that gate!”

This was the farthest he’d gotten her. If he lost his grip on the rope, he’d rather chase her in the confinement of the alley than around the corral. When the gate clanged shut behind her, the heifer kicked at it and made contact, causing the panel to clang against the chain fastener.

Charlene lunged at Jane.

The horse reared and Lloyd leaned into the movement just in time to avoid a tumble. Jane turned in mid-air and landed facing the gate that had just been shut. Lloyd yanked his rope over the saddle horn, and leapt off. He smacked Jane’s hind quarters, sending her galloping, and whistled at the heifer to keep her attention while the kid opened the gate for the horse.

Whistling really pissed Charlene off.

He turned and sprinted for the fence and felt her breath on his back pocket just as his foot hit the railing. He managed to climb halfway up before she slammed into his leg. Lloyd gasped at the burst of pain. When the pressure let up, he jumped down and rolled under the second gate.

“Holy shit, you’ve got a death wish,” the driver said. “I’m not taking this one!”

“She’ll calm down. She just doesn’t like trailers,” Lloyd said.

He had no idea if that was true, but he wasn’t about to keep her around to find out.

Charlene paced back and forth, eyeing him on the other side of the gate, dragging the rope he’d dropped through the mud. Lloyd stood up. She shook her head and bellowed, making the rope whip around. By a stroke of good luck he caught the end and pulled it under the gate.

As the alley narrowed, barricade posts set inside the high fence guided the cattle into the loading chute. He wound the rope around one and tugged, testing its strength. Charlene was big and this post wasn’t built to withstand that kind of weight. Lloyd wrapped the rope around again.

“If this cow kills me, I’ll sue you,” the driver said from the other side of the fence.

“I don’t think you’re the one she’s looking to kill.”

The assistant climbed over from the corral and landed beside his boss. He looked at Lloyd.

“You okay? Did she break anything?”

“No, I’m good. Do me a favor. Be ready to shut that trailer, fast.”

“What?”

Lloyd unchained the gate and moved to the far side of the alley. He glanced at the kid.

“Ready?”

The assistant ran to the trailer. Lloyd tightened the rope around the post, lashed it around his hand for good measure, and unlatched the second gate. He moved to the other side of the alley, parallel to the barrier post, and kicked the gate open, making it crash against the fence. This time the noise didn’t spook Charlene. She was too focused on Lloyd to care.

He stood there and let her charge. The barrier post served as a pivot point, creating a zig-zag that shortened the rope. Charlene was just a few feet away when she ran out of length and was swung around by the force of her own momentum. She stumbled into the loading chute and Lloyd shoved the metal panel into place behind her. He climbed up the fence and pulled the rope off her horns. When it was off, he whistled. She bolted in the only direction she could, straight into the trailer. The kid slammed the door shut.

Jane was waiting by the gate, exactly where she’d run after he’d jumped off. Lloyd led her out of the corral around to the cattle truck. The assistant watched him secure his rope to the saddle with obvious interest.

“Do you rodeo, sir?”

“Nope, never have.”

The kid’s expression was disbelieving. “Why?”

“My father preferred to train and sell horses instead of competing with them.”

“You could’ve made a killing at jackpot ropings!”

Lloyd chuckled, amused by the kid’s enthusiasm.

The driver scowled. “We’re behind schedule.”

“That’s the pleasure of working with animals,” Lloyd said.

“I’m charging you for the delay. You should’ve shot this one, she’s going to kill somebody.”

“She’ll be fine once you unload her. Do you have everything you need?”

The kid answered. “We just need your signature.”

The driver fetched the paperwork while Lloyd fielded the kid’s roping questions. It surprised him to find he enjoyed giving the advice.

When the livestock haulers were off, he walked Jane to the barn.

“You earned some oats for not breaking my neck,” Lloyd said.

Jane snorted and picked up her pace.

In front of the barn, he noticed marks in the dirt. He looped Jane’s reins through a hitching ring without bothering to secure them and crouched to study the boot prints. The mixture of clay and loam soil held its shape well, and the sun had baked the dirt into a detailed cast. He’d found similar impressions on Tuesday morning which had motivated him to spend the next few days herding cattle on the outskirts of the ranch.

The sneaky, unwanted visitor didn’t surprise him.

Settling the ranch’s affairs was his duty. Dealing with his father’s illegal side business wasn’t. He’d be insane to get involved in a drug running operation and risk a second strike on his record.

Lloyd studied the print. He knew it wasn’t from him. The first thing he’d done when he’d arrived was dig out his cowboy boots and start cleaning the barn. His boots were leather soled, designed to slide easily in and out of stirrups. They left a distinct heel and triangular forefoot print. The visitor’s boots had a tread pattern that was usually found on rubber soles. Whoever wore these shoes spent his days on city streets, not on a ranch. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. He had a strong hunch about the visitor’s identity, but hoped he was wrong. Lloyd dusted off his jeans, and went to untack Jane. He placed the saddle and blanket over the door of an empty stall.

He glanced toward the tack room and his stomach clenched. Inhaling sharply, he turned away.

After Jane was settled with a bale of grass hay and a bucket of oats, he walked to the small pen where a sick calf was bedded down in the straw. His eyes and nose were running with thick green mucus that left no doubt infection had taken hold. Lloyd checked his water. It hadn’t been touched.

“Whatever bug you’re fighting might not kill you, but dehydration sure will.”

The calf wheezed.

Lloyd shook his head. “You need a vet.”

His ears twitched at the words, but he didn’t raise his head. After changing the calf’s water Lloyd went to the house and used the landline to call Anderson’s Feed Store.

Henry Anderson picked up on the first ring. Of course, he not only knew the local vet, but promised he’d have them swing by around six. Then he started firing off questions with the zeal of a Spanish Inquisitor. How was college? Did he like Harvard, or did he wish he’d gone to Notre Dame? What had he enjoyed about England? How much did it rain over there? Did he know Coach Olsen had hung a framed picture of him receiving the Bushnell Cup in the gym lobby?

Lloyd sat down at the kitchen table and answered the inquiries. He noticed when Mr. Anderson skipped over questions about his post-college years and fast forwarded to current events. The effortless way he sidestepped the uncomfortable subject squeezed Lloyd’s heart. His unseemly history didn’t warrant such a tactful maneuver and because of it, Henry’s easy grace hit him like a three hundred pound linebacker.

“I knew that determination would take you places. I haven’t employed another highschool kid for four years straight since you.”

At that time, he’d done his best to stay out of Joe’s way which meant the long hours at Henry’s store were a perk. Later, their fully stocked breakroom fridge had allowed him to avoid going home for days at a time.

“How’s April doing?”

He finally asked about the topic he’d been expecting would come up, but hadn’t.

“She’s doing well. Married a boy from Portland and now we’ve got four grandchildren. The oldest is a senior this fall, and the middle one starts seventh grade. The second youngest is in kindergarten and the baby turns two in a month.”

“Wow… that’s a range of ages.”

“The baby is her Mama’s spitting image. It took four tries, but her genes finally hit copy paste.”

Henry laughed at his own joke while Lloyd tried to imagine it.

“I’m sure you’ll catch up with her, but I’ve got to let you go. A load of grain just pulled in. The vet says they’ll be by after 5:30, probably closer to 6.”

“Thanks, Henry.”

He hung up and tried to wrap his head around the bombshell that April Anderson was married with four kids. He wondered why Henry had suggested they catch up. It seemed to imply she still lived in the area. Lloyd shook off the curiosity and grabbed the truck keys. He didn’t have time for a social call. Already, it was mid-afternoon and his errands in town couldn’t be put off any longer.

Lloyd paused at the door and reached into the side table drawer. As expected, his father’s loaded .22 Sig Sauer was inside, encased in a leather shoulder holster that held two extra magazines in a pocket on the right strap. Being a felon, he wasn’t legally allowed to carry a gun, let alone a concealed gun. He thought of the boot prints and his suspicions about the night-time visitor, then removed his denim shirt and slipped on the holster. He covered it with the shirt and checked his reflection. The loose garment and compact weapon rendered the bulge under his arm almost invisible. He put on his sunglasses and grabbed a baseball cap from the shelf.

