#when he goes to turn in his badge before he leaves he stops to give Dove a nice deep kiss right in front of Shane.

[theweewooshow]

After the breakup, Tommy asks the universe to let him forget Buck because he’s heartbroken despite his best efforts to keep his heart safe. The universe answers, but it erases Buck from everyone’s memory, erases him from this timeline even. No one remembers Buck, not even Tommy.

Tommy meets up with Howie and invites Eddie to karaoke trivia night and doesn't think about how there’s this hole in his memory when he thinks about reconnecting with Howie and meeting Eddie.

He sees Maddie and Jee in the grocery store and says hi and Jee calls him Uncle Tommy and Tommy’s hit with this raw feeling in his chest that doesn't go away until long after he’s left the grocery store.

The 118 invites him out to the badge and ladder bar and he can't help but feel like someone is missing the entire night even though when he looks around, nothing seems to be out of place.

He gets these flashes sometimes, like a dream, only he’s awake when they happen. It’s like there’s someone there, trying to get his attention. He can't explain the feeling. It’s like there’s always someone in his peripheral vision, but when he turns, no one’s there.

And there’s this hurt inside him sometimes that he can’t rationalize. His life is good. Things are good at harbor. He’s reconnected with old friends and made new ones, so he shouldn't be feeling like this.

Maybe he’s lonely. It’s been a long while since he dated someone seriously, so he lets Hen set him up with someone from Karen’s job.

He goes out with this guy and has a good time, laughs and flirts and holds his hand. It’s nice.

At the end of the night, they’re saying their goodbyes before they hop into their respective trucks to leave, and the guy kisses him.

There’s nothing wrong with the kiss.

At the same time, everything is wrong with the kiss.

Because it’s not him.

He doesn't know who he’s pining for, but he still pulls away and says he had a nice time, but doesn't think it’s going to work out between them.

He drives home with so many emotions swirling around inside him, wanting and aching and craving someone whose name is on the tip of his tongue, but just out of reach.

He calls Howie and asks if he’s felt something off lately and Howie says he has, like something is missing from his life, that Maddie feels the same way, that Jee has been asking for her uncle, but they don’t know who she’s talking about because she’s not talking about Albert or Eddie or Tommy when they ask her.

When the call ends, Tommy feels even more lost because it’s not just him. But he thinks it’s his fault, whatever this is—he can feel it.

He falls asleep after tossing and turning for hours and when he wakes up, he remembers a name.

Evan.

He doesn't remember everything, but he knows Evan was important to him, important to the 118.

And idk some handwavey stuff happens where Chimney and Tommy figure out Tommy made a wish to forget so there's some hijinks where they try to get him to reverse the wish by wishing on his birthday candles or an eyelash or a shooting star, but nothing works.

Until Tommy’s on the verge of a breakdown, miserable and missing half his heart, so he pleads with the universe to give him Evan back, says he’ll stop running, stop getting in his own way, stop sabotaging his own happiness for fear of getting hurt.

Because he’s hurting anyway, despite trying to forget Evan, despite trying to protect himself from this.

He feels something shift, like there’s a ripple in the fabric of time, and he scrambles to get his phone.

He unlocks it and looks through his contacts, the relief he feels when he sees the name Evan in his contact list is palpable.

He calls the number and the memories come rushing back when Evan picks up and says, “Hi, Tommy.”

[a-rogue-god]

just had the vivid thought of instead of doves whole family thing with her original story, instead have dove be Shane V's daughter? And that led me to think about Dove flirting with John and John all uneasy about flirting back (even though he'd want to) bc yknow. Boss's daughter.

I wonder if she'd have some type of easy job in Shane's company. And ofc Dove would use this for evil against John. Being all scampish around him when no one's looking. John fearing for his job but also loving the thrill of putting his hands on her and feeling her up in a forgotten supply closet

Just so fun to think about this for me hahahafnfb I'd never rewrite her to have this lore but bbrr

[zylev-blog]

Jazz is Special Agent Fenton of the FBI. She doesn’t go by Fenton when she’s out on a case though; she uses Nightingale. She does this because it keeps her identity secret.

Jazz is investigating a series of crimes. One of the other agents goes undercover to try and set them up in a sting operation. Things go south and now Jazz is going to Gotham to view the murder scene.

When she gets there, GCPD try to stop her at the crime scene barrier. She flashes her FBI jacket and her badge and is given access. She walks over to the police commissioner, a man named Gordon. Gordon obviously doesn’t recognize her, and neither does the vigilante with him—Batman.

“This is a closed crime scene, Miss…?” Gordon asks.

“Nightingale. FBI.” She shows Gordon her badge. “You and your men can clear out. This is our jurisdiction now.”

“We haven’t gotten approval to—“ Gordon stops, but was interrupted by an officer walking over to Gordon and whispering something in his ear. “Fine.” Gordon grumbled, and started telling his men to leave.

“You too, Spooky. I don’t need a vigilante’s help.” She waves off the man without another thought, but Batman doesn’t move. Instead, he completely ignores her and starts walking towards the crime scene. “Obviously, you didn’t hear me.” Jazz scowled. “If you don’t leave, I will remove you with force, Batman.”

Batman turns to look at her. ���That isn’t how things work here, Agent Nightingale.”

“It is now.” She kept her expression neutral. “Clear out, or be removed. Your choice.”

Batman tried to look intimidating. Jazz refused to bow. The two stared each other down before Batman took another step towards the crime scene. She reacted instantly. Pulling out a taser, she placed it on his back before he could even react.

He reacted quickly, and sent three batarangs at her in rapid succession. His movements were a bit slower than normal after getting tased. She dodged two of the batarangs, and opted to catch the third in her hand. She flicked it away lazily and cracked her knuckles with a small smile. “I love it when they choose force.”

Batman didn’t react to her comment. He seemed to understand he wasn’t going to be able to get around her without a major fight. He let out an annoyed grunt and grappled away.

Three days later, they meet on the roof of an abandoned building. It seems like Batman was still on the case after all. Jazz was not happy about it. She felt that he was going to ruin the entire operation. She couldn’t trust someone to have her back if they didn’t show their face. She doesn’t let the annoyance show on her face as Batman joins her at the edge of the rooftop.

“I thought I told you to stay off my case, Batman.” She said quietly.

Batman gave a quiet grunt. If she had to put it to words, it would translate to a ‘I do what I want.’

She didn’t speak to him again, but she didn’t kick him out, either. The two didn’t speak a word as they sat for two hours, inspecting the warehouse across the street. It was nearly morning by the time Batman left. She did make sure he left, too—she watched him grapple down the street and heard the roar of the Batmobile pulling away before she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Watching the building was doing nothing. She was going to have to get closer. She was going to have to go undercover herself. The thought didn’t make her any happier, even with knowing what happened to the last agent that went undercover for this operation. She also knew that to keep her tracker on her at all times, she would need to shove it inside a place that nobody would look for it. And boy was that uncomfortable.

Two days after she met Batman did she meet Brucie Wayne for the first time. By now she had been undercover with the modeling agency for a day, and it was going well so far. She was playing her part perfectly, but it could take weeks for them to trust her enough to give her information that she needed to know.

She had been hired to be arm candy for a wealthy man in Gotham. It wasn’t Brucie, though she knew he had a few models on his arms as well. She had gotten through most of the night without incident before she ran into Brucie. Quite literally. Brucie’s champagne spilled down her dress, and she gave a mock scream of outrage.

Brucie tried to clean up her dress, but she swatted his hands away and went to the bathroom to clean up. She never noticed the tracker that Bruce put on the nape of her neck. When she came back out, she noticed her date looking for her. She rejoined him and the rest of the night went smoothly.

A month into the operation and she finally was getting some results. She had been moved from building to building more than once, but she finally got breadcrumbs for what she needed to take them down. It took her another three weeks after that to gather all of the evidence she needed.

At the final takedown, she was joined by none other than Batman. She had half-expected him to show up after she noticed the tracker on her neck six hours after it was placed. She didn’t know when she had even run into the Batman at a stuffy charity gala. She had debated crushing it, but she didn’t have backup and she figured his help was better than nothing. She still didn’t trust him, though. She made sure he knew that, too.

Bringing the tracker up to her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to listen in on a lady, Batman?”

Together, she and Batman took down the traffickers. They had been using models and trafficking them all over the world to be used as sex slaves. She feels a certain satisfaction while watching everyone be escorted out in cuffs.

“Nice work.” Batman says, figure tall and dark.

She hums. “Thanks.” The silence stretches on for a few minutes before she adds in, “Thanks for having my back.”

“I thought you didn’t need a vigilante’s help?” Batman teased.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the teasing on his voice. She smirks and crosses her arms. “I don’t. But you’re harder to get rid of than a ghost in a net.”

Batman didn’t respond back to her, and it takes her a few moments to realize what she had said. She was of course, referencing her parents ghosthunting activities. But he didn’t even know her real name, so how would he even know what he was talking about?

“When do you leave?” Batman asked.

“After everything’s wrapped up. Why, you going to miss me?” She finally turned to look at him. She wished she could run facial recognition and figure out who was under that mask. The psychologist in her wanted to know just why a man would put on a bat mask and fight crime.

“I have a case that could use your input.” Batman deflected her question.

Was that a compliment from the Batman? His way of telling her that he trusted her opinion? Or was it an olive branch?

“Mine or the FBI’s?” She already knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it.

Instead, he just grunted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the pouch that she kept her FBI id at and handed it to him. “That’s my office phone number.” She tapped the card with her finger as he held it. “If you want my personal cell, you’ve got to earn it.”

He nodded and tucked the card into his utility belt. She could see the beginnings of a smile from Batman as he disappeared into the shadows and grappled away.

Surprisingly, it only took Batman a week to call her. She had gotten settled back into her office in DC, and had mostly forgotten about the encounter. She had to report Batman’s appearance in her report, but beyond that, she didn’t have to explain that he helped her take down the ring.

She made a flight back to Gotham the next day. Batman brought her into the Batcave and told her everything she needed to know about the case. She didn’t know where the Batcave was, as Batman had blindfolded her, but she was impressed with his initiative.

“Im not wearing that.” She glared at him with all of the venom she had—which was quite a lot.

“You can’t go out in your FBI jacket.” Batman deadpanned.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you think I’m a rookie?” She shook her head and gestured at the costume that the vigilante had made for her. “That doesn’t give you the right to—to—ugh! Im not your Batgirl, or Batwoman, or whatever! I came out as a consult. I don’t dress up in latex, and I don’t wear costumes!”

The costume itself was gorgeous, not that she’d ever tell Batman that. It was solid black, had a red bat on the front of it, and was fully equipped with a utility belt, knife holsters, and a taser. It had a full cowl like Batmans, along with the pointy ears on top.

“I don’t see the problem.” Batman’s voice had undertones of offense in it.

“Look.” She gestured at the costume. “Im honored, truly, that you want me to watch your back. But I’m not a vigilante. Nor will I ever be!”

She had watched what vigilantism had done to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie over the years. Sure, she’d gone out with them more than once. Without a mask. But there was something more complex about the costume sitting on the table in front of her.

“You said you were going to help.” Batman’s gruff voice got closer as he took a few steps towards her.

“And I did.” She gestured to the Batcomputer. “I already gave you my opinions of the case. I dedicated a weekend of PTO time to be here. But this is as far as my help goes.”

“What about the last operation? You owe me.”

“Owe you?!” She exclaimed, thumping her finger against his chest. “I told you to get lost. You still stuck around. You could’ve cost me the operation!”

“It worked.”

She groaned in frustration. She was close enough to him now that she could smell the faint smell of Kevlar and aftershave from him. She rubbed a hand down her face as she thought over what had happened last time she was in Gotham.

“What about all your other winged vigilantes? You had uh.. Nightwing, and Robin, right?”

“It’s only Nightwing.” Batman responded. “He’s unavailable.”

“I could’ve sworn you had a Robin, too.” She looked up at him and noticed the stiffness of his body.

“Robin has moved on.” Batman replied.

Hmm. Touchy subject. She wasn’t going to push. It wasn’t any of her buisness.

“You must be really desperate if you’re trying this hard to get me to go out in that.” She smirked.

“Things could go wrong.” Batman said with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t they always?” She tilted her head.

“Not always.” Batman mimicked her actions, clearly studying her. “What will it take?”

“If I put that mask on,” She gestured to the table behind her, “You take yours off.”

“No.”

“Fine. Deals off, then.” She pulled her phone out and immediately started looking for flights back to DC.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I can’t trust someone who won’t tell me who they are.” She shrugged.

Batman let out a quiet growl. As he took his cowl off, he scowled. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Fenton?”

“Holy shit.” Her eyes got wide.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

[velvetchrry]

━━━━ PRETTY LITTLE BIRDS

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

2k. simon gets a checkup. he’s assigned as your patient today.

“Mr. Riley?” your voice rings out through the small lobby. You don’t expect it to be him when he stands up - hulking behemoth of a man, skull painted balaclava gracing his strong face. You don’t really know why you placed any expectations upon it, his name. Riley. It was simple. Short. Sweet.

You shake yourself from your stupor when he walks up to you. You give him a small smile before turning around and leading him towards your room. He doesn't say anything, but from what little you got from skimming his file, it doesn’t surprise you. It goes either way with military guys - either they’re like the chatty Scot in your chair just last week, or they’re like him - reserved. Calculating.

Sitting behind the desk, computer screen already pulled up to his chart with the tap of your badge against the scanner. He sits in one of the chairs in front of you and… have they always been that small? He looks almost uncomfortable, his body smushed into the wooden thing. He doesn't say anything, doesn’t let out a complaint, just accepts it for what it is. You’re almost certain he’s sat or slept in worse.

You clear your throat before speaking. It’s a habit when you’re nervous, but also because you need to clear the silence that’s permeating through the air. “So, uh, Mr. Riley,” you start. “You sustained a fair amount of injuries, but the thigh wound is the biggest consideration. Seems like you’re walking okay on it… any concerns?”

