#also I can’t really draw cars so I’m sorry for assaulting your eyes with my attempt

[sapphicschedule]

It’s Eda’s turn to pick up Luz and Vee from human school!

She had to take some….legal liberties to be able to get there.

[helloprettybb]

slip of the tongue

i love bucky with all my heart. that’s it.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

description: bucky doesn’t really like you. but a night alone and a stab wound may change his opinion.

warnings: violence, bad description of action scene, heated kissing??? not smut but implied

word count: 1.9k

Bucky hates you. It isn’t difficult seeing as you’re Stark’s daughter and every quality in the man is tenfold in you. You’re crazy smart and you aren’t afraid to show it. Perhaps your worst attribute is your arrogance since it’s justified most of the time. Bucky hates how you’re always right and the stupid smirk on your face when you outwit or outtalk someone.

He knows you can tell and that’s the worst part. It seems you do everything in your power to irk him even more. Like trying to talk to him every time he enters the room or asking for every excruciating detail for any minor event. You get on his nerves and nothing could change that.

The team left for a mission this morning so it’s just you and Bucky at the Compound. After doing nothing all day, Bucky decides to go for an afternoon run. He doesn’t listen to music, as he enjoys the sounds of the city between the mindless chatter and the speeding cars, it reminds him of his youth.

Towards the end of his run, Bucky starts toward the Compound when his ears pick up a yell. Going towards the noise, he spots three men assaulting a woman. She tries her best to hold them off, but she is greatly outnumbered and outmatched by the three, burly men.

Bucky springs into action and grabs the man whose hands are around the woman’s throat. Yanking him off easily, Bucky shoves the man to the ground with a force that was probably harder than necessary, but he doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse as he moves his attention to the two other attackers. He grabs the second man, who is slightly shorter than the first and punches him square in the jaw. He releases the woman and stumbles back. The third man lands a few punches on him, but they barely phase Bucky. While fighting off the last man, Bucky doesn’t notice the first guy get up. He also fails to notice the shiny knife in his hand before it’s too late. The man stabs Bucky in the side. Now Bucky’s pissed as he pushes the third man into the wall. He turns toward the man with the knife and knocks him out cold.

He looks around and realizes the woman must have run away. “Good.” he thinks, but only for a minute as he remembers that he got fucking stabbed. He groans as he applies pressure to the wound.

Bucky makes it back to the Compound, but the pain is getting worse. Stumbling inside, he heads for the labs to look for a medkit. But of course, since it’s his lucky day, you’re there, too. You’re probably finishing the project that you were talking about for the past few weeks - something about particles accelerating, but Bucky didn’t care enough to ask. He hopes he can slip by unnoticed, but the gaping hole in his side draws attention to him.

Your head snaps up from your work and you see Bucky hobble by. “Heya Buck,” you start in your usual playful manner. But when you look at the state he’s in, your attitude changes immediately, “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s nothing.” he grumbles. You look down and see that he’s holding his side. His sweatshirt and fingers are covered in blood.

“Bullshit.” you say. Moving around the lab, you quickly find the medkit. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need your-”

“Shut up and sit down.” you interrupt. Bucky’s protests stop as he sits down on one of the stools. You pull up a chair and open the kit.

“Y’know this will probably heal by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but it can’t heal if you bleed to death.” you retort. While the injury most likely won’t kill him, your point still stands. “Can I?” you motion to his hand. He removes his hand and you quickly pull his sweatshirt up to treat the wound. Luckily it’s a shallow stab wound and the gauze you put on is enough to stop him from bleeding out. As you continue to apply the gauze, you have to force yourself to not get distracted by his defined abs and focus all your attention on the wound. Your fingers trace over his stomach and he jumps slightly.

“Sorry,” you mutter. Your hands must be freezing from being down in the lab for so long. Once you finish applying the gauze, you say, “There, all done.” You look up at Bucky and are unable to read his expression. It causes you both to fall into an awkward silence. “So,” you say to clear the air, “How’d this happen?”

“Some guys were attacking this woman. Didn’t know one of them had a knife.” He responds gruffly. You nod in understanding.

You finish patching him up and say, “If you need anything like extra bandages or a beer, just come to me.” Bucky simply nods, unsure what to make of that proposition. He begins to leave awkwardly and almost makes it out of the lab before something in him makes him turn back.

He pops his head in and says, “You said something about beer?”

-

Bucky doesn’t know what time it is and he doesn’t care. He’s on his fourth beer, but he can’t get drunk so it doesn’t really matter. It’s funny because one beer turned into two and then three and now he’s found himself in a full-on conversation with you. And the most surprising part is that it’s delightful.

Behind your arrogance and quick judgments, you’re really funny. He knew you were smart, that wasn’t a surprise, but talking to you more changed his opinion of you.

“So, Buck.” Usually, that nickname didn’t get to him but a healing stab wound and a couple of beers will change anyone’s perception.

“What?” he asks.

“Got any lucky girl?” He scoffs at that and you look shocked. “What? It was simply a question.”

“It wasn’t the question, doll.” Since when did he call you doll? Just a slip of the tongue, he supposes. “It was the fact that I’d even have someone.” he says honestly.

“What do you mean? You’re a good-looking guy, just over one hundred. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs. Damn, you’re growing on him.

“I’m serious!” you exclaim. Your left arm is on the couch and your hand is leaning against your hand. He realizes this is the closest you’ve been besides before when you were tending to his stab wound. “You’re a catch, Buck. What stops all the ladies from falling all over you?”

He rolls his eyes at you again whether at your persistence or wording. “I’m a bad guy, doll.” There it is again.

“That’s not true,” you scoff. Taking a sip from your beer, you casually add, “Besides, I’ve always had a thing for the bad ones,” Bucky raises an eyebrow at that. “Come on, Buck. I’ve liked you for a pretty long time. I thought I made it quite obvious.”

“By annoying the hell outta me?” He jokes.

“Hey, I was just trying to talk to you. Although I know I can come across as….”

“Annoying.” he says back. You give him a look that makes him laugh and soon a smile spreads across your face.

“I actually do care about you. But, I know you don’t feel the same way, so I’m happy just being friends.” Bucky thinks it over for a moment. Just this morning he was thinking about how you bothered the hell out of him. Actually, the more that he thinks about it, he realizes that he never really hated you. Did Bucky like you all along? He’s about to reply when the elevator doors open.

“Oh, you’re back?” you turn to greet the team.

“Hey, what are you doing up so late with Bucky?” Your dad eyes the two of you suspiciously.

You catch onto what he’s implying and assure him, “We’re just hanging out. In fact, I was just heading to my room. See you tomorrow.” You say a quick goodbye and leave before anyone could say anything.

They all turn to Bucky, ready to attack him with questions. “I’m going to head up, too.” Bucky quickly exits. He catches up to you, although he definitely didn’t mean to. Curse his long legs.

“Oh, hey,” you say as he enters the sleeping quarters.

“Hey,” he says. Fuck it, mind as well try it. “So, about the friend thing.”

You wince, “You don’t want to be friends.” You seem a little hurt by it, “I get it, you don’t really like me. It’s not like I can force you, too. And especially after I basically confessed to liking you as more than a friend, I could see how a potential friendship wouldn’t sound too appealing.” You’ve never looked this uneasy. He’s used to seeing you so confident and assured, but this was new.

Bucky lets you finish rambling before he replies, “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little, finally shutting you up. He moves closer, but you stay still. You both can tell what’s about to happen, yet neither is making a motion to stop it.

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You look like you’re trying to play it cool and contain your excitement, but Bucky sees you bite your lip like you’re trying to stop your smile from spreading.

“So…” You start like you’re thinking long and hard about what you’re about to say, “Can I kiss you?” You’re adorable. Bucky takes one last step and pulls you into a kiss.

Your lips are soft against his. Beyond the taste of beer, Bucky picks up some… he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip… cherry lipgloss. He’ll never get sick of the taste of cherries. He thought it’d be a sweet, innocent kiss but when you grab at his back, trying to hold him as close as possible, he knows it’s anything but. You kiss him hungrily as if your life depends on it and Bucky eagerly accepts. He muffles your moans and gasps and thinks about how nice those sounds will be echoed in his bedroom.

Bucky moves you so that your back is against the wall. You moan as his hands trail down your sides and onto your ass. His hands go under your thighs and you jump so that you can wrap your legs around his waist. Bucky catches you and pins you between himself and the wall.

Your hands go up to his hair and play with a few strands before pulling lightly. He groans at that, separating from your lips and throwing his head back. With his neck exposed, you trail kisses up and down his throat. Sucking and biting occasionally and making Bucky go crazy.

Two can play at that game, he thinks. He reconnects your lips to kiss you again and starts grinding his hips into you. Your hands go to his back and start scratching against his shirt.

Before this could go any further, Bucky pulls away and asks, “My room?”

And you smile, “Fuck yeah.”

[insomniamamma]

Late Bloomers: Ezra x F! Reader w/Cee

A/n: Set in the "Liminal" AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's legal guardian after a car accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Set sometime between "Ferris  Wheels Are For Old People" and "Surf City Goodness." Reader is Ezra's neighbor. Established relationship (sort of, IDK how to tag what they are). For @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​ Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Kissing. Touching. A little spicier than I usually go, which isn't saying whole lot. A little language.  Cee, as usual, needs her own warning. Set during the pandemic shut down. Mentions of covid. Also, I feel like 'The Apple' needs it's own warning. I'll link the trailer at the end.

           "You sure you don't want to come with us, Birdie?" Cee sits at their scarred kitchen table, her laptop, textbooks and a pile of papers around her. She frowns.           "I gotta study," she says, "Ms Stewart is really serious about this quiz. She's not grading on a curve this time." Ezra narrows his eyes.           "You have never spent a Saturday night studying in your life," he says. Cee frowns up at him.           "You've never been in Ms. Stewart's physics class," says Cee, "She's a hard ass. Anyway, I'm still pulling an 'A' in her class, but I don't want to fuck up my average."           "Jesus, Cee," Ezra mutters, and you have to smile. She rolls her eyes.           "I know, I know--"           "Don't say 'fuck' at school," they say in unison.           "They're doing double features all summer," says Cee, "I can miss one. I've seen all these movies anyway." She smirks, "I want to hear what you think of 'The Apple.'" Ezra rummages around for his keys and Cee drops you the most exaggerated wink you've ever seen in your life.           "Have fun, guys," she says.

         Covid has nuked most of the things you used to do for fun, restaurants and shows, hell, even the libraries are closed. The only business in town that's thriving is the Star-City Drive In. There haven't been any big studio releases in a while, so they've been doing Fright Night Fridays and Sci-Fi Saturdays. Tonight's double feature is Flash Gordon and The Apple.          "They've got this weird way of operating the concession stand now," says Ezra, "Cause of the pandemic. You've gotta text them your order and I guess they bring it out to you--" Ezra's gotten pretty good at working his phone one-handed, but you can see the frustration clouding his face.          "Let me," you say, loading the menu onto your phone, "Let's get a big popcorn and share it. You okay with the fake butter?"          "Of course I'm okay with the fake butter, what kind of monster do you take me for?"          "How about candy?" You ask, scrolling through, "It's the usual suspects."          "Sno-caps," he says, "How about you?"          "I'm thinking Milk Duds," you say.          "Now that is an excellent way to lose a filling, Sunshine."          "Popcorn and Milk Duds together? Worth the risk," you say and text your order off to the concession stand. It's not quite dark yet, a reel of movie trivia that no one cares about shines ghost pale on the screen. Ez has got the radio tuned to pick up the sound, but there's not much to listen to yet so it's turned down low, background noise with the cicadas and birdsong. The big screen backs up against a farmer's field run wild and a dark stand of trees.          "Switch places with me," says Ezra, and gets out of the truck. He comes around to your side and opens the door for you.          "Why?"          "Indulge me," says Ezra, so you do as he asks and settle in to the driver's side. Ezra's truck has bench seats with vinyl that creaks and cushions that hiss slightly as you move around. There's a tap at the window and you hook your mask over your ears and crank it down, popcorn and candy and you already payed with your phone, but press some rumpled bills into their gloved hands.          "Why'd you want to switch places?" You ask around a mouthful of popcorn.          "Shhh," says Ezra, "The movie's starting."

         Flash Gordon is just as fun as you remember it being, majestic in its absurdity, a big love letter to all the terrible pulp sci-fi movies that came before, the two of you watch and snark and laugh and sing "Aaa-ahhh" whenever someone says Flash's name. We owe it to Queen, you say, and Ezra smiles big the way he does when something's caught him off guard, the way that crinkles his eyes and reveals his dimples, indeed we do. We owe it to Freddie Mercury.          At some point his arm finds it's way around your shoulders and you lean into him.          "So this is why you wanted to switch spots," you murmur. He raises his prosthetic arm, flickering movie light shining on the double hook at the end.          "Can't exactly get handsy with Mr. Claw, now can I?" He grins, "These hooks might be a little chilly."          "And pokey," you say, demonstrating with a dig to his ribs. The end credits are rolling.          "You ever seen this next movie?"          "The Apple?" He says, "No. Some sort of cult-movie thing. Cee made me promise not to IMDB it. She said I should go in with an open mind."          "Oh boy," you laugh.          "Right? Cee's tastes are all over the place. I suspect this will be either amazing  or terrible on a scale that recalibrates our internal gauge of what terrible is."          "You know she set us up, right?"          "Yeah," says Ezra, "Little Bird fancies herself quite the matchmaker."          "She winked at me." Ezra dimples.          "Did she now?"          "She looked like a cartoon," you laugh, "About as subtle as a ton of bricks." Ezra brays laughter and leans against you, squeezes you closer to him at the same time. He is beautiful when he laughs, all dimples and teeth eyes screwed shut in mirth and you take this opportunity to press a kiss against that tender place on his jaw where his beard refuses to grow. Ezra freezes, you feel his body go rigid against yours, and your first thought is to apologize, to pull back, and then he reaches for you, his broad, calloused palm cradling your face, drawing you to him, presses his lips to yours, a soft, reverent kiss that he does not fully withdraw from, his hand now resting on the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to yours, somehow more intimate than a kiss, this closeness, breathing each others exhalations, leaning against each other.          "Cee's not wrong," you say, "We're good together."          "We are, aren't we?" He gives your nape a gentle squeeze, and lets you go. The opening titles of The Apple flicker on screen and the music starts up.

         "Oh, Ezra, what the fuck did we just watch?"          "I don't know if 'watch' is the right word, Sunshine, we did not 'watch' The Apple. The Apple happened to us."          "I don't think I've ever understood Stockholm syndrome until now."          "I have been assaulted," says Ezra, "My civil rights have been violated."          "It's like..." You trail off, "It's like if someone took '1984', 'A Star Is Born' and 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' and put them in a blender. I'm pretty sure this movie violates the Geneva conventions." Ezra laughs and so do you, leaning in to each other, giggles that become kisses, soft at first, but increasingly hungry, laced with need, your arms twine around his shoulders, his hand lingers at your side, toying with the hem of your shirt.          "S'okay, Ez," you say as he nips at your jaw and then your neck, gentle graze of teeth that makes you shiver, "You can touch me." He kisses you deep, his tongue fever-hot against yours, hand sliding up the soft slope of your belly, cupping your breast, and you arch into his touch--          Tap Tap Tap. And there's a bright light shining through the passenger's side window.          "Oh shit," says Ezra. You frantically yank your shirt back down, heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks, your earlobes flaming.          "Movie's over guys," says the shadowed figure behind the flashlight's glare, "Take it someplace else." You open the door to switch places back with Ezra, the overhead light shows him red faced and horrified.          "I'm sorry, I just--"          "Get us out of here, Ez."

         You stare out into the dark past the window, half-moon shining over fields and trees like a lazy eye. You snort laughter.          "What's so funny?"          "We got caught," you say, "We got caught necking at the drive-in like a couple of teenagers."          "You're laughing because we got caught?"          "I'm laughing because I've never made out with anyone at a drive-in, even when I was a teenager, and I'm laughing cause we got caught. After watching that trash-fire of a movie. We got caught making out over the end credits of 'The Apple'. I feel like we deserve some kind of award." You rest your hand on Ezra's leg, can just pick his smile in the dim lights from the dash. Ezra chuckles.          "I never made out with anyone at the drive in before tonight either," says Ezra.          "Bullshit," you say, and give him a good-natured poke.          "It's true," he says, "For one, I didn't have access to a car. I would've had to borrow Ma's car, and there was no way that was ever going to happen. Also, I was not what the girls back then referred to as 'dating material'. Skinny as a rake with a mouthful of braces and an obvious birthmark? I was like a puppy trying to grow into it's ears and feet, a late bloomer if you will." You move your hand higher up along his thigh and give him a squeeze.          "Better late than never."          "Indeed."

Flash Gordon Trailer

The Apple Trailer

[rexeipts]

Monday morning rewatch thoughts:

I am in my feels, very angry at this episode.

Annie had little to no story so skipping her this time around.

Ruby & Stan:

- Stanimal trying to get the girls to strike was great, and I want to see him (not Beth) run the strip club so bad. I hope that is the storyline they take us down.

- Ruby and Stan once again are king and queen of communication. These two are such an excellent example of healthy and happy marriage.

- Ruby biting a lime at Stan’s replacement gave me life in the montage

Beth & Dean:

That’s who Beth gets paired with this week. Dean. Not Rio. Because that’s how mad I am at her.

- Dean on the bike ride scene was once again far too long and wasted precious screen time. I forced myself not to fast forward through that scene. And you know what I noticed? Dean literally compares being sexually assaulted in prison to being someone’s wife on a honeymoon and being forced to have a baby put inside you. Because that is how Dean sees his fucking wife and marriage. Literal other convicts sexually assaulting someone in prison is like them thinking you’re their wife on a honey moon. Let that fucking sink in. And no, I don’t think that was intentional characterization by the writers. That is just existing as a metaphor these writers chose to use while trying to continue a Dean redemption arc.

- Dean leaving the hot tub when the other guys were shitting on Beth for being a buzz kill was an attempt at showing “growth”. But it’s not. It’s fucking table stakes. See above mention of non consensual sex being like a wife.

- How Beth does not realize this is another of dean’s idiotic schemes and poor money decisions is beyond me.

- I am relieved only in that Beth looked upset after getting Rio arrested this time. Good. Be upset. You had a choice. I’m so mad at Beth right now. I’m honestly starting to think she deserves Dean.

- Beth, honestly you think Rio would hurt your kids? Then why turn him in? You’re so scared of him then why risk it? Choosing him would have meant protecting your kids if you look at it factually, he threatened your family if you turned him in. Like she’s just dumb at this point? The writers have characterized her as dumb. Did she conveniently forget season 1 when he got out? I mean for real? Do these writers even watch previous seasons?

- Beth being with Dean literally undermines all feminism about the show. I have said that before and will say it again. Dean is a cancer on this show’s fun. Pun intended.

- Beth uses her sweet housewife voice on Nick. Literally everyone but Rio. And she literally flirts with Nick. You’re literally married Beth. Divorce Dean before you flirt with yet another person.

Rio & Nick:

- Baby Rio looked like Rio I thought. Him drawing a boxer was heart breaking. Because he literally wanted that his entire life. The last flashback scene made it seem like he wanted it for money. Nick tells him he doesn’t need boxing because they have a way to get money now, but Rio literally wanted boxing from childhood. And Nick ripped that away from him. Nick gave him no choice. Not because he wanted him to learn a lesson, because he wanted to use him. Rio is Nick’s designated fall guy.

- Rio = good egg, Nick bad, better be fucking FORESHADOWING FOR RIO GETTING SOMETHING NICE FINALLY THIS SEASON. At least the writers told us that pretty openly.

- The champ champ champ now all makes sense

- Who is Rio’s coach and can we please have a cheesy storyline where the coach is the only one to ever be on his side

- What is he having them print for? The girls point it out like why does he need all of that?

- Him telling Beth he does need her? No he doesn’t. That was actually a very sweet line. The way he looked at her, he’s in love with her guys. Like his face said yes I need you because I can’t seem to give you up. He doesn’t need her for money. It’s unfortunate they chose to dirty it up with him threatening her family.

- Rio grows from the ashes. He is the designated fall guy who rises from the ashes to be untouchable. Hence Phoenix I guess. Sure.

- I actually like Nick being in the show. First because I’m mad at Beth. But mostly because he is the only character introducing a new dynamic. He is the only thing that’s not repetitive. The only fresh storyline. And he’s already making her talk about Rio. But also, would it fucking kill either of them to say the man’s damn name? But also I like the actor and think he’s pleasant to look at on screen, sue me.

- Oh look, Nick, another man telling Beth Rio is too dangerous for her when she LITERALLY SHOT HIM. Do you all REALIZE SHE IS NOT A DELICATE FUCKING LAMB.

- I am no longer convinced that Rio had a plan all this time, not after rewatching the car scene. It seems like Rio was ready to kill her, mostly because he doesn’t know another choice, and Nick pointed out the obvious. Unless Rio is playing Nick. But truth be told, Rio threatening her family was ooc. And I’m holding on to the fact that he said family, aka Dean Annie Ruby who he has threatened before, and she took it to mean kids. I’m also holding on to the fact that Rio puts on masks. He puts on cold gang banger mask, he tries to manipulate and find new ways to incentivize beth. If you look at it that way, as him trying to get her to choose him rather than a plot of trying to get her to turn him in, it’s heartbreaking. He is so desperate to get her to pick him he literally pulled out his final option. His only remaining incentive that he hasn’t tried on her. EDIT: UNLESS Rio is playing Nick too. Because now? SS trusts Beth. And Nick trusts Rio. Nick thinks Rio and Beth aren’t on the same side. That Beth turned Rio in and Rio’s murderous over it. And Rio can use Beth to take Nick down without Nick seeing them coming. I hope they’re going for that. Because that would be genius. And would really be Rio 100 steps ahead, and would make the whole episode make sense in terms of his characterization.

- The arrest scene was heart breaking. The complete betrayal in his eyes was so sad. As others have stated, choosing to slam him on a table, while yes it is realistic to how he would likely be treated in the real world, was not necessary. He wasn’t resisting and was literally just standing there. Idk why the writers feel the need to be “realistic” in some moments and not in others. Poor choice. But what I did appreciate was him staring at Beth. Like she was forced to face him this time. With his face shoved against a table while she stands there being cuffed gently. She did that. She didn’t see him arrested on tv. She didn’t run away after shooting him. She had to stand there in his gaze looking at the betrayal on his face. Good. I’m sorry but she deserved it. She needs to face the damn consequences of her actions. Sorry I’m upset with her RN.

- At this point I believe Rio is in love with Beth. And it seems the writers are actually pushing metaphors and moments that make us sympathize with Rio and see Nick as the bad guy. I do think Beth will eventually get there/realize her feelings for Rio later this season but it might be too little too late. Time will tell.

Promo/Thoughts going forward:

- I like Phoebe and don’t mind her being around

- Rio and Beth on a bench again is good news to me. On the same bench.

- Idk if it’s a time jump but Rio comes in with a fresh hair cut, new wardrobe, and a tan looking like he just had a hot girl summer and is feeling great, over his ex, and is ready to fuck shit up.

- I want to see Rio remind Beth that she betrayed him personally. I want her to have to face that. It’s not just she betrayed him professionally. I want to see him reject her, I want to see her flirt or bat her lashes at him and him to be like nope sorry. Just for a minute though like just one episode lol. And only because I think it will make her realize her feelings for him.