It was just a quick trip to town. He’d be in and out before anyone knew he was there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You tugged at your skirt, trying in vain to shield your bruised knees. Even with setting powder, the concealer hadn’t provided the coverage you’d hoped for.

Vivian stirred her yogurt and watched you from the corner of her eye. Your birthday dinner had gone better than expected. For dessert you’d taken the family out for frozen yogurt and, at your Mom’s suggestion, walked down to the park so Alyssa could run around. She’d behaved well at the restaurant, but after two hours of sitting, she was getting antsy.

With the efficiency of a general, Mom had taken charge of Sam and ordered Juan to mind Alyssa. She had sent you and Vivian off to ‘enjoy the peace and quiet,’ which was code for ‘go make up because I said so.’ From a shady bench you watched Mom encouraging Sam to walk through the splash pad spray. She was bent over, letting him hold both her hands for balance, uncaring of the mist soaking the lower half of her linen pants. Hector, Caleb, and Diego were kicking a soccer ball in the grass and Juan was hovering nearby, watching Alyssa play in the landscaping.

“What’s Alyssa doing?” you asked Vivian.

“Playing with rocks. I don’t know why, but if you give her a rock, she’ll look at it for hours.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“What happened to your knees?” Vivian asked.

“I fell.”

“Were you drinking?”

“Vivian!”

“What, you’re not uncoordinated. Were you drinking?”

“No!”

“Well, I have to ask. You’ve been acting super weird lately,” she said.

That was true. You cringed under her scrutiny and decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry, Vivian.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My reaction to your pregnancy was uncalled for. I overstepped, and I’m sorry.”

“I dropped it on you like a ton of bricks, so there’s that. You don’t handle change well and I should’ve known to break the news gently.”

“Hey! I’m great with change.”

“Absolutely, you just roll with the punches.” Vivian snickered, and dissolved into giggles. Then her gaze shifted to your frozen yogurt. “Can I have a bite?”

You held out the cup. She sampled it and made a face.

“Yuck.”

“First you insult my adaptability, then my taste buds.”

“Speaking of taste, congratulations on the break up.”

It took you a second to realize what she meant. “When did I tell you about that?”

“You told Caleb, which is like telling the whole family.”

“Right.”

“Does your boss live in the Historic District of Alexandria? By those swanky townhouses?” Vivian asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Last night I checked your location on Life360. Guess where you were?”

Oh, crap…

“Why were you at your boss’s house at three a.m?”

“I’m house sitting,” you said.

“For three weeks? Bullshit.”

“Damn it, I’m going to delete that stupid app. I thought I already did-”

“I stole your phone and reinstalled it. Before you ask, yes, I check your location every night. Are you dating your boss?”

“He’s not my boss. Technically, Weston Tafferty is my supervisor.”

“Lloyd’s last name is Hansen, right?”

You frowned. “Did you Google him?”

“I really should apply to the FBI someday,” Vivian said, grinning.

“Listen, you can’t believe everything on the internet…”

She was already opening a website on her phone.

“Have you seen this?”

You braced yourself to explain Lloyd’s escapades, but it was an article from the Boston Globe sports section dated 26 October 2001. The headline read “Harvard Beats Penn, Cinches Ivy Title” and the photo underneath showed a group of sweaty men in tight white pants and hulking shoulder pads. Lloyd was in the middle. He’d taken his helmet off, revealing a clean shaven jaw and hair three shades lighter than it was now, but there was no mistaking that bone structure.

“Look at that man. He is fine,” Vivian drew the middle vowel of ‘fine’ into a throaty purr.

“It’s not like that, I’m-”

“You’re sleeping with him, just spill.”

You groaned and covered your face.

“Y/N, please? It’s just us. And unlike Caleb, I can keep a secret. I can keep all the secrets, so tell me everything.”

Your sister was absolutely reliable as a confidant, but your relationship with Lloyd was so new and undefined. Then again, maybe you could use some outside perspective on the matter. It would probably go a long way toward repairing the rift between you.

“Okay. So, Aiden ended things-”

“Shut up! He broke up with you?!”

Her outrage was a delight. “Unfortunately. Lloyd took me out for dinner and you’ll never guess what happened then…”

By the time you left the park, dusk was falling. Talking to Vivian had settled your mind about the crazy twist your relationship with Lloyd had taken and confirmed that you were enjoying the new status quo, as tenuous as it might be.

There was a flier stuck under your windshield wiper. Assuming it was an advertisement, you grabbed it, slid behind the wheel and turned on the air conditioner, then unfolded the page. Breath froze in your lungs and your heart dropped like a stone as blood drained from your face so fast your vision blurred.

It was a photo of you and Vivian on the park bench. You scanned it for clues, trying to decipher the angle it had been taken from and realized the photographer must have been on the other side of the splash pad from where you’d been sitting. A shiver ran down your spine. You scanned the street, with its long shadows and fluorescent lamps. Aiden could be anywhere. Fragments of the messages he’d sent flashed through your mind, raising goosebumps on your arms. Your hands clenched into fists. This was no way to live. You couldn’t tolerate it.

Trying to calm your racing heart, you took several deep breaths. After the pressure eased in your chest and you felt clear-headed again, you evaluated your options. There was the obvious choice - contact Detective Diskant at metro and give him the photo. But hadn’t you already done that? Aiden had responded by stepping up his game. Not only had he followed you, he’d followed your family and been bold enough to leave behind photographic evidence of the act.

The message was clear: I’m watching, and you can’t stop me.

Reporting him had made things worse. You threw the car into reverse; it was time to show Aiden who he was dealing with.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His errands took longer than expected.

The health district office was slammed, and he’d waited more than an hour for copies of his father’s death certificate. Paying property taxes in person was a bureaucratic nightmare, and so was settling the funeral home bill. His last stop was the priest, and he’d cut that visit short. To make sure they wouldn’t cancel Joe’s service because of his rudeness, he’d added a zero to his donation. With one eye on the clock, he made the final turn towards home. The clock ticked off another minute. Not wanting to miss the vet, he sped up.

Sirens wailed.

Lloyd hissed. He hadn’t risked speeding on the interstate after spotting the black and white vehicle tailing him, but he’d thought he had shaken them miles ago. Red and blue flashing lights followed him to the edge of the road as he pulled over.

Great. What a fantastic ending to an afternoon filled with unpleasant errands. He’d handed over a small fortune to the county and fucking donated to an organization that owned more land than Bill Gates. Like an ice cream sundae wouldn’t be complete without the cherry on top, this miserable day couldn’t be finished with anything less than a traffic stop.

He parked a few meters from the ranch’s front gate. The police truck didn’t pull in behind him; instead, it maneuvered around and turned into his driveway. It swung to the right and reversed into a parallel park, blocking the road.

The side decal on the pickup read ‘SHERIFF’ in bold print.

Lloyd watched the driver climb out. Even at a distance, he recognized the well-built man thanks to the distinctive outline of his Montana crease cowboy hat. This one was pecan colored instead of gray. It matched the tan uniform better than his old one, Lloyd noted.

He rolled down the window and propped his elbow on the ledge to hide the holster under his arm.

“Evening, Sheriff. Was I speeding?”

“License and registration.”

Lloyd took his time finding the papers and handed them over, one by one.

“You’re looking well, Holbrook. It’s like you haven’t aged a day.”

The jab made the Sheriff’s upper lip curl, but he didn’t bat an eye as he examined the papers. Charles Holbrook was his senior by twelve years, though the way he wore those years made it look like twenty. His bulky aviators didn’t cover the wrinkles around his eyes and what Lloyd could see of his hair had gone gray.

Holbrook tilted his hat back.

“Where were you headed in such a hurry, son?”

“I’ve got a sick calf and the vet’s due any minute.”