The room fills with a pregnant silence again at the absense of your voice. He shakes his head no. Really not chatty, but that’s okay. You respect that, the silence that some patients need. You could absolutely talk his ear off if he needed but you know when the time to keep the chatter short is. You can do that. Short. Sweet. Like his name.

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth as you take a glance over at the screen. “I’m going to order labs - routine stuff. Just to make sure everything’s in good shape.” You fingers click clack on the keyboard as you type in the order. He stays silent, doesn’t move even an inch from his position as you type away. You can feel him observing you, taking you in, assessing.

You stand up and motion to the exam table. He follows suit, siting his hulking body up there with ease. You’re almost positive he didn’t need to do the little hop you always have to do to get up there. You quickly glove up, opening a drawer containing phlebotomy supplies. When you turn back around, there’s something unspoken in his eyes. You motion to his arm and he nods and pulls the arm out of his zip up.

You swallow thickly. His arms are massive, and you work on a military base full of hulking men. Your bottom lip works its way between your teeth again while you tie the tourniquet off around his massive bicep, struggling slightly because it’s almost not long enough. He makes a fist without you asking him to, knowing the routine.

“Do this yourself, rather than a nurse?”

You have to stop yourself from jumping out of your skin at the rough timbre of his voice. You suck in a breath before speaking.

“I was an ED nurse, before I went back to school to become a P.A.”

You rub the alcohol swab across his antecubital. You prime the needle, warn him about the small poke, and start filling the vials with his blood. It’s silent again, the only noise filling the air the sloshing of his red ichor into each small glass vial and what you’re sure is your loud breathing.

The gauze is wrapped around his arm gingerly after you pull out the needle. “Well Mr. Riley… if there are no concerns..?” He shakes his head, sliding off the exam table and standing up next to you. His hulking form absolutely towers over you. He subtly nods his head in your direction before moving towards the door. “Thanks Doc,” he says on the way out, and you don’t bother correcting him as he leaves the room.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been here before!” one of your coworkers nudges you, already a bit drunk. The bar is dark, a hole in the wall, with sticky floors and music loud enough that you need to slightly raise your voice to talk to someone if they aren’t right next to you. The only people who really come here are people at the base. It’s the regular spot, you've learned.

You smile at her and take a sip of your drink. You only moved here a few months ago and haven’t really had the desire to venture out yet. You’re crowded around a standing high top with a few of the other medical staff you work with. They pratically begged you to come out with them tonight, and having turned down all their offers in the past you felt inclined to accept.

“Holy shit, is that Simon Riley? He’s fucking legend.”

“I would climb him like a tree. Mmm.”

Your attention whips from your coworkers to the object of their desires across the bar. Sure enough, his hulking form is sat there with a few other guys. You think you recognize one of them from the medical office. You turn back, trying not to stare.

They drone on about him, wondering if he has a secret girlfriend, wondering if he’s gay, wondering whose advances he would accept out of the group. Finally, one of the girls gets the courage and makes her way over to the table of guys, a slight swish in her hips on approach.

“Bonnie little bird, aye LT?” Soaps asks. He noticed - of course he did. The Scot seems to be the one to really notice him. Don’t get him wrong, so do the other guys - Price especially - but it seems that Johnny really knows him like a brother. His best mate, really. Not that he’d ever say it outloud.

Simon just grunts in response. He thought he was being sneaky with his observations of you, at least enough for Johnny not to notice. You, who didn’t push him to speak, or feel the need to fill the silence with useless chatter. You, who did your best to give him what respect and space you could. You, small, little thing, who didn’t look up at him with terror in your eyes.

His mouth dried up, teeth sticking to his gums. “Saw ‘er for a check up las’ week,” Johnny adds. “Sweet lass.”

Simon straightens his already rigid posture. He knows what Johnny is trying to do, get a rise out of him, see what he’ll divulge. It’s not often Simon notices people who are not threats or targets. He thought about you more than he’d care to admit after his appointment yesterday afternoon.

He pegged you for a chatty little thing. Thought for sure you would be uncomfortable with the silence that usually follows him. He was surprised to be wrong about you. Pleasantly. Didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.

“Right sweetheart,” Simon agrees. It comes out of his mouth before he can even stop it. He isn’t sure why it heats his cheeks. Isn’t sure why his cottonmouth is even worse than before. He can feel Johnny grinning beside him.

“Should go talk to ‘er, LT?” Johnny suggests, his voice lower, so the other guys won’t pick up on it. Simon shakes his head and Johnny makes a noise. “Ach, c’mon.”

Simon is about to respond when he notices one of the girls from your group get up and make a beeline to their table. He sees the slight blush that colors your cheeks at her approach, even in the darkness of the bar. She saunters over, eyes locked on him. He clenches his jaw.

“It’s Simon, right?!” she practically squeals. He doesn’t even look at her, his eyes locked onto you, squirming in your seat while watching this unfold. He gives her a grunt in confirmation. She leans onto the table right where he sits and a low chuckle escapes Johnny. She bends down, pushing her breasts together with her arms. “You want to buy me a drink?” she purrs.

“Lass, how about…” Johnny starts, wanting to spare her from whatever it is that Simon will say but his gruff voice cuts him off.

“Not interested.” His eyes still haven’t left yours to look over at her. She straightens up from her position on the table. “So, what? You really are gay then?” Hurt and rejection carries through in the high pitch of her voice.

The lads at the table break out into laughter. Her face reddens and she scoffs before turning away. Simon still looks at you, that sweet pink plump lip of yours nestled softly between your teeth again. He imagines what it would feel like to have it between his teeth instead. He wants to trace his thumb across the span of your lips. You skin so soft under his rough hands. His pants start to tent, blood rushing south.

He clears his throat and adjusts slightly in his seat. “Gonna take a piss,” he says under his breath to Johnny. He expertly maneuvers his way towards the bathroom, sliding through the throngs of people at the bar. He nods to some of the men he knows from various ops on his way there. He stops at the hallway to the bathrooms and when he hears the opening of a door he turns the corner.

“Oof, I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there!” You squeak out. He places his massive hands on your arms to steady you. “Mr. Riley..” you trail off in recognition.

“Doc,” he nods at you. “Just Simon.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Simon feels a pinch in his chest. “You upset my coworker,” you blurt. Heat rises up your neck, you cheeks flush. His hands are still on you.

“Lemme guess, she’s tryna decide which of the blokes at the table is my secret lover.”

A sly smile breaks out on your face. “Something like that,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans down, having to really bend over to get down to your level. “Who’s your money on, then?” His voice is a gravelly whisper and it causes heat to pool in your lower abdomen.

You bite your lip and it takes every ounce of self control in him not to pull it out with his thumb. He fists his hand so hard, he almost draws blood with his fingernails.

“Blue eyes, sitting next to you,” you finally say.

He lets out a low chuckle and you decide you really like the way that sounds. You want to know how to make him do it again. The noise sends electricity through your body, pebbling your nipples against your lacy bra.

“Solid choice, that.” He straightens back up and you’re reminded again just how big of a man he is. “But I prefer pretty little birds.”

You blink up at him, not quite sure what’s happening right now. You’re trying to meld this Simon to the one in your office yesterday, but they almost seem like two different people. You swallow thickly. Something fills the air between you, something abuzz with energy. Something you’re not sure if you can name.

“You play darts?” he asks suddenly. You shake your head no. You know generally how to play but you’re not very good at it. “You want to learn?”

You pinch your lips together and your eyes flash toward the high top with your coworkers. Simon doesn’t miss this, of course he doesn’t. He holds his breath, waiting for your decision. He wants to put you over his shoulder, walk straight out of the bar and take you home to his flat. But he knows that’s not the way things are done. He doesn’t want to scare you off, not when you're already so receptive to him. So different from the others — like your coworker, who think they are owed some piece of him. So he waits.

“O.. okay,” you finally accept.

Simon smiles under the mask, his eyes crinkling the only indication of his delight.

[specialagentlokitty]

Rossi x nephew!reader - matchmaker

What about Rossi's nephew; who's in the military (26-27) comes back from a tour in he middle East and meets up with Rossi at work to surprise him. But when he sees Spencer he is dumbfounded bc he's never like men, so OBVIOUSLY he goes to Rossi and is like "I think I might be gay" (lol) and Rossi is like "omg your here.... Wait huh?" Like Rossi is just trying to process that his nephew isn't dead and came back but now he has to process that his nephew now thinks he's a little gay.... 👀👀👀 - @azeal-peal 💜

You hadn’t been back long, you hadn’t bothered going back to change or shower, you knew your uncle had security set up at his house.

If you wanted to surprise him then they would defeat the whole purpose.

So, instead you went to his place of work, getting a visitors badge so you could head up.

Thankfully you had been there before, they knew who you were so they didn’t have to get your uncle to come and get you, or have anybody escort you.

Maybe the uniform you wore helped with that as well.

You stood in the elevator, hands clasped behind your back, waiting for the doors to close, only to hear somebody call for you to hold the doors, so you reached out to stop them from closing.

“Oh thank you! Thank you so much!”

She came running in, and you moved your hand back, giving her a charming smile.

“You’re very welcome, are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh, oh this? Yes! I’m good thank you!”

She set her bags down, giving you the biggest smile you had ever seen and you smiled back at her.

“Are you visiting somebody?”

“That I am, I’m visiting my uncle actually. What about you?”

She laughed a little.

“No, i work here. Penelope Garcia.”

She held her hand out, and you shook her hand.

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

The doors to the elevator opened, and you stood in front of them, letting Garcia have some time to gather her things so she could leave.

Once she was out you stepped out.

“Thank you so much! Have fun with your uncle!”

“Thank you!”

You offered her a half wave, and you made your way through the bullpen, looking around.

It wasn’t hard to spot your uncle, you were raised on hood fashion, and his suits stood out, as well as his hair style.

He was stood with a few other people, you assumed his team.

There was one who caught your eye though, he seemed to glance over but didn’t think much about you being there and looked away.

He looked about your age, maybe a little older, honestly he looked nothing like an FBI agent either, you would expect him to maybe be a therapist or something of the sort.

You would’ve never have guessed FBI if you saw him out in public, and you had to admit he was pretty good looking.

Normally you didn’t look at men that way, you weren’t all that sure you even looked at women that way, but there was something about him.

You snapped out of your daze, watching as his team walked away and you walked over to your uncle, standing next to him.

You turned your attention back to the man that you were looking at.

You were just captivated by him.

You couldn’t deny that you found him attractive, you had thought that about a few guys over the year but you always brushed it off, never thought too much about it.

“I think I might be gay.”

Rossi spun around, staring at you with wide eyes, hand over his gun.

“You’re here?!”

He paused for a second.

“You what?”

You smiled brightly, taking a step so you could crush your uncle into a hug, and he gave you a hug just a tightly.

“When did you get back?” He asked.

You pulled away, pulling your sleeve up so you could check your watch before letting it fall back down.

“About two hours ago, I stopped to get something to eat first because I was dying for some good food.”

Rossi chuckled, nodding his head.

“I don’t blame you one bit kiddo, how are you? Are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m okay. I’m not hurt, a few close calls but that’s war. I’m on leave now for a couple of weeks before I’m needed back.”

He nodded again, pulling out a seat and you sat down, waiting for him to drag another one over.

You ran a hand through your hair, rolling up your sleeves.

“I was hoping maybe I could stay with you?” You grinned a little.

“Of course, you know my door is always open for you. We’re actually having dinner at mine tonight, join us, you could use the break.”

Laughing, you grinned a little.

“Oh I know, I’m exhausted. Honestly if I go to bed I feel like I’m just going to sleep for days.”

Rossi hummed a little bit.

“So, tell me what you can about your deployment.”

This was the protective side of your uncle coming out, he wanted to know exactly what had happened out there because he knew how hard it could be.

And it wasn’t your first time being deployed, but he would rather share in your pain and sadness than have you go through it all alone.

You glanced around at the few curious eyes looking at you.

“Can we maybe discuss it somewhere privet?”

“Come on, we’ll go to my office.”

You put your chair back, picking up your bag as you followed him up the stairs and into his office.

You spent a while in there just talking to him, sharing with him what you were allowed to, nothing about the missions you did, or some of the things you had to do, which he understood.

But everything else you were able to share with him, from normal day to day life, that time you fell asleep in the sun and badly burnt your back, the daft little game you and your squad came up with.

You told him all about those.

“I see you made the most of it.”

“You’ve got to right? Anything to keep spirits up?”

Rossi hummed, nodding his head.

“Well, how about we get some lunch, I’ll take you home you can get some rest, I’ll wake you up when dinner is ready.”

“That sounds like the life.”

Rossi chuckled, picking up your bag for you and let you leave his office first.

“Let me talk to Aaron, wait here for me.”

You nodded, letting him leave your bag for you.

Leaning on the railing, you looked down at his team again and found your eyes drifting to the same man once more.

You just stood there looking at him, and finally he looked up so you offered him a little grin and a salute.

He blinked, and offered you a confused wave which made you laugh a little, grinning slightly more.

You heard a door open, and you glanced to your side, getting up to follow your uncle who had once again taken your bag.

“I’d like you to quickly meet everybody.”

There was a round of quick introductions before you headed for the lift.

“So, Reid huh?

“Oh my god Dave don’t.”

He smirked a little.

“Come on, boy wonder isn’t that bad. Smart, polite. Can’t go wrong.”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

You stepped into the elevator, trying to close the doors on your uncle but it didn’t work.

“Hey, I’m not saying anything.”

“Uh huh.”

It went quiet for a second.

“He’s going to be at the dinner.”

“Oh my god…”

You ran a hand down your face, and you tried to hide your laughter.

You weren’t sure if what you were feeling was real or not, but the sound of Reid being at that dinner did sound fun, maybe it would encourage you a little more to go.

Just to be friends with them all, nothing more, you had to remind yourself of that.

Just to make friends with them all and finally get to know them, and maybe sneak a few more glances at Reid while you were at it

[juneknight]

Giving Thanks

Cute little Thanksgiving themed blurb featuring DRM for the girlies in the roleplay discord and A most of all.