- Beth and Rio v Nick please. Just give us something fucking new.

- These writers had an amazing path they could have gone down of the housewife partnering with a gang banger. It would have been fun, plenty of comedic gold available, and plenty of options for conflict between them and with external forces. And instead they chose this. I feel sometimes like this show would have been way better if it wasn’t on NBC. This story, this chemistry, belonged with writers who would realize its potential. That’s what I find disappointing.

[glenncoco4]

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 7

••••

As she waits for the car in front of her to pull ahead, Kensi basks in the warmth of the bean juice as it moves its way down her throat. She so focused on her morning joe that she doesn’t notice the lone figure standing on the curb. Her brow furrows in confusion as he steps up to the side of the car. “Oh, my god, babe, what are you doing?”

The dirty shaggy blonde flashes his partner the gross yellow caps that are surrounding his teeth, earning a cringe. “Had a little LAPD undercover field trip early this morning. Can I get a ride?”

She extends her head towards him, sniffing as the unknown smell assaults her nostrils. “Is that you?”

“I like to go method, you know that.”

“That’s really disgusting.”

“I have to be convincing and the smell is a big part of that.” He places his arm against the window sill, sending his girl a wink. “So how bout that ride?”

“I love you but I wouldn’t let you ride in my trunk smelling like that.”

“Are you serious?”

It takes everything in her not to dry heave as a new odor enters her bubble. “Serious as that smell coming from your clothes.” Shaking her head, the brunette smirks, sending him a playful wink before driving off.

“No, no. No, no. Come on, Kens!”

“Bye, cutie.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he watches the retreating taillights fill his vision, leaving him stranded on the side of the road. “This is love.”

 ••••

Later that day the junior agent listens to the older man’s theory as to which direction the missing marines may have headed, but her instincts tell her that what he’s saying isn’t necessarily true. “I’m not so sure, Major. I found SUV tracks heading in the other direction.”

The older man rolls his eyes, almost challenging the brunette. “I’m pretty sure they’re heading away from Mexico.” He dismisses the pair, focusing on his own agenda before walking over to the rest of his team. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Did I just get blown off?” She turns to her boyfriend, honestly wondering why she’s at all surprised by the Major’s reaction. 

“Like Ronald McDonald at a PETA convention.” He shakes his head, knowing if anyone can track, its one Kensi Marie Blye. Without an ounce of doubt in his eyes, Deeks looks to her. “Hey, trust your gut.”

A barely there smile rises to her lips. She sees the absolute faith he has in her shining bright in his cerulean blues. It’s calming and gives her a moment to center herself. “Looks like somebody was being dragged, which seems to fit the scenario.” She follows the trail, but stops when its clear that it goes on for miles. 

Realization hits her and she tries to bite back a smile thinking about how her partner his gonna respond to what they have to do next. “You ready to go for a little ride?”

The words leave her lips and he can’t help the smile that spreads to his face. The image of her in nothing but satin lace saying those exact same words has him in a trance.

She sees his eyes glaze over as he licks his lips. Shaking her head, she can only imagine what’s going on in his head right now. “On the bikes, Marty, on the bikes.”

“So no hot desert sex then?” He playfully pouts. 

She ignores his question, walking off towards the dirt bikes in hopes that he didn’t notice the blush rise to her cheeks.

••••

Two hours later, Kensi suddenly stops, pulling of her helmet as her partner follows. “I’ll never understand why you do this for fun.”

The corner of her mouth curls into a smile when she watches him shake his hair. The dirty clothes mixed with his sun kissed skin does things to her, a lot of things. “You look rugged, babe. Wouldn’t make you for a four-star hotel camper.”

“Kens, the last time we went on vacation you and Kip went on an ATV adventure while me and the cupcake girls stayed at the pool all day and got pedicures.” He suddenly pauses, the first string of words suddenly washing over him. “Wait, you think I look rugged?”

“Yeah, like Malibu Ken, he wasn’t anatomically correct either.”

He eyes his girlfriend, challenging her. The squawk of laughter she lets out makes his heart flutter. He’s been working on her sense of humor for 20 years now, when she thinks she’s being funny somehow it makes the situation all the better. His little weirdo. But that also doesn’t mean he can’t ‘fight’ back. “In that case, I guess I’ll just have to keep what I have to myself.”

“You wouldn’t last 10 minutes.”

“Oh you think so?”

Her eyes follow him up and down as she examines his body, bitting her bottom lip. “I guess only time will tell. Oh, yeah, I forgot to ask, are you good with me walking around the house naked tonight? It’s just these clothes are so constricting today, I need a little bit of air.”

“Uh.” He’s left frozen in the hot desert sun, well all but one part of him. She’s gonna be the death of him, but what a way to go.

••••

Dread fills her being as she watches the guy who was chasing after her partner come back on the ATV. Her heart races, thinking about how his lifeless body could be laid out alone somewhere, but before she can get too deep into her thoughts the perpetrators surround the bulldozer spraying bullets right towards the brunette and marines.

They’re so focused on those they can’t see that they miss the lone assailant approach them on their side. Just has he lifts his gun, a series of bullets hit the man from out of nowhere. 

Kensi’s brow furrows, wondering if their back up has finally arrived when out jumps her rugged looking boyfriend covered in more dirt than she remembers. She’s so angry with him for losing contact that she doesn’t even have time to take a relieving breath that he’s alive.

The detective hops over the scrap of metal, coming up beside his partner. “Did you miss me?”

“Where have you been?”

“They killed my bike.”

They crouch down even further as the bullets continue to fly, their eyes lock, trying to come up with a plan. Any plan that will get them out of this alive. 

With not much time Deeks realizes the action he needs to take to ensure the best possible outcome for their safety. “Alright, you know what? I’ll draw their fire, you make a run for the SUV.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Not really, no.”

Before she can respond he’s halfway across to the trailer spraying the men with bullets, once he’s found cover behind the old truck, Kensi makes her move as her partner covers her.

She quickly makes it to the SUV just as one of the guys loads the rocket launcher. As she’s messing with the wires, a whirling sound fills the air followed by a loud explosion. Looking up, her heart sinks once again, knowing that’s the exact same spot where her love was. “Marty.”

Giving up. That’s all she’s thinking about now as the perpetrators continue their assault. They’re outnumbered and Marty is more than likely dead. It’s hopeless. 

As she lays there in the seat of the vehicle a sudden twirling noise fills the air, to much of her relief she soon recognizes the sound. Help has arrived.

Staying down until backup has taken care of the men, Kensi takes a calming breath as a lone tear escapes her eye. God how is she going to go on with her life? How will she explain it to his mom? How will she explain it to their friends?

“Look, baby, I know you’re tired, but you can sleep when we get home.”

Her eyes go wide at the sound of the oh so familiar surfer drawl that belongs to her best friend. Before she can even process what’s going on in her head, her body is jumping out of the seat and lunging into his arms. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m okay.” He places a kiss to the top of her head. To say the explosion knocked him on his ass is a bit of an understatement. He was this close to being engulfed in flames, so close in fact that the back of his jacket is charred. So close to losing all he had with her and leaving her by herself. That thought alone, sends his mind into overdrive. 

Realizing that their coworkers could be walking up at any minute, they quickly pull apart, the aching to be close to one another radiating through their beings. Sharing a look, they center themselves and get back to the art of deception. Rushing over to the marines, the partners help load them into the chopper and take a much deserved sigh of relief. All in a days work.

••••

They finally get back to the mission later that evening to grab their things, gladly leaving their paper work for tomorrow. The pair say their goodbyes to the rest of the team before heading out to their respective vehicles, but the shaggy blonde stops her from getting into her car. “How about I pick you up from your place and we go for a ride?”

“I like the sound of that.”

Observing the area around them, the detective makes sure the coast is clear before taking hold of her hand, his thumb moving back and forth across her soft skin, bringing both of them a sliver of comfort. 

His eyes find hers, there’s so much he needs to say to her, but now is not the time. “I love you.”

She’s caught a bit off guard, not by his words, but the turmoil and sadness written in his eyes. “I love you too, Marty.”

••••

She looks across the vastness that is the ocean. The golden and pink hues that envelope the world around them is one of the most magical things that she’ll never get tired of. But the view is the last thing on her mind because something’s been off with her boyfriend for the better part of the day and then their interaction in the parking garage, has her wondering. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I-I need you to...”

“Need me to what?”

His chest rises and falls as he takes a calming breath. He’s not really sure of what he’s about to asks her...actually he is. Turning towards her, he’s met with her concerned loving mismatched eyes, and it gives him the courage to continue on. “Marry me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Great, Marty. That’s just great. You have an entire rolodex of words and those are the ones you choose.”

“Marty. Baby. Stop.”

Taking another deep breath, he tries to gather his thoughts. 

They sit in silence for a few seconds before he finally gains his courage once again to confess what’s been at the forefront of his mind for the past couple of hours. “Kens, I love you. In some way I’ve always known that I was in love with you. You’re my best friend, the person I want to share everything with. I don’t know how you did it but that 8 year old little girl I met 20 years ago made me feel the safest I’ve ever felt in my life and she’s been doing so ever since.” He reaches for her hand, needing contact now more than ever. “I know this is sudden, but when you think about it, its really not. We know everything about each other, we’re a part each other, past, present and future. I want you to know that you can count on me for the rest of our lives. Baby, I’ll always be here loving you and being your biggest supporter. I so very much want you to be the same for me, so...Kensi Marie Blye, will you marry me?”

There are tears in her eyes, this is sudden and happening oh so fast. Her heart is racing and her thoughts are all over the place. Sliding across the old leather seat, she brings her lips to his. “I love you so much, and I want all of those things that you do, but I think I need a little time to process everything. Is that okay?”

He should’ve saw this coming. I mean they’ve only been dating for a week and this topic has never come up. His best friend is one of the most level headed people he’s ever known, so he recognizes that she needs time to process this commitment and all that comes with it. He places a reassuring kiss to her lips, a barely there smile across his face. “Of course it is. I didn’t mean to spring this all on you. It’s just what with today and the explosion, I knew I didn’t want to waste another minute.”

“And we’re not.” She assures him, if there’s one thing she knows its that life is short and there’s no promise of tomorrow, but she still needs to gather herself and her thoughts. If they’re going to do this, she needs to have a level head not be wrapped up in the near death experience of today. “We’re together. I just want you to know that no matter what, I do want everything with you. I just need some time to process everything.”

“I understand.”

She places a kiss to his lips once more before her head finds his shoulder. “I love you.”

His head finds hers as they stare out across the cliff side sunset. The tension in his body slowly releases as her fingers intertwine with his. As long as she’s still here, that’s all that matters. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

The Rumor Around Hogwarts (Ch.4)

Chapter Four: The Train Ride There

1k+ Words a lot of it is taken from the book but as always I added a lot of [Name] in to make it.... chaotic and slightly angsty

Still uses he/him pronouns for now and later addition of they pronouns will be announced before the chapter. Hope you Enjoy!!!

Last  //  Next

“What the actual hell- Ow, heck i meant heck.” [Name] choked out while rubbing the back of his head

“Mhm sure you did”

“Anyway you mean to tell me I have to run at a wall.”

“Yup”

“In a muggle train station”

“Yes”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Look, do you want to go to Hogwarts or not?”

“I mean I do but-”

“If you don’t you’ll only disappoint Harry” [Mother’s name] interrupted

[Name] hesitated before responding “I’m sure he’ll be fine he like defeated an evil lord as a baby of course he can run at a wall and make other friends”

“[Name] if you miss the train I’m not taking you to school myself”

And just as [Name] seemed like he’d be okay with that aspect (anything to not embarrass himself in public really) all his hopes were completely crushed

“And I’m not taking you back home to ride on the house elf express”

“Okay but if I die or embarass myself I’m gonna have to find a way to jinx you or something. Maybe i’ll tell that weird muggle mailman you find him cute and force you to flee the country”

“You wouldn’t”

“That’s what you think”

[Name] seemed to gather the courage of all his ancestors (may they rest in peace) and ran straight at the obvious death trap. He had a chosen one to meet after all. He closed his eyes right before impact only to have his senses assaulted by the sounds and sights of something completely unexpected

‘Wow' he whispered under his breath

“I told you so”

“Alright alright I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. But I mean you’re not exactly the most trustworthy. If I needed someone to help me cover up a crime maybe, but a prank that could end in bodily harm..”

[Mo. Name] pretended not to hear a word as she fussed over [Name], the train departing soon. She’s a mother, she couldn’t help it. After running down a long list of things [Name] should have (And did) pack in his trunk she gave a forehead kiss and pushed him off to the trains. As he got on she did the unthinkable.

“Bye baby!! Momma loves you. Tell Peeves I said Hi’

Yeah [Name] definitely wasn't gonna be popular now. At least… not in a good way. There’d be rumors around hogwarts. And he’d be in the center of them.

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

Harry sat alone in an empty compartment after all the hustle and bustle that came with parents seeing their children off for the first time. And could’ve sworn he had heard someone say something about being peeved. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted when the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red headed boy he had seen earlier came in.

“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

“Hey, Ron”

The twins were back

“Listen we’re going down the middle of the train- Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron.

“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later then.”

“Bye” said Harry and Ron. the twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

“Are you really Harry potter?” Ron blurted out

Harry went to nod but the compartment door slammed open once again

“Harry there you are. Thank God I found you.” [Name] gasped out “My mother totally embarrassed me as I was getting on the train screaming about someone named Peeves and she called me BABY. Anyway I’ve been trying to find you without drawing to much attention to you or myself.”

Harry had wondered how [Name] had said so much in one breath. He didn’t know [Name] to be particularly talkative. He of course had his moments when he’d stand up for someone but Harry had always seen name as a little bit of a worrier or an outsider like himself.

“Sorry." [Name] said almost as if he read Harry’s mind “It’s the nerves. I’m super glad that you’re not alone but I’m also jealous I didn’t get to you first.” [Name] continued as he moved to sit next to Harry.

“What were we talking about? Oh yeah he was asking about your chosen one status which is kind of cool and lame at the same time. Is that offensive?”

“Have you really got - you know?” He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. And surprisingly [Name] did too.

“Y’know as close as we are for two people who only met twice, I realized I haven’t gotten a good look at you Harry.” [Name] realized turning all of his attention on the resident Chosen One

Harry and [Name] stared at each other for a moment. [Name] was curious as to who the boy who lived really was and why he was drawn to him. It was like they were meant to meet up. At the Zoo, in Diagon Alley and now hopefully they would remain on the same path at Hogwarts too.

Harry on the other hand was staring at [Name] in appreciation. They were strangers, yet [Name] came to Harry’s rescue so naturally. Ron was to be a good friend to Harry, he’s sure of it, but it was different with [Name]. Their friendship wasn’t founded on titles, or reputations, or anything but mutual respect and destiny perhaps? If he were more naïve he might’ve attributed this feeling to a crush.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who-? Ron interrupted the staring contest

“Yes” said Harry “but I can’t remember it”

“Nothing?” Ron said eagerly.

“Well- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.

[Name] got incredibly bored of the topic, not really keen on discussing Voldemort’s attack on Harry so he began looking out the window like the main character. Only catching flashes of the conversation and adding his own commentary when appropriate. Apparently Ron had 5 brothers and a little bit of “a lot to live up to” but being friends with the chosen one was sure to give him some stories to tell..

[Name] didn’t interrupt with much about his family because he’d already talked about his embarrassing mother and there was nothing else to talk about but his incredibly large and empty house which would have made him a little uncomfortable and slightly awkward. Y’know since he was talking to an orphan and a poor kid with a huge family. How could either of them relate?

What he did however pay attention to was Harry’s bravery and generosity. Apparently he was only a little bit of an oblivious idiot. Sure he proudly said Voldemort’s name (a trend [Name] hoped to follow) but he was smart enough to realized in the wizarding world at least he was rich and could splurge a little bit on the less fortunate *ahem* Ron *ahem*

“Go on, have a pasty” said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten.)

“What are these?” Harry asked Ron and [Name] holding up a pack of chocolate frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they/” He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him

“No” said Ron “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa”

“He has no idea what you’re talking about, look at his face” [Name] laughed out. Ron followed his line of sight and chuckled at Harry’s confused face as well.

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know - Chocolate frogs have cards inside them, you know to collect - famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

Both Harry and [Name] removed the cards from the chocolate frogs. Harry got Dumbledore which set his curiosity aflame once again. [Name] kept his a secret for dramatic effect of course. After answering his questions Ron asked for a chocolate frog as well only to get Morgana.

“Well Ron” [name] started “if you show me a trick, I’ll give you this” flipping over the card Ron’s eyes went wide at the sight of a Ptolemy card.

After a long conversation about the dangers of eating Bertie's ever flavored beans (which [name] would never even touch) Ron eventually worked up the courage to perform a spell when the toadless boy from earlier appeared, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wan in his hand.

‘Oh god.’ [name] said to himself as the girl’s thoughts assaulted him and drowned out the obvious awkward silence in the car ‘this girl may have redeeming qualities, or at least I’m hoping she does but she needs to get over herself’

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback

“Er- alright” he cleared his throat

“Sunshine daises, butter mellow, Turn this stupid fat rat yellow”

He waved his wand but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Said the girl. “Well it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but…

[Name] having heard most of this speech in his head already tried to tune her out and gave a snort at the end of her rambling when Harry and Ron looked at each other incredulously. Only a little offended when he heard Harry's comparison of Hermione to the nervous [Name] earlier

They all introduced themselves but Harry’s introduction led her on another tangent about him not looking himself up as if this was a common thing to do?? Then she asked what houses they thought they’d be in before leaving, taking the toadless boy with her. Poor Neville.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it”

“I doubt we’ll be in the same house Ron” [Name] realized “you’ll probably be in whatever house your brothers are in”

“Gryffindor” Ron spoke up

“Right, and Harry will probably be with you where as I’ll end up in Slytherin probably”

The car went silent a bit before [name] spoke up again “I know what you’re thinking. Literally. I never had a Ptolemy card. I only said that because I wanted to show off my powers as a legilimens. I can see into your mind basically and I made you see what I wanted you to see. Don’t worry though I won’t like brainwash you or anything. Wouldn’t want to be a typical Slytherin and end up a dark wizard.

[Name] got ready to flee the cart after that whole speech and he could tell Ron felt kind of guilty but [Name] couldn’t risk Harry hating him. He was going to the house that produced Voldemort after all. He rushed out of the cart as some blond entered probably because Hermione had spread the rumor about seeing the chosen one.

Before [Name] knew it he was facing his newest worst enemy. The sorting hat.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

ISSUES.

Juan Carlos “Juice” Ortiz x Reader

@dazzledamazon asked: Can I ask for one with Juice 76. “I need you to pretend we’re dating…” 78. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” I can’t wait to see what you come up with for our sexy Juicy boy. Love love love your work hun.

Word Count: 2.1k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“You're finally here!” Juice's desperate and hoarse voice assaults you at the exact moment you open the club's door, scaring you for a while.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU ‘DON'T SHOUT AT ME WHEN I COM'IN’?” You yell at him, before looking your coffee is spread all around the floor, after falling down because of the fright. “Sweet Jesus Christ, I'm very tired of your fucking dramas, Juan Carlos!”

The crew starts to laugh loudly, while the man is staring at you with an horror expression on his face, pretending that his offended too.

“No, listen, listen! I truly need your help!”

Turning your gaze around, and a strange feeling in the environment, you understand that the Sons' knows what he needs and you'll not like it. 

“I'm not gonna clean it”. You shake your head with pursed lips, pointing the drink staining the floor and passing it away straight to the bar.

“Could you please listen me?”

“I'm already doing it, even if I wished I couldn' do it”. Rolling your eyes, and leaving your bag over a fridge, you turn to him with both eyebrows upped.

“I need you to pretend we're dating”.

Narrowing your eyes with parted lips and a confused expression draw on your face, the other men breaks into laughter and coughs for the lack of air. Juice seems so fucking desperate and needy for your help, but you're not in the mood to pretend it. You like him. You really like him. You love the way he has to hug you, to try to fix a bad day yours, to always makes you feel comfortable, to help you with anything... And he also has that charming smile that provokes you smooth chills on your neck. Pretending that you're dating, it's like throwing yourself on a bonfire for no reason.

“No”. You say with a firm tone, leaning above the bar with your hands supported on the edge.

“C'mon! I need you. My mother is coming to Charming, to meet my girlfriend. Are you gonna break her heart?”

“Juice, are you fuckin' kidding me? Why the hell you said that you has one?”

“'Cause she was weighing me down! And I just said it! I wasn't thinking!”

“I didn't even know you can think”. Rubbing your face, and hearing some chuckles from the president, you stare at him again. 

“Please...” He's showing you his best puppy eyes, making you slap his temple as a reflex act. “Stop hitting me!”

“You fucking deserve it! I'm gonna kill you, I swear to god, Juice”.

“But, are you gonna help me or not?”

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You have never heard before about Juice's mother, so you don't know what kind of person she is. But you hope the dinner pass fast, so you don't have to pretend too much. Your heart races when you hear the door bell. Tying the shoelaces of the white Converse, you run to the front door, opening it somewhat hurry.

“Two minutes!” You say turning around to go back towards your room, to grab your bag and put well the sage green dress on, having a last look on the mirror.

Juice is looking at you stunned and amazed, seeing how you brush your hair tangling your fingers. But for some reason, you start to doubt about it. Looking yourself from top to bottom, you shake both hands, waiting for something from him.

“You're... beautiful. I me-mean, you're always. But... now... I mean, beautiful”.

Clicking your tongue to avoid your cheeks turning red, you palm his chest to go straight to the car. You're nervous, it's pretty obvious because you're going to meet his mother. And it's not the way you would like it, but maybe it's a start for something else. Shaking your head, coming back to reality you adjust the belt on your chest and on your stomach, ready to start the engine by Juice.

“How is she?” You ask then, after some minutes in silence.

“Don' worry. Luckily it's gonna be the first and the last time you're gonna see her”.

Swallowing saliva, you turn your gaze through the window. You don't know what to think, but it's something bad because sounds like he's going to tell him in some weeks that you ‘broke up’. Leaving a heavy sigh, you try to focus in pretend that you're together for some hours and that's all. No illusions, no future. Nothing. Tomorrow you will continue being you, and he will continue being Juice. That's all. Even if Chibs told you that he's secretly in love with you. Or Juice hides it very good, or Chibs is playing fool with you.

“Ready?” 

No, you're not. But you nod, when the car is already parked next to the restaurant. Getting out of it, you walk close to him, holding his hand without expecting when you see an old woman with an elegant look staring at you. Juice smile softly but unquiet, exactly as you feel. This fake show is not going to end good and you know it. But you will try. More for him, that for you.

“Pretend that I said something funny”. You chuckles somewhat forced, turning your face at him. For some reason, his laugh are too loud, that you start to laugh shaking your head. “Sweet Jesus, Juice... Not that high!”

Now he's infected because of you, and it's looks natural and carefree, finding yourself more relaxed when you reach her mother.

“Hey, mom”. He says animated, pushing you into her. “This is (Y/N), my girlfriend. See? She's real”.

“A pleasure”. You extend your hand towards her, but she doesn't move a single inch, looking you from top to bottom.

“Sure”. She says with a raised eyebrow and her eyes on your hand.