The Sheriff looked to the passenger seat where the file of tax papers lay.

“What’s in the folder?”

“If you’ve got a warrant you can look, but if not…”

“Where are you coming back from?”

“Town.”

Holbrook ran his tongue around his teeth. “You sure about that? Just town? Nowhere else?”

It seemed his instinct about being followed had been correct. He wished he hadn’t slipped their tail earlier, because it had given them the chance to set up this speed trap.

Lloyd shrugged. “I’m just trying to get home and take care of my animals, Sheriff.”

Knowing who he was dealing with helped Lloyd keep his temper in check. Thirty years ago, when he’d been a young deputy, Charles Holbrook had joined Joe’s drug running operation. Harsher sentencing guidelines made his father cautious enough to find an insurance policy and Holbrook fit the bill. He proved himself effective and ambitious, which was why Lloyd hadn’t been surprised to hear they’d had a falling out after he’d left for college. Rumor was, the Sheriff and Joe had spent the past twenty years at war, fighting over control of the intermountain west drug trade.

Holbrook grasped the butt of his gun. Lloyd tensed, then a blur of action drew his attention. The passenger door of the police truck flew open. A young man in a deputy’s uniform burst out with a pump action rifle.

Shit.

The .22 under his arm wouldn’t be any defense if the deputy was a good shot and given that Holbrook was nobody’s fool, especially in these matters… carrying illegally had been a colossal mistake. The tiniest infarction would be an excuse to throw him in jail. Lloyd’s jaw clenched as he appreciated that in this scenario, Holbrook’s definition of “jail” would mean “the bottom of Redfish Lake.”

“Watch your back, Lloyd. You know the rules in these parts.”

Rage bubbled in his chest at the threat. His nostrils flared as he took a sharp breath, struggling against the urge to fight. The Sheriff smirked.

“It’d be a shame if there were two Hansen funerals this week, Lloyd. Don’t do anything stupid. We need to have a serious chat about-”

Holbrook cut off at the sound of gravel crunching behind them. Lloyd saw another vehicle had pulled up behind his truck and scowled. He couldn’t decide if he should be amused or annoyed that he warranted backup. This was a run of the mill shake down, not… Damn it. His gaze swung to the rearview mirror. The white pickup had boxed him in. With the sheriff on his left, the deputy in front of him, and the newcomer behind, he was trapped.

It was a straight shot through the windshield with the pump action rifle. Lloyd figured he could shoot Holbrook and take cover behind the engine block, but that left him vulnerable to the occupant of the white pickup. By the time he got off a shot he’d have six rounds in his back.

“Luke! Put that away!”

Holbrook straightened up and faced the new arrival.

Lloyd didn’t blink, eyes tracking the deputy’s every move, while he complied with the request. His attention stayed on the rifle until it was out of sight. Only then did his attention return to the Sheriff, who wore a welcoming smile for the approaching woman. She wore a navy baseball cap, plaid button down, and Levi’s tucked into cowboy boots. There was something familiar about her that tickled the edge of his memory.

“Dr. Ward! Haven’t I told you it’s not wise to interrupt police business?”

Holbrook’s tone was the same one used to discipline golden retrievers - exasperated, but indulgent.

“Well, Sheriff, this time it’s you interrupting my business. I’ve got a sick calf to see and you’re blocking the road.”

She nodded at the police truck, and when she turned her head, he spotted the auburn ponytail. Lloyd’s jaw dropped.

“April? April Anderson?”

“It’s Ward now,” she said, grinning. “Dad mentioned you had an emergency, but this isn’t the kind of emergency I expected.”

“Nah, no emergency here. Sheriff Holbrook was letting me off with a warning.”

“That’s sweet of you, Sheriff. Do you mind clearing the road?”

Holbrook’s lips twisted into a sour pucker, but he touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sat in your car, gripping the steering wheel tight.

Just being parked on this street felt dangerous. Despite the risk, anger was more powerful than logic in your current frame of mind. You hung onto that fury. If the past few days had taught you anything, it was that living in fear wasn’t sustainable. Rage felt like a suitable alternative - it was certainly more pleasant than terror.

Thoughts of rage turned your mind to Lloyd. If he knew about your situation, he’d be apocalyptic. He’d protected you in Singapore with no consideration for himself and that recklessness worried you. If he flew off the handle there was a decent chance he’d end up facing a second round of felony charges. The prospect of Lloyd being sent to jail because of your mistakes was untenable. You needed to handle Aiden yourself.

From the spot you’d parked, on the opposite side of the street to Aiden’s house, you had a perfect view into the living room. He was inside and based on what you’d seen in the last thirty minutes, he was alone. Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and imagined you were Lloyd. You thought of the irritable man who’d stormed into the paralegal office and invaded your life. The image filled your mind, thrilling and comforting in equal measure. You remembered the boisterous, almost wild energy that version of Lloyd had carried into a room.

Thinking of his confidence helped ease the tug of caution that insisted you’d be safer turning around and driving back to Virginia. You twisted your neck, warming up the muscles and taking deep, steady breaths. In less than a minute, your shoulders relaxed and your jaw unclenched as the last clouds of doubt rolled away.

Moving with purpose, you stepped out of the car and stalked across the street toward the two-story brick colonial with an immaculate front lawn. Your heart was hammering, but the fear was buried under a thick fog of anger. You were going to demolish Aiden.

You rang the bell and waited. The door opened and Aiden looked irritated to see you. The sight of him made your lip curl into a snarl.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

You shoved the photo in his face.

“This, Aiden. I’m talking about this!”

“Huh?”

“I found it on the hood of my car an hour ago. You took this picture and left it to threaten me.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t lie.”

Aiden scoffed. “You’re crazy. It’s just a picture.”

“You’re harassing me. You’ve been texting me, stalking my building, and trying to make me uncomfortable. Well, guess what? I’ve already forwarded the texts to your father and filed a complaint with the police. Even with all that, you don’t seem to be getting the message, so here it is. Stop. Bothering. Me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, Aiden. If you make my life hell, I’ll be happy to return the favor - in triplicate.”

“You’re a drama queen, you know that, right? I’m not the one who came to your house. You should be glad I’m giving you the time of day - it’s not like you’d do the same.”

“I know you sent the texts. You’re taking your problems out on me, and if you keep doing it, you’ll find out that I punch back. Stay away from me. Stay away from my family. This is the last time I’ll say it - next time you find out I mean what I say.”

He crossed his arms, straightening. “You should watch your mouth, bitch.”

“And you should watch your back. You’re going to leave me alone. If you don't, I’ll put you in a world of hurt.”

“See if I care.”

“You should. Because if you don’t, I’ll give you a reason to.”

“Whatever.”

You raised your chin.

“I don’t need you to believe me. Because whether or not you think I’m serious, I am. This is me giving you the chance to turn things around. Go very far away from me and stay there. If you don’t, you have no one to blame but yourself for what happens next.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The calf ended up with a prescription for long-term antibiotics, and he persuaded April to have a beer with him. He couldn’t help but stare as they sat on opposite sides of the small kitchen table. She broke the silence first.

“Nice mustache. It ages you, but somehow it suits you.”

“Thanks. I can’t believe you’re still here. I figured some city boy would sweep you off your feet and take you to Seattle or Boise.”

“He did, but I took him home instead of the other way around.”

“I guess your taste in men improved after high school,” Lloyd teased.

“Given my starting point, it couldn’t have gotten much worse.”

He laughed. “After Tyler, I was a step up.”

Tyler Claffey had been April’s first boyfriend. He played defensive tackle to Lloyd’s quarterback and they’d been on the same team since fifth grade. Their hatred of each other ran deeper than the traditional offense vs. defense rivalry every football team suffered. Tyler still held the distinction of being the most insecure person Lloyd had ever known. For his part, Tyler hated Lloyd’s sullen disposition, lack of regard for other people’s opinions, and most of all, for being a superior athlete.