About this: Marc spending Thanksgiving alone in the dorms? Not on your watch.

Immersivity: Reader is AFAB though physically undescribed and unnamed. She does attend college and does have a family which celebrates Thanksgiving in typical American fashion.

*

You’re not supposed to be here. 

Using your badge to get into the dorms is easy. Catching Marc when he is in the dorm room is harder. He was prone to melancholy, and his melancholy made him prone to wandering: the university pathways between buildings, the library, the baseball field. Before he had moved into  your dorm room, he was almost never at his own. 

Though you had invited (begged) him to come home with you for Thanksgiving, he had insisted on staying behind at the dorms. You knew his home life was complicated, his emotional connection to the word ‘family’ just as complex, so you hadn’t pushed him, even if leaving him alone during a holiday was painful. 

Staring at the mountains of leftovers your family always left behind after Thanksgiving lunch, you had decided on the spur of the moment that there was no way you were going to let Marc spend this day alone. Taking two disposable muffin tins, you had piled them both full of different foods, creating a classic American Thanksgiving smorgasbord: turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, fresh whipped cream and more. 

Technically, you weren’t supposed to be in the dorms—not after you had signed your waiver stating you would be away for the holidays–but fuck, it would be worth it to see Marc’s face. It would be worth it to see him, to wrap your arms around him in a hug, to see him light up the way he always seemed to when you were around—

“What are you doing here?” 

You whirl around, nearly upending the muffin tins when Marc’s voice calls out from behind you just outside your dorm room door. He’s wearing his winter coat, the thick boots that keep his feet warm while he stomps his way across the cold pavement. A beanie is tugged low over his head, curls peeking out against his forehead and ears. His cheeks are flushed a little beneath his typical tan skin. 

“Have you been following me?” you ask. 

“Ever since you got out of your car. I was just coming back from the library and I saw you, you little sneak.” 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” you blurt out, holding out the muffin tins. His eyes fall to them, and something in his gaze goes warm. 

“You…brought me lunch,” he says. 

*

You end up as lunch.

The muffin tins and their contents are growing cool while Marc spreads you out on the table with the mismatched chairs (half yours and half his own, like a little blended family that you had joint custody of). He peels off your boots and socks and pulls down your leggings, spreading your thighs out as wide as your body allows, til your pussy is exposed to the cool air of the dorm. 

Then he eats you—and Marc is a messy eater. He eats your pussy without any sense of shame, no embarrassment at the sounds his mouth makes (nor any cruel amusement in the sounds your own body makes) as he works you over with lips, tongue, and teeth. Sweet Marc always starts with his lips: pecks against your thighs and vulva that turn into wet, sucking kisses, his tongue slipping between your folds and pressing in deep against your entrance like you’re leaking honey and not just slick. His smooth jaw works against you, stimulating your sensitive sex while he latches his lips over your clit and sucks, soft and sweet. It is all remarkably rushed for the likes of Marc (who usually drags sex out into a marathon-performance instead of a sprint), but you hardly mind when your muscles tense, thighs shaking from how far apart they are spread as you soak his face and the table with your orgasm. 

“Oh my god,” you slur, trembling like a leaf. You can’t stop shaking as he stands, his hands falling to his belt. The soft clink as he undoes it instills a Pavlovian response in you, and even though you have just cum, you ache with emptiness. 

“Want to fuck you,” he mutters, jaw still wet with your slick. “Can I?” 

“God, yes.” 

“Hold yourself open.” 

You reach down and spread the lips of your pussy open, watching with a watering mouth as he works his pants and underwear down just beneath his cock. Fuck, his boots are still on. Why is that so sexy? 

With his hands on your thighs, he drags you to the edge of the table. Marc leans over you, cock nudging at your entrance when he plants his palms on the oak. He watches your expression as the fat head of him splits you open. He likes to see the way your mouth goes slack, your eyes roll back, your nails scramble for purchase against the smooth wood. 

“So good to me, bringing me food,” he mutters, curls brushing your forehead when he leans down to kiss you. “Bringing me this pretty pussy. How’d you know I was hungry? How’d you know how bad I missed you?”  

“It’s–It’s–Th-Th-Thanksgiv—oh my fucking god, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You dissolve, the subtle height the table provides you pressing him against all your most sensitive spots. At the apex of each thrust, his pubic bone grinds against your clit, still buzzing from his tongue. 

“This is me giving thanks,” Marc says, laughing breathily at his own joke, each word punctuated by a thrust that you feel all the way in your guts.

[buttercupfiction]

first impressions - the Companion

hey y'all! sorry for the radio silence, i've just been awfully busy lately, but i did promise you the ro povs, so here's the second one! hope you enjoy~

-

Shoot, shoot, shoot.

He's running late.

He was supposed to be back at the Guild half an hour ago, to greet Bellamy's sibling, but the woman he was helping out was just so chatty, and he didn't have the heart to tell her he needed to be somewhere else. She's just so alone in that big old house, her children and grandchildren having moved to the capital, and she insisted he stayed for tea; what else could he do but accept?

And if that means he'll keep some people waiting, then sue him. He knows how bad loneliness can be.

Though thankfully, this isn't anything official, and he had planned it so they meet some time before Kait's available, so there's still a margin for error.

He slows his pace when he reaches the Guild's compound, trying to appear less winded than he is; first impressions are important, and he doesn't want it to look like he just ran here. ...Even though he kind of did.

Passing next to the entrance, he can see Cal and Selene chatting inside, but there's no sign of the person he's expecting. Only when he goes a bit farther down the street can he see them standing under the awning of a building nearby, looking at their reflection in one of the windows.

Okay. Now don't screw this up.

He casually approaches them, stopping a polite distance away, and calls them out by their name.

They turn around, and–

'Oh wow, they're stunning,' the thought comes unbidden to his mind, and he seems to experience a momentary lapse of motor functions, as he just stands there, blinking at them.

Thankfully, they've interpreted his blatant staring as confusion, so they answer him with a "Yeah, that's me."

Shaking off the strange feeling that took over for a moment there, he smiles at them, doing his best to be friendly and put them at ease.

Perhaps he could try a joke?

"Oh good! It'd be awkward if it turned out I just jumped a random stranger on the street, haha..."

Ookay, no, that's worse, that makes him sound like some maniac who assaults people on the street. Ugh, he should just skip to introducing himself and welcoming them to the city.

He acutely aware of their eyes on him as he does just that, scrutinizing him, and he can feel the anxiety creeping up on him. Even more so once they ask if he's actually a member of the Guild.

"Uh, yeah?" Was that not...clear?

Did he give them a reason to doubt him?

...Or does he just seem that pathetic?

His hand goes to the badge on his belt instinctually, almost worried it's not going to be there and he'll look like a fool trying to explain himself. Luckily, he finds it exactly where it's supposed to be, and while that's reassuring, they're still looking at him in confusion.

Should he elaborate? Or would that come across as condescending..?

Ugh, he'll just leave the explanations to Kait.

But before they go see her, he should apologize for making them wait this long. Really, as far as first impressions go, he's making a bad one.

(the rest is up on patreon~)

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S04E12 - No Man Is An Island - Part C

Again, bargaining a lot on this man's conscience. Cops aren't these moral beings, they are humans that have been given a gun and badge, and with that gun and badge comes power. Give most humans power and you'll see what happens. Spoiler alert: It's usually bad. And yeah, in this case Joe will convince Nigel to do the right thing but that's not how it would have gone in most cases.

And then he even saves Henry's life. Whatever.

lol

Rex is our play. Always and forever.

*chanting* More of this. More of this. More of this.

"Is that what you call backup? Two cops and a dog?" Well, we didn't exactly have a SWAT team ready on your ten-people island, sir.

"And I didn't even get my fur wet."

How we go from this to, "I owe it to myself to see where [the thing with Michael] goes", I don't know.

You'd literally left your gun behind you, Joe.

Cue the heartbreak. Oh, Charlie. Why can't you open your mouth?

"My ship just crashed in the rocks."

"After being so wrapped up in... work... for so long". Why are you lying? That's not what was happening. You had pretty much inserted yourself into Charlie's life (what we saw, anyway), which is not the best phrase I can pick since I don't mean to imply it was unwelcome, and when that seemed to be leading somewhere, you pulled away. Of course, I can concoct a theory that Sarah couldn't see it leading anywhere, but as an audience we did see it slowly leading somewhere. So which is it?

You can see Charlie masking his initial disappointment in seconds. He wanted to talk about that almost kiss, he believed that they could have an honest discussion but as soon as Sarah told him that, he either thought she didn't feel the same way or that she had been conflicted and she chose Michael anyway. In either case, he wasn't going to make it difficult for her, so he chose to lie too.

Alexa, play "I Love the Way You Lie".

Jesse, you are a pathological cockblocker. Although these two are doing fine on their own, too.

You... stupid... ugh!!! Stop showing her the opposite of what you feel!

And you can see Charlie beating himself up for not opening his mouth here. Which, you know, if people weren't convinced before that he was LYING, they should be now. It's not exactly a micro-expression.

I don't know how I can feel sad for him and at the same moment want to wring his neck. Why are you sentencing yourself to misery?

Doesn't everyone stare longingly at their platonic friend as they're leaving for a trip with someone else?

I enjoy this episode every time. I think I watched it quite a bit before they got together too. Yes, it's angsty. Yes, someone should have played "Say Something" in that last scene. Like, come on, what are you going to spend money on, another explosion? Give me something to get me to my knees. I'm an angst whore, especially when I can see where this is heading. And I actually did enjoy the journey this time, because a few other times in other instances I confess that I hadn't (see Castle).

They actually surprised me by talking about the almost kiss moment at all. I thought they'd just ignore it. Not that they were honest about what they wanted at all but it was something. And I don't know if that was a disappointing turn for some, I honestly don't really remember how the comments skewed for this episode. For me, it was always obvious that they chose to ignore their feelings there.

I'm glad they didn't kiss in the island, given Charlie's feelings for cheating. I don't think he would have wanted to be the reason Sarah would have to deal with those messy feelings and extra guilt. And while Sarah had been swept up in the moment, I know she wouldn't have wanted it to be like that either. Although, maybe then we'd have gotten to see their first kiss *grumble*

I think part of the mistrust about whether the writers were actually willing to go there came from the fact that this show is so very much episodic and up to a point there's not much progression or continuity. Again, Peter Mitchell did a lot of things on that front in the span of two seasons, for this show anyway. But the ground work for Charah comes mostly from S3. Not that there weren't moments (a lot of them) in the first couple of seasons. There are. But they didn't seem to lead anywhere.

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

So many RiD01 requests, I'm in heaven~ Thank you @hotshotsgirl26 and here is part one!

Continuity: RiD01

Characters: Side Burn, Railspike

Requests | AO3

“That jerk… That complete and utter half-clocked piston head!” Side Burn stopped to let out a long, loud scream of frustration, and then flopped backward in the grassy field he’d been traipsing through to glare up at the cheerful blue sky decorated with fluffy white clouds, his lower lip stuck out in a pout.

Prowl had gone too far this time. How dare he accuse Side Burn of not taking his position as an Autobot seriously?! Imply disloyalty, even! Just because he got sidetracked occasionally with little red sports cars… It wasn’t like Side Burn wasn’t doing his job! He always pulled through when push came to shove! And he knew how to prioritize! Prowl was just a stiff who didn’t know how to have fun, so liked to wreck it for everyone else! There was nothing wrong with what he was doing!

His thoughts would have continued down this train of thought a bit more… however an actual train suddenly loomed over him, casting a shadow over him and blocking his view of the sky. Railspike, specifically, had stepped into his line-of-sight and was peering down at him curiously. “Now what’s a car like you doing in a field like this?” the old mech mused.

“I’m not slacking off!” Side Burn snapped impatiently. “This is downtime! I’m allowed to go where I please!”

Railspike raised his hands in surrender before slowly lowering himself to crouch on his legs and put himself closer to Side Burn’s level. “Easy there, sport. I’m not sayin’ any of that,” he soothed. “Just saw ya while I was rolling between jobs. Ya sounded revved up over somethin’. Was wondering if there’s anything I can do to help.”

The blue Autobot brother huffed and considered telling the train bot to just go about his day and leave him alone, but Railspike had made the effort to stop what he’d been doing out of genuine concern for Side Burn’s mood. Noting this, his expression eased up slightly and his tone softened as he addressed his fellow Autobot. “You’re sure you don’t have anything better to do?”

“The station can keep their timetable without me,” the train bot reassured, moving to have a seat beside the sulking bot and turning his head to peer down at him with his full attention. “Now, what can ol’ Railspike do for you?”

“Think you could teach my stick-in-the-mud brother how to lay off?” Side Burn suggested bitterly.

“Another fight, huh?” Railspike put together. “The red sports car thing?”

“He said I’m neglecting my duties! Shirking my work!” the blue Autobot exclaimed with exasperation. “Even said that if I’m not taking my job seriously that I should just hand in my badge to Prime! It’s not like the big guy has any issues with my work or how I do it! It’s just Prowl! And T.A.I., I guess— But this is about Prowl!”

“That does sound a bit harsh,” the older mech admitted. “You’re a goof, sure, but—”

“Gee, thanks…”

“But I’ve never questioned your dedication to the cause,” Railspike finished, ignoring Side Burn’s sarcastic remark. “We all got our own ways of givin’ to the Autobot cause. Just ‘cause you don’t do it the way Prowl does it, don’t mean you don’t care.”

“Exactly!” the younger mech exclaimed, pushing himself to sit up and gesture at Rail Spike with energetic agreement. “You get it! The boss mech gets it! So why can’t he?!”

“You’re both young bots with lots of lessons to learn. Give it time,” the train bot soothed, gently motioning for him to cool his jets. “He’ll figure out how to loosen up, you two will compromise, and everything will be smooth.”