Turning and giving you her back, the girl continue her steps to the inside of the restaurant. Juice rolls his eyes, sighing a ‘sorry’ in almost a whisper placing a hand on your waist before holding you the door. Now you understand why he never talks about his mother. You would like to slap the shit out of her too.

The waitress served the beverages in complete silence, whilst you can notice that your fake boyfriend is trembling slightly. It wasn't a good idea. But you're already here and neither can run away. Serving some cold water in your glass and on his, so you can have a sip to wet your throat.

“Is my son a personal project?”

You have to lean your mouth to the floor when you spit your drink, starting to cough when the air doesn't come to your lungs.

“Mom!” He yells at her, raising a hand before palming your back.

“I—I'm oka—okay... Don' worry, babe”. You say, almost dying also killing her with your gaze. “He's a good boy. What kind of mother says something like that?”

“The kind who knows that her son is a human waste”.

You're shocked cleaning your mouth with the napkin, wanting to believe that you didn't hear what you actually heard. Juice is embarrassed, feeling small on his chair. He knows that he should have invited any other girl, so as not to spoil your friendship. But you're not going to let her say that horribles things about him.

“Juice is pretty cool. He's intelligent, so hella' smart. You should see him with a laptop under his hands”. You reply placing both forearms on the table, gesticulating with your fingers covered with some golden rings. “He's a good boy and the best friend I could ever ask for. He's kind, gentle, polite, responsible, generous, empathic... And I could tell you thousands qualities more about him. And he's also fucking breathtaking. I mean, look at him! Looks like the only thing you did well on your life, and I don't even know you”.

Juice is freaking out, covering his mouth with a hand, turning his attention from you towards his mother, as if he was watching a tennis match. His mother has her eyebrows frowned, waiting for her son to say something in her defense. But there you are, ready to attack again.

“Now I know why he has self-confidence problems, and you know what? I'm not gonna let him lose his precious time with someone like you”. Sentencing the conversation, you get up of your chair taking your bag and offering him a hand, really pissed off because his mother. “Babe, we're leaving”.

“Shit, yes”. He chuckles tangling his fingers with yours, without even saying goodbye.

God, it's feel so good could say what you think about him in a situation like this, that you won't be able to sleep because of the adrenaline running through your body. 

“(Y/N), it was fuckin' amazing. I swear”. 

When you're close enough to the car, he turns at you cupping your cheeks on his hands to press his lips on yours very excited, without thinking it. It's short and when he pulls you away, he has the same confused gesture that you have on.

“I'm so—sorry... I sho—shouldn't have kissed you”. He tries to speak, walking back some steps in slow-motion.

Your throat is frozen, there are no words you could say in a moment like this. You're screaming internally, totally freaking out, taking some seconds to you to walk right to your seat. And there's some kind of tension inside the car, whilst Juice drives in complete silence. He doesn't know where he should take you and his embarrassed for what he just did. But for some reason, the Son' thinks it's a good idea go to the club. Some of his brothers are sitting on the yard, sharing beers and laughs, till they notice your arrive. 

Happy is the one who gets up, worried by the look of your face, giving his drink to Chibs, so he can hold it. Getting out of the car, you make a sign to the older letting he know that everything is okay, even if it's not.

“Hey, (Y/N), listen... Wait”. Juice claims for your attention, grabbing your wrist to make you turn over your Converse. “I'm sorry, I di—”.

“You don' have to worry about nothing, I'm fine. We are”. You say, trying to sound convincing enough.

“Do you... really think all those things about me?”

“Good god, Juice... You're so fuckin' dumb, that you couldn't realize it even if I write it in a banner and I fly it through the sky hanging from a plane”. You sigh rubbing your temples with your fingers. “I like you. A lot. Actually”.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why you like me?”

“Are you... fuckin' serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, there are a lot of guys better than me”.

Leaning down your chin just a little with both eyebrows raised, you stare at him not knowing if punch him or what. You're sure that this is his mother's fault. You can't imagine how she treated him his whole life, till he found Jax.

“But I don' care. I like you. You, not... other guys better than you, if that is possible”.

“So... I shouldn't be sorry for kissing you?”

“Of course not!” You reply kinda desperate. “Seriously, you're so fucking... brainless”.

“You said I'm intelligent, and so hella' smart”.

“Yea', you have your moments...”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“But, why the fuck you ask?” Unbelievable what you have to deal with.

“You also said I'm polite”.

“Shit, I'm gonna fuck you down if you repeat something else of wh—”.

You can't finish your threat, when he does it again. He has that goofy smile on his lips pressing yours in a soft kisses, stealing your air as he tastes them. Placing his hands on your low back to push you somewhat closer, you let yourself go. You've been wanting it for long, long months, and you don't even care of the Sons' are clapping and whistling as fucking children five years old. 'Cause Juice finally saw what you feel, and you finally discovered that he was truly in love with you and Chibs wasn't lying. 

Pulling you away some inches, you two laugh as idiots shaking your heads and your fingers tangled above his nape.

“I think I know a good place to have a date, better than this full of creepy old men”.

“Sounds good”. You laugh then, letting him hold back your hand to guide you towards the car.

[mrsbhandari]

Shutter - pt 6

a/n: THIS SHIT TOOK SO DAMN LONG AND IM SORRY ive just been dealing with people moving and going out to do stuff and having little motivation to actually write so im VERY sorry that this took years. also, this chapter is way more nsfw than my other chaps so it is of course inspired by @lxdy-starfury‘s absolutely BEAUTIFUL nsfw art so plsssssss check that out because she’s incredible. also this is the last part of this main series, who knows, if people ask or I feel like it ill write more in this au for this pairing. well see!! for now im happy to completely finish it

also I know that my masterlist is fucky rn, im looking for the time to fix it, so if you want to see a specific fic or even all my fics for a specific pairing or book, don’t hesitate to message me or send me an ask!! im happy to point yall in the right direction, and when its not a request, I usually get to asks pretty quickly so yeah!!

words: 3.7k 

warnings: unwanted advances, nsfw at the endddd

tagging: @lxdy-starfury, @huntress1024, @anotherbeingsworld, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @chaotic-ramsay-queen, @brycemaloliver

#

Tyril was letting his PhD go to waste. He was letting it all go to waste because his brain was pouring out of his ears as his eyes took in the purely magnificent sight of Naexi in that skin tight purple dress, hugging every curve just right and accentuating her breasts with a low V neckline. The way the fabric moved with her every step was captivating, drawing his attention to every little piece of her body, tantalizingly revealed and taunting him. 

“You’re going to catch flies, Tyril.” She was fumbling with her clutch, checking to make sure that her phone fit inside and then turning around to grab something else. This new angle gave him a perfect view of her backside, filling out the dress as if it was made for her. In all honesty, his sharp  tuxedo had caught her eye as well, but the large field of crimson spread across his cheeks and nose was a reminder of how much better she was at holding her feelings about Tyril in. Tyril, however, could barely keep his hands to himself in her room, in the living room, in the kitchen, and on the drive over to the gala. 

“Of course you own a stupidly expensive car.” Naexi ran her hands over the smooth leather seats and the crisp finish of the wood on the dashboard. The car was clean, making her feel like if she continued to touch anything, her fingerprints would forever ruin the surfaces. 

“It’s a nice car.” His hand was on her thigh, covered by the fabric of the dress but no doubt covered in faded love bites meticulously placed by Tyril. She only hummed her response, briefly distracted by the way his thumb was rubbing circles on her inner thigh, spindly fingers inching toward her core as if it was magnetized. His inability to draw his hand away suggested that he was most definitely not thinking about the car. She only hummed, insistent on keeping any gratification he was giving her to herself; it only encouraged him to drag his fingers over the apex of her thighs, her core only separated from his fingertips by two flimsy pieces of fabric. 

“You better not crash it,” she teased, still stoic. Quickly, Tyril figured out that continuing his current path was only going to hurt him in the long run, so he ran a finger back down to her knee as they arrived at the large hall his father had booked for the gala. He knew that this night was already going to be one of schmoozing and torture, but he still barely looked forward to it since he knew Naexi would be at his side. 

“Hey, elf boy!” a voice called to his left as he gave his keys to the valet with a hefty tip. Naexi turned and was met with a man a few inches shorter than her with wavy brown hair and a smile that betrayed that he was up to no good. 

“I told you not to call me that, you rogue,” Tyril grumbled, begrudgingly clasping hands with the man and patting his back as he was pulled into a hug. 

“You can’t just say that people think you’re an elf in an interview and then expect not to be called elf boy,” he reasoned, sending a wink Naexi’s way. “I’m Mal Volari, and you’re gorgeous.” He gently took her hand in his and pressed his lips to the back of it, never breaking eye contact. 

“Mal…” Tyril cautioned, palm spreading protectively over his girlfriend’s side. 

“Don’t worry, Ty.” She tamely ran her fingers through the hair that fell so gracefully over his ears, hiding the blush that had started to touch the barely pointed tops of them. Mal smiled knowingly. “I’m Naexi, Tyril’s date.”

“I’ve heard much about you.” They began walking into the gala, all gold finishing and sparkling diamonds adorning the necks and hands of New York’s elite, and Naexi couldn’t help but feel completely out of place. Mal rambled on at her side, so she took advantage of his distraction to whisper to Tyril, who already looked bored. 

“This is weird.” 

“Indeed,” he murmured, his deep baritone accompanying the words quite nicely. Already, people were beginning to stare as they made the rounds, hopping from rich group to rich group. Mal had abandoned them to camp at the open bar.

“Why do people look at me like that?”

“I apologize, it’s my fault. I’ve not had a date to one of these things in quite some time.” They had sat at one of the tables, a glass of champagne in each of their hands as they took a break from socializing. 

“Ah, yes; the elusive bachelor Tyril Starfury.” She threw her hand out in the air to indicate a headline. He smiled. 

“I don’t know how I ever got through one of these things without you.”

“Mal never helped? Or Imtura?”

“Imtura always takes her job as security seriously and Mal enjoys the expensive champagne my father orders.” Tyril nodded his head at where his friend was gesturing wildly, no doubt telling a story of his travels to a handsome man with a starry look in his eyes. “As well as the company these events attract.”

“Will I get to meet your father?” The question threw Tyril off his balance, but he quickly recovered. 

“Well, he usually finds me along with my sister so--”

“Big brother!” Two pale arms wrapped around Tyril’s shoulders and squeezed, holding him close. His eyes lit up as the woman behind him kissed his cheek. “Staying as asocial as always, I see.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not for your company, no.” The woman’s eyes flicked to Naexi’s, as piercing as her brother’s but leagues warmer. “You’re Naexi? I’ve seen your work. You’re very good.”

She smiled as she responded. “Really? That means so much, thank you. You must be Adrina.” She stuck her hand out, but exclaimed a small “oh!” when Adrina pulled her up from the chair to give her a hug. 

“Everyone’s here for my father, so I’m allowed to break stuffy old etiquette.” Her laugh was light and airy, like a sweet breeze on a summer day. A man with Tyril’s pale skin and dark hair appeared behind her, posture straight and face neutral. Tyril stood quickly, taking his place in front of his father and next to Naexi. 

“Hello, Father.”

“Tyril! I’m glad to see that you found a date in time.” His tone was one of pride that barely hid the small element of surprise.

“Yes, this is Naexi.” The feeling of Tyril’s warm grip on her waist was already enough to make her knees buckle, but she forced herself to stay upright to shake his father’s hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you. Your gala is truly beautiful.” 

“What else do we ever expect from the famed Valir Starfury?” a smooth voice sounded from her right, and her head quickly swiveled to see who it belonged to. The man’s smile was friendly and inviting, but upon closer inspection, the feeling never reached his eyes. His mop of curly hair was perfectly styled to make him look boyish, but with the way Tyril’s grip tightened ever-so-slightly, Naexi knew something was off. 

“Aerin.” 

“Tyril, is that how you greet an old friend?” Aerin laughed, sloshing his champagne in its glass. He turned a predatory gaze on her. “It’s been a while since you’ve had a date, Ty.” The man next to her stood completely still, his eyes narrowed. “Who was the last...Kaya?”

“And your point?” Tyril’s response was sharp enough to make Adrina take the smallest step toward him. Aerin continued to stare at Naexi while addressing Tyril.

“You sure know how to pick them, hm? You have a keen eye for beauty.” Aerin winked, but it made Naexi’s heart flutter and skin crawl. She shifted in her heels, ignoring the pain in her feet. There was palpable tension in the air between the five of them, suffocating and humid. Naexi racked her brain to find some way to cut it. 

“I have to use the restroom.” The statement came off far louder than she intended, but it still did the trick. Aerin blinked, taken aback by her exclamation, and Adrina surged forward to take hold of her wrist, pulling her away from her brother and through the crowd of high rollers. 

“I’ll take you!” Adrina said, hoping that the men would get the hint. As soon as they were out of earshot, she let out a sigh. “Thank goodness you got us out of that one. I’ve never been more grateful for girl code.” 

“Who was that? He was charming but…”

“Sleazy? Yeah, you’re not the only one. That’s Aerin Valleros, heir to WhiteTower Corporations. He acts like he’s the best thing since sliced bread, but he’s been in more scandals than I can count.” Adrina visibly shuddered. “He’s creepy.” 

“Didn’t he assault his brother or something?” Naexi asked, remembering the name popping up in one of the numerous headlines Nia sent her a while back. 

“Yup, they fought over who was going to take over the company. Beat him so bad that his brother stepped down.”

“Holy shit.” They had reached a wall next to the opening for the bathroom, so they stood outside and leaned against it to talk. “Everyone here is insane.”

“Yeah, I feel kind of bad for leaving Tyril with him.” 

“What’s their beef?” Adrina sent a wide-eyed glance to Naexi.

“People really say that?” She let out a delighted laugh. “I love that! Anyway, Tyril used to be engaged to this girl Kaya, but she cheated on him with Aerin and they planned to take over the Starfury company together.” She grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and took a long sip. “But then her assistant leaked information to the press and she disappeared.”

“Do you guys live in a Lifetime movie?” 

“Pretty much,” Adrina sighed, seemingly searching for someone in the crowd in front of them.

“Did you come here with a date?” Adrina hummed her answer and Naexi gently nudged her bare arm. “Go find them. I’ll be fine here.” 

“You sure?” 

“Go on!” Naexi waved her hands to shoo her off and leaned back against the wall to sip her champagne. Just as she was about to go find Tyril, a sultry voice and a large hand on her forearm held her in place. 

“Hello.” Aerin was polite, but kept his hand on her. She felt goosebumps rise along the back of her neck and Adrina’s explanation of who he was repeated in her mind.

“Hi.” 

“I apologize for the uncomfortable situation earlier. I’m afraid Tyril and I aren’t on the best of terms.” He seemed genuinely concerned, and for the briefest second, Naexi felt her guard fall. 

“Should I be the one you’re apologizing to?” Her champagne barely stayed in her glass as he slammed his hand onto the wall behind her, bringing his face close to hers and smirking when she backed up to the hard surface. No one around her seemed to notice. 

“You’re quick. It’s attractive. Do you think I’m attractive?”

“Trapping a woman because you can’t get her to come to you isn’t attractive,” Naexi drawled, keeping her gaze locked on his. He was simmering and dangerous; one wrong move could make him boil over, but she figured that he had more to lose than a random photographer here as a plus-one. 

“What does Tyril have that I don’t?” At this, his breath cascaded over her face, and she didn’t know what he had been drinking all night, but it certainly wasn’t the expensive, barely alcoholic bubbles that were being passed around. 

“Better alcohol tolerance, for one.” She winced as he laughed. 

“Funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.” Before she could speak again, Aerin gave a yelp as his tuxedo was yanked back, making him stumble into Tyril, who caught him easily. 

“It’s time for you to leave, Aerin.” People were finally beginning to stare as Tyril walked Aerin out, who was mumbling about his kingdom. Naexi followed, easily hailing a taxi and pushing the drunk man into the back seat with a purposeful shove. The night was cold, and she turned to walk back inside when she felt a tug on her wrist. Looking back, she saw Tyril with his cold, slender fingers against her skin. “I don’t want to go back in.” 

“Wanna head to your place?” 

“Desperately,” he breathed, pulling her close to him and handing his ticket and a tip to the valet. His hand was wrapped around her waist exactly how it had been for the entire night, but this time felt different. His hands were always cold, but his touch was burning with a promise, which he kept as soon as they shut the door to his apartment. 

His kisses were always encompassing, as if he captured every atom of her being between the seam of his lips, his teeth grazing every thought in her mind and his fingers brushing her soul. His movements were deliberate as he walked her backwards to his bedroom, slipping her dress off and letting it pool on the floor next to the sleek coffee table. She was more hurried, eagerly tugging his jacket off and tossing it in the hallway. Finally, they reached his room, vast and cold but slowly thawing. A well-placed kiss to his now-exposed collarbone had him gasping. 

“Please…” he breathed, falling back onto the bed by himself as she stayed standing above him. She looked down on him, studying the way his chest rose and fell so quickly and the way his lips were ever-so-slightly parted, caught in the guarantee of pleasure that was soon to come. He gazed at her as if she was the only person left for him in the world.

He made her believe it. 

“Tell me what you want, Tyril.” His words seemed to get caught in his throat as she, bare and only clad in a thin pair of black panties, got onto her knees on the bed and straddled him, already moving to unbutton his fancy shirt and pants. She could feel him hardening beneath her and gave an experimental grind, pulling out a low moan from his chest. His hands were loosely placed on her hips, but they traveled down to stroke her thighs. 

“Please,” he repeated, sitting up to shrug off his shirt and unintentionally hitting his forehead on her collarbone. 

“What, baby?” she asked, picking his head up and tilting his face to look up at her above him. His eyes were nearly shut and his lips were swollen, and she gave him a small simper. “Use your words.” 

“I…” he trailed off, struggling to voice it. “I want you to suck my cock, Naexi.” She pressed a kiss to his lips and climbed off him, pulling him up to stand and kneeling in front of him. His hands immediately found her hair, tangling in the long locks as she pulled his pants down and fished his cock out of his fancy boxers. He opened his mouth to say something, but all thought left his mind as she wrapped her lips around his head and sucked, flicking her tongue around the tip. “Ah!” he yelped, eyes rolling back as his hand tightened in her hair. She briefly took her mouth away and settled for just her lips against him, and he whined in displeasure. “P-please--ooh--don’t tease me…” She took him in deeper until he teased the back of her throat, and he risked a glance down at her. 

Naexi was looking directly into his eyes, studying his reaction and flicking her tongue accordingly. The sight of her green eyes brimming with tears as she took him was nearly enough to make him come, and she sensed it in the slight scratch of his fingernails against her scalp. 

“You take my cock so well, Naexi,” he breathed, and she moaned around him. Letting out a shaky breath, he tapped once against her head. “I’m so close.” Instead of pulling away, she pushed his cock further down her throat and ran her tongue along a prominent vein along the underside of his shaft, pushing him over the edge. He let out a long groan as she swallowed him down, running her hands up and down his sides to both soothe him and keep him from stumbling. She stood and gave him a bright smile, raising herself to her tiptoes (even though she didn’t need to) and pressing her lips to his. He eagerly returned the favor, pulling away only to allow his lips to burn a path down her throat. He reached her collarbone, but stopped suddenly with his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Everything okay?” Naexi asked, searching his face in concern.

“You--” Tyril started, but stopped, pursing his lips in disapproval. “You smell like him.” 

“Aerin?” Her head was cocked, but her eyes widened when his own darkened. 

His voice was low and made her heart race. “Don’t say his name.” 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, casting her eyes downward and fiddling with her hands. Sighing, he nuzzled the crook of her neck, placing kisses and small bites on the flesh he found there. 

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful with him. He sees a beautiful woman and loses all ability to think.” His hands flew to her hips to pull her closer to him when she gasped at his teeth on her skin. “The fact that you’re mine only made him crazier.” 

“Yours?” She reached under his chin to bring his face up to hers, glancing down at his lips and then back up at his eyes. 

“I’m--I meant you were my date, not mine, you’re not property--I just meant--” he stammered, taking a step back before realizing that the bed was close behind him. He lost his balance, falling back against the bed with a loud cry and frowning when Naexi snorted, barely containing her laughter at him. Instead of tugging him back up, she climbed on top of him again, letting her hair fall into his face as she looked down at how pretty his own locks were splayed out against the bed. 

“Don’t worry, Ty, I like it.”

“You do?” 

“I like being yours…” She pressed a kiss to the right side of his neck. “...and only yours…” She switched to his left. “No one else’s.” She placed a final kiss to his lips, one that he prolonged as he followed her when she tried to break it. “So greedy.”

“I can’t help it,” he breathed, giving a small squeeze to her hips. “I hated watching him put his hands on you.” 

“Then how about you put your hands on me?” He smirked as she yelped at his quick movement to flip them over, pinning her to the bed by her wrists. Tyril immediately released her and ran his fingertips down her arms and stopped at her breasts, electing to switch to his mouth. With his left hand, he kneaded her flesh in his palm and took her right nipple in between his lips, flicking his tongue to mirror her movements from when she deepthroated him. His right hand continued downward until his index finger was circling her clit and entering her easily with the help of her own arousal. “Yes!” she gasped, back arching to push her body even closer to his. His finger pumped in and out of her, curling every so often and making him smile as she moaned louder and louder the closer she got to climax. He rushed the process by adding his middle finger and curling, hitting her sweet spot inside while rubbing her clit with his thumb. 

“Come on, Naexi, let go for me.” She responded with a wail as she came, hands clutching the sheets and legs shaking. He continued to move his fingers even after she recovered, but leaned down to whisper softly in her ear. 

“Would you like more?”

“Fuck, Tyril, yes. Just fuck me,” she begged, eyes barely able to stay open to look at his grin. He raised to his knees on the bed and looked down at her for a brief moment before entering her, admiring the way her skin shone with sweat and the way her flesh was blemished with the marks he had placed there. Naexi, in all her glory, was his. 

“All mine,” he whispered before thrusting and gasping at how perfectly her heat enveloped him. He buried himself inside her, allowing her a few seconds to get used to his size. Finally, the legs she instinctively wrapped around him squeezed his waist, getting him to pull out of her again before slamming back in with a loud moan. 

“Tyril!” she screamed, thankful for the lack of neighbors in his penthouse apartment. “Faster, please!” she pleaded, green locking with blue as she met him thrust for thrust, clenching around his cock and grabbing the wrists that connected to the hands clutching her waist. He picked up his pace, moaning all the while, and felt his stomach already coiling, a tell-tale sign of how close he was. She let out a small cry as he hit her sensitive spot and brought his thumb down to rub around her clit, unexpectedly throwing her over the edge. “Don’t stop, Tyril!” He heeded her instruction, and at the feeling of her juices coating his cock, followed her to his own peak, releasing himself inside her. Her eyes blinked slowly, as if finally coming back to her senses minutes after he pulled out and retrieved a warm washcloth to clean her up. Sitting up, she followed him to the bathroom, rubbing at his shoulders as he began to draw a bath. 

“Did you...enjoy the gala?” he asked awkwardly, frowning when she laughed. 

“After that mind-blowing sex, that’s what you’re going to say.” She poked his cheek and then kissed the small, red spot. “You’re too adorable.”

“...It was mind-blowing?”

“You’re turning into Mal.” His eyes bulged and he exaggerated a shudder. 