When he was caught cheating on her the week before junior prom, April had asked Lloyd to be her date. He knew the goal was to twist the knife in Tyler’s side and had accepted the invitation. They went to prom together and ended up dating until graduation.

“Tell me about your husband,” Lloyd said.

“Michael. We met in college, but didn’t date until after. He’s a lawyer.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Is he tall, dark, and handsome… with a mustache?”

April snorted. “No, no, yes, and absolutely not. I know you aren’t married, because no woman would tolerate that facial hair. You should grow a beard.”

“My girlfriend doesn’t mind it.”

Lloyd felt a ripple of concern at how naturally the word ‘girlfriend’ rolled off his tongue, but pushed it aside. He considered April - the first and last woman to hold that title - and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you stuck around.”

“I didn’t hate it here, you did.”

“I had to get away. You know why.”

April nodded. She picked at the label on her drink and lowered her voice.

“How did you feel, when they told you he was dead?”

“Shocked, disbelieving. More of the latter, to be honest. The hospital called and explained but I just… I thought he couldn’t die.”

“Are you okay, being back? Like, here, in this house?”

Lloyd shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Have you been in touch with your family?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m it.”

April raised an eyebrow. “Your sisters?”

He looked away.

“You never searched for them? After all these years? I…” she broke off. “Lloyd? Did something happen to them?”

“I can’t say for sure. I didn’t look them up because I knew what I’d find.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother couldn’t take care of them. Even back then, I knew.”

“She left the summer before fifth grade, right?”

“Yeah. My father was away, it was just me and the girls. The house was peaceful. That’s what I remember most about those last days.”

April’s brow creased in confusion, so he explained.

“She didn’t have any of her normal outbursts, episodes, whatever you’d call them. Looking back, she must have started on some kind of antipsychotic meds. A few days before Dad returned I woke up to an empty house.”

He looked out at the barnyard and saw it as it was thirty years ago. Almost exactly thirty years to the day, he realized with a jolt.

“Her car was gone. Josephine’s closet was empty and so was Ingrid’s. Only some of my mother’s things had been taken, but when I saw the suitcases were missing, I knew they weren’t coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” April whispered.

She reached across the table and covered his hand. Lloyd folded his fingers around hers.

“I hate remembering. I can’t go through the barn without thinking of Ingrid and that evil little Shetland who bit everyone. I taught her to saddle him, but I think I put on his bridle every time she wanted to ride.”

“Clever girl.”

Lloyd smiled. “She’d hunt for arrowheads with me. Josie used to go with us because if we didn’t take her, she’d cry and that would set Mom off. She liked to collect flowers and press them in parchment. The first night here, I went into her room and…”

Emotion choked him. A piece of wax paper had fallen from the pages of one of her story books. It was a bright, cheerful Black-eyed Susan. He’d stood there staring at it, as if it were a rattlesnake.

Lloyd shuddered.

“My mother may as well have driven them off a cliff, instead of off the ranch. I never looked them up… not knowing is easier.”

April squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“When I was in prison, the psychiatrist asked me if I’d ever felt love. The question made me furious. I couldn’t believe he’d think me incapable of such a basic emotion, but then I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt love - no offense -”

“None taken.”

“I knew my reaction was genuine, but until Monday night when I saw the rocking chair, I couldn’t figure out where it had come from.”

Their eyes drifted to the pine rocker by the front window.

“That’s where they let me hold Josie for the first time.”

April squeezed his hand. “Is your girlfriend coming for the funeral? I’d love to meet her.”

“No. I didn’t want her to see me like this.”

Lloyd turned his hand, bringing hers to rest on top, and studied the impressive diamond ring on her left finger.

“Nice rock.”

“It spends most of its time on a chain around my neck. That’s what he gets for marrying a vet.”

He used his thumb to turn the ring left and right, admiring the way it caught the light.

“I knew we wouldn’t last, but I loved you, April.”

“Not really. We were good friends, Lloyd. But it didn’t run deeper than that on either side and you were turning bitter.”

She paused, eyeing him curiously as her tongue traced the edge of her upper teeth.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What happened between you and Coach Olsen?”

Lloyd slipped his hand free at the naming of his former football coach. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s been decades and I’m still curious.”

“Olsen took bribes. USC paid him to make sure I didn’t sign with Harvard.”

“But you liked Harvard the most.”

“He was stringing them along, making it sound like I hadn’t decided so the money kept flowing. Obviously, that’s not kosher with the NCAA.”

“He put your scholarship at risk. I understand why you cut ties.”

His lips twisted.

“It was more than that. I got a call from USC in July, which was odd because I’d already committed to Harvard. Their rep let it slip about Olsen. I was livid. Mind meltingly furious, unlike anything I’d felt before.”

The memory made his stomach pitch. Something visceral had come over him and he’d felt his mind loosen, allowing the monster to emerge. The dam holding back years of rage burst and nothing could stem the tide.

“I’d worried I was like Joe, but until that night I wasn’t sure. Whatever had held me in check snapped. I don’t remember the drive into town, just walking across the field and seeing lights on in the shed. Olsen was in the office, working. The football shed wasn’t air conditioned back then, so the garage door was open.”

The scene played behind his eyes, undistorted by time. He saw the white cinder block shed and felt the thrill of finding his prey. Later, that feeling had become an addiction, better than cocaine and longer lasting than ecstasy.

“I snuck under the garage door into the storage area. They’d brought in the baseball equipment and there was a rack of bats beside the door. On my way through, I grabbed one. He turned when I stepped into the office and started to speak. I swung for his head but he ducked, so I only clipped him. He rushed me, and I struck his right knee, got him on the ground, and then…”

He remembered it in flashes. The sound of bones crunching, screams, then agonized cries.

When he’d snapped out of the trance there were blisters on his palms.

“I thought I’d killed him. That’s why I left for college a month early. When the team went to state a few years later, I read he was still their coach. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather.”

April stared at him. “That was you?! We thought there was a psychopath running around town!”

“There was.”

“I don’t agree with everything you did, but your reaction was understandable.”

“The only thing I regret is not saying goodbye to you.”

“I figured you wanted a clean break. Once I accepted it was what you needed, I got over it. But I worried about you. I figured we’d stay in touch, you know?”

He hadn’t wanted anyone too close to him, not after realizing what he was capable of. If he was a monster then the safest place for April was far away from him. Hence, why she remained his first and last girlfriend.

“Speaking of the past…” April frowned. “Have you spoken to Elliot lately?”

Lloyd’s eyebrows rose. “Elliot? No.”

The mention of his cousin surprised him.

Elliot Hansen was the illegitimate son of his father’s sister and some drug dealer from Boise. The drug dealer had vanished upon learning of the pregnancy and two years later, his aunt committed suicide, orphaning her young son. Joe refused to acknowledge him and Elliot became a ward of the state. Like his parents, Elliot got hooked on drugs early and by the end of highschool, he’d been a certified junkie.

“He went to rehab and was working down in Nevada. When your father took a turn for the worse, he came back to help. For the past few months he’s been on Sheriff Holbrook’s list.”

“Is he on drugs again?”

“No. I knew Holbrook was shaking you down when I saw the traffic stop because he did the same thing to Elliot.”

“Which earned you a warning to stay out of police business,” Lloyd said.

“I pay my taxes, I have the right to be nosy.”

“Damn it, April. I told you Holbrook was dangerous. Why would you put yourself in his line of fire for that lowlife?”

Her glare was withering. “He kicked meth without anyone’s help and re-built his life from nothing. Don’t call him names.”

“Fine.” Lloyd held up his hands. “No name calling. Please, continue.”

“I caught the end of their argument. There was something about the ranch and ‘mercury’ but I couldn’t hear anything more.”

“Did you ask Elliot about it?”