“That’ll be the day… Still… I appreciate it, Railspike,” Side Burn thanked, giving him a faint smile. “I’m still kind of frustrated, but it helped to get all that off my plating and hear that I’m not just living in my head, you know?”

Railspike nodded with a knowing grin. “Trust me, I get how it goes. I’ve bore witness to enough arguments between Midnight Express and Rapid Run.”

“They’re just as bad, huh? Yeah, I can see that,” the Autobot brother chuckled.

“Both sides got points, but usually it’s just that they’re too caught up in how they personally do things that they can’t stand the thought of it being done any other way,” the old mech mused. “Takes an open mind to get anywhere when everyone’s got different personality chips.”

Side Burn’s expression turned into one of deep thought upon hearing this take. “An open mind, huh?” he echoed softly, running through his and Prowl’s argument again. …Maybe there was something he could take away in there. Just maybe. He’d have to do some serious thinking about it, though.

“Fuel for thought,” Railspike said, suddenly pushing himself to his feet. “You enjoy your break, little buddy. I’ve gotta head off now.”

“Oh, sure thing, Railspike,” the young bot uttered as he snapped out of his thoughts to watch the bullet train walk away. “Thanks again!”

“Any time,” he called over his shoulder as he strode away.

Side Burn laid back down and stared up at the clouds drifting through the sky, going back to his thoughts. “An open mind, huh?” he murmured. He could probably do that. It could help him figure out why Prowl was such a stiff about things. “…Yeah. I can do that,” he decided.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Paper Moon: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: A case brings you back to someone you let go once before. Now, you have a decision to make: let her go again or kill her. Whatever option that will piss the Winchesters off, right?

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

"Yeah, Barker and I have been raising hell, chasing tail, and riding for a long time. Part of him always knew when his clock ran out, it wasn't gonna be pretty. To go out like that? By some animal? It just ain't right."

"Do you mind telling us what went down?" Dean asks as you slide into the booth next to him.

"It was just another party, you know? Barker went out back, and the next thing I knew, everyone was yelling and screaming because he was all torn up."

"The sheriff mentioned you thought there might've been a girl involved. Do you think she was killed, too?"

"Nope," Tommy shakes his head.

"There was no girl?"

"Couldn't say."

"You do know we're not cops, right?" you say and take a sip of your drink.

"A badge is a badge."

"I have ways of getting you to talk, and you're not gonna like them. So, I suggest you better tell us what you saw."

"What?"

"Don't listen to her," Dean says quickly and kicks your leg underneath the table. "What she means is that we work outdoors, and we've seen some crazy things. You know, things that we can't explain. Things that we wouldn't have believed had we not seen it together."

"Well, you don't have to live in this town, mister. You don't have to deal with the ridicule."

"I'm just saying that crazy might not be half as crazy as you think."

"So, if someone were to tell you they saw a ghost, you'd believe that?" Tommy asks hesitantly.

"Just assume we believe everything."

"Okay. The other night, I was taking a ride past the old Sturges farm. You know, thinking about the rides me and Barker used to go on. I saw her, man."

"Saw who?"

"The girl."

"After the attack?"

"Hell, yeah. She was just standing there, all bloody, and watching me. So, I turned the hell around and ran back thinking she could have killed me. I looked back and she was gone. Like, gone-gone."

"Like a ghost," Sam says.

"Yeah. I don't give one red cent in hell what the cops say. She was there. She was eaten. She's a fucking ghost."

If Tommy says there is a ghost there, then that's the place that Sam and Dean are going to next. They wait until the sun has gone completely down because that's the likely time when the ghost will come out... if there is one. The farm is desolate and quiet when you arrive, and you get out of the car with your gun in hand.

"Ghosts don't shred people like the way Barker was. You know, if what Tommy says is true."

"Yeah, well, it looks like this fleabag isn't done chowing down on men yet."

"Guess she likes bad boys."

"Wait until she gets a laid of us," Dean smirks.

"God, you two talk too much. Move," you scoff and push past them to walk ahead of them.

"This isn't normal," Sam whispers.

"Tell me about it."

You approach the abandoned barn with caution and turn to the brothers. You motion for Sam to go around the back while you and Dean enter through the front. Sam sighs and does as he's told so that it's just you and Dean. You open the barn door carefully and walk inside before Dean can say anything to you.

There are several dead chickens scattered on the ground and several deep scratches across the surface of the wood. You and Dean quickly and efficiently search the interior with your flashlights. Something scuttles in the darkness so you two turn off your lights to hide from it. That scuttle turns into someone speaking quietly as if there are people around to hear it. You open a door quietly and look inside to see a young woman with her back turned to you. She's on the phone, and guessing by her tone, she's leaving a voicemail.

"Stop ignoring my calls. Pick up the phone and call me right now. This isn't how it's supposed to go. Look, I've been down this road before and I'm not going to--"

She stops talking abruptly and sniffs the air. Shit, she smells you and Dean. She immediately runs away from you and Dean, but you two are hot on her trail. She yanks open the back door and runs into Sam who has his gun pointed at her. He is about to shoot her when he recognizes her.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks. Sam turns the woman around and you and Dean stop in your tracks. "Kate?"

Kate is the werewolf you let go two years ago when her friend turned her just so he could be with her. She killed him and left the video they recorded to show how she became a werewolf. Sam and Dean take her and tie her to a chair so they can question her without her going anywhere.

"I know who you three are."

"Congratulations," you roll your eyes.

"After what happened at school, I thought you'd let me go."

"That was before you started dropping bodies."

"What?" she asks, confused.

"The guy at the bar saw you before you went all Wolverine on his friend. Surprise. Here we are."

"Kate, you said you were gonna go straight. What happened?" Sam sighs.

"I guess things change. Being this... I tried to be strong, but the hunger was too much. Too hard. It's not like anyone gave me a handbook on how to be a werewolf."

"You're lying," you say and lean against one of the wooden pillars.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I was on my own. I evolved."

"That's what you call killing innocent people?" Sam asks.

"Whatever you're gonna do, just do it."

Sam and Dean exchange looks before the older brother takes out his gun and points it at Kate. He hesitates because he remembers his time as a demon and how he killed for the fun of it. Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and gestures for him to the side to talk. You walk with the brothers to hear what they're saying. As soon as you turn from her, Kate starts trying to get out of the binds.

"Let me do it."

"Why?"

"I think you should sit this one out."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not ready, Dean." Sam's phone rings and Dean turns to Kate who stops moving. "Hello?"

"Warden, we had another animal attack over at the high school gymnasium. The guy was a security guard. Same M.O. as the other three."

"When?"

"The Deputy said the victim's blood was still warm when he got there, so had to be less than an hour ago."

"Okay, thank you. I'll be in touch." Sam hangs up. "We got a problem."

"Besides from Werewolf Barbie over there"

"Yeah. There was another kill, across town, just before dark."

"How did Kate murder that guy and get back here bef--" Sam shrugs and gives him a look. "You don't think she did it."

"I don't know man, but as far as I'm concerned--"

"Oh, my God. Let me do it," you roll your eyes and turn to Kate.

You raise your gun and shoot at her just as her ties snap off. She ducks right before the bullet can reach her, and she runs out of the barn as fast as she can. You get off two more shots but both miss. Damn, you're rusty.

"Damn it!" Dean shouts.

"Maybe if you two had stopped chatting like twelve-year-old girls, Kate would be dead right now and we could move on with our lives."

There is no way Kate is coming back here now, so there is no need to stick around. You three head back to the Impala.

"If she's not icing people, then why play the big bad wolf?" Dean asks.

"Maybe she's running with a pack? You know, trying to protect them?"

"That's a hell of a price to pay. She was about two seconds away from taking a dirt nap."

Dean takes out a phone that's clearly not his. This one is pink with jewels on the back of it.

"Did you steal her phone?" you ask.

"Yeah. Let's see who she was booty calling when we pulled up."

Dean presses the redial option and places it on speakerphone so you all can hear.

"Thank you for calling the Lincoln Motel. Can I help you?"

Dean hangs up once he knows where she's going. You three pile into the car and Dean speeds off to the motel that's not far from the abandoned farm.

"So, what's this about me not being ready back there?" Dean asks as he drives.

"I'm -- I wasn't trying to start something, Dean. I was just saying, I thought that was the whole point of us taking a break. You know?"

"I get that, and there are no worries there. What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you ready?"

"Why wouldn't I be ready?" Sam asks defensively.

"Lester."

"Lester? Are you serious?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to stay something either." You roll your eyes but keep quiet in the back seat. "I'm just saying, maybe we oughta talk about that."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Okay."

"Okay."

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence before Dean continues.

"I just figured, since we're opening up veins that maybe you'd want to talk about the guy who you made sell his soul."

"The guy you then killed, right? I mean, that's the same guy we're talking about?"

"I was a demon."

"Oh, you were a demon? Oh, I didn't realize that," Sam says sarcastically.

"Hey, man, Lester was gonna pay for that soul shake sooner or later. So, technically, it's still on you."

"What do you want from me, Dean? I'm not happy about it, okay? I needed to find you. So if I had to bend a few rules--"

"You mean 'go dark'."

"Sure. Label it if you want."

"Look, I'm not complaining, okay? In fact, I'm doing just the opposite of complaining. Between Lester and the others..."

"There weren't others," Sam says defensively.

"Okay. Either way, maybe we both needed that time off." Dean looks at his brother who just rolls his eyes. "This is good."

"Yeah, okay."

"You do know how pathetic you two sound, right?" you speak up. "Who cares if you were a demon or if you were looking for your brother? You're both terrible people."

"Like you're any better," Dean says.

"Oh, I am. I'm not the one who murdered dozens because I wanted to. Man, it feels good to finally see you two in a new light. There is nothing appealing about either of you. You're both whining and complaining about how you can't do a simple hunt. Boo hoo. Life is tough. Get a helmet. At least stop talking about it," you scoff.

Sam and Dean look at each other and decide not to comment on this. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Dean pulls up to the motel and parks in a spot where he can watch the rooms through the three mirrors on his car. That's where you three stay for the rest of the night until sunup. No one of interest comes in and out of the motel so Sam goes inside the lobby area to talk to the worker.

"Alright," Sam says when he returns to the car, "the clerk says a blonde rolled into room three just before sunup."

"Was she alone?"

"He thinks so."

The door to room three opens and a blonde petite woman leaves the room. Kate locks the door and walks down the sidewalk, careful not to bring any attention to herself.

"She's on the move," Dean says.

x

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[themultifandomgal]

Will-Meeting Him

I'm out shopping at Target with my daughter Ella who is doll crazy. She wants me to have a baby so she can be a big sister, but since I have split up from Ella's dad that won't be happening anytime soon. Holding my hand I feel Ella tug at me

"Momma can we get some candy?"

"Hmm a little but your not going to eat it all tonight ok?"

"Ok momma" I push the cart down the isle and see Ella's dad

"YN?" I try to turn the cart around but he stops it "so this is my baby"

"No she's my baby. You chose to leave us"

"Momma who's that?"

"I'm your daddy, come here" he opens his goes to take my daughters hand, one thing you do not do is mess with a mom and her baby

"Don't touch her" I pick Ella up

"Aww mommy's being selfish, she wants you all to herself" I hold her tighter to me

"You know full well that you are not allowed contact with her or me so leave" Ella's dad tries to take her out my arms causing a scene where my daughter is crying. He's got hold of her wrist which scares me to death

"Mummy no he's hurting me mummy get him off"

"Hey I don't know who you are or what the circumstances are but that little girl is scared and is saying you are hurting her so I suggest you let her go and you turn around now before I arrest you for harassment" I look over to see a two guys walking over one of them holding up a badge to show that he is a cop

"Who's this your new boyfriend I always knew you were a slut. The kids probably not even mine" he turns away and I sigh while Ella is crying in my arms

"Are you ok?" The cop asks me

"Momma he hurt me" Ella cries into my neck

"Want me to take a look? I'm a Doctor at Chicago Med" before I can respond Ella sticks her arm out that hurts "I'm Will by the way. This is my brother Jay"

"YN. And this is Ella. Thank you for helping us"

"It's all part of the job"

"I'm fwee years old"

"So your a big girl then?" Will says, he's kinda cute but I got my daughter to look after "well I think your wrist will be ok, but maybe your mom can put some ice on it when you get home

"I will thank you again for what you did"

"Momma can we get a doll?"

"No not today baby"

"Hopefully we will see you around" Jay says waving

Ella and I continue shopping

"Ok Ella do you want chocolate crunch or cinnamon crunch?" when Ella doesn't respond I turn around, panic settling in "Ella? Ella?"

Abandoning my cart I start running down all the isles. Finally I find her in the arms of Will also looking down isles

"Will she's over here" Jay calls his brother noticing my panicked face

"Ella!" I run over to Will and take her from him "thank you. Ella please don't do that again"

"I'm sowy momma I just wanted a dolly" taking in a deep breath I put her in the cart and look back at Will and Jay "I'm so sorry if she bothered you, but thank you for bringing her back"

"No not at all she's cute. So this may seem odd but I was wondering whether I could get your number?" I blush

"Erm sure" I get out my phone and give him my number

"I'll text you" he says as he puts his phone in his pocket I smile at him

"Will are you going to ask my mummy for food?" Ella asks causing all of us to laugh

"You know what I might. And maybe you could come with us?"

"Momma can we?"

"Maybe one day but for now we need to go find our food and pay for it"

"Ok momma"

"See you soon YN, Ella Jay ruffles her hair "don't run off again like that I think you scared your momma"

"I sowy"

"I know baby I know you are"

[thesassywitchofthenortheast]

Another idea has come to me….

In 5x11, when Lucy goes to the domestic call and Kira holds the gun at her… what if she did end up getting shot (like not in a shes gonna way) and then get taken to the hospital.

Meanwhile Tim, Angela, Nyla and Aaron are dealing with the drug situation and have no idea what’s happening.

Grey obviously is informed about what happened to Lucy and when Tim & Co get back from their situation, he calls Tim into his office. Or maybe brings the group over and tells them that Lucy’s been shot and is at Shaw. She’s in surgery but should be okay.