“Oh no.” 

“But yes, it was mind-blowing.” Her lips found his easily, but she pulled away again when she felt a smile against them. “What are you smiling at?”

“I’m just happy that now I can have mind-blowing sex with you all the time now.”

“How romantic.”

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Mafia (Part V/TBD)

Notes: So I’m sorry this took longer than usual, I’m finally starting to struggle with the path this fic is going to take but I finally got a direction in mind. I also want to note that this whole prompt was given/requested by @mrskamilxh and while the fic is mine the idea for it was not. I will try to stay on top of posting the next few chapters to the best of my ability but I have 2 weeks of school left so they’re really beating us down. I also want to apologize because I feel like this is where this AU is going to decline so...I’m sorry in advance. I’m more of a fluff writer so this has been quite the adventure and a struggle, and trying to avoid Stockholm syndrome is also a road bump I ran into (thank you croissant for pointing that out!!)

Pairing: Kamilah x Amy (Amy Johnson)

Warning: Violence, Language 

Tags: @mrskamilxh @sad-slytherin-stuff @made-me-deep-blue @scarlet-letter-a0114 @uselesslesbianfr @kamilah-sayeed-let-me-love-you 

Part I Part II Part III  Part IV

Kamilah woke up, her phone buzzing softly underneath her pillow, she let out a soft groan. She reached for the phone, hitting the off button, she glanced at Amy and her sleeping form. Her head was tilted up against the pillow, her shoulders were relaxed. Kamilah studied her face, grimacing at the bruises that had formed across her cheeks, bruises because of her. She watched Amy’s chest rise and fall as she stood up off the couch. 

She huffed, standing up and leaving the room silently to make herself a cup of black coffee. She walked down the halls of the hideout, greeting the other mafia members with a silent nod. She brewed her coffee, leaving the kitchen and moving towards an office. She sat at the mahogany desk, stacked with files and debriefings that Kamilah could care less about. She scolded herself for opening up to Amy, she couldn’t risk that type of disadvantage. 

“Miss Sayeed?” A low, husk voice rang out, followed by a firm knock in the doorframe.

“What is it now?” Kamilah huffed, her attention shifting to the man. “What’s the problem Darius?” She crossed her arms, sitting back in the chair and kicking her feet up on the desk. 

“We’re having trouble in Queens, the crew failed to retake the shipyard,” he bowed his head down, almost in grievance before returning to a stoic posture, “they’ve been dealt with but we still need to retake the shipyard.” He took a shaky breath, his shoulders rolling back as he puffed his chest. 

“And there’s no capable Mafia member that could take it?” Kamilah rolled her eyes, fiddling with a pen. Darius shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes.

“I suppose I will have to take it directly? Is that what you’re asking?” Kamilah shot him a hard gaze, her eyes piercing his, he gave her a single nod. Kamilah huffed, standing up straightening up her blouse before putting her blazer on.

“I suppose it’s time to go to work.” Kamilah gestured for Darius to walk out of the room, as she followed. She turned and walked towards the room where Amy was. She opened the door, meeting Amy’s gaze as she stepped into the room. 

“We have to go somewhere, and I’m going to need you to cooperate.” Kamilah crossed her arms, her gaze hard and cold. Amy met her eyes with her own cold gaze, the time spent reading the night before nothing but an afterthought. Amy shifted in the chair, grimacing at the friction between the ropes and the skin of her wrist. Kamilah watched before speaking firmly, “I read to you and you said you would cooperate, either way you’re going to do as you’re told or you’ll die. Understand?” 

Amy felt the absence of Kamilah softness in her words, but she quickly brushed it off, returning Kamilah’s coldness with her own. Deep down she wondered what had changed. 

“I have nothing to lose.” Amy clenched her jaw at Kamilah, squinting her eyes at her. Kamilah strided over to Amy, placing her hands on either side of her. Amy felt a pit in her stomach, she felt the same fear she had when she had been captured, reminding her of reality, the reality that Kamilah was a mafia weapons dealer and she was supposed to be hunting her.

“Let’s go. I don’t have time for your childish games.” Kamilah stood up, removing Amy’s restraints but keeping the barrel of her gun locked on Amy. Amy carried the decoy gun with her, sighing, wondering if she could manage an escape if the Mafia was distracted. She kept herself quiet, following orders, trying to forget the sound of Kamilahs soft voice from the night before. 

The ride to the shipyard took forever, the piercing silence between all the members leaving tension throughout the whole truck. The truck came to a halt, the tires screeching against the asphalt. 

“Let’s go.” Kamilah gestured as she stepped out of the car, walking towards the trunk. She opened it with precision, revealing an arsenal of assault rifles and other weapons that made Amy cringe. 

I’m going to watch them kill people. I-I can’t let that happen, but this might be my only chance to escape...and if I die trying then I can say I tried. 

Kamilah nodded as the group split up and began sneaking around the back of the skipyard, no darkness to cover them. Amy followed and watched as Kamilah and the other members moved swiftly, taking note of their hand signals and body messages. 

“Darius I need you to-” A bang interrupted Kamilah's voice, followed by gunfire and sirens. Amy quickly moved behind the wall, hiding her head and moving further from Kamilah. 

Now is my chance. I have to move. Slow and steady, the gunfire should make your steps pretty quiet Amy. 

“It’s a bloody goddamned trap! Move!” Kamilah ducked behind a metal crate, scanning the area for an escape route and for Amy. “Fucking hell where is she?!?!” Kamilah ducked with a shaky breath as a bullet bounced off the edge of the crate.

Amy moved swiftly and silently along the wall of the boatyard, the loud firing of guns muffling her pounding heartbeat. She gasped as she backed into a warm body.

“Ah-Jackson?” Amy’s heart stopped, she quickly grabbed Jackson by the arm and ducked, whispering in his ear. “What’s going on? What happened?” Jackson yielded his gun, gazing deep into Amy’s eyes. 

“We weren’t going to let them get the best of you, we knew they had their eye on this boatyard. We needed to draw them out.” He ducked as a bullet fell next to their crouched figures, “luckily you were with them, we watched you leave the car, and even if you weren’t with them we were coming to get you.” Jackson patted her arm, shielding her away from the boatyard, and Kamilah. 

Kamilah returned fire, aggressively, hitting a man in his leg hoping to get a hold of him for an interrogation. She didn’t move fast enough, before being overrun and forced to retreat with the few men who survived. They ran quickly, with breathtaking precision and care. They used the shadows of the night to their advantage, ducking corners and alleyways until they made it to an abandoned building. 

“What the fuck was that?” A tall skinny man asked as he gripped his grazed shoulder. He winced at the pain, baring his teeth at the floor.

“A setup. A goddamn setup Aaron!” Darius voiced back, his face gripped in his hands, his head dripping sweat. “Where’s Amy?” He gazed up at Kamilah who was pacing furiously, her knuckles turning pale. Her face was red and glimmering with sweat, her jaw clenched, and her eyes raging with anger.

“Gone.” 

[anotheronechicagobog]

The Crackship Sails to Molly’s Natalie Manning x Stella Kidd

written by @anotheronechicagobog​

warnings: swearing, mention of homophobia, Manning isn’t Nat’s maiden name, she changed it when she got married, just saying, Helen’s kindof a bitch, canon compliant accidents, implied artificial insemination, implied/mentioned smut

They had absolutely no idea how they ended up there. Well, that wasn’t strictly true... Molly’s and ladies’ nights. And tequila, tequila was definitely at fault here. For their hangovers and their nudity under the covers. Unfortunately, the tequila didn’t take their memories, so they knew exactly what they did. Or who they did, rather. And the answer was each other.

After Natalie’s awkward exit from Stella’s apartment above the Hermann house, Stella made quick work of the dirty dishes from their breakfast. She couldn’t help but think back to the previous night. They were so drunk, but Natalie was so hot and Stella just felt something inside her snap. It had felt like a coil, but everything that she and Nat did last night, it all just felt so right, so satisfying. She felt like she was on a high. There was no way she was going to last long without having sex with Natalie again, she could already feel herself going crazy.

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As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. And so, their friends with benefits relationship began. Stella was a bit nervous, she had a two-year-old son and a pretty crazy mother in law. But it felt so right. Until it felt more than right, and both women knew they were in trouble. It started with cuddling after sex and lead to watching movies in the afternoon and lingering touches and longing looks. But one rainy Sunday afternoon, they were cuddled on Natalie’s brand new GRÖNLID, and suddenly it just hit both of them. They were dating, in secret, but dating. Natalie licked her lips and looked Stella in the eye. “Will you go on a date with me?” Stella cradled her face gingerly, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I would love to.”

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It became obvious to Helen very quickly that Natalie was seeing someone, and the thought made her stomach heavy. She knew it wasn’t fair of her to hate the idea of Natalie moving on, but she couldn’t help it. She only had one son. She only wanted one son. And he was gone.

So when Owen was picked up by someone else while Natalie was at work, months after Helen knew she had officially begun dating him, Helen lost it. Her mouth turned bitter as she drove to the hospital, fully prepared to scream at her daughter-in-law in front of her coworkers. When she got to MED she barely remembered to throw her car in park before slamming the door and marching past everyone. The people waiting, nurses, secretaries, the only one who was able to stop her was Maggie. “Helen, hi. How are you? You know you can’t be back here right?”

“I’m here to see Natalie, move.”

“Okay, no. You do not get to speak to me like that ever, much less so in my ED. Drop the attitude. Now.”

“It’s too soon, Maggie, it’s only been-”

“Four years. It has been four years Helen, I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re going through, but I know that it is absolutely no excuse for acting the way you are. You are not entitled to Natalie’s love life, and you still haven’t apologized to me. And since you’re not in an emergency medical situation and I do not feel like dealing with your BS right now, you need to leave.”

“Maggie you can’t-”

“I’ll call security.”

“Don’t interfere with something that-”

“Security, escort this woman off the premises, please and thank you.” The two security guards Maggie had summoned with a raised eyebrow ended up dragging Helen out kicking and screaming. All while Natalie watched in heartbreak. Was it really that awful that she didn’t want to be alone and empty for the rest of her life?

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Because of the incident at MED Nat and Stella decided it was time to sit Helen down and tell her that they were dating and to get over herself. Helen entered in a huff, somewhat pleased with herself that she finally got Natalie to admit she was seeing someone, but she would be lying her ass off if she said she wouldn’t give whoever this guy was shit for sneaking around with a widow. She didn’t see him though, only a Latina woman in a mustard sweater and jeans. “Alright, where is he?”

“Sit down Helen, you don’t’ get to talk to me that way.” Helen threw herself down onto the same chair she’d tossed her jacket and purse on while Natalie sat beside the woman on the light green couch. Helen felt all her rage and grief evaporate as she watched the two women intertwined hands. “I’m bisexual, Helen. So is Stella. I didn’t figure it out really until I met her. I guess a part of me always knew but I kind of ignored it, because, well, you know how people discriminate against LGBTQ people. But, she makes me so, so happy. And Owen just loves her.”

“Oh thank God.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t care about sexualities, really. Love is love and anyone who tries to limit the love of others is a fool and a monster. Truthfully, this is a relief. I was so scared that you’d found a man to replace Jeff. You dating a woman is actually a lot more comfortable for me. I already approve.”

“While I’m glad Stella’s got your stamp of approval, you have to understand that your behaviour recently is unacceptable, right? You are not entitled to anything, and you owe both me and Maggie apologies.”

“You’re... Right. Completely right. There isn’t an excuse or a reason, not a good one anyway. I’m so sorry Natalie. Really, I am... That... That psychiatrist you work with, Dr. Charles, does he, uh, is he accepting patients? I think, I mean I’ve put it off for so long, I think it’s time that I talk to someone. About everything.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Helen, I’ll talk to him tomorrow for you.”

“Thank you. Now Stella, you’ve been very quiet during all this, I’d like to get to know you. What do you do?- Oh! And how long have you two been dating?”

“I’m a firefighter, and we’ve been dating for- eight months?”

“Around that, yeah.”

“That’s wonderful, how do you like being a firefighter?”

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After Helen apologized to everyone and started therapy, things got much calmer. She also became Stella and Natalie’s biggest supporter. Like tonight, she was always offering to babysit for date nights, and the couple took full advantage of that. They were dining out at an intimate restaurant, glad for some time with just the two of them. “So I read this story on Reddit on my break today about this guy who, completely sober, was shoving a toilet brush up his... You know, so that it looked like he had a bunny tail. You guys ever get anything crazy like that?”

“Yeah actually, we’ve got this frequent flyer for ambo who regularly gets high off his ass, draws weird, nonsensical symbols all over his body, then call to complain that he was assaulted by aliens.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, hey, I found The Italian Job on Netflix, the one with Jason Statham. Wanna watch it when we get back?”

“Oh, absolutely. I love his movies.”

“I know right?”

“He’s like the British Ryan Reynolds.”

“Yes! Exactly!”

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TWO YEARS LATER

Stella was just finishing up with the snacks for Owen’s fifth birthday party when the Hermann Horde arrived. “Hey guys! Nat’s just about done with the decorations, but she and Owen are out back.”

���When does Helen get here?”

“She should be here in fifteen, she picked up the cake from the bakery.”

“I thought you were a pretty good baker Stella, why from a bakery?”

“I can bake many things, but a cake for forty people that looks like a shark? Nope. Not that.”

“Owen really likes the ocean, doesn’t he?” Cindy looked around at all the ocean-themed decorations, the snacks dressed up to look like different sea creatures. “He really does, can’t say I blame him though. We go to the aquarium pretty frequently, and damn these little guys are amazing and beautiful.” The placed the last of the jellyfish sugar cookies on the platter and smiled. She really felt like Owen was her son, and as far as anyone was concerned, she was. It would even be official in a couple of months when she and Nat get married. “I love seeing you happy like this Stella.”

“Thanks, Cindy. It feels good.”

“It looks good too, you’re both just so bright and sometimes I swear that Natalie’s glowing.” Stella kissed the older woman on the cheek, biting her lip to keep from revealing that Natalie was glowing, and that they’d be welcoming another member into their family in around eight months.

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TWO MONTHS LATER

Natalie and Stella were overjoyed, they were finally wife and wife, recognized by the state as a family. Hearts full and warm, they danced in slow graceful circles, the skirts of both their gowns flowing in cloud-like motions around them. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.” The music from the orchestra trickled to an end, parting the smiling brides. “Ready to tell them?”

“Yes. I am so excited.” Kisses were exchanged before the blushing brides made their way up to the stage with their arms around each others’ waist. “First of all, we would like to thank everyone for being here to celebrate the best day of our lives.”

“Second of all, we have an announcement to make. Nat’s three months pregnant.” Stella and Natalie placed their hands over Nat’s abdomen, smiling misty tears as they were met with cheers from all of their family and friends, no one louder than Owen.

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FIVE YEARS LATER

While working in the ED Natalie had been a witness to numerous tragedies. She’d also been through a few herself. And Maggie, wise, gentle, loving, Maggie, always knew when the worst of the worst were about to come through. She got this look on her face as she answered the head nurse phone, meaning that it was someone they all knew. After a few whispered words with Ms. Goodwin Maggie’s guilt-ridden gaze settle on Natalie. “Nat, I need you to go wait in the doctor’s lounge.”

“Maggie? What’s going on?” In the back of her mind, in the depths of her heart, Natalie knew what was wrong. But she didn’t want to be right. She wanted to be so, so wrong. “Dr. Conte,” Natalie had realized two months into her and Stella’s relationship that she still had the name she took when she married Jeff at twenty years old and decided to go back to her maiden name. “You need to go wait in the doctor’s lounge.”

“Sharon, no-”

“Incoming! Thirty-three year old female, firefighter, inside an electrical fire when the house went. Halstead, Noah, April, you’re in treatment three.” The sounds of beeps and medical jargon couldn’t be heard above the buzzing in Natalie’s ears. Choi was holding her back, trying to drag her to the doctor’s lounge, stopping her from being with her wife. And then her BP dropped and she flatlined. The instructions given could not be heard by anyone outside of the room over Natalie’s horrified, deafening, soul-shattering scream.

And then it was back. One round of epi and she was back. Natalie broke down into heaving, gut-wrenching sobs in Ethan’s arms. He was the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor, her legs had lost all their strength.

She didn’t remember sitting down, or getting any water or food. But suddenly she feels like she’s woken up and she has a bottle of water and thermos in her hands. “Eat.” Kelly Severide is beside her with a hand on her shoulder. Sylvie is handing her a spoon. Joe is handing her tissues. “Cindy and Helen are watching Owen and Celeste, don’t worry.” She’s drunk the entire water bottle and eaten five spoonful of soup when Maggie approaches her. “Maggie don’t tell me she’s gone- oh God, please no-”

“She’s fine. They’re closing her up now, she’ll recover just fine. Come on, I’ll take you to her recovery room. And bring that thermos. You’re going to finish eating even if I have to tie you down and feed you myself.”

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“Nat?” Stella had woken up, for good this time, and was staring at the love of her life as Connor and Crockett left the room. “You scared me. So, so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just be alive. Please, just stay alive.” Nat kissed her forehead and stroked her hair as all her tears just couldn’t be held back anymore. “I know you love being a firefighter, and I love it too, I will never want you to give up a job that you are so kickass at, but please, please be more careful. I’m begging you.”

“Okay... I’ll be more careful.” Stella’s coughing fit was cured by a glass of water, and the aches in her bones were cured by the gentle hugs from her son and daughter when they saw her an hour later. “I love you.” She chanted to each of them. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” And she did, until she and Natalie were in their eighties and living in Fowlerton. They were found by their neighbour who went to check on them after he didn’t see them on their porch like he did every morning. Stll. Peaceful. Tangled together. In love until their very last breaths.

[jimlingss]

I’m sMitten

➜ Words: 4.1k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Tsundere!AU, Police!AU

➜ Summary: You and Taehyung are hated for opposing reasons. It's not your fault that everything you say is a LIE! And it's not his fault that everything he says is the brutal truth. But what's worse is that Kim Taehyung can always see through you and he knows to twist your deception into honesties.

➜ NOTES: Thank you for THREE YEARS!!! I never thought I’d be around for so long but you all have given me a chance to share all my stories and I’m grateful for the love I’ve received, including all the messages and the encouragements. This is for the silent readers, the not-so silent readers, my mutuals, and also all fellow writers. Happy Three Years Anniversary!! Enjoy!