She shook her head. “No, because I haven’t seen Elliot in two weeks. I’m worried about him, Lloyd. I think something’s happened to him.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Part XIV

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Masterlist

Tag List:

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@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne

@charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @terry2227 @jesevans @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen

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conspiracy-ash · 3 months

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WELCOME 🤗

WHO?

i'm ash, she/her, chris girl, team jeremiah, calum lane

nov 29 - bday, 17y/o

FANDOMS?

MUSIC:

benson boone, yungblud, lil huddy, louis tomlinson, 5 seconds of summer, alex warren, mark ambor, alexander stewart, why don't we, taylor swift, the vamps, one direction, the chainsmokers, and sm more !!

YOUTUBE:

sturniolo triplets, sam and colby, jake and johnnie, celinaspookyboo, kallmekris, etc

BOOK SERIES:

agggtm, tsitp, twilight

AUTHORS:

stephen king, holly jackson, jenny han, colleen hoover, and many more

MOVIES/SHOWS:

twilight, tvd, friends, heartstopper, stranger things, 13 reasons why, riverdale, greys anatomy, any true crime shows, the walking dead, american horror story, supernatural, the originals, legacies, the simpsons, new amsterdam, sm more !!

DNI IF YOU'RE OVER 30/UNDER 12

#welcome to me #who i am #music #youtube #books #dni #Spotify

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anunusers · 3 months

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Hiya love!!

Saw your post and though I would ask! 😁

Can I ask all of them? 1-36 lmao

Last question is: what's your biggest fear?

Love u, byeeeeee🩷

OMG this made me so happy!!!!! I'm a nobody and you want to know about me?!?!? 😭means the world to me!!!❤️I love you !!!!!

I did try to answer all of the questions and I thought I posted it but I am new with posting so please forgive me! Also, I'm an over sharer so I'm sorry in advance for that too!

What is your nickname?

Lately, my colleagues have been calling me Jay. Other times I'm Jen or Jenni.

When is your birthday?

4/3 :)

What was your longest relationship?

I've only been in one serious relationship and those were the hardest 4 years of my lifeeeee! Seriously, barely made out alive. 😮‍💨

What is your favorite book?

I have so mannnnyyy! It's so hard to pick one but I'll share a few that actually caught my attention and still have resonated with me:

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

Anxious People by Fredrik Backman

Tony and Susan by Austin Wright

It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover

I'm thinking of ending things by Iain Reid

I honestly have so many more, but these are the ones I have read recently and absolutely loved. Also, Fredrik Backman is currently my fav author so I definitely recommend checking him out !

What is something you're insecure about?

My appearance for sure. I don't feel confident in my looks whatsoever haha. I feel like I am fugly most of the time but that just what has been embedded in my brain since I was younger. Also, I've recently have gotten insecure with my voice. Which is so random but I kind of hate my voice LOL.

5 Male celebrity crushes

Jake Gyllenhaal (obvy LOL), Pedro Pescal, Jaime Camil, Tenoch Huerta, Aaron Taylor-Johnson. I honestly have many more and they are all from Novelas. That is all I grew up watching with my mom hehe.

5 Female celebrity crushes

Elizabeth Olsen, Emma D'arcy, Scarlett Johanssan, Ana de Armas, Anne Hathaway and again, I am many many moorreee.

What is your dream job?

I always wanted to do something in music or theatre. A singer or actor. I was a huge choir nerd in high school. I even did piano lessons for a few years. On my last year of high school, I ended up doing theatre and it was so much fun! I did plays and that experience really made me love theatre. Maybe one day in the future... 🙏

What do you consider your biggest accomplishment?

I haven't accomplished much in life to be honest so I don't know what I would consider an accomplishment. Maybe being able to learn different professions throughout the years. I am a Certified Patient Care Tech and all though I am not even that work field anymore, I still very much enjoyed learning about the healthcare process and what different titles mean when it comes to taking care of patient and getting the help that they need.

What is a fact about you that nobody would believe?

I have no clueeeeeeeee......maybe that I'm from MX ?? LOL My accent is completely gone now from the 12 years that I've lived in the States. Which is so sad cause not only do I suck at speaking English, my Spanish is going down hill too.. I'm slowly turning into a sabo kid!! 😭😭

What were your highs and lows for this last month?

Lately, my lows have been just feeling very lost and out of place. I feel like I should be at a certain point in my life but I am so far from reaching it or maybe I won't ever come close but yeah, its a very crappy feeling. My high this month is definitely receiving this ask from you. Made my day 100% better! ❤️

Where is somewhere you'd like to visit?

I have sooooooo many places I would like to visit!!! In States, I would love to visit New York, Florida for Universal Studios and World Disney. Out of States, I would love to visit Sweden, Italy, Japan, South Korea.

How do you de-stress?

I nap like my life depends on it. I'm stressed, NAP. Upset, NAP. Happy, NAP. Sad, Nap. I could rot happily in my bed if I could get paid for it.

What are your favorite apps besides tumblr?

I honestly only mainly use Tumblr and Tiktok LOL they control my life right now. I don't think I use any other apps. Maybe Amazon and Barnes & Nobles 😁

Describe yourself in one sentence.

Lover girl in a world where love no longer exists. 🫠

What do you think makes you attractive?

I don't know actually... I would like to say my personality perhaps? I think I'm pretty cool I think I'm quite hilarious actually haha. I had someone once say that my eyes and smile was the most attractive thing about me, but I think the opposite.

What is something you're really good at?

Procrastinating. I procrastinate so good that when the deadline of something is like 5 minutes away, I overwork and stress myself out so bad that my work just comes out beautifully. I work amazing under extreme and stressful situations. Not healthy at all so please don't try!!!!

What is something you're really bad at?

Math. Which is funny because I was doing accountant work for a Retail store as my first job and I was amazing. Maybe it was the power I felt while holding thousands of dollars a night while making minimum wage 🥲LOL

A time that you told a lie.

I never lie, I speak my truth all the time but while I was in my first serious relationship, I lied ALOT about being okay and happy. It was such unhealthy relationship for me and I wanted to keep the peace at all times that I lied a lot to my family. Trust me when I say, even if they are older, does not mean they are mature. Learned that the hard way.

What's a totally random and useless fact that you know?

Our brain doesn't know our eyeballs exist and if they did know, they would attack them. You can permanently go blind if our brain was like, "wait a min, where did they come from??" Freaking GNARLY!

Who knows you the best?

My mommy ❤️

What is your most prized possession?

I am in LOVE with V for Vendetta. From the moment I saw it back when my dad would let us rent random movies from Blockbusters, I just love it. I read the comics and love the theatrics of how V is and how beautifully he was portrayed by Hugh Weaving. I ended up buying a screenplay book that contains the directors notes and small changes that were made that didn't make it to the movie and that is my most prized possession. Definitely fueled my love for acting and everything that comes from just being able to shoot a movie.

What is your longest friendship?

9 years but unfortunately, life drifted us apart :(

When did you first feel like an adult?

When I did my taxes for the first time. I was not ready to adult, and I still can't adult correctly but surviving!

Do you/ Have you played any sports?

Yes, volleyball!!!! My family used to play it all time when we lived in MX. I turn into a competitive monster.

How are you feeling right now?

Tired and hungry. I've been surviving on Moster Energy drinks these last few days.

Are you an early bird or a night owl?

I'm honestly neither. I used to be able to stay up all night but now, I can barely wake up early and can barely stay awake lol I'm old now.

Do you believe in love at first sight?

I do, I'm a hopeless romantic.

Favorite song lyrics right now?

I've been listening to sad songs lately. Currently have I Can't Make You Love Me by Bon Iver on a constant loop. "I'll close my eyes, then I won't see. The love you don't feel when you're holding me. Morning will come and I'll do what's right. Give me 'til then to give up this fight." UGH gets me every time! 😭

What does self care look like for you?

Honestly, a nice hot bath in a candle lit bathroom, bright enough to be able to read a book and because I love in AZ, thunderstorm sounds in the background. My definition of self care ❤️

Describe yourself with 3 singers.

This is on hard! I don't know. Ummmmmm can I say 3 of my favorite singers? Amy Lee from Evanescence, RAYE, and Beyonce.