Tim, panics, of course. But tries to keep his cool because he and Lucy are still dating in secret. Angela, with a knowing bit worried smile, makes the suggestion that they head over and be there when she gets out of surgery. Tim agrees and they all get in their cars, Angela in the parking lot stops Tim.

“You’re in no condition to drive, give me your keys.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, Timothy. I know what she means to you”

Tim attempts to argue but she holds her hand up. “You can tell me when you’re ready but just know… I already know. I am the best detective at Midwilshire. I’m also your best friend. You can’t lie to me.”

“Fine.”

They all make it to the hospital in record time, flashing badges and getting to the waiting room. Tim is pacing, everyone is worried. Eventually, the doctors come out give them and update and then say they can see her two and a time when Lucy is out of ICU and in a room.

Tim finally takes a breath, relaxes a little and settles in a seat. With the good news, most everyone leaves, except Angela, Nolan, Celina ans maybe Aaron. They also make sure to call Tamara to come down too.

After what feels like forever, Lucy is in her own room and a nurse comes into the waiting area

“Are any of you a Tim Bradford?”

Every gives a little side eye, but smile as Tim leaps up from his chair.

“That’s me.”

“Lucy is asking for you.” The nurses smiles, “You can follow me.” She starts walking away and Tom early follows.

Once he’s out of earshot the group all look at each other.

“So, are we supposed to keep pretending like we don’t know they’re dating?” Celina makes a face

“Yes. Until they’re ready to tell us, we pretend.” (Someone says this idea who)

“It’s about damn time, though.” (Maybe Aaron says this)

We flip back to Tim walking down the hall, the nurse turning to him once they’re outside Lucy’s room.

“She’ll probably still be tired from the anesthesia and pain meds but she’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you.” Tim hesitates as he reaches for the doorway.

“It was quite sweet, the moment she woke up, the first thing she did was ask for you. Didn’t want you to worry anymore than you already were.”

“That’s Lucy.”

“You can stay as long as you’d like. I can have someone bring in a blanket and pillow for you.”

“I’ll see what she wants first.”

“Sure thing.”

The nurse walks away and Tim takes a deep breath before going into Lucy’s room. Bracing himself because he knows seeing her in pain is going to crush him a little bit.

“Hey.” He smiles as he walks in. Noting how her pretty brown eyes light up when she sees him.

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Getting shot is not fun.”

“It’s not.”

Tim sits in the chair and leans over to take her hand, he kisses her knuckles gently, noting how they’re bruised. Probably from the fight she’d been in (Grey informed him of what happened).

“I was really scared.” She whispers, eyes watering.

“Me, too, Luce.”

“I would have been so mad if I died before we ever really got to be together. A few weeks is not enough.”

“Mhm.” Tim nods, swallowing back his own emotions, because he wants to be strong for her. “You’re okay, now.”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “Did your call go okay?”

“As well as you’d expect.”

“Good.” She nods. Eyes heavy. “I’m tired.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.” She squeezes his hand and closes her eyes.

[starkwub]

(Tw: Starkercest, Peter is 17)

Scientist! Tony and his son peter who's simply a long for the ride of a work day.

Gosh I haven't written this much (or posted, really) for a while--it feels good though to get back into it :)

So much starkercest, ha!

Word count: 2,716

-- -- --

"Pardon my asking Doctor, but who's the new member?" A particularly brute looking general chimed out. His scar riddled, chiseled face was red like a ripe tomato--no doubt from the yelling he'd done just 10 minutes prior in the hall.

Tony hummed and wrapped a loose arm around the boy beside him,

"What does it matter? He's with me, that's all."

The man glared and slapped his hand down on the packet of papers in front of him, as well as in front of every other highly classified personnel sitting around the ovular table.

"It matters because of context, Dr. Stark. What we speak of is classified, confidential, even harmful to the general public as well as the national world if anything in this room gets out." Then came a huff of smokey air from his nose, if it were possible that is.

"--is he even certified? He look's 12."

Tony's lip twitched as he let his fingers caress up and down the boy beside him's navy colored jacket.

"If you really must insist on knowing, he's my son. And he's 17, not 12." he corrected, enjoying the way the generals face contorted even more, looking much more ugly than he already did.

"Why is he here?"

All eyes were on him--well, of the people who were here. The meeting didn't start for another 15 minutes, but he had figured it would be best to show up early in case someone found it within themselves to strike up a conversation. He'd hoped for something a little more interesting though since exasperating authority figures never really did it for him.

"School was out and I didn't want to leave him. Terrible nightmare you see.." Tony cooed and leaned over, pulling the boy closer in order to place a soft kiss atop his head of soft brown curls.

Peter may be 17, but that didn't mean that he wasn't a Daddy's boy. His vigor to retort against anything his father said had left him early on, and thus--here they were. Tony taking care of his precious, smart little boy, and Peter, willingly receiving it.

Tony didn't ever want to give up the power he had because the sweet sickening madness that erupted in him at the idea of Peter growing up--leaving to never return except for on holidays and birthdays..

Well, one birthday to be exact. His own--and perhaps his friends if they are still around town, but that was besides the point.

The point is, Tony liked being needed. He figured if he wasn't, his job and the life he's made up until now would hold very little value--and if the states knew what was good for them, they wouldn't ever want that to happen.

Painted pictures of dystopian worlds passed across the inner workings of his mind, but when he took a deep breath of Peter, it all went away. It always did.

"The kid can be left at home can't he? Mine loves it when me and the wife are out of the house--" and he was becoming bored as the man spoke on further.

"17's old enough to get a job--and 18, well..you know how that goes. Fly the coup and never return..." and the man squinted, no doubt peering at the badge that rested against his son's left breast pocket.

"Isn't that right Peter?"

Tony felt his son stiffen for only a moment as he watched the typing on the screen below the table stop mid-sentence.

Looks like he's texting his friend about his Spanish test coming up..

"Daddy I need to use the bathroom, could you show me the way?"

Tony's ears perked and his stomach lurched in the same way his legs did. Quickly, and automatically at the mere mention of a desire coming from his son's soft lips.

"Of course." He murmured before turning to the blush red general, "I hate to cut this conversation short but I do believe that's my cue."

As they made their way out of the room, a hand of his own placed currently in-between Peter's shoulder blades, he heard the man muttering about his son's particularly dated word choice.

Oh how wonderful it felt to be needed...

"Those men..I don't know how you put up with them Daddy. I knew you said they were annoying but..jeez! How rude.."

Tony chuckled and rubbed his sons back, "Yes well, I have to work with them. They're normally not so rowdy. I think you must be such a star they can't help but notice you." He purred, leaning in close enough to Peter's ear to make him giggle.

"Too pretty." His son started.

"Too good.." he returned, nipping his son's ear with his hot, hard breath as they entered the empty bathroom.

"Now go pee, I can't be late no matter how horrid my workmates can be. The president wouldn't be too pleased at the unprofessional display."

Tony glanced at himself in the mirror and fixed a couple hairs that had fallen out of place. The grey's were much more noticeable, but Peter told him he liked it, so they stayed.

The wrinkles that formed beside his eyes were also more defined than they had been 5 years ago, but Peter said he liked those too. He'd also taken his hand while they were eating dessert with a movie and told him he liked the spots on his hands that signified his age. Told him how much he enjoyed his Dad's old sense of humor and horrid dance moves..

Sniffling, he felt his eye twitch as the memories flooded by. Peter loved him like no other, and he..he couldn't..

"Daddy?" Came Peter's shy, hesitant voice--only this time it was filled with concern.

I'm fine, he thought, but turned to Peter and ushered him towards one of the sinks.

"I'm fine, don't worry." He reassured, standing now right behind his precious boy as the sink water flowed.

Peter pressed back into him suddenly, leaving him to be a bit shocked, but he tried to act unfazed.

his boy was also always so..touchy. It wasn't like he'd ever complain, but the way he spoke sometimes..

The way he'd taken to adjusting himself way too many times during their last movie night. It had gotten a bit..heated on his end. It was a physical reaction though--nothing out of the ordinary.

"Mm..Daddy.." Peter practically moaned, letting his hands rest in the hot water that was slowly turning his son's hands red. Tony reached out, grabbing them with his much larger pair, and pulled them away before they could start to hurt.

"What is it baby?"

Peter seemed to think as he swayed on his feet, body pressed against Tony's, and his eye's half lidded.

"Can we get ice cream after this before we head back to the lab?"

How peculiar, though he had no reason to say no, so he didn't. He couldn't ever seem to find the two letter word in his vocabulary when it came to his sweet precious boy.

That smile..and the adorable little noises and flush that fell over his son's cheeks was to die for.

They eventually made it back into the room 5 minutes before the meeting was due to start, and he was glad to see that the general didn't have enough heat inside of him to utter anything else.

Well, except for 'thank you', but that was his job--not anything particularly personal.

-- --

"Thank you for the ice cream Daddy.."

Tony spared a glance over at his son who was currently devouring his double scooped chocolate hazelnut, and smiled. How precious he was in moments like these. The shine in his eye and the way the chocolate seemed to always make its way all and around his mouth. He loved it to no end, and that was somehow still an understatement.

"Of course baby. Can't say no now can I?"

Had he ever?

"Can uh.." and the voice sounded nervous which only inclined for Tony to want to know more.

"Can I sit in your lap?"

The request was stark and strange to his ears, as he hadn't ever heard it before-or at least in well over a decade. Peter? In his lap?

Tony glanced down at the space between him and the steering wheel, and remembered the same elated feeling he'd been filled with when his son had practically worked his way up against him during movie night.

He reached to his side and heard the soft, familiar hum of his seat inching back to create more space. Tony wasn't doing it without knowing if his boy would fit though--no no no, he'd had one too many delectable women in his lap before.

Within the past couple years not as much though, for reasons unbeknownst to him still, but that was neither here nor there.

"Sure Pete, put your ice cream on the dashboard so it doesn't spill."

His heart thudded when his son began to move--skittish and awkward, but move nonetheless.

He grunted from the pressure of a boy resting on his, but soon was facing his boy head on. knee on either side of him--and a hand resting on his shoulder while he turned to grab his cup full of ice cream. Tony had never been a fan of the cones in the car. Too messy..too unpredictable.

Much like his son was right now come to think of it.

Tony hummed and took a few spoonfuls into his mouth when he spotted Peter staring--more than he usually did.

"Something wrong? Ice cream on my face or something?" He questioned, and suddenly looked down to find a hand resting against his side.

"And don't drip any of that on my suit--I can't be running home to get a new one, okay?"

"What about your change at the lab?--"

Tony eye'd him with a quirked brow in unison, "The one at the lab's for the lab, you know this."

Peter nodded and leaned back against the wheel behind him--momentarily puzzling Tony as to how the horn wasn't doing off. Perhaps they were just lucky because whatever entities from above knew that he didn't want a lick of attention on him right now.

This feeling he had..which was pounding harder and harder every second that his son was on his lap, was strange to say the least. It left him twitchy, and with a hot collar he wanted to loosen.

Perhaps he needed to get laid if physical touch such as this was getting him bothered. Perhaps even more, he should've said no.

No..what a blunt word. He often pondered it at night when he had the sudden urge to sneak into his son's room at night, or when he wanted to hide him away in their fancy, yet moderately normal looking home, never to be seen again.

When he wanted to wrap him up and kiss him for doing so good--or when he wanted even more to hit him when he'd been bad.

There were a lot of thing's Tony said no to.

Tony took another bite of cold coffee flavored ice cream, wishing dearly that it might soothe the growing heat within himself.

The urge to grab--to touch--to rip and pry..

He took another bite and licked his spoon in the process.

To see tears in those precious dark-brown bambi eyes.

"Daddy?" Came the familiar voice of concern yet again, now knocking him out of whatever deep seated monstrous thoughts he'd just been having.

"Yes dear?"

Peter squirmed a bit, and put his delicate hand on his belly, making Tony's breath startle just a tad.

"I know you said some of the lab techs make fun of you for having a dad bod but..I think it's nice." The boy smiled out, his tone light and breezy, innocent as can be.

"I like it."

he chuckled almost immediately after the words were spoken as he took yet another bite, now coming sadly to the end of his dearly beloved treat.

"What?" Peter accused, now pouting around an empty plastic spoon.

"Oh nothing bad sweetheart, I swear. I just think it's sweet how you tell me how much you like things, that's all." He brought his hand innocently up to brush a hair out of the way of his son's face, and hummed deeply.

Peter eye'd him nervously once more, "Do you like it?"

What a wonderfully complex question. To what regard? He wasn't sure. He think's a less than innocent part of himself liked it more than he does right now, but it's all the same, isn't it?

"Oh of course I do. Sometimes I wonder if I like it too much."

Peter shifted again, getting closer to himself as both of their empty ice cream containers now rested in the passenger seat. His arms  quickly wrapped around his hips, digging behind him and grazing against the seat no doubt as Tony felt like one of those sloths on the nature channel.

he felt latched onto--suckered into this strange, new, startling situation in which his son was hugging him, whilst his own cock was in fact, erect in between them.

How peculiar, he thought, as he wrapped his own arms around the sweet boy in front of him.

How glaringly devious of him to ignore the way Peter's breath caught after a subtle movement.

Tony held still, merely letting his body lie still in use of whatever situation was transpiring before him.

"Just.." Peter uttered wetly with another subtle brush, "Just like the videos daddy..Watch em just to i-imagine you."

What a positively corrosive ego boost that was.

"Oh really? Won't you tell me what happens next?" He cooed persuasively, letting his hands continue to merely sooth--now eternally grateful for the illegal tint that he had on his glass.

being the most popular mad scientist of the government world did have its occasional perks. not that it's a popularity contest in the slightest--though he was the smartest.

"T-The daddy he..he's all sweet but..then he.." and Peter whimpers, brushing his erection against his own larger one.

"..he's mean."

Mean, you say?