You’re a liar.   “Freeze! Put your hands in the air where we can see them!”   The gun is pointed straight ahead, muzzle aimed at the scared suspect. His eyes are wide, hands in the air and he follows your instructions, fear prominent in his obedient actions.   The red and blue lights flash on the pavement and the German Shepherd beside you is barking like crazy, gone berserk. The canine officer, your damn partner, does nothing to calm down the dog. “Your dog’s under control, huh, Kim?”   “He’s fine.” He sharply whispers. “He’ll only bite if I let go.”   “You should let go,” you snicker, sarcasm dripping from your tone. After a second, you return to the issue at hand. “Turn away from me! Walk back! Stop! Fall to your knees! Put your hands behind your head, cross your feet! Do. Not. Move!”   “Alright, alright!” The dark-haired suspect follows your instructions. He kneels on the pavement, not reaching for anything or making any sudden movements and you deem it safe enough to approach. The silver handcuffs come out and you apprehend him, twisting his arms back.   “You’re being detained, okay?”   “I didn’t do anything! I swear! This is a misunderstanding!”   “Stand up.” You pull on his arm and he staggers to his feet, being led to the police car. “Why did you steal the vehicle?”   “I...I didn’t,” he argues in a higher-pitched voice, weakly defending himself. At the same time, Taehyung guides his precious dog into the back of the car again and comes over to help you.   “Well, I believe you,” you say and the suspect frowns. “Have any identification? What’s your name?”   He mumbles it as Kim Seokjin and you slide into the front seat of your police car, typing it into the system. The guy comes up with ten warrants, aggravated assault, aggravated robbery, break and enter, numerous other things that leave you shaking your head with a long sigh.   Taehyung’s already there talking to him and you approach with news. “Looks like you have no warrants. You’ll be okay.”   Seokjin is confused, but he takes it as good news. “O-kay...so can I go?”   “Yes.”   “No,” Taehyung interrupts. “You’re so fucked buddy, I’m sorry.”   “What?!” He whips his head back and forth between you and Taehyung, befuddled beyond belief and completely bewildered. You don’t blame him — it’s pretty bizarre circumstances after all.   “You’re under arrest. Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to speak to an attorney and if you can’t afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand?”   You lead the suspect into the backseat of the car while he’s shouting protests, “Yes, but she said I was fine! She said I could be let go!”   “Yeah, well...she’s a liar.” Taehyung smiles happily, too bright for arresting someone, to the point where it might even be deemed as frighteningly sadistic. “You are too, buddy.”   The door slams shut and your partner looks at you for a long second, a soft exhale leaving the seams of his lips and he smiles. “You should really just let me talk to him next time. Saves a lot of time and confusion.”   You cross your arms, quirking your head to one side. “That’s a lovely idea, Kim. I love it when you do my job for me and leave me with nothing to do. I’m not here because I worked hard or because I like my career, but because I like you.”   He laughs. “Y’know, I actually enjoy your company, Y/N. But I don’t like it when you act like a bitch which happens to be always. Also, have you showered? You look awful and you smell bad. We work a lot of evening and night shifts, but that doesn’t mean you should stop taking care of yourself. A bit of makeup might help with your dark circle situation too.”   Your smile is tense and your left eye twitches. “I totally am not going to strangle you here, right now. You’re so sweet, Kim. I love you. So. So. So much.”   “Good.” Another grin draws on his feature.   “Let’s go.” You turn on your heel, not giving him another moment of your time. “Get in the driver seat.” He walks over to the passenger seat beside you and you put the keys in the ignition before driving away and leaving the stolen car to get towed.   It was infuriating, blood boiling. It wasn’t like the movies in the least bit — there was nothing super about powers. It was nothing like crime fighting heroes and vigilantes or battling against heinous criminals that needed to be defeated.   Powers barely changed anything about daily life. If anything, they acted as a hindrance.   And for you, that hindrance was massive. No matter what you do, you can only tell lies. While you can talk normally, utter a sentence or two without being affected, and hold regular conversations, when it boils down to important things, there’s only deceit and deception that rolls off your tongue. Truths become stuck to your throat, never to be heard.   For Taehyung, he is the complete opposite. He only knows truths. Everything he says is a part of his honesty, always authentic, always true to his emotions. He can’t hold a secret for the life of him, can’t sugarcoat or make people feel better, can’t compliment when he doesn’t believe in it. Whatever opinion he has or thought that rotates inside his brain, kind or malicious, they get exposed to the rest of the world.   People hated you both, but for vastly opposing reasons.   “Turn.” The camera snaps a picture of the suspect. He holds a sign, spinning slowly with Hoseok’s commands, getting booked in.   In the meanwhile, you and Taehyung are watching and drinking coffee, recharging yourselves. It was a slower night, so you were going to deal with this suspect to the very end instead of heading back out right away. It was nice to take a break like this.   “You know what I said earlier?” your partner pipes up and you internally groan, wishing there would be just some silence between you two. Taehyung’s been your partner-in-vanquishing-crime for about two years now and it wasn’t a surprise that you’ve become sick and tired of him. But a job was a job and you needed to deal with his ass whether you liked it or not.   No. “Yes.”   “About you being smelly and looking bad?” His gaze redirects down to you and it becomes softened, making you uncomfortable with how gentle his smile is. “I take that back. In this lighting, you look really cute.”   Your brows lift, unimpressed. “You’re flirting with me?”   “Yes.” Taehyung grins, unabashed and shameless.   “Go live, Kim.” A smile is forced out of you and what you mean is the very opposite. He knows it too and it irritates you that he’s amused. Your power is a curse and the only way you can insult him back is by using sarcasm. “You know I love it when you’re flirtatious. I like you a lot. It’s very sweet and nice to hear. Makes my night.”   “Good.” He nods. “But I mean it.”   “As a police officer, I always want to hear that I’m a cute little bean or a cinnamon roll. It’s very encouraging.” You might just sock him in the face, but for now, you give a rough punch to his arm.   Taehyung laughs and jumps back, rubbing at the spot that might bruise. “For the record, you’re almost always intimidating. But I know it’s just part of your exterior.”   “What are you talking about, Kim?” You bat your lashes, exaggerating. “I’m very calm and kind inside and out.”   “Yes, you are.” He offers a cheesy smile, subtly shifting closer to you. “I remember those days when you shared your lunch with me at the academy when I didn’t have anything to eat.” The reminder has you cringing — you can recall those memories with the snap of your finger. You used to look away and toss him a sandwich as if you always packed a second one and you said that you totally didn’t want to share with him.   “Oh! And I remember that time you fell asleep on my shoulder. I think about it a lot,” he reveals and you don’t know if he means to or not.   But you don’t dwell, turning away with heated cheeks. “I don’t remember at all.”   “He’s all yours,” Hoseok interrupts with a smile, used to the back and forth banter that often gives the chief a headache.   You quickly step away from your partner, approaching the scared suspect who has rounded eyes. He’s almost petrified to a comical level. “What’s happening now?”   “You’re gonna enjoy a nice warm meal and sleep for the night,” you say and it’s lies, lies, lies.   The suspect whips himself around, looking at Taehyung who’s following right behind you. Seokjin knows you’re untrustworthy, and Taehyung grins when he looks at him, the officer only knowing truths. “You’re going in for questioning, buddy.”   //   You’re not kind or merciful in the least bit. You’re harsh and believe justice needs to be dealt with an upheld iron fist. But with your ‘condition’, you naturally fall into the good cop role while Taehyung, the actual kinder officer, succumbs to the bad cop role. It’s terribly ironic, really.   “Why’d you steal the car?”   The room is bright with fluorescent lighting like there’s a permanent spotlight on the suspect. The four walls are without windows or clocks and you sat across from him in the small space, questioning his intentions. Yet, he defends himself in a shrill voice that threatens to burst your eardrums, “I didn’t!”   “And I believe you.” It’s a lie, but that’s what comes out of your mouth and you nod along. “But look at the evidence. No one else would. There is no one in this world who would believe you.”   “I...It was a misunderstanding.”   “Then whose car was that?”   “It’s a friend’s. They let me borrow it.”   “What’s your friend’s name?”   “Jeon Jungkook.”   You hum a note. “Okay. You got nothing to worry about.”   “R-really?” He looks up, slightly surprised. He’s not the sharpest criminal in the box — he’s rather easy to read, face too expressive and unable to hide anything.   You pat his shoulder. “You’ll be set free soon, Seokjin.”   “Y-you said that last time!”   “Just take it easy, alright? I’m going to get you a coffee and doughnut. How does that sound?”   The man slowly nods. “Sounds good.”   “Alright. I’ll be right back then.”   You exit the room. There was no way you were getting a coffee and doughnut for him. What were you? A waitress taking orders? Without a second to waste, you enter the adjacent room and Taehyung leaves, switching spots and you watch through the one-way looking glass.   The tall blonde enters and immediately, slaps down a file folder on the table. “It’s over, buddy. No one believes your lies, alright?”   The suspect nearly suffers from whiplash at the change of pace. “W...What?”   “You really think we don’t have the technology to run the license plate number? The car belongs to a fellow named Park Jimin.” Taehyung leans forward on the table, hands curled at the edge. “Do you recognize the name?”   “N-no.”   He smirks, channeling his cocky side. “Well, we gave him a call and he doesn’t know someone by the name of Kim Seokjin either. He just so happens to have called in earlier that his car had been stolen as well. It just so happens to be the same model, colour, and the exact same license plate as the car you were driving. Care to explain that coincidence?”   “I-I….”   “Oh yeah, we also have CCTV footage of you breaking into the car and driving away. You stole it at eight pm tonight at a Walmart parking lot.” The officer sighs. “You should really hide your face a bit better.”   Seokjin’s head slumps, giving up. “W-what’s going to happen to me?”   “Well, grand theft auto is a felony. With all your warrants and this, you’re probably looking at least seven years of jail time.”   “Can...I get my attorney now?”   Taehyung stands straight, wearing a big grin that looks too kind. “Of course!”   In the next half-hour, Namjoon arrives and takes over investigation duties, as well as Seokjin’s case. You and Taehyung are soon thrown back onto the road to patrol the streets and receive any dispatch messages. It’s a relatively uneventful night with only three stops made, one ticket being given out for speeding and responding to a potential domestic situation that ended peacefully.   At the end of the shift, Taehyung steals back the keys from your hand. “What are you doing?”   “Let me drive you home,” he says casually, only sneaking one glance at you. “You’ve been driving all night and you’re tired.”   You scoff. “Who says?”   “My eyes,” he counters.   “Fine.” You roll your shoulders, looking away from him. “Do whatever you want. Not like I care.”   Taehyung laughs as you slide into the passenger seat and he gets into the driver’s. He puts the keys into the ignition, firing up the engine and he shifts the gear into drive. You fiddle with the radio, letting calm music play from some random station. For once, it’s not the voices of other officers telling you what’s going on and you lean back, relaxing and listening.   It doesn’t last long before Taehyung interrupts your peace and quiet once more.   “Hey, can I get your opinion about something?”   “Since when did you care about my opinion?”   “Since always.” He remains candid and you take a glimpse of his profile, illuminated by the passing street lamps. Taehyung is concentrated on the road ahead and you forcibly peel your gaze off of him before you’re caught staring.   “Yeah right.” You roll your eyes. “I don’t care so do whatever you want.”   The man hums a low note. “What do you think….if I started seeing Sohyun?”   “From the dispatch department?”   “Yeah. She and I have been talking recently and we’ve hit it off pretty well. We’ve been thinking of going out for dinner and a movie recently. Sohyun’s nice too. She’s interested in me, that’s one thing for sure.” He’s not trying to be arrogant, merely telling you exactly how he perceives it. “So...what do you think?”   “I think it’s an absolutely great idea to start a relationship at work!” Your enthusiasm is dripping of sarcasm and you’re glaring holes into the side of his face. “That wouldn’t cause any issues at all!”   “It’s not that bad.” Taehyung glances at you. “If I like someone enough, I’d go through any lengths to be with that person. Hypothetically, of course. But I think the trouble is worth it. Don’t you?”   You refuse to answer his rhetorical question. “It sounds like you’re thinking about someone in particular. It’s not like I care, but are you interested in someone?”   “Yes.”   He’s honest even when he doesn't want to be. The reply that comes swiftly is all too sincere and silence fills the diminishing space between the two of you. The weight of his words dawning upon you only lightens its load when he pipes up again, “So? What’s your opinion?”   “You’re an idiot,” you spit out, feeling irrationally angry which makes you even more angry at how irrational you’re being. You don’t know why he’s asking you in the first place. “Go! Go meet all these girls to your heart’s content. You know what? Don’t just search for potential lovers at work. Go to bars and go on tinder. I don’t care at all!”   A smile spreads across Kim Taehyung’s face. It’s a stupid, enormous grin and his cheeks nearly burst with it, eyes crinkled slightly. “Okay, okay. I get it. You can calm down.”   “I’m already calm,” you huff out, fists balled in your lap. You absolutely hate it — all your lies can be twisted into honesties, everything you say the mere opposite is taken and the realization of this has your face burning hot.   Luckily, Taehyung has enough mercy to save your soul and change the subject. Unfortunately, what he brings up next isn’t what you want to talk about either. “Hey...what’s up with the new mittens on my desk?”   “It was on sale,” you mumble and the car stops at a red light. Taehyung steals the opportunity to turn and look at you. His gaze is intense, soft eyes trained at your features as if he’s trying to memorize them, as if he can see straight through you and your antics. You swallow hard, feeling yourself sweat under the pressure.   Taehyung sees deeper than the exterior of your power — of telling lie after lie and only lies.   “Did you get it for me because I kept complaining that my hands were cold?”   You did it for him. “I didn’t do it for you,” you bite back with malice absent from your timbre. It becomes quiet in the small car and you recoil in yourself, hating that you’re being put on the spot.   The light flickers from red to green and he drives forward, the road ahead empty. “Did you buy it for me?”   Yes. “No.” It’s an obvious lie. Everything you say is a lie. You’re permanently stuck in opposite’s day — your no is a yes and your yeses are nos. “I-it was just convenient for me. It was r-right there, okay? It wasn’t like I was actually thinking about you or anything. That’s disgusting!”   It wasn’t convenient for you. You had to go searching for it. You were thinking about him a lot.   You’re stuttering word after word and when it becomes quiet again, you peek over to see his big smile and you yell, “Don’t misunderstand! This doesn’t mean I like you, alright?!”   Taehyung laughs, the tinkling sound filling the space, drowning over the pleasant music of the radio. He’s enjoying the way you combust beside him, having too much fun teasing you and making you flustered.   “Thank you.” In the midst of his mischief, he is still genuine and frank. “I’ll use them all the time. In fact, I’ll sleep with them on tonight.”   “You’re stupid.” The corners of your mouth tickle and you can’t help the tiny laugh that bubbles up your throat, relieved that he likes it so much and imagining him actually sleeping with mittens on tonight.   “Maybe I am.” The man beside you giggles sheepishly and he hums, lolling his head to one side. “Honestly, I never thought you’d actually get me mittens. I complained about my hands being cold because I wanted you to hold my hand and make it warmer.”   You never know what Taehyung means and doesn’t mean to say, what he intends to keep a secret. He blurts things out all the time and he’s learnt to take it in his stride, purposeful when he spills secrets, confident like he means it and it’s not an accident. It takes you off guard and you’re even jealous. It’s hard to make it seem like you mean it when you speak in dishonesties.   “Hold your hand? Psh. I would never ever in my life do such a thing. That’s gross.”   He smiles, cheeks aching from doing it so much tonight. “You’re confusing sometimes, Y/N...but I know what you really mean.”   You’re brought to tears, saying nothing for fear of revealing the cracks in your voice.   Taehyung is always patient, forgiving, tolerant of you. You’ve never had a lot of friends because of your power, neither did Taehyung, but at least he could be honest about his feelings. For you, you’ve lost people all the time because of misunderstanding after misunderstanding.   “I like my life.” You don’t like your life. You hate being confusing. “I love being confusing.”   “It’s hard not being able to keep things to myself,” he acknowledges his position and peeks at you in sympathy. “But I don’t know what it’s like not being able to express what I really think. If it helps though...I think it’s cute.”   “You think being a liar is cute?”   He tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m not trying to undermine your issues. I know it must be difficult, but it’s cute when you get frustrated and huff and when you pout—”   “I don’t pout!”   “It’s cute when you lie. And you lie a lot.” He pulls up in front of your house, right at the curb and he shifts the gear into park on the quiet street. For some reason, you don’t leave right away. You don’t take the chance to escape, launching yourself out the door of the car as you usually would. A part of you wants to stay, even if it’s just for a moment longer.   But when you turn to Taehyung, his brows are furrowed. You recognize the pained expression on his face instantly. It’s happening again. One of those honest fits were occurring right in front of your eyes, perhaps prompted with the banter that was hitting too close to home, too close to the feelings brewing in the pits of your own stomach. He’s trying to hold back. But he can’t.   Taehyung’s mouth stumbles out words.   Facts begin to roll out.   His secrets spill.   The truths are uncontrollable and he can’t stop himself. It’s an itch on the back of his throat and confidential information kept in the recess of his mind begin to tumble like an avalanche.   Against his will, he blurts out— “I love you.”   Kim Taehyung never lies.   His eyes widen in shock, brows shooting upwards, and you’re surprised too. Immediately, Taehyung slaps his palm over his mouth, covering it like it’s a corkscrew trying to be stuffed down an over pressurized capsule. Between his fingertips, mumble words leak out.   You reach over, hand curling around his wrist and you yank his palm off his lips. Taehyung wants to stop telling you, but he can’t. He’s too honest and you’re too desperate to hear what he has to say. “—two years of being your partner and before that, meeting you at the academy.”   “For that long?” The question is quietly spoken. “You’ve liked me for that long?”   “How couldn’t I? You were so cute and you started giving me lunch when I forgot mine and I found out I really like talking to you. All the time. I like being around you. I’m pathetic, I know. But I was so happy when we got into the same department and then I was assigned to be your partner. I thought I won the lottery. It was better than when I found out the academy actually accepted my application. I actually threw a party at home by myself with my dog.”   “With your dog?”   Taehyung nods. “I gave him treats and baked a cake for myself and drank and almost drunk texted you afterwards which would’ve been a complete disaster.” From the soft light spilling into the small space of the car, you find his face reddened. His ears are pink and his cheeks are hot.   “I like you. A lot,” Taehyung spills. “If you couldn’t already tell.”   He shuts his eyes and then opens it again, expectant, waiting, maybe for your rejection.   Your chest blooms in warmth and the corners of your mouth tugs. “I hate you, Taehyung.”   You always lie.   In one swift movement, you’ve grabbed the back of his neck, roughly pulling him in like you’re about to punch the guy. But instead, you smash your lips to his in a kiss, almost violently. It kind of hurts, but he eases it, hands lifting to cup your cheeks in his palms. He smells like sweat and citrus, mouth soft and slightly chapped at the edges, adding the right amount of roughness.   Taehyung opens his eyes, just to peek at your expression and he can’t resist closing them again. He stares at your lashes, tilting his head slightly to fit his lips against yours like puzzle pieces and then he smiles. His mouth draws up into a grin. And after a moment, he can’t kiss you properly anymore when he’s giddily laughing and giggling against your mouth. You end up grinning against his lips as well, laughing like idiots mid-kiss, unable to do it properly or even finish.   But the fleeting, soft kiss was sweet — much like him.   You hate Taehyung so much.

[thedeviltohisangel]

Faithfully//4//

She didn’t think it would be her last hot dog at Wrigley so she wasn’t treating it as such. Her dad was getting much more sentimental as the day went on. In the morning, she was leaving for Quantico. It was the perfect balance of following in her father’s footsteps while also forging her own path. She’d be taking out the people who wished to do harm to others while also painting over the checkered way her dad chose to do it. 

masterlist is my URL/writing

send in what you wish to see next from these two!

She didn’t think it would be her last hot dog at Wrigley so she wasn’t treating it as such. Her dad was getting much more sentimental as the day went on. In the morning, she was leaving for Quantico. It was the perfect balance of following in her father’s footsteps while also forging her own path. She’d be taking out the people who wished to do harm to others while also painting over the checkered way her dad chose to do it.

“What do you think of Stone? The new pitcher?” Lucy shrugged.

“Not a lot of spin on the ball. They’re hitting him too well.” She shoved the last bit of hot dog into her mouth. “Are you gonna miss me when I leave?” She enjoyed teasing her dad but also wanted to make sure things would be okay once she left. Justin was hit and miss with his attitude and activities, Erin wasn’t always hanging out with the right people and her mother’s health was on the decline. Lucy felt like she was the glue that held the family together. Going felt selfish but she needed to be.

“Of course. You’re the only one who gets me.” Maybe that was another reason she was scared to leave. Hank Voight was a complicated man. He could be hard to read, even harder to talk to. Who would look out for him when he was so busy looking out for everyone else?

“I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

After a family dinner, her friends had dragged her out downtown to celebrate her last night at a bar. They all said that before she became a nark, she needed to have some fun with them.

“You still better be fun afterwards, Lu.”

“Yeah no killjoy shit. Enforce the law for everyone but us.” She laughed along with them and made her promises as a man approached their table.

“Couldn’t help but come over here and introduce myself once I saw the most beautiful smile in the world grace your face.” Lucy couldn’t help but snort.

“Sorry but I am just here with my friends tonight.”

“Yeah? I can’t buy you a drink?”

“No thank you. Have a nice night.” Dealing with creepy guys in bars was just par for the course but the way he was looking at her was almost sinister. Different than the way men normally looked at her when trying to shoot their shot on a Friday night.

“You good, Lu?” 

“Just feel icky after dealing with people like that is all. Where were we?”

Later that night after she had helped her more inebriated friends get rides home, the man from before decided to approach her once again outside the bar. 

“Fate must be involved as I see we meet again.” She rolled her eyes as he came sauntering over. “C’mon, baby, just let me put a smile back on your face.”

“No, thank you,” Lucy said through gritted teeth. She wanted to spit in his face. Tell him off for not taking her first no. Break his nose for the degrading pet name. But she had to be polite. In her past experience, men like him only got angrier if she stood up for herself. It only emboldened them to try harder.

“That’s not the answer I like.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.” He grabbed her wrist, her other arm pulling back to aim her fist right as his nose when he was pulled back by his collar.

“You got a fucking problem?” Lucy recognized him instantly. The pitcher from the game. The one who’s curveball she spent a whole inning complaining about. And now he was holding the man who wouldn’t leave her alone by the collar with a look that would have killed him on the spot if he was capable.

“Let me go, man! Just trying to shoot my shot!” 

“Looked like she blocked your shot and you didn’t like it.”

“Twice,” she mumbled under her breath. 

“Playing hard-” He went down like a sack of potatoes before he could get the sentence out of his mouth. Her fist had connected hard enough to draw blood, following him onto the pavement to hit him once, twice, drawing back for a third before it was her turn to be hauled up.

“As much as I think he deserves more, the last thing I think you deserve is an assault charge.” 

“Fucking sick of people like him.” His hand was gentle on the small of her back as he led her away from the front of the bar. “My fucking hand hurts too.” 

“You throw a good punch too.”

“Thanks. My dad taught me. And Krav Maga helps.” He stopped so she did too. “What?”

“Nothing. Just surprising,” he said with a smile and a shake of his head. “Come on, I know where we can clean your knuckles.” He led her further down the street before stopping in front of Wrigley.

“Do they give all of you keys?” Lucy asked as he led her around back to the team entrance.

“Some of us. I like to practice here.”

“I was at the game today. You could use it.” He smiled, waiting for the laugh that came after the delivery of a joke but it never came.

“You’re serious?”

“Why, a girl can’t have an opinion about sports?”

“No, that’s-”

“I’d like to wash my hand so I can go home please.” It was if the entire night was catching up to her all in that moment. “I have a really long and emotional day ahead of me tomorrow.” He quieted down and let the brief emotions pass through him.

“Here’s the bathroom. I’ll go grab a first aid kit.” Lucy nodded, slipping behind the metal door and away from the concerned look in his eyes. In the mirror she looked tired but not defeated. Not so faded that she was alarmed. Just like someone who had had a long night. And she had. There was a gentle knock on the door. “Got some alcohol and a bandage. But no rush. Take your time. Just letting you know I was back.”

“Okay,” she responded back so he wouldn’t think she was dying in there. She washed the blood off her hands with soap and water before splashing some on her face then patting it dry with a paper towel. Then she finger combed some of the knots out of her hair, blew her nose and was then ready to face Peter again. They just looked at each other for a moment once she opened the door back up to him. He was handsome. A sharp jaw and eyes that said too much for her to feel comfortable. He looked strong and acted caring. It was a shame she didn’t catch his eye at the bar that night.

“You want me to or…?” He motioned towards her with the first aid kit, not wanting to touch her without her permission first.

“Please. I’d pull away too quick when it stung.” She smiled and he smiled back, taking her hand when she offered it and dabbing at it gently with a cotton ball.

“Doesn’t look like it is bleeding too bad or too dirty.” He tossed the cotton balls and wrapped the bandage around her hand a couple of times before deeming that she was good to go.

“Thank you Nurse Stone,” she teased with a salute for emphasis.

“You’re very welcome…?” She had known his name because he played for the Cubs. She had yet to tell him hers.

“Lucy.” He extended his hand towards her and she took it with a shake.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah I guess we skipped over all the pleasantries,” she chuckled.

“Had more pressing matters to attend to.” It was then she realized they were both still holding each other’s hand as his thumb swiped over her bandaged knuckles affectionately.

“I know it’s been a night of favors but is there any chance you have the ability to give me a ride home?” The thought of calling a cab or her brother was making her sicker than any of the other events that night.

“Of course.” The ride back to her house was uneventful. Peter kept the music quiet and the talking to a minimum. As they got closer and the night was ending, it meant tomorrow was coming. That meant she was leaving Chicago. Leaving her family. Leaving every piece of her behind in order to take on the mantle of someone else. It was scary and made her anxious like she was when she left for college that first time. Like she was never going to find a place where she belonged if she left this one. Like she would never be as happy. Never be as loved.

“Do you miss anyone or anything when you’re on the road? So much that it hurts?”

“I wish I did. And that hurts me more.” His tone made it seem like he hadn’t really admitted that out loud before. But that he had been feeling it for awhile.

“Well, I hope that one day you do.” They held each other’s gaze longer than was necessary. To the point that pieces of them drifted in the space between. Tangling together into something new. They pulled up to her house soon after that, Peter cutting the gas before opening her door and walking her towards the house. “Thank you for everything tonight. I would have gone home crying and bleeding if it weren’t for you.” She smiled and was slightly over playing the situation but knew if she came home in less than perfect condition, would have ruined many more lives.

“You’re welcome but I am not sure you really needed my help.”

“Still. Nice to know chivalry isn’t dead.” The silence that settled over them on her front steps wasn’t awkward. Just two people who had shared a night together that seemed unbelievable. That they were finally realizing it.

“Maybe we can do it again some time.” It was hopeful but cautious. Testing the waters if the night had meant as much to her as it did to him.

“Maybe. Maybe you can look me up next time you’re in DC.” His eyes brightened at the notion he had a chance.

“I will.” And he would. 

“Good night, Peter.” She offered her hand for him to shake. “Until we meet again.” He took it firmly.

“Until we meet again.” He waited for the lock to click behind her before he went back to his car and rolled down the street. He smiled to himself as the radio played music gently. For the first time in a long time Peter Stone missed someone. And it felt so good.

[tinabean37]

Hey! How are you? Is it ok if I made a request from the Disney prompt list? If it's possible, I'd love for you to make a drabble combining 7 (Mike Wazowsky) and 29 (Merida). If not, pick your favourite and let the muse run free. Oh, BTW, I love 'My Superman', any plans on keep running that one? Thank you so much in advance! All the love!

I got two similar requests, so I combined this one with:

And yes, I am planning on continuing “My Superman”, I am working on some requests before I get back to my WIPs. I am so glad you like the story. I will do my best to get the next chapter out soon. :) 

I hope you guys like this drabble. Feedback is always appreciated!