What makes you nervous?

Knowing that we have only explore 5% of the ocean and ocean nearly takes 70% of our planet. Not sure what phobia that is but thinking about that makes me nervous. Also meeting new people. I'm very shy so I get super nervous and anxious.

What’s a pet peeve you have?

When I am with someone and I am sharing something or just telling them something and they are on their phone, not listening at all. Then they have the audacity to say, "Huh?" Like no thank you. The excitement is over and now I'm hurt. 🥲

What will always make you cry?

Thinking about my life. Kidding! I am a huge crybaby so it doesn't take much to make me cry. Show me a sad video, I'll cry a river.

What kind of first impression do you think you make on people?

I don't know, I smile a lot so maybe they form some kind of opinion based on that. I hope it's all good first impressions though. 😊

Special Question: What's your biggest fear?

I have a lot of fears and some may seem so little. I am afraid of never being able to accomplish or become the person I dreamt of being. I'm afraid that I will never get back on track with how I envisioned I would be right now at 24. It's dumb little things that scare me. Never finding love and having a family of my own or not being able to be fully happy. Sometimes it feels like something is missing and maybe that's why I have been feeling lost lately. Those are biggest fears.

THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN!!! I really enjoyed answering these questions and would totally love to see you answering them too!!!!!! Love you!!!❤️❤️❤️

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uwu-co-in · 11 months

Text

The Planet of Pandora

Synopsis: Armin Arlert was probably the best xenobiologist of his time. Going to Pandora was his sole dream and he could not have achieved it if he wasn't the best. And yet, when he finds himself over the writhing in longing for a alien woman light years away from home, he can't but help himself in indulging in this pleasure. It's like studying a new species, only more intimately.

Xenobiologist Armin Arlert x Na'vi Reader (Avatar 2009 movie AU)

Contents/warnings: porn with plot, Avatar movie AU, xenophilia, fictitious sexual rituals, use of psychedelics/drugs, foreplay, sexual intercourse

Word count: 2.6k

~ AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ~

"That's Pandora? Oh, woah," Armin gazes at the planet with eyes wide. It looks just like the Earth, except a lot greener, with even vivid blues. Even though Jake Sully, the Toruk Macto, has allowed missions from the Earth only for research purposes, people back on the planet were insistent on sending a handful of militia. Help from Pandora had helped regain a lot of lost resources on Earth, and Armin thinks it's only right that Earth stops sending any soldiers at all, in the first place, to foster trust.

"I already miss my mashed potatoes and steak," his fellow xenoscientist, Dr. Braus exclaims, and he chuckles lightly along with his colleagues. He does not miss Earth one bit. There is no one to return to. He looks at the new planet, the one named Pandora by the scientists. The Planet of Death. A genuine smile stretches upon his lips, slightly dimpling his cheeks. As far as he could remember, Pandora was always his home.

"Grandpa, tell me all about Pandora!" a four-year-old Armin sat on his grandfather's knees, looking at him with his bright blue eyes, barely keeping still in excitement. "Oh Armin, you've heard these at least fifty times. Are you sure you don't want to hear about any other? Do you know that scientists have found yet another planet? It's being called Solaris, wouldn't you want to know about it?" But young Armin had no interest in Solaris or its materialisation mechanics of mental images; he had set his eyes on Pandora. He shook his head in disagreement, lips in a drawn pout to hear about the Planet of Death. "One day, if you try and become the best xenoscientist, you can certainly visit Pandora." That's the last of what Armin remembers of his Grandpa.

"Ahh Dr. Zoë, can we talk?" Armin halts the leader of their xenoscientist team as soon as they land. "Are we supposed to initiate contact with the Na'vis? Because as far as the research is concerned, I'll try to do my best-" He stops as they place a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "I know you are excited, Dr. Arlert, but we must have some patience. Meeting Jake Sully is our first priority. We are all scientists here, but we can only do what he allows us to," her eyes flit to the others in cargo uniform, "well, most of us would definitely follow his orders. We just need to make sure that our intentions of research, and only research, convey clearly to them, and he'll help us."

"I feel jittery," Dr. Braus sways in her Na'vi body, as Dr. Hoover chuckles at her. "I hate this tail," Dr. Ackerman mutters. "This is the first time Dr. Ackerman is of the same height as us," Dr. Braus whispers to Armin, and both of them burst into a round of giggles, as Dr. Ackerman sighs again in disapproval, all of them prepping to start their journey onto the Mount Horeb, named after the one back at Earth. Armin gets a feel of his body, touching his neck and upper chest, mind adjusting well, and sighs in relief. Was it too bad that he felt more at ease here, in Pandora, than he ever felt on Earth?

"Dr. Zoë, we are more than happy to host scientists. You sure do remind me a lot of Grace," Jake Sully sighs in a longing nostalgia, not too displeased at their presence. "Thank you, Jake. We promise to not let you down," Dr. Zoë bows their head in respect. "In fact, can we start from tomorrow evening? Isn't there a ritual of sorts?" she inquires, and Armin looks at Jake, a tingly feeling wiggling at the back of his mind. What will a proper Na'vi ritual look like? Jake glances at Neytiri who nods back subtly. "That's alright with us," Jake bites the inside of his cheeks, clearly giving it a second thought. "Just try to maintain a respectable distance. These rituals tend to be very instinctive," he pauses for a while, before continuing. "We can do nothing if one of you gets involved by Ewya's grace."

"Armin, you're in charge of tabulating as well," Mikasa hands him a notepad. "Is this distance far enough? I don't know," she frets over the camera, clicking it daintily with the large avatar fingers. "It's going to be alright, Mikasa. Moreover, if it's a ritual, I need to be at least this close to them to study and make out what they're saying," Armin frowns a bit. This is his first time working, and he can't miss any of it. "Well then, suit yourself up. Holler if you need any help, yes? All the best," and Mikasa walks off.

Armin looks at the throng of Na'vi people, young men, and women, gathered in front of the bonfire. That's much more than I expected, Armin thinks to himself. His eyes lock with one Na'vi woman in particular; unlike others her hair was open, reaching lower than her waist, and a bunch of blood-red flowers were tucked underneath her left ear. She's beautiful, Armin thinks, his eyes moving to her throat, gulping in fear and anticipation. He shakes himself out of the stupor, watching her apply the white fluid over her eyes, dragging her fingers to the tip of her nose, and he writes it all down. He will check for the contents of the fluid later, once the ritual ends. He sees the blue bodies sliding arms over each other, noses smelling each others' throats, and feeling each other up. One even musters to dip his fingers underneath the hay skirt that the other has worn, and she moans back in pleasure. Wait, what? He looks over to his colleagues and they share the same panicked look. It is a mating ritual.

A minute and he can't see the woman with the blood-red flowers anymore amongst the writhing of the bodies. He jots down his observations quickly. It's probably the pheromones, he concludes. They're just following the chemical pointers, and all eyes seem closed. He bends to write when he's overshadowed. As he looks up, it's her. Her palms slide over his, snatching this notepad and placing it somewhere, her eyes still shut. Armin almost wants to speak up, but then he remembers what Jake told them yesterday.

"Please, don't speak a word when the ritual takes place. It might be that someone from the group has broken off and has wandered to you all, even if you are stationed far enough. They will probably leave in a few minutes to their designated area. Do not, under any circumstance, speak to them. It makes them stick to the stupor, making it difficult to revive them," Jake had given a fair warning.

But the woman does not turn away. Instead, her hands slide up his chest, underneath his t-shirt as she sniffs his neck, nimble fingers starting to tangle in his hair. Armin places his hands on her shoulder in a weak attempt to push her off. Her naked vulva drags over his pants, her back arching, and all protests that Armin had dies in the back of his throat. A low moan escapes his parted lips, and the woman smirks over his neck, clearly satisfied at his reaction. "Ngenga tirea syaw menari nekx kame nga," she mutters, as she gives a long lick from his throat to the back of his ear. Armin registers the meaning of the words in his aroused state. Your spirit guides me as my eyes burn to see you. He's mated to her.