"With the..um.." and Peter's fingers wrapped around and tugged at Tony's belt, making he himself shiver at the possibility.

Such a perfect deviant.

"Would you like it if Daddy hit you with the belt Peter? Have you been a bad boy recently?"

Peter shuddered, a cry reaching out from his throat to take hold of his soothingly harsh worlds as he nodded against Tony's shoulder.

"U-uh huh.."

Tony let out a gentle breath, followed by a subtle hummed grunt.

"And what is it that you did, to make you so terribly deserving of such a punishment?"

"A boy--a-at school. He..I..we kissed behind the school, after class. He'd offered me a cigarette and when I said n-no cause you'd be real mad if I did that..he told me I could get a taste of it from him."

Hm, yes, Tony though, I would be rather upset. Perhaps one of those punk seniors thought to get a handle on his junior year aged son.

He continued to comfort his boy through the subtle cries and soon, even his climax.. now letting his shaking son breath hot puffs of air out against his suit jacket covered shoulder.

Perhaps, Tony thought as he pulled Peter closer, he should've said no. This feeling he had..this loose string of fear from the secret they both now held between them. He wished he could be so oblivious as to think it was okay, but he knew it wasn't. He knew it was dark and twisted--unfavored by the masses, but in moments when the little crying voice in his mind wasn't spewing out regrets, he wondered what life could be like.

"I'm glad you told me what was on your mind..seems like that was a lot to keep in, huh?" A sleepy nod could be felt only making him hold him tighter.

To never touch his boy in ways that were inherently malicious.. but rather to merely allow peter to use him..

Need him..

"I love you baby." he whispered against the head of soft curls, now taking in a deep, soothing breath while kissing the area for good measure.

-- -- --

Tony is definitely dealing with something mentally--but he can't really put his finger on it--and neither can I XD Poor poor Tony..always in so much anguish. Perhaps I should write something a tad bit more cheerful next time, yeah?

Sorry the belt scene isn't in here either-- I wanted to make sure this actually got posted as opposed to sitting in my drafts (like literally so many other things XD) So perhaps Tony wielding a belt will make it's appearance another time?

Hope you all enjoyed that, if you've made it to the end :)

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

A little thing for Father's day.

Tw: child death

Ratchet found him giving first aid to a bot that was already dead.

Little tiny fingers grabbed Ratchet's hand. The battlefield stunk of the chemical warfare the Decepticons used to melt the plating off the Autobots. He had barely been able to coax the little yellow sparkling away from the worst of the contamination before it was too late. His little eyes barely peaked above the filtering system in the gas mask Ratchet had slipped over his head.

The sparkling tugged Ratchet through bombed out alleys and precariously leaning buildings, to a shack built out of bits of metal from a roof.

Inside, whoever the sparkling wanted to see was already dead.

"Awww. Papa Hornet's already gray." The sparkling chirped. "He kept telling me that gray can't be saved, and if he turned gray, to find someone with the grouchy red button. You're even better! Grouchy red button, and medic markings. That's OK, I will find a new papa. That's what I do. I will stay with each Papa until the Papa goes away."

Ratchet was speechless. This kid just admitted to being passed around like a bottle of engex in order to survive.

The kid picked up a few toys and a datapad and stuffed them into his subspace. He then waddled back to Ratchet and took his hand again.

"Hey, kid, can I pick you up?" Ratchet asked.

"Ya huh!" The kid said. "Uppies!"

Ratchet picked the sparkling up, wincing at his creaking joints. He was a lot heavier than he looked, which was better than the alternative.

"What's your name, kid?" Ratchet asked, walking away from the shack. The little one needed a decontamination bath and some energon, and he only had a medical grade on him and enough solvent to clean a wound.

"Papa called me Bee, but my name is Bumblebee." He fluttered his door wings and popped his round little antennas up. He really did look like a bug.

They made it back to base without incident, though there were many stops to have Bumblebee talk and babble at everyone that passed him.

It was a little different when he got to base and the rest of the war frames. He was a bit quieter around the bots that were bigger than Ratchet. All except one.

"Hi!" Bumblebee giggled. "You're so big!" He pointed at Optimus.

Optimus crouched down where he stood, letting himself be eye level with the little yellow sparkling. "Yes, I am big. Is Ratchet going to help you?"

Bumblebee reached for Optimus's auto brand, grabbing on the side of the badge and tugging on it. "Grouchy face!" He giggled, and Optimus offered his hand. Bumblebee took it, and Optimus smiled.

"What's your name, little one?"

"Bumblebee, but you can call me Bee!"

"Well Bee, I have to go to a meeting, but I bet Ratchet has got some energon for you in the medbay."

"Yep, I got First Aid on babysitting duty."

Ratchet brought Bee to the medbay. He was fine, just underfed and in need of a nap.

_____

Optimus was broken.

Bee had just barely celebrated coming into a youngling frame when their current base was attacked.

Megatron ripped off Bee's head with a ferocity he usually reserved for Optimus. He then beat Optimus within an inch of his life and left morale as shattered as the door to the bunker he ripped through as if it was paper.

Optimus refused all but the most necessary medical care, leaving his plating dented and badly scratched.

He started to get paranoid, refusing to see anyone after Bumblebee was taken from him. He had a piece of his plating in his subspace, along with three backup pieces given to people he trusted the most.

It got to the point where even after battles, he couldn't even look at Ratchet, refusing to even be in the same room as him. Engex started to go missing, and empty bottles started popping up in places where the Prime went to get away from the other bots.

Ratchet got desperate and tried something incredibly underhanded.

He still had a few recordings of Bee's voice, mostly of him laughing and saying cute things. Usually swear words he learned from Wheeljack.

Sadly, it worked. With the careful planting of a small bottle of nightmare fuel, Optimus stumbled after the sounds of the sparkling he had claimed as his own as if Bumblebee was playing a long game of hide and seek, not in a component donor box in a back room of the medbay.

It worked until Jazz tried to "help" him by snapping him back to reality and taking the bottle away from him.

He didn't take that well, yanking the bottle back from Jazz and running down the hallway.

He ducked into a mostly empty storage room, backing himself against the wall.

He could hear Jazz and Ratchet talking, but was too drunk to really focus on what they were saying.

Ratchet crouched a ways in front of him and smiled sadly, and Optimus lost it.

"I- I know he's gone but… oh, little Bee… why did you have to leave me?" Optimus sobbed, the almost empty bottle of engex still in his hand. Ratchet made the mistake of coming closer.

Optimus downed the rest of the bottle in a single gulp and threw it at Ratchet's head.

Ratchet ducked, well practiced in dealing with drunk war frames.

He grabbed Optimus's hands, and Jazz snuck behind him and got him with a sedative.

He woke up in the medbay, a cup of plain energon on his bedside table, a few monitors hooked to his plating.

Ratchet walked in a little while later.

"Ratchet? What happened?"

"You weren't doing well. Jazz brought you here so you could be around friends for the night."

"You won't let me leave, will you?" Optimus said, remembering all the times he had said that to other bots.

"No, I can't in good conscience let you leave. I'm sorry, but you need to get a grip on yourself. We are gonna get you sober, then go from there." Ratchet said.

"It's only fair that I help you with this. You did the same with me and my demons. Haven't touched a blade outside of work in a while." Jazz said, helping Optimus sit up.

"Fine. I just want to get back to work."

"Just as long as you aren't replacing a bottle with work or a blade. I made that mistake. I just want to make sure it doesn't become one of yours. Besides, I have something for you."

Jazz took out a locket, and opened it. On one side, two photos, one of him and Elita-1, and one with him and Bumblebee. On the other side, a half circle of each of the deceased bots came together to one whole. Optimus cried. Both of some of the most important people he had lost, all together in one place.

He ran his finger over Bee's plating, and tucked the pocket carefully into his subspace. "Thank you, Jazz." Optimus said.

"It was Ratchet's idea." Jazz admitted.

"Ratchet?" Optimus said. He looked up at his oldest friend with tears in his eyes.

"I couldn't just let you have nothing of them but memories, could I? I had a spare photo of me, you and Elita, so I had Wheeljack scan and alter it so it's just you two. I still have the original, I keep it with me."

"Thank you, Ratchet." Optimus said, pulling Ratchet into a hug.

Ratchet returned it. "Of course, Orion."

[punkscowardschampions]

Taylor Boys & Neneh

Harley: I’ve gone to write this message so many times and in loads of different ways but there’s no way I’ve found that makes it sound less like a crap joke or scam

Harley: but it’s neither and I’m not after nothing but a chance and yous hearing me out

Harley: So, here goes… before you left, Ian was seeing my mum, which I know isn’t ideal but it’s the truth of the matter and well, they had me

Casey: You’re in the wrong inbox, mate, but all of us get why you are, his’d be less than ideal as I bet you’ve heard

Harley: I was gonna check if I had the right details for him, the phone number my mum hads long dead and he hasn’t responded on [if not facebook the equivalent but it probably still is] but maybe he don’t check it no more

Casey: he lives [wherever he does, which was giving 30 minutes each way ish from Dublin we said once] with his new missus and her kids

Casey: I’d give him a call on [the number] before you brave just turning up, like

Harley: Oh, thanks

Harley: yeah, I look a bit different from when he last saw us, would be a bit of a shock

Bobby: How old are you?

Harley: 18

Bobby: Isn’t ideals an understatement 

Casey: when’d he last bother with you?

Harley: Sorry? 

Harley: well, he stopped seeing us when the incident happened but once the trial was handled, he did make some time then, when he had some

Casey: sounds about right

Bobby: The incident has a name, it’s right there

Casey: leave it out, he don’t know how to word it, does he

Casey: why would the lad, nowt to do with him or his mum

Bobby: Oh right, I’ll be gracious about learning I don’t need to be here never mind maimed, where are my manners

Bobby: and who is his mum that she couldn’t tempt him away enough to stop bothering with Deborah?

Casey: stop being a dickhead a sec, he might tell us

Harley: It weren’t no fling, they were in a proper relationship, I knew he was my dad, called him it

Casey: go on, which local were hers an’ all

Casey: [namedrop some pubs you know your dad went in cos you know who he is]

Harley: She was working in [one of these pubs, oh the shame]

Bobby: ‘Cos he were properly married and properly prolific, see, you could be one of many, whatever bollocks you’ve been sold on

Casey: ‘course she’s a barmaid

Bobby: Maybe she’s your mum too, DNA tests all ‘round

Harley: Was, she ain’t no more

Harley: and I get that you’re upset at all this but don’t take the piss, yeah

Casey: our dad’s the pisstake, no need to start on you

Harley: I totally get why staying in Manchester weren’t an option, I’m not looking to blame him or start no rows

Casey: he’ll be gutted, loves a row, Ian

Casey: but he fancies a fresh go of things as much now, reckon you’ll be well in

Bobby: You can clue us in why we had to move then, never made much sense

Bobby: what do you say, Jim?

Jimmy: I dunno what to

Casey: surprise surprise

Bobby: At least that’s honest

Bobby: you’re pretending to be nice when you’ll be punching a wall in a mo

Harley: Trust me, I had as little clue knowing what to say so I get it

Jimmy: He were alright with you calling him dad, I don’t need no more clues chucked at us, says it all, that

Harley: He is my dad too, whatever else did or didn’t happen, that’s never been disputed

Bobby: Did he smack you and your mum an’ all?

Jimmy: Steady on, you can’t just ask people if they’ve been a punching bag

Bobby: Yes I can, I want to know how good he’s had it

Bobby: your mum presumably isn’t in prison for the same so you’re already one up there, congrats

Harley: I’m sorry, for what yours did to you

Casey: ignore our kid, everything’s a bloody competition with him

Casey: gotta come top in the misery olympics 

Bobby: Says 🥈 his whole life

Bobby: you can’t want the competition, 🥉 ain’t any easier

Casey: your whole life he never even touched you, piss off

Casey: you heard the lad, dad did one when he were a baby, he wouldn’t remember if his mum got a smack, unless she’s wearing hers like a badge of honour still when she chats on about the glory days

Harley: Do you mean proper smacks?

Bobby: Yeah I mean he’d try and hospitalise Jim

Jimmy: Don’t

Bobby: It’s the truth

Bobby: however thick this lad is, you can’t seriously think sending him Ian’s way is a favour

Jimmy: I’m not sending him nowhere

Bobby: Case is

Casey: he asked us for the info, he’s got a right to it

Harley: That isn’t how he was with us, never

Harley: and I was about 9 the last time I saw him so I do remember

Casey: he don’t lay a finger on her kids neither, turned over a right new leaf by all accounts

Bobby: We were just bad kids all along

Bobby: shit wife and mother doesn’t need any more illustrating, everyone knows that much

Casey: we get it, you’re dying for a proper smack

Casey: shut the fuck up, Bob

Jimmy: Both of you stop, you’re doing my head in

Jimmy: even more than this, somehow

Bobby: I’m not the one that loves it, or them

Harley: I didn’t reckon on it going this way, I’m sorry

Casey: it ain’t your fault 

Casey: better luck next time, you’re old enough to take down his new local, something to count in your favour

Harley: Do any of you still live at home?

Jimmy: Bobby lives with me

Harley: I really weren’t trying to stir all this up

Harley: I’ll leave you all to it and try my luck with Ian instead, thanks for the updated info

Jimmy: 🤞 for his new leaf, but you’ve been warned now, either way

Harley: Maybe it is different, not to sound like a dick but there’s obviously less bad blood

Bobby: 😂 way to not sound like a dick

Casey: there was I thinking I were dad’s fave

Harley: I didn’t mean that it’s just, the situation, that was a lot for him 

Harley: Too much water under the bridge or something

Casey: your mum’s not Debbie downer 🏆

Bobby: Is your sister his or what

Jimmy: Hang on, what sister?