You can request your own prompt if you like too. The list is here.

~~~~~~~~~

The Thief

Napoleon Solo x reader (This is my first time writing for Napoleon Solo, and I definitely had fun with it!)

Warnings: None that I can think of. Maybe some slight sexual harassment. 

The soft clink of the ice in your glass was drowned out by the voices of all the party guests surrounding you. Scanning around the crowd, you let out an excited gasp as you spotted your target across the room. You began to make your way over to the short, stocky man, swinging your hips to exaggerate your flirty ruse. When you got close, you sped up and feigned tripping on your heels, bumping into him, and spilling your drink on his coat. He spun towards you, with an angry look in his eye until he took you in. Just as you thought. You wore this skin-hugging violet dress on purpose. You knew how you looked in it, and how other men looked at you.

“Oh, sir; please forgive me. Too much champagne.” You lilted, batting your eyelashes at him like a schoolgirl. That was all it took for him to be smitten. “Please, let me help clean this up.” You didn’t wait for him to respond before you had a rag in hand, helping him dry the champagne off his suit. You actually heard him let out a soft moan while your hands were on him. What a creep. 

“Not a problem dear. How many other chances would I get to have a beautiful woman put her hands on me.” He gave you an almost predatory look, which made your skin crawl. When your lips curled into a smile, he mistook it, thinking it was meant for him. But, in fact, it was because your expertly sly fingers found what you were looking for unnoticed, tucked into his suit pocket. The key to the room where the auction items were kept. Before he could try to leach on to you, you gracefully excused yourself, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

You quietly made your way out of the main room, so not to draw too much attention to yourself. You stealthily made your way down the hallway towards the door you knew held the item you were looking for. Once there, you looked around one more time to make sure there wasn’t anyone who would see you, as you used the key you apprehended from the greasy man upstairs. You darted inside and quietly closed the door. 

You scanned all the items on the tables and shelves. What you were looking for wasn't very large. Easy enough for you to carry out, concealed in your bag. What you didn't know, however, was that you weren't alone in that room. Well trained eyes watched you from a shadowed corner. Quiet as he could, he silently made his way over to you, asking a question directly in your ear. 

“So, what are we looking for?” he asked casually. Unable to stop yourself, you let out a muffled scream as you quickly put your hand over your mouth. How had this man gotten the drop on you? You turned quickly to face him and were met with the bluest eyes you had ever seen. His dark curls were slicked back, and he held the ghost of a smile on his perfect lips. If you weren’t so aggravated with him for scaring you and interrupting your mission, you would have relished in having someone like him so close. 

“I’m sorry, can I help you with something?” you snapped. 

“You look simply stunning in that dress. That color looks lovely with your eyes.” was his response. 

“Alright, if you won’t answer that question, how about this one. Who are you?” 

“Your perfume is quite intoxicating. L’Air du Temps, is it not?” Frustrated, you steadied yourself to tell this rude, but handsome, stranger to take a hike. However, you stopped when you noticed the priceless antique jewelry box that you came for sitting on a shelf, just a few feet from you. You didn’t even make it 2 steps towards the shelf when you were quickly pulled back and turned around by the stranger's rough grip on your arm. Your hand snapped up to slap him for his rough treatment of you, but he grabbed your other arm to stop the assault. You took a deep breath, and you laid into him. 

“What the hell are you doing? Who the hell are you? The longer we are in this room the higher the chance we get caught. You are going to ruin everything.” You spat. His piercing blue eyes were aggravatingly calm as he listened to your stream. 

“Miss y/l/n, this much anger will leave wrinkles on that beautiful face, and we can’t have that.” Your eyes widened first in shock, then narrowed in frustration. You did not like being a step behind. You told him as much. 

“Well, it seems like I am at a disadvantage. You appear to know me, but I have no idea who you are.”

“Oh, I know a great deal about you. Your name is y/f/n y/l/n. You were born in Hamburg, Germany to Military parents, and moved to France when you were in your teens. That is when you began your life of crime, starting small with shoplifting, then working your way up the line. Cars, artwork, and then priceless antiquities. Which I am guessing is why you are here tonight. Am I close?” You did your best to hide your shock. 

“So I see you’ve done your homework. I’m impressed, but I still don’t know who you are.”

“Former fellow tradesman turned opportunist. Napoleon Solo.” He said with almost a bow. Of course, you had heard of him. He was famous, or infamous. You weren’t quite sure yet. 

“Well well, Mr. Solo. You are quite the legend.”

“Legends are lessons, they ring with truth.” He replied with a cocky smile. 

“Yes, well, it was lovely to meet you, but I am here on business, and it is none of yours.” You turned on your heel and started back towards the shelf. Yet, once again, you were roughly grabbed and dragged back into the dark corner you had just vacated. Almost in reflex, your hand snapped up again, ready to strike when Napoleon once again grabbed it midair. 

“Please stop trying to slap me. I am also here on business. My team and I have intel that within one of these items, is hidden some sensitive information about our government that would be very dangerous in the wrong hands if you get my drift.”

“So, it’s true then. You have become a turncoat. Joined the Feds. Out to stop those you helped create. Very poor form.” You shot him a mocking frown, and he almost chuckled. 

“Sure, let's go with that. However, I meant what I said. I’m not sure what you think you are going to walk away with here, but please, leave this to me.” You thought about what he had told you for a moment. You had your eye on that jewelry box. The rumor was it once belonged to the royal family. You couldn’t let that slip through your fingers.

“Mr. Solo, I truly appreciate the situation you are in, but, I can’t find it in me to care.” You said just as smug as he did. Before he could grab you again, you sped to the shelf and grabbed the box. 

“Put that thing back where it came from or so help me!” His voice was stern, but before you could think, the door handle began to shake. Someone was coming in. Without hesitation, Napoleon took the three large strides to you, grabbed you close to him, and closed your lips in a kiss. At first, you wanted to push him away, what did he think he was doing? But then it hit you. This would be your cover as to why you were in here. So you went along with it. And the longer you held your ruse, the more you let yourself enjoy it. 

His lips moved expertly against yours. Your mouths molded together like a perfect masterpiece. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, bringing him closer as his arms circled tighter around your waist. Lost in the moment you let yourself forget that this was just to keep up appearances, and you started to enjoy it. You traced his bottom lip with your tongue, his lips parting to meet your exploration with his own. The smell of this man was nothing compared to the taste of him. You could taste the brandy still, and it almost was as intoxicating as if you drank it yourself. But all too soon, the moment was gone when the men who were at the door saw the two of you. 

“Hey, you two can’t be in here.” You froze when you realized it was the greasy man from the other room that reprimanded both of you. Napoleon started this charade, you left it up to him to talk us out of it. You played the bashful woman, hiding your face in his shirt.

“Oh please, pardon us. We were just looking for a little...privacy.” He looked down at you and winked teasingly. You played along automatically because that impish look made you blush. “The door was unlocked so we let ourselves in. We couldn’t pass up the privacy and the dark if you know what I mean?” The two men that caught you shared a knowing look and offhand comment between the two of them. 

“I can understand that. A woman like that on your arm, I’d look for the darkest most private place myself.” It wasn’t just the statement made you really uncomfortable, it was the look and smile that accompanied it. You guessed Napoleon picked up on it as well because you felt him tense under your grip. His arm wrapped tighter around your waist, molding you as close as he could to him.

“Yes, well, please excuse us, we will find someplace else to continue this.” He led you both out of the room, making sure he was standing between you and the men in the doorway. Once you were out of the room, he kept walking you out of the building and into the parking lot. You tried to turn back around more than once, your job not yet done, but he wouldn’t release the grip he had on you. When you were far enough away from the building, you squirmed out of his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing? I need to go back there. I didn’t get what I came for?”

“You are not going back. I didn’t like the look of that guy. Plus…” Napoleon reached into his suit coat and took out the exact jewelry box you had come for. Your eyes went wide, and instinctively, you reached out for the item.

“You got it? Amazing. Let me have it, and I will be on my way.” He held tight to the box not giving you what you wanted.

“I can’t do that. Your target and my target have turned out to be the same.” Confused, you watched him open the box carefully. It looked empty, but Napoleon was a pro. He knew better. He placed the box down on the hood of his sleek black car and pulled out a small Swiss Army knife from his other coat pocket. When you finally realized his intention with his new tool, it was too late. Using the small sharp blade, he cut a small slit in the lining on the inside top of the box. He dug his fingers inside and pulled out a small yellowed envelope. You couldn't believe all the trouble you just went through to get to the box tonight was just rendered useless by this indelicate oaf. 

“You have got to be kidding me. That box was going to fetch me millions. Now I have nothing. What am I supposed to do now?”

“You don’t have ‘nothing’. You shared the company and a truly amazing kiss, might I add, with Napoleon Solo himself.” You looked at him to see if he was serious, and he flashed you a million-watt smile that made you blush and smile back. “I’d say you had a pretty good night.” You blew out a breath and shrugged. What else do you have to do now? You closed the gap between the two of you and met his lips in another kiss. Who knows, maybe this could end up in a lucrative partnership. All you knew was, kissing Napoleon was the best consolation prize you’d ever received.

[teaveetamer]

My Issues With TFioS (and Other Elements of John Green)

Alright I’m just going to preface this with two things.

It’s been about six years since I’ve read the entire thing through, so my points are probably not going to be as detailed or precise as they were when I first read it.

If you enjoyed the book, identify with the fanbase, or like John Green in any capacity... Great! You might want to skip this one. This is definitely not the post for you. I’m going to put all of my more controversial thoughts under the cut so if you don’t want to see them you can just move on.

I brought up the book in that other post because I felt it had relevance to the discussion of “authors using characters as a mouthpiece”, but that’s only a small part of my issue with the book itself. I suppose I could have used a fanfiction example, since there’s more than enough fodder there, but I brought up The Fault in our Stars specifically because I feel comfortable criticizing a book in a way that I don’t feel comfortable criticizing fan works. John Green is a public figure that produced a paid product, made money, and does this professionally, while most fanfic authors are amateurs that provide free entertainment and just do it for fun.

Now with that said, we move on to the meat of the post.

Some Background

Perhaps this is not a little known fact, but I absolutely adore love stories. I don’t have incredibly high standards for them by any means, and in fact I actively enjoy them even when they aren’t the deepest, most thought provoking pieces. Someone got me a copy of Red, White, and Royal Blue for my birthday this year and I read the entire thing cover to cover in a day (and I seriously recommend if you’re looking for a pretty easy read with a lot of gay).

The only thing I love more than love stories? Tragic love stories, of course. If anyone has followed my fanfiction or main blog for any amount of time then you know that I love a little bit of tragedy. Usually with a happy ending, but not always. So when one of my friends shoved (and I mean literally shoved) The Fault in Our Stars  into my hands and billed it as a “tragic but heartwarming love story” I thought it would be perfect for me.

I was sixteen at the time, the target age demographic, and I was always looking for books with smart, well written teen characters. At this point in my life I’d never heard of John Green or his fanbase before. I tell you this because I disliked the book as I read it, but I think John Green and his fanbase are a major factor in why I disliked it so much I’m willing to sit down and write a blog post about it six years later. Granted, that’s not all on the book, but it is a factor.

Needless to say, I was not all that impressed by it. At some points I was downright infuriated, really.

My Issues With the Book

In summary, it feels very meh and overly pretentious. After about two chapters I just wanted to put it down, and the only reason I pushed through is because my friend insisted that it got better. She said it was funny, relatable, and intelligent, but I found it to be none of these things.

The impression I got was that the author, whoever he was, fancied himself terribly clever and he wanted everyone to know it. You know the type, the kinds of people that go around and assure everyone of how smart they are? It feels like it was made for haughty teens to brag about how intelligent they were because they read a “deep” book.  The book itself, despite being a surface level of “witty”, didn’t really have anything to say. In the end it reads like a thirty-something year old man bragging about how smart he is and waxing philosophical about the nature of life (and... Breakfast food..?) and using a fictional teenage girl to do it.

That’s why I brought up the “mouthpiece” thing. I didn’t want to read a book about a thirty-something dressing up his thoughts as a teenage girl. I wanted to read a book about a teenage girl.

Speaking of Hazel Grace… I don’t know if this is a common experience, but can anyone else tell when a man writes a female character? I find that I usually can. Men have a particular voice when they write, and especially when they write women. Every single page hammered me over the head with the fact that this was a man who was trying (and, in my opinion, failing miserably) to write a relatable teenage girl. And, in my opinion, he parroted a lot of very upsetting, dangerous mentalities for young women.

There were quite a few “I’m not like other girls, and not just because of the cancer!” moments (a mentality that I find wholly problematic coming from other women, let alone a man writing for a woman) that just had me rolling my eyes straight out of their sockets. She doesn’t care about shoes, see! She reads books! Isn’t that awesome and unique? Because, apparently, women are not allowed to do both.

These problematic mentalities extend into the book’s romance plot, too. Augustus is, frankly, one of the creepiest motherfuckers I’ve ever had the displeasure to read about. Not only is his aggressive creepiness portrayed as romantic, but Hazel reacts exactly how men wish women would react to their advances. Unfortunately I don’t have a copy of the book in front of me so you won’t get much in the way of direct quotes, but some examples include:

He stares at her, completely unblinking, for the duration of their cancer kids support group meeting… before they’ve even so much as spoken a word to each other. Which also features this gem of a quote: "A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well." which just perpetuates the disgusting misconception that women are okay with being creeped on as long as a guy is attractive. Spoiler alert: We fucking aren’t.

He repeatedly refers to Hazel as “Hazel Grace”, despite her introducing herself as “Hazel” and asking him to just call her “Hazel”. And not only does he ask for her full name, he demands she give it to him. This rings all kinds of alarm bells for me, because you know who else does that kind of shit? Christian Grey. And it’s manipulative, disrespectful, and downright rude. It is essentially saying “I hear your desires, but I would prefer to address you how I want to address you, not how you would like to be addressed, because my ego is more important than your comfort”.

Hazel is perfectly fine with getting into a complete stranger’s car and spending time at his house mere minutes after meeting with him and after all of the questionable shit he just pulled.

Continuing this book’s litany of problems with women, let’s talk about Isaac’s (ex)girlfriend. The book treats their breakup as this massive betrayal, then even goes on to justify vandalizing her property because of it.

I’m sorry, but no.

You, as an autonomous human being, have the right to end a relationship with someone else whenever, wherever, and for whatever reasons you designate, regardless of previously expressed emotions or promises. How and when she did it was not the most ideal, but she’s an emotionally immature teenager, and there’s never going to be a good time to do something like this. What was she supposed to do, keep pity dating him because she felt sorry for him? Wait until someone invented technology to cure blindness? Assuming she did actually break up with him because of his disability… Are her reasons shitty? Sure. But she’s allowed to have them.

And you know what? He’s allowed to be mad about it. His anger might be completely understandable, if not totally justified. But you know what else? That does not give him the right to take revenge on her by vandalizing her property.

I would have no problem with this scene if it were honest about what it was: a bunch of teenagers with under-developed frontal lobes that are angry and feeling vindictive. But it’s not that. It’s depicted as not only completely justified, but heroic. I’m sorry, no. You are never heroic for harassing another human being.

And Augustus’s dumb little speech to her mom is such garbage. You really expect me to believe that a grown woman was so pwned by some jerk teenager’s super witty justification for destroying her property that she just went inside and, idk, watched TV? Didn’t call the police to report the crime that he and his friends were actively committing against her? Bullshit.

Speaking of bullshit, that scene is pretty egregious, but that doesn’t even begin to cover my issues with this book’s pretentious dialogue. If you told me that they ran every word in this book through Thesaurus.com then I would believe you without hesitation. The one hook, the draw, the thing that kept me reading was supposed to be the relatable characters, but they just aren’t relatable. They’re not realistic in the slightest. Seriously, go read any line of this book out loud and tell me how ridiculous you feel. I kept expecting Augustus to pull off his skinsuit and reveal that he was secretly a robot trying to imitate human speech the entire time.

I’m not sure how far I can go into this point without giving you direct quotes, but half the stuff that comes out of these characters mouths is pseudo-intellectual nonsense. “Put the killing thing between your teeth so it can’t kill you”?

It’s not a metaphor.

Putting an unlit cigarette in your mouth is still stupid. I guess it won’t give you lung cancer, but really? It’s still not a great idea.

Augustus has to go buy these cigarettes, which means he’s actively going out and giving money to an industry that has been funding pseudoscience and suppressing health initiatives that would prevent people from suffering what he did (i.e. fucking cancer).

Here’s a clue: Tobacco companies don’t actually care about what you do with the cigarettes. Their transaction stops as soon as you put the money in their hands. I could purchase a hundred packs and throw them in the garbage, and the only thing they know is that they got about $600 from me. Way to “stick it to the man”, asshole. You’re not clever.

With the exception of the Isaac’s-girlfriend thing, all of that is in chapters 1-4, by the way. This book turned me off so thoroughly that early.

So by the time the Amsterdam trip rolled around I was already not enjoying this book, but then this thing happened and it was just the final nail in the coffin for me. You probably know what I’m talking about already, but if you don’t… The Anne Frank Museum kiss.

I honestly cannot even articulate how incredibly tasteless and disrespectful I find the entire thing, and not only does that happen, but it’s followed by an r/ThatHappened “and then everybody stood up and clapped!” Seriously?

There are smarter, more well-versed people than me that have covered this topic, so I’ll leave the analysis for why that’s all kinds of wrong to them.

Those are really my big gripes, though there’s a few smaller ones (like Augustus throwing a pre-funeral like are you a psychopath? Why would you put the people you love through that???) that I’m not going to touch on because they weren’t all that instrumental in putting me off. Instead I’ll move on to the external factors.

The Fanbase

So I finished the book, a little miffed at having just wasted my time, and immediately told my friend that I didn’t like it much, and that I would be returning her copy the next day. Feeling pretty meh-to-slightly-negative about it, but whatever, it happens.

I was essentially met with “wow I can’t believe you didn’t get it.” and “Oh well maybe you’ll finally understand how deep it is when you’re older” from my friend. Which is really just one step away from the wow can’t you read?! BS that I’ve been seeing more and more frequently these days. So immediately I was pissed. All that aside, I was sixteen, the target age demographic? If I didn’t ‘get it’ then John Green was doing a pretty piss poor job of conveying what it is.

So I went online seeking something. Either validation that I wasn’t wrong and that I didn’t miss the point, the book just wasn’t great, or an explanation of what this it was that I’d missed. And let me tell you... Spotting a negative opinion of this book was like looking for a unicorn. There were a few, and many of them were met with the same kind of thing I had experienced. Vitriol, insistence that they were stupid or that they didn’t get it (again, with no explanation of what it was), and, apparently, a lot of harassment and threats.

I discovered that John Green’s target audience had a tendency to be… A bit obsessive. Lots of young, impressionable teenagers that were willing to jump on an opposing opinion with zealous outrage. If I had any interest in pursuing any of John Green’s other works or John Green as an internet personality any further, then it died in that moment. Absolutely nothing turns me off like a rabid, spiteful fanbase.

Now by this point I was already in the rabbit hole, and I began encountering a lot of criticisms of John Green and the things he’s said and done in the past. I did not like what I found.

John Green Himself

To be extremely blunt, the guy put such a bad taste in my mouth that it retroactively soured my opinion of The Fault in Our Stars even more. Since this is a post about my opinions on the book, I’m only going to be discussing things that affected my view at the time I read it. These are all things that happened six years ago, and I have no idea what this man has been up to or what he’s said about any of these topics since.

Let’s just get this out of the way… John Green writes the same book over and over. There’s always a quirky, nerdy white boy that is invariably cisgendered, and almost always straight. He is always an outcast with only a few friends, though apparently never directly bullied. He always meets an edgy girl that he falls in love with the idea of. Usually there is a road trip somewhere in there too.

The Fault in our Stars admittedly doesn’t follow the exact same framework, but it’s close enough in a lot of ways. Instead of the Quirky, Too-Smart-For-His-Own-Good cisboi being the PoV character, it’s the love interest (Hazel also fits this description, albeit a female version). Hazel and Augustus are both still outcasts. Hazel is attracted to Augustus because he’s Deep and Edgy and A Little Larger Than Life. The road trip is a flight to Amsterdam.

Looking at the man... Yeah the entire premise starts to come off as some weird self-insert fanfiction. I can feel the “I was a quirky, bullied teen and I wish this is how my high school life had been!” energy coming through absolutely every pore and every molecule of ink. Every character reads like John Green. John Green has written book after book and the main character always appears to be John Green in a slightly different teenage skinsuit.

And that’s fine, I guess. A little lazy, but I guess it’s working for him since he’s making hella bank? It’s certainly not enough to put me off the guy, just not something I’m interested in reading, and not something I find compelling.

What put me off for good were some of his comments. Dude skeeves me the fuck out. I’ll just go over some of the highlights I found at the time, and why they upset me so much when I heard them.

“Nerd girls are the world's most underutilized romantic resource.”

As a nerdy girl that has been stalked and harassed by men because I’m “good girlfriend material” (aka I like video games and traditionally masculine stuff and I’m pretty! I must be a unicorn!), this statement is disgusting.

I don’t care if it was a joke. I don’t care if he wasn’t being serious. This is the kind of shit that men think is a compliment because they think it makes “quirky” girls feel “unique” and “special”, but that “complement” is also an insult. You know why? Because it makes female interests all about how men perceive their sexual or romantic viability.

John Green’s penchant for writing “special” and “unique” girls (while simultaneously shaming “typical” girls, but I’ll get to that in the next point) and depicting them as the ideal woman just reaffirms my feelings about this quote. I think, on some level, John Green has no idea why this is such a bad take. And that’s not even getting into the fact that he called human beings resources. Women are not objects that exist to be a plot device or for your gratification. Fuck right off with that shit.

“She was incredibly hot, in that popular-girl-with-bleached-teeth-and-anorexia kind of way, which was Colin’s least favourite way of being hot”