"We've never had one of our women mate with a uniltìranyu, a dreamwalker, before. This is outrageous!" Neytiri screams, at the meeting. The woman is still on Armin's side, her hands holding Armin's arm as she shudders at Neytiri's words. Armin feels bad for her, as he sidles his palm on her jaw to comfort her. This action seems to surprise his colleagues and enrage Neytiri even more. "Why you-" Neytiri had almost bared her teeth, as Jake intercepts. "Dr. Arlert." Armin looks at Jake, partly with fear. "You must know that you can still reject her advance," Jake tells him, and the woman's face seems to fall even more. Based on traditions, it is likely that she will be ostracized from the community, or something, Armin gave a quick thought. Or worse, what if she kills herself? It is a rare but practiced occurrence that the unmated person ends their life, serving Ewya from now on. "We will not hold it against you, we promise," Jake reassures him. "Now, do you want Yawne as your mate?" Armin thinks it over and looks at her face. Damn the consequences.

"I do."

"I know English," are the first words that Yawne tells Armin. Seated underneath a canopy of trees, away from other eyes, the small corner is lit with bioluminescent plants in warm colours as her large green eyes flit over to his face. She is not as feisty or explorative as she had been during the mating ritual, but her eyes roam all over Armin, drinking him in without shame. Armin feels hot in his ears; he has had his share of sex back on Earth but this feels so much different. Yawne is different. "You know, I know Na'avi too, right?" Armin whispers to her, his hand grabbing hers and giving them a squeeze. "So, what do we do?" he asks her. Her eyes move to the two capsule-like things kept on a stand. "We eat those, bond with our tsahelyu, and make love," she gulps again. "Let's do it then," Armin hands her one of the capsules and places the other on his tongue. He chews it tentatively, the sweet juice filling his mouth, as his head starts buzzing good-naturedly. Yawne smiles at Armin, and sitting down, closes his eyes with her palm, before bringing their braids together for establishing the tsahelyu.

Desire courses through his veins as the nerve endings join together, and in his mind, he sees a thousands scenes flashing up. Of the forests of Pandora, of the life that flows and connects all, the devotion for Eywa. Light bursts underneath his eyes as he sees the Sacred Grove, with all the seeds, floating amidst the night of pinks and purples and blues. And he sees Yawne, her growing up, as a child, learning to fly the ikran, watching the magic of Pandora through her eyes. He feels her feras, anxiety, happiness, desires and love. Her heart feels like it had been waiting all her life. To love him.

Armin opens his eyes and finds her looking at him in wonder and curiosity. She has seen Earth, she must have had questions. "So you have light hair? And blue eyes?" she looks at him, eyes wide. She reminds him of the first time he had heard about Pandora from his grandfather. "Yes, I do. I'm also much shorter," Armin chuckles, as he picks her up, placing her on his lap. He could feel the heat from between her legs. She traces his lips with her index finger as if studying everything about him. "And you have a nice name. Armin," as if trying to spell the unknown name into a familiarity. "Armin," she says again before pressing a light kiss on the corner of his lips. "Give me a name. One from back in Earth, that would suit me," she looks at him, as he stares back in complete adoration.

"Y/N."

Armin doesn't remember who moves first, but they are kissing each other, as if it was their last day together, Y/N on top of him. He plucks the flowers from her hair, keeping it aside, as he drags his kisses to her jaw, her mouth producing the most beautiful moans he has ever heard. Her hands pull his hair and scratch his back, while his slide down her back, coming in contact with the wetness. His fingers dip in, conjuring a delicious cry from her. She moves her mouth to kiss him, as his other hand tweaks her nipples, leading her to lightly bite his lower lip. The joy he feels from watching her arch her back because of his ministrations is absolutely euphoric.

"Armin..." his name falls from her lips like a prayer as he puts her down and kisses his way to the core. "Tell me more about Earth, please?" she moans, still ever so curious. "Yes, my Y/N, I'll tell you," Armin whimpers back, making her sit in front of him, fingers still rubbing her wet folds, and his lips kissing behind her ears. "The Earth used to be so beautiful," he kisses her neck while stroking her. "But I never belonged there. I felt incomplete. Do you know why?" Armin coerces her to lie down as he rubs the tip of his member, collecting the arousal. "I was always waiting to love you," he whispers against her cheek, as she cries out in ecstasy.

Armin could feel her pleasure, all because of the tsahelyu, feel her delicious burn, and he was sure she could feel how warm and tight she felt on his member. Y/N turns to look at him, her big green eyes glistening in pleasure, as she mumbles, "Armin, I have only ever wanted you." Her hands slid over to his jaw, holding his face as his member filled her insides with its girth. She could feel the tip brushing roughly against her spot and arched her back in extreme pleasure as he pinched and played with her pebbled nipples. He moves down to kiss her lips, tongues eagerly sliding over each other, and sucking. She tastes so sweet, like nectar, he thinks, and a feeling of protection overtakes him. Mine.

He turns to put her underneath him, and she jolts as he starts going even more roughly. She locks her legs on his waist, allowing his member to slide even further in, and cries out in delicious pleasure. "Please, please don't stop. Please," she is almost on the verge of begging, as Armin kisses her lips once more, not breaking the rhythm, whispering, "Never." He could feel her tightening and knew that she was near. He keeps going in the same rhythm, fingers finding her clit to rub it to please her even more. Her eyes widen as she feels him twitch inside, and she holds him even closer. His member is ramming inside her now and with every stroke, she keeps moaning loudly, a sign for Armin to not stop. "Together?" Armin mumbles, grunting at the feeling of release threatening to spill. "Ye-yes," Y/N mumbles back, and Armin stops withholding. The wetness spills from her and covers his member, as he thrusts and bursts his, coating her walls white. He tries to keep going but white light flashes in his eyes, and the last thing he remembers is tasting her lips and holding Y/N close, as he blacks out.

"Armin?" Y/N's meek voice is the first thing Armin hears when he wakes up. She had tidied herself up, and placed the flowers underneath her ears, hair all open, flowing over the makeshift bed. "Y/N..." he holds her close and kisses her mouth, as if he had been doing it ever since he can remember. His fingers find her nipple, and he plays with it, pulling it lightly, as she lets out a whimper. Oh God, how he loves to hear that. Her hand finds his member, slowly rubbing her thumb on his tip. "What happens to us now?" Y/N mumbles, her big green eyes slightly misty. Afraid. "Whatever be it," Armin holds her by her neck, bringing her closer and kissing her forehead. "I am never leaving you. You make me complete."

This was a collab with @thegetoufather in her 'Into the Movie Verse' series about a year (or so ago), which I, in my terribly late fashion, decided to complete a few days ago. Apologies 😔

#attack on titan #armin arlert #armin x reader #avatar au #avatar smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #movieverse #armin smut #intothemovieverse

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starimoth · 2 years

Text

HIIIIII evryoneee!!

#jakeS #aksually #aksually mental illness #hoover #stonepa

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year

Note

I have a request if you're taking any. A Jake Lockley x fem!reader. The reader is dating them but is kind of scared of Jake (is very quiet and weary around him, doesn't like his physical touch) because he was cold and mean to her when they first met (he wanted to "protect" Steven) but now all he wants is to hold and love her. The opportunity finally arrives when she's sick and needs his help. (He forcefully fronts bc he's not letting this opportunity go to waste)

Of course! Thank you so much for the ask!

Ahhh, this one got away from me a bit. (And did a bit of it's own thing) I went in to write some angst with Jake and just ended up writing soft!Jake (again, because I can't help myself.) I hope this is okay!

Embrace

Jake Lockley X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Overuse of railroad sentences, typos, hurt/comfort, previous Jake & reader not getting along, sick!reader, fluff, implied Steven x reader and Marc x reader, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 1789

_______________________________________

He can’t stop playing it over and over again in his mind. The image looping in a relentless merry-go-round.