Harley: I’ve a sister but she’s not got the same dad 

Harley: she was from the time he was away

Bobby: Romantic that

Casey: should’ve known, he’s too massive of a dedicated sexist to father a girl

Harley: ‘Spose I can let her know she can be relieved 

Casey: bullet dodged

Bobby: To say the least

Casey: be chuffed if you said less, all of us

Bobby: Surprise surprise

Casey: you who was on about shit being true to life

Bobby: You can play happy families with your new brother, hardly a wonder you’re chuffed

Casey: he’d struggle to hold his breath for your offer of the spare room to come about

Bobby: 🤞 you’ve no missus yourself, Harley

Casey: least you’re winning as far as being an unwelcoming twat, Bob

Casey: well done, can pile on the misery when you’ve got none of your own to cry over

Bobby: You’re joking, surely

Bobby: what would be the point, even if he was welcome

Bobby: this means nothing, he’s the result of some sad affair that he’s long since washed his hands of, end of discussion

Casey: you’ve made yours so you reckon it’s end of discussion, more like

Bobby: Come on, there’s hundreds of ‘em out there, you know it as well as us and he should be told

Casey: he’s the first to come knocking and you’re trying to scare him off like a little kid telling stories with a torch to your face, grow up

Bobby: There’s no need to be dramatic, he’s heard and he was rightly horrified 

Bobby: you grow up holding onto it being anything else

Casey: weren’t your story to tell, never mind fucking revel in

Casey: even Jim’s told you to shut it with his few words

Bobby: And you said he’s a right to it

Bobby: that means the truth, not some fucking fairytale

Casey: there’s ways to go about it instead of just opening your mouth before any other sod can get a word in, lad might’ve had his own questions but he ain’t gonna ask none of ‘em no more, is he

Bobby: Yeah, you fucked it up with us so you want another go too, we get it

Bobby: floors all yours, ain’t it

Casey: you get nothing about us, never fancied having a go to

Bobby: How dramatic

Casey: nah, some more of your truth you’re obsessed with

Bobby: You’ve got no interest in being truthful, not something you need to say when you’ve shown it so well

Casey: I dunno how you can say or reckon that when I were the only dickhead ‘round here not living in denial but alright, have it your way

Casey: still the spoilt youngest, just

Bobby: Spoilt is about right

Bobby: you’ll never get over not being the favourite though

Casey: I’m big enough to be over all sorts now, tah

Harley: You said he had a new family…?

Jimmy: [give him the deets of this woman and her daughters matter of factly, what you know about her, how many daughters there are, how old they are, how long he’s been living with them all etc]

Harley: I see, do you have much to do with them or?

Harley: Maybe that’s a dumb question at this point, I don’t know

Casey: She don’t make the effort and he’s playing at being under the thumb this time, been shown the door more times than I can count, but maybe you’ll get a foot in as a new face

Harley: Gotcha

Harley: not quite evil stepmum but on the way to

Casey: she’d have her fairytale and hold on tight to it at our expense, prince among men though he ain’t 

Harley: I can’t believe he’d be like that

Harley: I mean, I do believe you but it’s nothing like what I remember or my mum does

Casey: could be charming when he wanted

Harley: Some things are unforgivable, even the once

Casey: you and your mum didn’t get his bastard side, whatever the reason

Harley: Yeah

Harley: maybe it’s easier to be nice to your weekend family

Casey: maybe [his new missus]’ll be dead keen you stay to ask you for tips, I’ve had my doubts ages he’s proper changed

Harley: You think?

Casey: nobody happy drinks that hard and I don’t flatter myself it’s guilt from our childhoods

Harley: [throw out whatever his favourite drink is because of course you would know that too] are an easy pour

Casey: you’ll be shocked by the state of him, if you do put yourself on his doorstep

Harley: Maybe I need to talk to my mum again before doing that

Casey: I would

Harley: Her stories never changed but it isn’t adding up fully now so, worth a try

Casey: she don’t have the full picture, part-timer he was

Harley: He should’ve been at yours more than he was at ours but I know, it still weren’t all day every day, ever

Jimmy: No point in shoulds, if we went there we’d never get off the subject

Harley: True enough but still I don’t know where else to focus on

Jimmy: Talk to your mum

Harley: Yeah, I will

Casey: and dad, for what that’s worth

Harley: I’ll try to reach out again

Harley: [Private at Neneh]

Harley: I’ve talked to them, the boys

Neneh: Oh shit

Harley: They weren’t angry

Harley: well Bobby was but he’s only your age so that’s to be expected

Harley: it was nothing like I thought it’d be though

Neneh: Nothing like mum said it’d be

Neneh: I’ve said to you millions of times she’s on another planet 🛸

Harley: Yeah but you’d have it it’s all made up when I remember how it were meself

Harley: but he was different with them, sounds of it, bad different

Neneh: You remember the how she’s put in your head with her stories and the him 

Neneh: what else would she tell you? I fucked up, no way

Harley: Don’t start, it’s enough taking what they’ve said on board without your everything is bullshit attitude

Neneh: Sorry but she’s done wrong getting your hopes up for years

Harley: How?

Harley: I got to speak to them, and got more info than she had for him, it’s not all bad

Neneh: Enough of it is, you this sec said that yourself

Harley: Yeah, for them

Harley: Bobby doesn’t even live with him rn

Neneh: For you too then, genius, he’s your unfit to live with dad too, Kio

Harley: I’m not trying to live with him am I

Neneh: You weren’t planning to take a trip? Pull the other one

Harley: Not the same thing that

Neneh: I’ll unpack your bag as she packs it, you’re not going

Harley: Calm down, I haven’t been invited yet

Harley: I’ve only talked to them, not him

Neneh: I weren’t born last week, I know what she wants the ending to be

Harley: Of course she does, she’s still crazy about him

Harley: but he’s got a new missus, family of hers that comes with, it’s not on the table

Neneh: Crazy, yeah

Neneh: he had a missus before, family of his

Neneh: didn’t ever stop her leaning over his table in a lowcut top

Harley: A missus who did that to their baby, you know that

Harley: they were hardly happy

Neneh: She didn’t know, not when she first went for it

Neneh: questions weren’t asked, she fancied him, goes no deeper than that

Harley: Neither of us were there when they first met, you don’t know what they did or didn’t talk about

Neneh: I can guess, every regular like him calls their missus a psycho when they’re venting about home

Harley: In this case, she certainly proved to be one

Neneh: Just this once, she got something right

Harley: You’re too harsh on her

Neneh: The shared madness thing has got the French for 2 in it, not 3

Harley: She’s not mad, now you sound like a harsh husband

Neneh: She’s not sane, encouraging you and this

Harley: You’re against it but why

Harley: it doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere

Neneh: I don’t buy Ian as a henpecked man

Neneh: crazy attracts crazy, maybe you can have mum as a bit less but his missus, no chance

Harley: That’s low

Harley: obviously he couldn’t predict what the fuck she was gonna do or he’d have stopped it 

Neneh: He was with her for years, 3 boys, I don’t reckon he were clueless about what sort of mum she were, all I’m saying

Neneh: he stayed

Harley: Okay but he were the last baby, after me 

Harley: happened to none of the others, far as the criminal record is showing

Neneh: Maybe she snapped, but there’d be other signs

Harley: He’d not be looking elsewhere if it was perfect, of course

Neneh: He’s a love rat, he can’t be perfect

Harley: She’s never said he is, just that she loved him

Neneh: She’s never said why him, not really

Harley: There’s not a why, it just happens

Neneh: Him keeping his distance half the time makes it less real, she could make it into whatever she wanted

Harley: What would be the point though?

Harley: And he came back, it wasn’t a one time thing, before they left but after everything went down, he didn’t have to

Neneh: The lowcut tops again

Neneh: she’s better looking than any of my mates mums by loads

Harley: You make her sound like an absolute slag

Neneh: It was her job to dress up and flirt a bit, she weren’t meant to fall in love with one of them

Harley: She’s allowed to be in love, it isn’t a crime

Neneh: With someone who loves her back

Harley: She just needs closure, which she’ll get if I can talk to him and get to know him properly again

Neneh: She’ll fall for him again, she never fell out

Harley: Is that such a bad thing, IF it happens?

Neneh: I’m not leaving my mates to move to a different country

Neneh: for her to play at being [however old she was] again

Harley: Right, calm down

Harley: nothing has happened, I’VE not even got in contact with him yet

Neneh: If we’re living in fantasyland, what happens when my dad comes looking for us and we’re not there, eh?

Harley: We’d not be going into witness protection

Neneh: When does his ex get out of prison? We probably should be

Harley: She doesn’t pick on people her own size

Neneh: Why don’t Bobby live with him?

Harley: It was pretty awkward, I couldn’t ask them much

Harley: but it sounds like his new lady wants the focus on her and her kids

Harley: but Jimmy is [however old ‘cos I’m not 100%] so he lives with him

Neneh: They must have a joint [facebook or the equivalent he tried to get in touch on] and she’s blocked you for being the spit of Ian and Casey

Harley: That’s a thought

Harley: Casey was the most willing to talk to me

Neneh: Makes sense, Jimmy’s too adult and Bobby’s too much of a kid

Harley: Says you, even more of one

Neneh: Yeah, I know what lads my age are like

Harley: Dead immature unlike you lasses, is it

Neneh: Dead right

Harley: He doesn’t seem immature

Harley: just dead angry, understandably

Neneh: He would’ve had to grow up faster than most after what happened, I spose

Harley: No kidding

Neneh: I’d be angry all the time if I were him

Harley: He is

Harley: I didn’t have anything to say to it

Neneh: I am a bit harsh to mum, I’ll sleep in her bed tonight or something, I know she misses when we both used to

Harley: She’ll like that

Harley: I’m going to wait for him to reply, before I tell her anything, okay

Neneh: Okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut

Neneh: but you’ll tell me?

Harley: I told you this, didn’t I?

Neneh: And you won’t go?

Harley: Not without telling you when I am and when I’ll be back

Neneh: We’d kill each other without you as ref, you’re needed

Harley: I’d not leave either of you behind

Neneh: You can’t, I don’t have 3 spare brothers waiting about

Harley: I’m sorry

Harley: but I’m sure they’ll want to know you too, they already asked about you

Neneh: Kept that bit quiet

Harley: ‘Course I shoulda led with that…

Neneh: Who we kidding? I could have 33 spare brothers for all we know

Neneh: all I’ve got’s a name, not even first and last

Harley: I know

Harley: maybe she’ll remember more, or we can look again proper, not like when we was kids

Neneh: And maybe she didn’t hear his name proper over the music

Neneh: I might not even have that much to go on, why I make her sound like a slag, if I do

Harley: It was a bad time

Neneh: We don’t look related how you do to them, who the fuck is he?

Harley: We don’t look that different, there’s similarities 

Neneh: Like what?

Harley: Our noses, lips

Neneh: 🤥 yours is growing rn

Harley: Is not!

Harley: It’s not like you’re blonde and blue-eyed

Neneh: I wanna take after mum more though, instead of some random stranger I’ll never meet

Harley: Of course

Harley: She’s beautiful and so are you, whoever your dad is or isn’t

Neneh: Calm down yourself

Harley: Yeah yeah, sharrup yourself

Neneh: What will you say to Ian?

Harley: Wish I had a clue

Harley: got to start somewhere but after the initial message, sort of fall apart

Neneh: Did they give an updated number? You could ring him and say ‘Hey, it’s me, Harley’ see what HE says

Harley: I’ve not the bottle for that

Neneh: I’d offer but he won’t remember me

Harley: He would but it’s not the foot I wanna get off on

Neneh: [one of their mum’s pub peeps who is giving a fake granddad kinda vibe to these kids once] would tell you you’re old enough to find the bottle in a bottle now, but he weren’t ever sober a day 🍻

Harley: I’m not sure he’s the father figure you need, no

Neneh: I don’t need one, none of my mates but [1 or 2 we’re naming]’ve got dads

Neneh: I’ve got you and mum

Neneh: AND we’ve got the same 👃👄

Harley: Not special for the sob story, that’s a fact

Harley: You could do worse

Neneh: Be thankful it’s their dad you share not their mum

Harley: I am

Harley: even if there was better on offer, I’d not change her for anyone

Neneh: Nor would I, not really

Neneh: only the tiniest bit

Harley: For [a friend’s mum we’re saying she thinks slays]?

Neneh: She’d be less mint if I had to live with her, probably

Harley: Think that’s how it goes

Neneh: How’d you leave it with the boys?

Harley: They said I should speak to mum, try to speak to him too

Harley: only so much they could say and they seemed like they were all in a fight with each other so

Neneh: There’s loads they could say, you’re their brother

Harley: Easy to say as you

Neneh: Even if they don’t get on, don’t happen every day, this

Neneh: they could drop it with doing each other’s heads in for a bit, I’d not say it’s much to ask

Harley: I weren’t waiting on a fanfare, nor no one to drop anything but it was a bit awkward

Neneh: I’ve 10001 questions to ask my dad and his kids and I know I’ll never meet them

Neneh: what’d they ask you?

Harley: Umm

Harley: when he last saw me, if he hit us

Neneh: If he hit you? Have I just read that proper

Harley: He did, the older ones

Harley: not Bobby

Neneh: How snide’s he? I don’t know that you should talk to him

Neneh: nah, Kio, he sounds well bad

Harley: He never me or mum, back then

Harley: and this is now

Neneh: How’d you know you don’t remember and she don’t wanna?

Harley: ‘Cos I would

Neneh: You were only young, and your brain can play tricks on you with dead sad stuff

Harley: It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing you’d forget in a hurry

Neneh: What if he hit her when you were asleep?

Harley: He didn’t

Neneh: She’d keep her mouth shut about it, you know that

Harley: Stop trying to spoil things

Harley: he didn’t, because he was happy with us

Neneh: I’m not, he left us to hit his kids

Harley: What happened didn’t just happen, obviously it was a bad situation, lots of pressure

Neneh: What are you making excuses for?

Neneh: you owe the man nowt at all

Harley: I’m not, you’re jumping to mad conclusions

Neneh: How am I? They asked if he hit you, ffs

Harley: You don’t believe us when I say he didn’t

Neneh: If he was so happy, why weren’t they his weekend family?