This is just one quote of many that shames people with eating disorders and weight problems (on both ends of the spectrum, “too fat” and “too skinny”. Another fun one being: “there’s the weird culturally-constructed definition of hot, which means ‘that individual is malnourished, and has probably had plastic bags inserted into her breasts.’")

Know what this line is? It’s called “negging”, and it’s a popular tactic of incels because it works. You make someone seek your approval by intentionally giving them backhanded compliments to undermine their self esteem. The idea is that the more you insult them, the harder they’ll work to try and impress you. It doesn’t work on everyone, but you know who it does tend to work on? Insecure younger people (usually girls). You know who John Green’s target audience is? Insecure teenage girls.

As for the actual substance of the quote… I hate it. He’s shaming a woman for the choices she makes over her appearance. Which are, fun fact, none of his damn business. Also the idea that “skinny” and “anorexic” somehow need to go hand in hand is just wrong, insulting women for a mental health disorder they have no control over is offensive, and using a serious mental health disorder (did you know that anorexia is the most deadly mental health condition?) as an insult is disgusting.

Coming back to my earlier point about shaming “normal” girls, this quote is just the tip of the iceberg. He repeatedly shames women in his books for looking or behaving “typically”, while quirky girls are lauded as the ideal. Quirky girls are “weird and interesting” and normal girls are “boring”. If this was intended as a compliment, it’s a shitty one. If you have to shame one group to make another feel better, it is not a compliment. You are lowering all women when you pull that shit. You teach them that in order to feel good about themselves another group has to be made to feel worse.

And hey, maybe the pretty girl likes her teeth bleached because it makes her feel confident? Why can’t bleached teeth girl and anime t-shirt girl both be beautiful and unique and confident in their own right? Why is it “powerful” for anime t-shirt girl to wear her nerdy clothes, but scorn-worthy for bleached teeth girl to like bleaching her teeth?

What John Green is doing is simply replacing one ideal (skinny pretty girl) with another (quirky cute girl), and then he pretends like his version is somehow “woke” because it’s not based on physical appearance (though all of the women in his books are also physically attractive. Hmmm. Guess “nerd girls” are only “viable resources” when they aren’t hard to look at?).

And trust me, I’ve been down this path. I’ve been taken in by guys who try to make me feel ~special~ by putting down other women, and it leads to absolutely nothing good. It doesn’t make you feel better. It just makes you feel angry and resentful, and that’s not a place you want to be in. In fact, this was a mentality I had recently escaped from around the time I picked up this book. Seeing someone with as much influence as John Green parroting this specific brand of toxic shit to exactly the audience that would be most likely to feed into it? I was never going to be able to like the guy, sorry.

I know some people are able to “separate the art from the artist”, and I might have been willing to do that had the book actually been good… but it wasn’t. So in the end the book just looked worse for all of the author’s shortcomings.

So yeah, in summary: The book was mediocre at best, the author pushed all of my angry feminist buttons, and elements of the fanbase were annoying, condescending, and spiteful. I didn’t like the book in the first place due to the myriad of problems plaguing it, but everything else just made it look so much worse in hindsight.

Anyways, this probably got kind of ranty, but it was cathartic and I did make this blog to vent about dumb stuff. I think this qualifies.

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (40)

Team Peacock

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: around 5,500 - oops (once again I’m on my iPad and can’t figure out the ‘keep reading’ thing, I’m sorry for the huge post!)

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, after Drake, Amara, Max, and Michael leave the Ball, starting with Michael’s POV. This is the last chapter of Book 1, I will come back soon with the 1st chapter of Book 2, with a slightly altered title :) Thank you everyone for your awesome feedback, I’ve been super spoiled with you all! ❤️

*****

Michael has been silent the entire car ride. As soon as Amara suggested she and Drake get out of there, Max offered to give everyone a ride back to Ramsford. Michael knows his sister; there is no way to make her change her mind when she’s sure of something.

She and Drake had a contingency plan, and they are heading to Paris as soon as they can get a flight out. They’re going to find Drake’s sister, who has dropped off the face of the Earth a while ago. Amara apparently found out where she lives, and now they’re going there.

That’s his girl, the woman who puts her awesome detective skills at the service of those who need it.

But he worries that she’s leaving for the wrong reasons. That she’s acting out of fear, out of anger, out of all those impulsive feelings that got woken up when everyone got a glimpse of the night when she almost got assaulted.

Right now, she and Drake are in the backseat, on their phones, looking up flights. Drake’s brow is furrowed, and so is Maxwell’s, which lets Michael believe that they are on the same boat as he is: worried about the reasons why Amara’s so adamant about leaving.

Again, he knows her. She is as stubborn as Sergio was, and there’s little to no way to make her change her mind.

But he’d sure like to try.

*****

‘Babe, do you have space in your bag for this?’ Amara asks him as she holds out a bulky toiletry bag, filled with lotions.

Drake nods. ‘Sure. Give it to me.’ He pauses. There’s no right way of telling her about his doubts. ‘Suarez, are you certain you wanna do this?’

She snorts, as she energetically zips up her suitcase. ‘Yeah, fuck that. I’m not staying one more minute in this toxic place.’

He understands. Of course he understands. But he also knows that running away is not the solution, and maybe she will regret doing that, as soon as they’ve found Savannah and she no longer has a short-term goal. They’d been happy here, hadn’t they? Of course they were sneaking around, but they made amazing memories with their friends, and life was pretty good here. He knows that Amara agrees with that. He knows she loves Cordonia, probably even more than Drake does.

Maybe they should just stay put, wait until this blows over, and live at the cabin or something.

Amara stops moving for a second, and sighs. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m running. But what else can I do? Keep letting myself be victimized by this whole fucking country? No, I’m done turning the other cheek.’

Drake nods. ‘I get it. I can’t take much more, either.’

She smiles and approaches him to give him a warm hug. ‘Babe, this is temporary, we’ll see everyone again, you know that? We just need to find your sister, she needs you more than anyone here.’

He smiles and places a soft kiss on her lips. She kisses him back, deeper, until they’re so far gone in their bubble that they forget what they were even talking about. Amara breaks their kiss for a second, and says, ‘I love you, Drake.’

He smiles. ‘I love you too.’

At the end of the day, he’ll do whatever she wants him to do. This is the woman he loves. This is the woman who brought him back to life. Whatever she wants, she’ll get.

But he can’t shake the feeling that giving up on clearing her name means that the people who wanted to bring her down have won.

*****

Olivia swings the door to Ramsford open. She and Hana heard by Bertrand that the others had left and Amara and Drake were on their way to Paris, and Olivia was furious. She demanded that Bertrand drive them back to Ramsford immediately, and when his driving was way too slow for her liking, she took it upon herself to be the pilot. Upon entering his mansion, Bertrand’s coloring was very similar to that of his sweater vest. Olive green.

‘Where the fuck is she?’ Liv groans as she spots Michael and Max having a drink in the living room.

‘In her bedroom,’ Max responds, ‘they’re packing.’

Olivia stops right in front of Maxwell and points an angry finger at him. ‘And you’re letting this happen? What the fuck, Beaumont? Weren’t you supposed to be the voice of reason? She’s running away from her life, again? No offense, Michael.’

‘None taken,’ Michael says, visibly terrified.

Maxwell takes a deep breath. ‘Liv, there is no convincing her. She is adamant. Plus, can you blame her? Two nights in a row, she is put on the spot and humiliated in public. Tonight was the last straw.’

Liv chuckles. ‘Oh, that’s rich. The last straw was when this one—‘ she gestures to Hana— ‘was outed at court. We should have just thrown in the towel that day, because it was the last fucking straw, but we stuck it out! The country is at the hands of a manchild and a psychopath, and now she’s leaving?’ She strides to the staircase and makes her way upstairs.

*****

Hana sits at the table with Maxwell, Michael and Bertrand. She grabs a tumbler and pours herself a large dose of whiskey. Tonight, she needs it.

‘Guys,’ she says softly, ‘Liam told me he still plans to give her Valtoria. But she needs to clear her name. We need to investigate and make this right.’

Maxwell throws his hands up. ‘I know, hun, but she doesn’t want to. She kept saying that Cordonia can go fuck itself, and that she’s outta here.’

Bertrand scoffs. ‘Oh! That can’t be right. It’s not Cordonia’s fault if some...bastards are taking pleasure in humiliating nice ladies.’

Hana smiles and puts her hand on Bertrand’s forearm. ‘She’s angry, Bertrand. She’s tired. I get it. But she can’t give up. We have to convince her. This whole affair needs justice, we can’t let them win.’

Michael nods curtly. ‘Agreed.’

*****

Amara and Drake are in the middle of getting undressed. Drake’s belt is undone and his shirt open, and Amara’s dress is on the floor. As Drake took it off her, she said ‘Take that fucking thing off me, I don’t wanna see another stupid gown ever.’ Now he’s working on unhooking her bra and kissing her neck, drawing low groans from her.

‘Suarez!’ Olivia screams as she flings the door open.

Amara jumps up and Drake gasps in surprise. ‘Liv!’ Amara screams, covering herself with her discarded gown.

‘Oh please,’ Liv says as she closes the door behind her, ‘nothing I haven’t seen.’ A pause ensues. She continues. ‘What, too soon? Come on. What happened tonight was a fucking disgrace, and if you’re leaving town because of it, it’s the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever done. You need to face your demons for once in your fucking life, Amara.’

Amara freezes upon hearing her friend’s cutting words. ‘You—you don’t mean that, Liv. I’ve been doing my best—‘

‘It’s not enough!’ Liv screams. ‘You can’t just up and leave. You’ve been so worried about Walker ruining his friendship with Liam, and now you’re forcing him to come to Paris with you, and miss his supposed best friend’s engagement tour? Please. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself.’

Drake steps toward Liv, not even bothering to cover his bare chest. ‘Liv, you’re crossing a line. We’re going to Paris because Amara has found my sister, and you call her selfish?’

Liv rolls her eyes. ‘Please. You two aren’t going on a normal trip to reunite with little Savannah, no, you’re fleeing, there’s a difference.’ She looks down. ‘And you didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye. If I hadn’t come back—‘

Amara feels tears coming up. She fights them down. ‘Liv, I was gonna call you…’

‘Bullshit. Call me? Pff. That’s the fucking bare minimum. Just say it, be honest, Amara. You didn’t even think about how I would feel.’

Olivia’s voice cracks on the last word, and so does Amara’s heart. Olivia’s half-right. Amara didn’t want to see her before leaving, because she knew this very thing would happen: she would try to convince her not to give up. Except that she’s tired. She doesn’t have it in her. She takes a deep breath and says, ‘That’s not true, Olivia. I did think about it, and frankly, I didn’t think I could take the confrontation.’

Olivia gets up and heads for the door. ‘Well, I was wrong about you, Suarez. I never pegged you for a quitter.’

*****

After a tense goodbye session with Maxwell, Michael, Hana, and Bertrand, Drake ordered a car to the airport. They managed to get last minute tickets to Paris, with a million connections. The trip will be tedious, especially since Amara is still upset from her fight with Olivia. Drake knows how close the two women had gotten over the past few weeks, and their fight today was very ugly. He wishes he could do more, to make Amara feel better, but she doesn’t seem to be open to conversation.

He flashes back to when they first met, and she refused to tell him anything about her old life. At the time, it was mysterious, endearing, and even sexy. Now, as they’re in a committed relationship, her silence is grueling. This isn’t how she’s been ever since they got together. During the months she spent in Cordonia, she had opened up to the world, had laughed more, and had talked about her trauma. Now, she was silent, and on the verge of tears, in the back of an Uber.

He strokes her hand. She smiles faintly, and rests her head on his shoulder. He kisses her hair.

‘I promise I’ll be more fun when we get to Paris,’ she whispers. ‘It’s just a little hard right now.’

He gets it. It’s hard for him, too. Amara is his home now, obviously he’ll follow her wherever. But these circumstances… He hates to admit it, but it really feels like Olivia is right. They’re not travelling, they’re fleeing.

His phone buzzes. He reaches inside his pocket and takes it out. Liam.

Drake, tonight was crazy. Hope you guys are ok. Call me when you can.

He sighs. After everything, he does feel bad for Liam. He’s been manipulated into a toxic engagement, and if nothing changes, he’ll be stuck in an awful marriage.

They’ve had their differences, and Drake sure doesn’t appreciate his change of personality, but he still feels responsible. He was supposed to be there for him. He texts back.

Everything ok for now. I’ll call you soon, I might have gotten a hold of Sav.

Dots appear right away.

Wow!! That is great. Some good news in this ocean of shit… Keep me posted.

He puts his phone away. Amara snuggles up to him more, and whispers. ‘I’m sorry. I ruined everything.’

He kisses her head. ‘How can you ruin everything when you are everything? Relax. Everything will be ok.’

*****

‘I’m sorry you came here to see Amara, and now she’s gone,’ Maxwell says sadly.

Michael smiles and takes another sip of his whiskey. ‘It’s fine, I can change my flight.’

Maxwell waves him off. ‘No, you should stay and enjoy. Plenty of space here. Hana, same for you, honey. Please stay as long as you want.’ He pauses and looks into his glass. ‘I’m not ready to lose everybody at once.’

Michael sets down his glass in a loud thump, which draws a gasp from everyone at the table. ‘Yeah, Max, you’re not losing anyone. Feel like a good old-fashioned airport chase?’

Maxwell gasps excitedly. ‘OMG...always.’

*****

Liam sighs as he puts his phone aside, anxiously waiting for a sign from his best friend. He can’t shake the feeling that he fucked up badly. He glances at the mirror, not ready to get out of the bathroom. Madeleine is waiting for him in the study, and he doesn’t want any of the options that are going to be presented to him.

‘Li, open up,’ he hears his brother’s voice say.

Liam opens the door to see Leo, his bow tie undone, and a chilled bottle of white wine in hand.

‘Dude, let’s pop this open. You’re gonna need it if you wanna survive your engagement. I should know.’

Liam chuckles as he takes the bottle to open it. Yes, Leo knows how Madeleine is. But does he, though? He fled as soon as their engagement was pronounced, and plus, Madeleine seems to have gotten a lot worse this time around. Liam pours two glasses and hands one to his brother. ‘Leo, this whole thing—‘

‘It was very messy, I’m not gonna lie,’ Leo interrupts as he grabs his glass and raises it before bringing it to his lips. ‘Any news from everyone who fucked off before it was over?’

Liam nods. ‘Yes. Maxwell called me, and Drake texted, I’m waiting for his call, actually.’

Leo nods and opens his mouth to say something, but closes it immediately. Liam frowns. Since when does he brother think before he talks? Leo takes another sips and says, ‘What about Lady Amara? Did you have any idea she was boning Tariq?’

Liam shakes his head vigorously. ‘No, and she isn’t. Those pictures were staged. She was almost assaulted by him, and I suppose someone took those photos at the exact right moment.’

Leo frowns. ‘So that’s why she looked on the verge of tears. Wow. Whoever did this is a fucking bastard.’

Liam nods as he takes a sip. ‘Agreed. I just don’t know what to do now, Leo. I don’t want her to leave, but I also don’t blame her.’ He pauses. ‘I want to give her Valtoria, still. But right now, the press is having a field day, and it wouldn’t be received well. This needs to be sorted out. I need to make this right.’

Leo nods. ‘How are you gonna do this all the while being engaged to Regina George?’

Liam chuckles. Leave it to Leo to make obscure references that no one understands. ‘I can’t make waves right now,’ he replies. ‘But I can guarantee you that if I could break this engagement right this second, I would.’

*****

‘Here you go,’ Drake smiles as he hands Amara a cup of coffee. Probably not the most indicated before hopping on a multiple-layover flight, but she insisted.

‘Thank you,’ she says softly. She sips in silence.

Drake sits down next to her and rests his hand on her knee. They passed security very easily and are now at their gate, with some time to spare. Drake bought them beverages and a bunch of snacks, while Amara was sitting in silence.

What he wouldn’t do to rewind back to earlier today, when they were at the pool. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, he wouldn’t let her go to the ball. They’d go to the cabin instead, and she’d be happy right now. She’d be catching up with Michael, and Drake would get to know him. No one would have been humiliated and exposed in public.

He keeps flashing back to the moment when the lights went off. For the first couple of seconds, his heart stopped. It was exactly like the day when his father died. The total blackout. The assassination attempt that led Jackson Walker to push the King out of the way.

The last time Drake had seen his father.

What had happened tonight broke his heart. Seeing those pictures up on the screen, and Amara’s facial expression upon seeing them, the trauma, the humiliation, the desire to get the fuck out.

He understands.

Of course he’s happy to be on his way to Savannah.

Of course he’s happy to be with Amara. But he would be, regardless of the plan. He’s not going anywhere without her.

Maybe she thinks he wants this. Maybe she thinks he’s so sick of the court that they both need to get out. Maybe she thinks this is the perfect opportunity.

But it’s not. All it will accomplish is take her away from the little stability she’s known recently. From the connections she’s made with her friends. Olivia is already pissed. Not that it’s a reason not to go, Liv is always pissed. But never at Amara.

He kisses the top of Amara’s head. She squeezes his hand, ever so slightly, her head still lowered. Drake could swear that she’s sniffling.

‘Amara!!!’

They both jump up in surprise, as they see Maxwell and Michael running towards them, out of breath.

‘Guys!’ Drake exclaims, suddenly as relieved as he’s ever been, even though he has no idea what’s going on. ‘What are you doing here?’

Maxwell stops in front of them, completely out of breath. ‘I—‘ he huffs and puffs, as if he’d been smoking a pack of cigarettes à la Don Draper, ‘Jeez, I’m out of shape.’ He sits on the floor, clearly about to die. ‘We got here as fast as we could. We bought the cheapest tickets to go past security, don’t tell Bertrand.’

Michael, so far still silent, walks up to Amara and wraps her in a tight hug. ‘Don’t go,’ he says.

Maxwell smiles at Drake. Drake smiles back, and says, ‘Guys, Max and I are gonna go to that bar over there. Max needs a drink. We’ll catch up with you later.’

*****

‘Michael, come on,’ Amara says, breaking away from their hug. ‘You’ve seen what happened, you know I have no choice.’

He holds out his hand and gestures towards the seats. She obliges. He sighs and says, ‘Hear me out. I know this is fucked up, I know this was not okay, what happened tonight.’

‘Fuck no it wasn’t,’ Amara says, suddenly worried her voice might break. ‘I can’t look any of them in the eye.’

Michael’s eyes widen. ‘Who’s ‘them’? People at court?’ She nods. ‘All of them?’ She shrugs. Michael throws his hands up. ‘You can’t rule out everyone just because a bunch of dicks did something terrible. Plus, by running, you’re kind of accepting their narrative.’

Amara pauses. No, he can’t be right. ‘I’m not running,’ she protests. ‘I’m going to Paris to find Drake’s sister. Max told you, right?’

Michael smiles and takes her hand. ‘I know the official reason. But I also know that Savannah isn’t going anywhere, and that you could very well go to Paris in a couple of weeks once you have processed this whole thing.’ He looks down and squeezes her hand harder. ‘I know your MO, Amara. You block it all out, you don’t want to hear about anything, and you think things are gonna go away if you proceed like that. But they’re not.’

Amara fights back tears. Second time today someone confronts her in a friendly intervention. She’s not gonna cry, dammit. ‘This has nothing to do with...with two years ago.’

Michael smiles at her, in a way that breaks her heart. She knows that, despite what she’d like to believe, he understands her more than anyone. He saw her at her low point. He whispers, ‘You can’t even say the words, Amara. That’s how running away feels. You can’t confront it, two years later. You say ‘two years ago’, or, as I call it, when Sergio was shot. And I lost my sister, because she couldn’t face me, and I made mistakes, and I wasn’t there for you like I should, and I let you isolate yourself. Well fuck that, I’m not doing that again.’ His voice is louder now, and he catches himself almost shouting. He continues, calmer now. ‘You can’t run away from what you’ve got, here. Drake is wonderful. I know he’s coming with you, wherever you decide to go, but you know what I mean. You fell in love here. There is something for you in Cordonia. You found amazing friends. Maxwell took it upon himself to fix our bond, and he did it. That’s the kind of friends you surround yourself with. Are you willing to not see them for a while because you can’t face, what? Two people at court? The media?’

Amara can’t fight the tears anymore. They’re falling down no matter what. She knows he’s right. ‘But—‘ she protests, ‘but everyone thinks I was sleeping with Tariq, and I wasn’t, but on some level, I kinda did what they accuse me of, you know. I am in a relationship with Liam’s best friend.’

Michael makes an annoyed face. ‘Oh, and you owe the court your body and your heart? Honey, by leaving now, you are giving everyone the impression that you’re ashamed. When really, what happened is that you were almost sexually assaulted by a dirtbag who has now fled the country. You are the victim here. Of that Tariq, but also of the people who staged this whole thing. Don’t you think you deserve justice?’

Damn, Amara thinks. Being a lawyer really was Michael’s calling. She sighs. ‘I can’t abandon Drake, I promised him to find his sister.’

Michael smiles. ‘And you will. But don’t leave now, please. It would mean too much if you did. To others, yes, but mostly...to yourself, hun.’ He kisses her hand. ‘You have to face this. You’re Amara Motherfucking Suarez, you can face anything. Stop believing that you can’t.’

*****

Amara and Michael are still talking near the gate, and Drake can’t stop looking over to see what’s going on. Maxwell puts his hand on Drake’s arm, reassuringly. ‘Hey,’ he says, pushing his beer towards him, ‘drink this, you didn’t pay airport prices for nothing.’

Drake smiles weakly. ‘Max,’ he whispers, ‘I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go to Paris just yet, I wish we could stay. Amara will regret it if we just run, you know. And...maybe I will, too.’

Maxwell nods. ‘I know. We all agree. But let Michael work his magic,’ he gestures towards the gate, ‘he’s a lawyer, he knows what he’s doing.’

Drake chuckles. ‘True.’

Maxwell pauses and continues. ‘Drake, are you ok? I thought of you, too, tonight, when the lights went off. It must have brought up terrible memories.’

Drake sighs deeply. ‘Yeah, it did. But I have to move forward, you know.’ He takes a sip of his overpriced beer. ‘Thank you for thinking of me, though.’

Max smiles broadly. ‘Of course. We’re co-uncles, after all!’

‘Right! Well, don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to meet the little guy and to see Sav again, but…’

Maxwell nods. ‘I know. Now feels rushed. Plus, I don’t know what you think, but I believe it would be more fun if we were all to come with you guys. Make a trip out of it.’

Drake smiles. A few months ago, a collective trip would have sounded like a nightmare. Now, he would love it. Of course, being alone with Amara is still what he wants most, but that’s what locked doors are for.

Maxwell continues. ‘Plus, there might be a way to arrange for that to happen. Two birds, one stone.’

Drake raises an eyebrow. ‘Do tell.’

‘Well, we can all go on the engagement tour. We can arrange it with Liam. It goes through Paris in a couple of weeks, we can look for Sav then. It would allow for Amara to clear her name and to show she’s not hiding. And also…’ He pauses, a guilty look on his face.

‘What, Max?’ Drake asks, worried.

‘Well, I know Liam has been a dick. I know he’s been very self-centered and all, and I haven’t forgiven him for his attitude towards Amara. But…’

Drake nods. ‘I know. I feel the same. I don’t feel good about leaving him to be engaged to a woman who manipulates and forcefully outs people.’

Maxwell smiles. ‘We’re on the same page, then.’

Drake gasps. Amara and Michael are walking over to them, a faint smile on their faces. They are both holding Drake and Amara’s carry-ons. Maxwell grabs Drake’s arm excitedly.

Without saying a word, Amara plants a kiss on Max’s cheek, and goes straight to Drake. She wraps him in a tight hug, which draws a relieved sigh from him. She kisses his neck a million times, and whispers in his ear, ‘I’m sorry babe. I acted like a coward, when you clearly told me that you were partial to staying. Please forgive me.’

He breaks away from her hug, only to kiss her passionately. ‘I know this was hard for you. I didn’t want to push you. And for what it’s worth, you could never be a coward.’

Michael chuckles. ‘That’s what I said. She’s Amara Motherfucking Suarez, after all.’

Drake laughs. ‘Exactly.’

Amara pulls Drake closer again. ‘Do you mind if we stay? I want to face this head-on. We’ll find Savannah soon, but leaving now…’

Maxwell smiles broadly. ‘We were just saying the exact same thing. In fact, we have a plan.’

*****

Amara listens carefully and nods. Maxwell is right. She needs to clear her name, even if she doesn’t care what other people think. She needs to stand up for what’s right and she won’t accept the blame for something she was a victim of.