A light touch. His gloved fingertips barely skimming your skin as he tapped you on the arm. A gentle warning that he-they were back.

You’d had your headphones on as you did the washing up, miming along a song whose beat bled out into the air around you.

It was like you had known it was him on some subconscious level even before he reached you.

Your reaction was etched into his skin, carved behind his eyelids. The flinch. The instinctive movement away from him. It was like a knife hacking the flesh away from his chest.

You had looked at him as you paused your music. Your eyes a little wide and weary before you gave him a small smile. “Am I in the way?”

The air had stuck in his throat, crushing him under the weight of his breath.

Jake didn’t trust his voice, not in that moment. He swallowed and shook his head.

You nodded, looking at his hands instead of his face and went back to the washing up. You didn’t turn your music back on.

It had been his fault. Jake knew that. He had been more than distant, cold, purposely keeping you further than an arm’s length and trying to drag Marc and Steven away from you as well.

You had been a stranger. A danger. A variable that he couldn’t keep a constant eye on.

There was a small mix up, some bad intel when Jake went out of his way to check on your background - just in case - by the time he realised that he had been working on the wrong information the damage was done.

Jake watched in the background as Steven travelled home, keeping quiet as Marc and Steven talked. They had taken to wearing large over the ear headphones so that they could speak freely in public and look like they were just on the phone. Not that anyone in London would even notice if they were talking to themselves or not.

He had stayed quiet as Steven showered and got changed, as Marc hoovered and then washed the leftover morning dishes.

He didn’t even interject in the discussion of what to make for dinner, which was quickly becoming a squabble.

It was only interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and you shuffling into the flat.

But your doorsteps, they sounded… wrong. Too heavy and laboured, missing the normal bounce to your step.

Marc was about to call out a greeting when Jake pushed to the front, cutting off his words before he had even opened his mouth.

‘Jake!’ Marc’s voice was loud, but fading as he fell back.

As Steven spoke at the exact same time. ‘Mate, you can’t just do that-”

“Something’s wrong.” Jake muttered, his muscles tense. He moved towards the front door, keeping his footsteps light and making the minimal amount of possible sound. He stopped when you came into view.

You were slouched on the settee, crumpled up and drawn in on yourself. Your work bag was still on your lap, your coat and shoes on. Eyes shut.

There was a horrible twist in his stomach, a wave of panic that buzzed across every nerve. You were hurt.

He rushed forward, all previous grace forgotten.

You didn’t open your eyes until he put a hand firmly on your shoulder, an action that was worrying enough, “where are you injured?” He frowned deeply, trying to scan you over for any bruising or open wounds.

“What, I’m not,” your voice came out all stuffy. Bunked up and a little garbled as if you’d just been woken from sleep.

Realisation dawned. You were sick, not hurt. He should pull back. He should get Steven or Marc, let them help you. That’s what you would want.

“I’m just a bit,” your eyes were glassy, your reactions a little delayed. You motioned to your head with your hands. “Cotton wool-y.”

Jake put his hand on your forehead, you were burning hot.

He tutted and knelt down on the ground and began to take off your shoes. Quick and precise in his movements.

You frowned. Your mind slowly catching up. “Jake?”

He didn’t pause, didn’t answer. But swallowed when you stiffened slightly.

“You don’t need to do that.” You whispered.

Jake continued, focused on his task, his warm hand on your calf as he eased your foot out of your boot and placed it carefully on the side before he started on the other.

You cleared your throat. “You don’t have to.”

He set your other boot next to the first and slowly stood. His movements were slow, precise, careful to not surprise you. As if you were some wild skittish animal that could be spooked by the smallest thing.

Jake took your work bag from your lap and hung it up on the side, where you liked to keep it. You followed his movements, nerves eating into your stomach. He didn’t have to do this. You were sure he didn’t want to do this. You were nothing more than a burden to him, an annoyance that he had to put up with for Marc and Steven’s sake. You-

“Come on,” he spoke softly, his eyes still downcast as he lent down towards you, gently taking your hands in his to help you to stand. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Jake,” the urge to pull your hands back, away from his touch was so strong, but you let him help you up.

He ignored your words, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, his other hand on your arm as he began to guide you to the bedroom.

“Jake,”

He stared at his feet,his lips pressed together into a tight line. His long, dark eyelashes were almost kissing his skin in his determination not to catch your gaze.

“Jake.” You stopped, forcing Jake to as well. Your voice cracked as you spoke, your throat sore and aching. You swallowed. “I don’t need you to do this.”

He looked at you then.

You were expecting to see relief on his face. A nod. For his hands to leave you so that he could go about his evening without having to carry the burden of caring about you for his alter’s sake.

Instead, his expression made a sharp cut of emotion sink into your chest.

He stared at you with glassy eyes, his mouth slightly parted. He looked crestfallen. He looked heartbroken.

You didn’t know what to do.

There was a long moment before he spoke. “Please.”

You frowned in confusion.

“Please,” he repeated. “Please let me look after you.” “Please don’t,” he glanced down again and screwed up his eyes, clenching his jaw and dropping his arms to his sides. Your skin was cold without his heat.

Slowly, you reached out and took his hand. A light touch as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his. He squeezed back tightly.

“Please let me look after you.” Jake whispered. “Please.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand and he lent into it without hesitation, closing his eyes and breathing out heavily. As if the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders.

“Jake?”

He opened his eyes, a painful vulnerability dancing in them.

“Please look after me.” You whispered.

He smiled, the expression lighting up his whole face in one glorious moment. You’d never seen him smile like that before.

He led you to bed, only leaving so that you could get changed into your pyjamas. He came back, calling out to you at first to check that you had finished changing your clothes, with his arms full. He carefully placed a new box of tissues and a packet of strepsils on your bedside table, along with some paracetamol and a cooling gel pack that was intended for headaches - explaining that it was Steven’s and he didn’t know if it would be helpful.

You beamed at him as you sat up in bed, but didn’t get a chance to thank him as Jake rushed out of the room again, coming back quickly with your favourite mug. Steam wafted out of it.

“It’s ginger,” he said, adding it to the collection on your bedside table, and making sure it sat perfectly in the middle of the coaster. “With some honey, it should help your throat. I can hear that you're a bit croaky.”

The honey touched your heart. There was only one pot of it in the flat, Jake’s vitamin honey that you had never touched. The honey that he refused to share with Marc or Steven, even going to the extent of hiding it. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself.

“Jake,” you spoke so softly you were surprised he heard you. “Thank you.”

He fiddled with his hands, another little smile pulling at his lips. “It’s nothing.”

You shook your head, leaning a little to reach out to take his hand. He reacted straight away, moving towards your touch so that you didn’t have to disrupt your comfort. He sat lightly on the very edge of the mattress when you urged him to, taking your hand in his and running your thumb over his skin in a soothing pattern.

Jake watched you, mesmerised. Your touch was for him, he wasn’t watching through Marc or Steven. It was his.

“I’m honoured you know.” You said with a smile. “Letting me have some of your honey.”

A small flush crept along his skin. For a moment he thought about lying, about saying that there was another jar. He swallowed and spoke quietly. “You’re more important than the honey.”

You didn’t know what to say, words wouldn’t form.

Slowly, so carefully as if he was now the easily startled wild animal, you leant forward and wrapped your arms around him. You gave Jake plenty of time to move away, to back off. Instead he rushed towards it, quickly embracing you back and just melting into the hug.

He tucked his head into your neck and breathed out a shaky breath.

You could feel the tension in his arms, the strain running just under his skin as he fought the urge to hold you tighter, to press you closer to every inch of his body.

You shifted backwards, laying down, and pulled him with you, urging him to follow. He clutched you tightly, and moved, shifting only slightly so that he was laying next to you and not on top of you.

He let out the sweetest sigh of content as you coax him to lay his head on your chest and ran your fingers through his hair, still holding you tight.

____________________________________

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