Harley: They were married, you can’t just go

Harley: especially when she was the type of mother that she was

Neneh: He went when he fancied seeing mum, didn’t care what type his missus were then

Neneh: if he wanted, they could’ve split, she’d have taken the boys on

Harley: I’m sure his psycho missus would’ve taken that in her stride, yeah

Neneh: What about when she got locked up?

Harley: He did come back

Harley: but then he had to go, for their sake, the boys

Neneh: Mum’d follow him anywhere, he didn’t ask

Harley: It wouldn’t look very good

Neneh: He weren’t arsed no more, some love story

Harley: You don’t know, you were a kid

Neneh: And you, last you saw of him

Harley: Yeah but you were tiny, I’ve memories

Harley: it was an affair, people would say it was his fault for being distracted by us

Neneh: Not if all of us moved where no people knew us

Harley: He probably didn’t want to spring anything else on the boys, which is fair enough

Neneh: She’d wait, she still is

Harley: And maybe it will happen now

Neneh: You think?

Harley: It could

Harley: I don’t know how he feels, know enough about him and his life now to say for sure

Neneh: Who’s the missus he’s with now? Did they say owt about her?

Harley: Just that she doesn’t like them around

Harley: and she’s [however many daughters we said she has]

Neneh: [look her up and add your own sassy comments because clearly he found Ian online and therefore you could find her via him and her kids, I’m sure they all have more of an online presence than that man]

Harley: Would you want that many sisters?

Neneh: I’m good

Neneh: they’re all too blonde and blue eyed

Harley: He’s a type

Neneh: He’ll still fancy mum, would you want him to?

Harley: Sounds weird put like that

Harley: but it’d make her happy, so yeah

Neneh: And you, you want a dad or you’d not be doing this

Harley: Different type of fancying 

Neneh: You know what I mean, don’t be awkward

Harley: He is my dad, I want to know him

Neneh: But where am I? He’s not my dad

Harley: He’d be your step-dad if they got back together

Harley: but you’re still her daughter and my sister

Neneh: He hits his own kids, what chance have I got

Harley: You aren’t giving it a chance

Neneh: I’m sorry I’m the only one happy as I am

Harley: It’s not things being wrong it’s that they could be different and better

Neneh: Better in [wherever Ian lives]

Neneh: it’s [however far from manchester]

Harley: None of us know where it’s going yet

Neneh: We do, what she’s like

Neneh: and his type

Harley: If you say anything but blonde and blue-eyed right now…

Neneh: I’m not saying a word

Harley: Makes a change

Neneh: Don’t start, I’m allowed my opinion and you’ve asked

Harley: I’m only joking, calm down

Neneh: 🤡

Harley: Suit the shoes, I reckon

Neneh: Bit funny

Harley: Have you had your strop then?

Harley: Good stuff

Neneh: Not spoke to your dad but still managing to channel him, he’ll be well proud

Harley: Oh, leave off

Neneh: You leave off, I’m older than when he walked out, I don’t have strops

Harley: Okay, okay

Harley: I don’t know what to say to him, to get him to reply

Neneh: You can’t force him 

Neneh: no more than I can do mum to remember details about my dad

Neneh: say you miss him, wanna know him

Harley: Yeah

Harley: you’re right, it’s just so… weird

Neneh: It’s been years, it’ll be weird

Harley: Will he remember me?

Neneh: Would you forget us if I’d gone?

Neneh: he’s your dad, he’ll remember

Harley: You’re not easy to forget about

Neneh: What and you are?

Neneh: nah

Harley: Cheers, sis

Harley: might be the nicest thing you’ve said

Neneh: You make us sound like an absolute bitch

Harley: I’m not meaning to, honestly

Neneh: I’m not meaning to be

Neneh: but I know I have, a bit

Harley: You’re just concerned

Neneh: I don’t fancy spoiling it

Harley: You haven’t, we’re all good

Neneh: Be all good with Ian when you’ve found the words, honestly

Harley: Thanks, yeah

Neneh: And if it did go wrong, I’ll leave off with my I told you so

Harley: Oh, really?

Neneh: Yeah, really 😇

Harley: Oh yeah, believe that when I see it

Neneh: I can’t believe you’re doubting us

Harley: You could be worse, sure 

Harley: [mention her friends that you’re saying would be worse sisters]

Neneh: You reckon [friends he hasn’t mentioned] would be better?

Harley: What do you reckon

Neneh: I’m the best sister in the world

Harley: There we are then 🤷

Harley: and I don’t want to hear what you reckon about any of my friends, before you start

Neneh: [do affectionately roast his friends though because gotta be done even though I imagine you like them cos you’re giving close sibs]

Harley: Yeah, I’d much rather that than you fancying any of those idiots so right answer

Neneh: What was [someone who’s giving a girl he fancies/girlfriend (whether that’s current or v recent ex she doesn’t know is an ex) depending what you want the vibe to be]’s answer to your tracking down your dad? You never said 

Harley: She’s heard mum talk all about him, dead chuffed for me, obviously

Neneh: Obviously, everyone’s chuffed for you

Harley: Nothing to be chuffed about yet

Harley: well, not nothing, I did get to talk to them briefly, I suppose

Neneh: They didn’t tell you to piss right off, could’ve done

Neneh: but nah, you got replies and contact details

Harley: Even Bobby didn’t say those words exactly

Neneh: There we are then

Harley: I’ll see you at home

Neneh: Yep, in or out of mum’s bed depending how you time it 😴

Harley: Be quiet when I’m in, just in case

Neneh: You and [this girl because gotta lovingly take the piss always]

Harley: 🙄😏

[bewitchingbooktours]

Her Name Was Lola by Karen Janowsky

Her Name Was Lola

Karen Janowsky

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publisher: eXtasy Books

Date of Publication: 12/22/23

ISBN:  978-1-4874-4027-5

Number of pages: 300 

Word Count: 8,859

Cover Artist: Martine Jardin

Tagline: Sometimes you have to lose your heart to gain your dream.

Book Description:

Lover of fairy tales Lola Nelsson learned at an early age that darker truths lay behind their bright facades. At twenty-two, she still hopes for her fairy tale to come true before she graduates college. But she hasn’t met her prince yet and she doesn’t know how to navigate the real world. Then a handsome man at a conference catches her eye. She’s sure he’s out of her league, but tries to get his attention anyway. And she’s successful… until she isn’t.

Only one thing matters to Professor Vance Anderson—gaining tenure. Known as Dr. Casanova on campus, he’s a true love ‘em and leave ’em kind of guy. For now though, he’s sworn off the distraction of women. When he spots a beauty of a different sort at a conference, he can’t stop thinking about her.  But when she accepts his invitation to his room, his insecurities kick in. Everything goes well… until it doesn’t.

The night ends disastrously, and it’s all over. Until Lola and Vance wind up in a working relationship, making it impossible to avoid one another. The situation can only end in one of two ways. They’ll either end up madly in love or they’ll want to kill each other. Before they can discover their real feelings, they need to learn to trust themselves. Only time will tell if their fairy tale is sweet or dark.

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Excerpt:

From behind Lola, a pleasant, male alto voice said, “Hi, I’m Vance.”

She turned around and found her five-foot-four self face-to-solid-chest with GQ. Taking a step backward and sure she’d turned pale, she looked up at him. The peeling name badge on his lapel said, M. Vance, but his last name was hidden by a shadow. “Oh, hi. I’m Lola.”

Vance held a shot glass in each hand. He was smiling, lips pulled back a little too much, as if he was unsure of himself. “Your friend told me I was being very obvious about staring at you and to go introduce myself. She said to give you this.” He handed her a whiskey.

His eyes were the color of freshly mown grass with silver flecks of dew at sunrise. When they locked on hers, her hands began to sweat, making the glass slip through her palm when she took it from him.

She grabbed it with the other hand at the last second. “Oh. Okay.”

He clinked his glass against hers, downed the shot, then smiled at her again. His upper lip had a minutely askew cherub’s bow.

Knocking hers back as well, Lola did her best not to react to the five-alarm fire scorching through her esophagus. She was reasonably sure smoke was about to billow from her nose and ears. Then that warm, melty feeling crept in.

Okay, Naomi. Here goes. “To be honest, I was watching you too.”

“Were you now?” He arched his eyebrows.

Silently thanking Naomi, Lola asked, “So, are you a visiting speaker?”

“I’m attending. I teach at Jewett College. You?”

“I’m at Jewett also. Library science department.” Hopefully he wouldn’t ask what she did there.

She’d tell him the rest later…if they hit it off.

His fingers lingered over hers as he took the drink glass from her hand. “Another?”

One was her usual limit, and balancing on heels after two was inadvisable. “Yes, please.” She let him guide her through the crowd surrounding the bar.

He offered her an empty barstool and stood next to it as he waved at the bartender. “How long have you been at the college? I don’t recognize you.” He lowered his eyes and raised them to her again, offering an uncertain smile as he smoothed his hand over his thigh.

Looking down, she noticed her topped-off glass. “I’m going into my fourth year.” Lola swirled her fresh drink and watched the amber liquid make slow, wavy circles. She saw a chip in her pale pink nail polish and fought the urge to tuck it into her palm. “What about you? Where do you work?”

“In the English Department.”

GQ—or probably Dr. GQ—Vance—shivered a little when he slid his hand toward hers until their fingertips were millimeters apart. A tiny static spark jumped between them and they both chuckled.

Lola drank half of the shot. “What do you teach?”

“Comparative and European literature. My specialty is fairy tales.”

“I’ve been obsessed with fairy tales—the real ones, not the kids’ ones—for as long as I can remember.”

Vance leaned against the bar. “Same.”

A new song began, and they listened as he played with his tie for a few moments. “After watching you in action, I’m not sure I can keep up, but feel like a dance?”

Lola blinked then nodded. The rest of the room bobbed slightly with her head. She slid off the stool, and he rested his hand on the small of her back as they wound through the crowd. Heat radiated through the thin fabric of her dress.

He took her hand in his. They were about five paces from the dance floor when a man caught her shoulder, causing her and Vance to stumble backward.

“You’re not gonna pass by without a hello, are you?” The tall, thin man had brown roots and blond tips. His hand was sweaty and his words slurred.

Vance looked at her. “Do you know him?”

Sobering, she shook her head, grateful that the world didn’t move with it.

The man sidled closer and squeezed her shoulder more tightly.

Letting go of her hand, Vance took a step toward him.

Lola tugged her shoulder away and pulled a hair stick from her updo. Stepping closer, she waved the tapered end at the stranger.

He gasped and stepped backward, letting go of her shoulder.

“Leave me alone.” She kept her voice as quiet and stern as she could.

The man muttered, “Slut,” as he retreated.

Lola replaced the stick through what was left of her updo.

Vance licked along his teeth. “You’re already full of surprises.”

The night’s cool dampness draped around the crowded dance floor, covering them like an airy shawl as they found their way to an open space.

“Remind me never, ever to upset you.” He spread his fingers over her mid-back and held her hand to his chest. His heart beat against her palm as he held it there, his hand cool and dry.

They looked at each other and smiled.  He said “ever.” As in future tense. As in "long term." I should probably let him know I’m a student now. That could wait a few minutes more.

She inhaled a mix of tangerines, leather, and something else—ginger, maybe—that she could almost taste as his scent hovered between them. She moved closer, and their hips touched.

There was an unmistakable twitch against her. She was sure it was a trick of the lights that made him appear to blush.

This might happen.

He took a half-step back, face pink against the white lights that  outlined him. She imagined using her finger as a silver gel pen around his jaw, under his cheekbones, and across his forehead, illuminating his face. He brought his hand farther down her back.

She raised her voice over the music. “So, what’s your favorite fairy tale?”

He lowered his head closer to hers. Their mouths were centimeters from each other. “What?”

She asked again.

He said something.

She tilted her head up. “Didn’t catch that.”

Chuckling, he leaned in until his mouth was close to her ear. Cupping it, he repeated,

“It’s hard to talk here. Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” The whiskey on his breath had mellowed to spiced caramel, and his voice melted through her.

The imaginary talking mice scampering under her skin morphed into butterflies. “Okay.”

Holding her hand, Vance led her into the lobby. Her heart thumped like a scared rabbit’s as he threaded his fingers between hers. She glanced toward the quieter, emptier bar, but he kept going straight toward the elevator bank.

“Grimm, Andersen, or Perrault?” Vance winked.

Lola bit her lip and released it. “Why do you ask?”

Vance seemed to stare at her mouth. Narrowing his eyes, he stopped and gave her a closed-mouthed smile. “Good to know whether you’re into physical pain, mental torture, or happy endings.”

“What?” Lola froze as her jaw dropped.

Vance tilted his head back and laughed. “I’m kidding.” He headed toward the elevators again, but Lola couldn’t move. He stumbled back. “I’m harmless. I promise.”

She glanced around the vast lobby, checking for security officers.

“I didn’t mean to upset or scare you.” Leaning in, he lifted the back of her hand to his lips, then smiled that same smile that had dissolved her into a puddle the first time she’d laid eyes on him.

“All right.”

He led her into an empty elevator.

This is happening.

Inside, he let go of her hand and took a step back. “Is it okay to go up to my room? I should’ve asked first.” He gave that earlier, uncertain smile, revealing a tiny dimple in his right cheek and lighter green bands surrounding his irises.

“That sounds perfect, Vance.” Lola’s mouth and throat went dry as he hit the button for the eleventh floor. For the first time in her life, she was going to say, “Yes.”  

About the Author:

Karen wanted to be an author and/or Wonder Woman when she grew up. One of those jobs was already taken, though. She lives with her husband, son, and six cats in Maryland, where she works as an English professor. Karen received her MA in literature and creative writing from Florida State University. When she isn't writing, she can often be found sitting at a friend's dining room table drinking wine and playing RPGs, hanging out at the local Indian restaurant with her bestie, or curled up in bed with a few cats, listening to the rain and either reading a book or watching a BBC mystery.

Website and blog: https://karenjanowsky.com

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