She’s sitting as close to Drake as possible, not wanting to let go of him. She feels like a terrible partner right now. He clearly expressed his opinion earlier, and she brushed him off with her desire to get out as fast as possible. They’re a team, and she kinda forgot that for a second. She’s not used to people being on her team, not since two years ago. Not since Sergio died, and she isolated herself.

But now, she has other people to think of. Drake, the man she loves. Her family. Her friends.

Drake strokes her arm lovingly, his other arm around her. ‘So, what do you say, babe? We completely get it if you don’t want to go on the tour. You can say no at any time.’

She nods. ‘I’m in. Let’s do this.’

Maxwell squeals. ‘Woo! Overpriced beer for everybody!’

Amara laughs. ‘Plus, it will feel like an undercover mission, you know. Old times.’

Michael smiles. ‘You’ve missed it, huh?’

Amara blushes. Yes, yes she has. ‘Yup.’ She plays with Drake’s glass absentmindedly. ‘Captain Braugher would be impressed, an undercover job with royalty…’

Michael laughs. ‘That man always terrified me, but he had a real soft spot for you.’ He reaches for Amara’s hand. ‘I’m glad you’re staying, hun. You’re running out of continents.’

Amara lets out a throaty laugh and playfully swats his hand. ‘You bastard,’ she jokes.

Drake laughs along and says, ‘Guys, keep my expensive beer cold for me, I have a phone call to make.’

*****

The phone doesn’t ring for long. Drake can’t help but think that Liam has been waiting for his call, which breaks his heart a little bit. ‘Hi, Drake,’ Liam says.

‘Hey, Li. Sorry it took me so long. I was making some last minute decisions regarding Sav,’ he lies. Well, half-lies. It’ll do, for now. ‘How are you holding up?’

Liam sighs. ‘Not great. I’ve been with Leo, I’m delaying meeting Madeleine, I just don’t know what to do.’

‘Look, I’ve talked to Max, and we want to help you break your engagement. We think we can pull it off, along with clearing Amara’s name. All we need to do is some sleuthing, to find out about who leaked all those pics. Maybe find Tariq, he’s gotta be somewhere. As you know, Amara’s a detective, and she can do that sort of stuff.’

Liam quickly replies, ‘That sounds great. Do you think you can all come on the engagement tour? It starts on Friday, so you have a few days to move things around. We’ve commissioned a train, we’ll go to Rome, Paris, and London. Then, we’re all flying to New York for the last leg of the trip.’

Drake nods. ‘We’re all in. To tell you the truth, I’m happy we’re going to Paris. It’s, um… it’s where Savannah has been.’

Liam gasps. ‘Oh my God, Drake, really? Well that’s wonderful. We’ll be in Paris two weeks from now. You’ll see her then. Is that ok?’

Drake smiles. ‘Yeah. And Liam?’

‘Hm?’

Drake pauses. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I want to make up for it. I’m gonna help you get your life back.’

Liam sighs. ‘Thank you, Drake. Oh, and you can tell Max that I’m hiring a PR person for Amara. We’re all in this together, she’ll have her name cleared in no time, and she’ll be able to claim Valtoria.’

Drake swallows hard and slow. ‘That’s great,’ he forces himself to say. ‘I’ll let Max and Amara know. Hey, Li, don’t sweat it, ok? Just be normal with Madeleine, don’t force yourself to do or say anything. Be yourself, everything will be fine.’

‘Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I’ll be in touch for the planning of the tour.’

*****

‘Bertrand, pop the champagne!’ Maxwell shouts out as he plops down on the couch back at Ramsford.

Bertrand comes out of his study wearing a burgundy silk robe with so many tassels that Amara can’t even count them. ‘Maxwell,’ he whispers, ‘it’s very late, I was worried about you all. Hana just turned in, please keep your voices down.’

Maxwell mouths ‘I’m sorry’, and walks to the kitchen with his brother to fill him in.

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ Michael says softly, ‘I’m gonna go to the kitchen too to see if I can find a snack… Is it just me, or is the food at court a little scarce?’

Drake’s eyes widen. ‘That’s what I’ve been saying for YEARS, Mike.’

Amara smiles and sits down on the couch. Drake follows suit. She stares at her phone and puts it away, sadly.

Drake looks at her and raises an eyebrow. ‘Still nothing from Nevrakis?’

She shakes her head. ‘Nope. She won’t take my calls, or answer my texts. I really pissed her off.’

Drake smiles. ‘You’ll find her tomorrow. Once she sees you listened to her and stayed, she’ll cool down.’

Amara nods. ‘Thanks for being there for me,’ she says. ‘I’ll never thank you enough.’

He kisses her tenderly. ‘I’ll always be there.’

She nods. ‘So will I. I need to tell you something.’

He looks panicked for a second. ‘What?’

She smiles and strokes his cheek. Her heart feels full. ‘I was a shitty girlfriend today. Only thought of myself and the quickest way out of here. There’s a bunch of things I didn’t see.’

He smiles and takes her hand. ‘Suarez, you had something traumatic happen to you tonight. You’re allowed to think about your own feelings for…’ He glances at his watch. ‘What, five hours? It’s a pretty sweet deal.’

She smiles and kisses his lips. ‘Still. When the lights went dark, I heard several people freak out, and I realized that they must have thought it was some kind of attack…’ she pauses and strokes his hand with her thumb. ‘Like the one that killed your dad.’

He blushes, and looks down. ‘Babe, I’m fine. I promise. It did cross my mind but then, all I wanted was to protect you.’

‘I know, and I want to protect you, too. We’re a team, Drake. Partners. I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, anytime, like I can do with you.’

Drake smiles broadly, his face beaming. ‘What the fuck did I do to deserve you?’

Maxwell barges in with a bottle of champagne, followed by Bertrand and Michael, each holding a tray of snacks. ‘Woooo!’ Maxwell says softly. ‘To Amara fighting back!’ He says as he pops the cork. ‘Team Peacock for the win.’

Bertrand chuckles. ‘Team Peacock? Who is that?’

Maxwell shrugs. ‘It’s us, Bertrand! We’re Team Peacock! They’re the best animals, plus no one takes them seriously because they’re fabulous, but they are smart as hell.’

‘Are they?’ Drake asks, dubious.

‘Who cares?’ Maxwell laughs. ‘They’re awesome. Like Bertrand’s robe.’

Bertrand blushes and grumbles, ‘Well, no one was supposed to see it, you know.’

Amara grabs the glass that Maxwell is holding out to her and raises it. ‘To you guys. To Drake, the best partner I could dream of, and to the three of you, the best brothers a bitch can hope for.’

Maxwell clinks his glass with Amara’s. ‘To brothers!’

*****

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[thecleverdame]

The Woodsman - 4

The entire story is complete and available now on Patreon.

Series Masterlist

Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Summary: A/B/O Fairy Tale - You’re a sheltered, thirty-something princess on the run from your brother, the newly crowned ‘Mad King’ of France. When you’re waylaid by marauders and left for dead in the forest, a gruff woodsman nurses you back to health.

Warnings: A/B/O smut, knotting, language, violence, assault, non-con

Word Count: 32,000

The complete story is available onPatreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Sam can’t tell what you’re doing from his vantage point, just that whatever it is has had your full concentration for the past several hours. As he creeps closer he can hear your voice, light and happy, singing to yourself as your arms continue to attend to the task at hand.

He could hear you from the barn, crystal clear voice with a touch of sadness. You’re drawing, fingers covered in black charcoal as you smudge the lines of a breathtaking portrait of a woman’s face. You pause for a moment, tipping your head as if examining the grain of the parchment before resuming the skillful stoke.

Oblivious, your voice picks up volume, while you sketch with precise intent, completely focused.

Car tant vous aim, sans mentir

Qu’on poroit avant tarir

La haute mer

Et ses ondes retenir

Que me peusse alentir

de vous amer.

“What are you singing?” He asks.

You yelp in surprise, clasping a hand over your mouth, heart beating like a stallion. “Samuel, you scared me half to death.”

“I didn’t mean to.” He places his hand to his chest in apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Come sit with me,” you suggest. He stares blankly for a moment and then lowers himself the ground beside you, picking up the parchment delicately, holding it up by the edges.

“You’re talented.” He looks to you, then back to the picture. “This is… incredible.”

You blush. He’s never complimented you before and it takes you off guard. Grinning like a fool you put a hand to your cheek. “Thank you.”

“Who is she?”

“My mother.” You reach over and run a dirty finger over her face. “I have to draw her otherwise the memory fades. I’m not entirely sure if that’s a true likeness or if my mind fills in the foggy parts.”

“She was beautiful. You look like her.” He comments, setting down the parchment and reaching for the others laying on the ground in front of you.

“Don’t-” you reach out to stop him but he’s already thumbing through them, holding up the next.

“Where is this?” It’s a detailed drawing of a garden with tall, manicured bushes and a statue of a woman in the middle. She’s pouring water from the vase into the pool at the base of the fountain.

“My favorite garden. There are many within the castle walls, but this is the smallest and farthest from the gates. It’s secluded and quiet. I spent a lot of time there.”

“And this?” Sam picks up a portrait from the bottom of the pile. It’s of a man sitting on the edge of a bed, looking down at his feet. There’s a pained expression on his face. It’s darker than the rest, thick broad strokes instead of delicate lines.

Sam feels you tense up, sitting up a bit straighter and clasping your hands in your lap. “My husband, Mathieu.”

“Ah,” he nods gently, looking away from you. “Were you singing for your husband?”

“No, I was singing for…” You pause, answering him honestly, “love in general I suppose.”

"What happened to him?" Sam asks quietly.

"We both fell ill at the same time. My symptoms seemed far worse. No one thought I would survive...but I did. He died the day after my fever broke.  It happened fast, there was nothing that could be done."

"How long were you married?"

"Twelve years." You sigh, looking up at the sun, anywhere but at Sam. He shifts beside you, picking up the picture again, analyzing the face now that he has more information.

"You were happy with him?"

"Very," there's no veiling the smile that spreads across your face. Your memories of Mathieu are painful, but also heartwarming. "I was sixteen when my father told me I was to marry him. I didn't want a husband or anything to do with being a wife. I knew it was inevitable, but I'd convinced myself I was meant for greater things. I cried for days, it was all very dramatic. He was older by ten years and at the time his seemed like an insurmountable difference. But he was kind and smart and so funny. He made me laugh until my sides hurt..." You stop when you feel the emotions tightening in your chest. Sam doesn't want to hear you go on and on about a man he doesn’t know. "It seemed just as I was planning on growing old with him, he was gone."

"You're lucky to have had him for so long." He draws in a breath and grinds a thumb over the callus on his palm. He looks straight ahead, staring out at the tall grass, but his mind clearly elsewhere. "I had someone once, a long time ago. I was young, not much older than you were when you married."

"You had a wife?" You clarify, studying his face, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he expression sours.

"I had a mate, she was mine and I was hers. I should have married her but it seemed like we had all the time in the world. Once I claimed her it didn't seem like we needed anything more "

"She died?"

"In childbirth." Sam looks at you, his eyes staring a hole right through your very soul. "I lost my Omega and my child."

"Oh Sam, I’m sorry." You wish you had something more to say. You had never stopped to imagine his life before. At times it feels like he's always been with you.

"I'm only telling you this because I want you to know that I understand what it's like to lose someone. Now that my parents are gone I only have my brother."

"And me." You add confidently. You speak without thinking and panic for a moment, but it's not necessary as Sam just smirks softly and places a hand over yours.

"And you." He confirms.

“It would appear, Samuel, that you and I have more in common than one would suspect.”

“Indeed.” He smiles at you, squinting in the sunlight.

"I know that I can be a nuisance and I create more work for you, but I do appreciate everything you've done for me."

“You’re never a bother. Life would be boring without you.”

--

You're in the village when the news comes.

Sam's beside you haggling with the butcher over the price for one of his pigs. They've been in the midst of a heated discussion for some time now and you wander absentmindedly down the row of men peddling their wares. Stopping to admire a woven skirt you don't even notice when Hugh slides up beside you. Hugh knows everything and everyone, filling the village’s unofficial position of town crier.

"Good morning, Y/N." His voice is sneaky and he smells faintly of body odor.

"Good morning, Hugh." You smile, sidestepping to get away from his wafting stink. He's kind and enjoys making you laugh, you just wish he bathed more often.

"I have something for my favorite mademoiselle." He feigns a terrible French accent and fishes in his cloak to present you with a shiny red apple, holding it like a crown jewel in his palm.

"It's beautiful," you take it, examining the unblemished skin. It's not often you're able to get your hands on the sweet fruits you used to devour on a daily basis. "Thank you very much!"

"I stole it," he winks at you.

"It'll be our secret then." Grinning, you admire this treat. It's amazing how life has shifted. A year ago you'd be appalled if a foul-smelling man had even tried to speak with you. But you find yourself becoming accustomed to seeking out appreciation in the smaller parts of life.

"I have news from your homeland as well." He adds, slinking around you. Hugh has never attempted to hide his attraction to you. It’s all meant in good fun, so you don't mind. He's a bit bolder without Sam around, leaning closer than needed when he speaks. "Would you like to know?"

"Yes please," you grin, feeling your heart beat just a bit stronger. Hugh's updates have been one your only links to the life you left behind and you look forward to any new reports.

"All of France is in mourning. The Mad King has died." He continues to talk but you hear none of it. There's a pressure in your chest, a feeling akin to that of fist tight around your heart.

"When?" You interrupt him, hardly able to force a whisper.

"Weeks ago now." He shrugs oblivious to your reaction. The world closes in as your vision narrows into a tunnel of claustrophobia. Your surroundings begin to blur and you draw in a deep breath to prevent yourself from losing consciousness.

"What have you said to her?" Sam's deep voice booms from behind you. Hugh looks up, wide-eyed and takes a step back. You feel Sam’s familiar hands curl around your arm, turning you toward him. "What is it?"

“I did nothing! I swear to you.” Hugh holds up his hands in a sign of submission.

“What’s wrong,” Sam’s brow furrows as you turn to him, opening your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You’re looking at him as if you’re underwater, not really seeing what’s right in front of you. A sob tears from your throat, a horrid raw sound that’s accompanied by quivering lips and fat tears. Sam places both hands on your shoulders, looking to Hugh. “What the in the holy hell, did he touch you?”

“I never touched her!” Hugh panics, “I just bought her an apple.” He stammers. “An apple, and news from France.”

“Tell me,” Sam commands. You’re crying quietly, staring at the ground before pressing your face into his chest. He places a hand at the back of your head in an attempt to comfort.

“The King died.” He shrugs, utterly confused. “She must be a true patriot.”

Sam can feel your trembling form against him, fisting his cloak in your hands as your knees give way.

“Please take me home.” You mutter, trying to compose yourself. People are beginning to take notice.

Sam curls his arm around your side, pulling you from the busy street without another word. He helps you onto his horse, and the ride back to his cottage is a blur. The world doesn’t seem to right itself until you’re seated at the small, familiar table in front of the fire.

“I’m sorry I made such a scene.” You manage, wiping your eyes.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Sam grunts. “He was your brother.”

“He’s dead.” You stare at Sam with wet eyes, utterly shattered. If there’s one thing he understands, it’s complex emotions when it comes to family.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He kneels down before you, taking both your hands between his. No, you don’t want to talk about anything. You want him to hold you, but you don’t dare ask for that.  

“I’ve talked enough for a lifetime.” You sigh. You don’t mean it as a joke and Sam tried to contain his amusement. “I just want to sleep.”

--

Your slumber is long and hard, waking up to the sounds of Sam rustling around by the hearth. It’s midday, and he should be hard at work in the forest, but instead, you find him sitting at the table, sharpening various blades.

“Why are you here?” You ask, taking a seat across from him in your nightdress, hair still wild from sleep. Any sense of propriety you once felt being around him in such a raw state faded long ago.

“I thought you might want company.” He offers, his face unwavering. “No one should be alone in times like this.”

You smile down at your lap. Sam is always kinder to you than you deserve.

“Can we go for walk?” You inquire, thrilled at the prospect of spending a whole day with him, it’s the only thing that seems to take the edge your grief.

“Of course.” Confirming your request, he looks up, catching you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long. “Did you want to go as you are or would you like to dress first?”

“So witty.” You retort.

You dress, then try to eat, but your appetite is nowhere to be found. Before you know it, you find yourself on the narrow path that leads to the small pond. Sam is walking a snail's pace beside you, willing himself to slow down and set the measure of your footsteps.

“I’m sorry.” He offers, bending down to pick up a large stick, banging it on his leg like a bored child. “I know, despite your reasons for leaving, that he meant a great deal to you.”

“Thank you.” You wander on in silence, trying to focus on the slight breeze and the easy feeling of companionship when you’re with him. You wish you could always be with Sam, to watch him grow old and grey, waking up beside him each morning until you’re wrinkled and cranky.

“What are you going to do?” He asks, looking forward.

This is the moment of truth. You chose your words carefully, watching his expression as you speak. “I’ll write to my brother, Philip. I don’t know what’s transpired in my absence but I dare to hope that I may be welcome home.”

Sam twitches, his mouth tightening for a brief moment as he snorts. “Good. You’ll be better off in France, where you belong.”

You don’t think it’s possible for your heart to break more than it already has, but somehow the ache in your chest and head intensify. There was part of you that thought, perhaps, he would at least express a fleeting sentiment of sadness at the idea of your departure.

If you had gotten what you really wanted, Sam would have turned to you and taken you into his arms, pleading for you to stay with him. He’d take your hands in his and tell you that the very thought of living without you makes him ill, that he can’t imagine his life without you. But instead, he acts as if you’ve said nothing of consequence.

Just when you think you couldn’t be any more disappointed, he adds “I’ll hire a messenger for you.”

For six long, agonizing weeks you live in the hell that is Sam’s terrible disposition.

You hardly see him. He’s gone before you awake and many times does not return until after you’ve gone to bed. You listen to him, drunk as a skunk and mumbling to himself, as he knocks around in a stupor before passing out. When you do have occasion to see him he barely speaks to you, ignoring you in favor of a book that you know for a fact he’s already read ten times over.

It appears that you have finally overstayed your welcome.

--

“I have good news!” You half-shout, your voice suddenly too loud as you struggle to control the sickening feeling in your stomach. He’s just outside the barn, preparing his stead for the yearly hunt. Every able-bodied man is about to depart into the woods in hope of securing enough meat to make it through the winter. He’ll be gone at least a fortnight.

“What is it?” Sam asks distracted, tightening the saddle on his horse.

“The courier returned, he brought a letter from my sister.” Sam pauses but doesn't turn to you. “I’ve been invited to come home.”

“Good,” he grunts, continuing to attend to the mare Your heart sinks. You might vomit. He cares so little that he can’t even be bothered to stop what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“It wasn’t just the message that arrived...my brother sent knights to escort me home whenever I wish to depart. They’re in the village.”

“I’m happy for you.” Sam turns to grab a rolled up blanket from behind you, nearly knocking you over.

He doesn’t even look at you.

“We can depart in the morning and it appears that you’re leaving now, so this could be the last time we…” Don’t cry. “Our last chance to say goodbye.”

“Well then,” He finally looks at you, his eyes wild and nostrils flaring. “Goodbye.”

“Why are you always upset with me?” You ask, unsure of exactly what’s happening. You’ve come to him with the intention of gathering your courage and telling him what this last year has meant to you, but it’s clear now that your plan was flawed. Any hope of being able to express your feelings die with his words. “I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s nothing new.”  

“I do not understand you, Samuel. I was sure you’d be thrilled at my impending departure, I thought knowing I’d be out of your hair would put you in a better mood, but you’re angry with me all the time. Is it that I didn’t depart soon enough? Has your tolerance for me finally reached its breaking point? I had hoped that, perhaps, we would part as friends. I can see now that was foolish.”

“I don’t have the words to-” Sam draws in a breath and shakes his head, arm flailing at his sides.

“Tell me,” You snip with your hands on your hips. “You have been impossible for weeks now, so just tell me what it is you have to say. Just get it off your chest. This is the last chance you’ll ever have.”

“You make me feel like a lunatic!” Sam cries, throwing his arms into the hair.

“The sentiment is mutual.” Puckering your lips you mentally prepare yourself for the barrage of insults you’re sure are to come.

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever known. The way you talk, the way you eat those tiny little bites like a church mouse. You leave a mess everywhere you go and you don’t know how to do anything! I can’t even ask you to feed the horses while I’m gone because I would never expect that you would get that close to actual work.”

“If I am so awful then why have you allowed me to stay with you all this time?” You inquire, stepping toward him.

“Because I love you!” Sam shouts, then recoils as if he surprised by his confession.

Your heart speeds up to a gallop in your chest. Narrowing your eyes you take another step, examining his features for any sign of jest. You’ve gotten better at deducing when he’s making fun at your expense. “What did you just say?”

Sam balks, closing his eyes and pressing his thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose. “I am quite tired and very hungry. It’s possible I could have said anything.”

A slow smile spreads across your face, as an excited stir bubbles up from your belly. “You love me?”

“Dear Lord,” he mumbles, “against my better judgment.”

“Samuel Winchester, the cantankerous woodsman who would rather skin a rabbit than help me with my corset, loves me?” You bite your lip, clasping your hands dramatically. You’re happier than you’ve ever been in your life but unable to control the urge to tease him just a bit more. He does deserve it after all. One doesn’t tell a woman he loves her against his better judgment without there being some repercussions.

“You are impossible,” Sam groans. He’s always at a loss when it comes to you, feeling somewhere between the urge to fuck and strangle you.

“I am quite the woman.” You sigh, bobbing on one hip, not ready to let him off the hook. He’s been so awful these last weeks. “With my unmatched candle making skills and a natural aptitude for the outdoors.”

“I pictured this conversation going differently.” Sam laughs with exasperation. “You make my blood boil.”

“Surely there must be something you like about me?” You challenge him. “After what you just said…”

Sam’s chest heaves with a mighty breath as he reaches out and grabs your arms, pulling you closer to him. His finger squeezes your biceps while he gazes down with an expression of affection. “You’re the most infuriating woman I have ever known, but you're also the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon. But, more importantly, you are brave. Brave to leave everything you know and set out in the world. Brave to try to save me from a pack of wolves. You are self-assured and overconfident. You don’t accept your own limits. You make me feel things in a way I didn’t think was possible.”

“Sam,” you breathe. For the first time in your life, you’re speechless.

“And now that I have bared my heart to you, will please put me out of my misery and tell me if you feel the same?” His head tilts to the side, scrutinizing your face.

“I have loved you for a long time.” Your heart is ready to burst at the very idea of this strong, wonderful man making such a bold statement. “You really think I am brave?”

“Yes, more so than any person I have ever known.” Sam’s looking at you with a stare that makes your legs weak. His hand comes up to your face, cradling your jaw as his thumb catches your bottom lip. You tilt to the side, offering your neck so he can scent you. He bends down pressing his nose into the skin right below your ear, inhaling slow and deep, a simple gesture that feels supremely intimate. The touch of his skin on yours sends a chill down your spine. When he pulls away you start to protest but open your eyes to find him offering himself to you in turn. Standing on your tiptoes you stretch up and nuzzle your face into his neck. Inhaling with an open mouth, pressing parted lips against the scratch of his beard.  

Sam groans and pulls you flush with his body, snaking an arm around your waist. When you pull your head back he cradles your face with a large, rough palm, bending down to kiss you just as the horns sound in the distance.

The hunt is beginning and they won’t wait for him.

Sam stops, freezing as he closes his eyes and gathers restraint. “I have to go, if we continue this I won’t have the will to stop.”

“Okay.” You confirm with a nod. “I will wait for you to return. At which time we can discuss more of the reasons you love me.”

-

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