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lavender-annd-lilac · 2 years

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Fic Recs - 💕Sharing is Caring 💕

Have you ever wanted to share without having to give away any of your own possessions? Have you ever wanted to feel generous and charitable but fear that the world will take advantage of your kindness?

There’s a solution for that!

What if you could share something more valuable than money, more meaningful than love and more thoughtful than wisdom? That would be incredible right?

Well, let us know when you figure out how to make it happen. In the meantime, here are some fics you can share, along with suggested audiences to share them with. Enjoy! 🥰

Fic: In the Pines - by @the-iceni-bitch

Pairing: Curtis Everett x fem!Reader, past Bryce Langley x fem!reader

Who to share with: Church goers (or other attendees of a spiritual/religious congregation)

Throw a deadbolt on those doors, swallow the key, and start reading this fic. Let your audience truly experience god (or other spiritual/religious being) for the first time in their lives. 😵

Fic: His New Obsession - by @luxeavenger

Pairing: Dark!Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x reader

Who to share with: Your job interviewer

Not only is this a sneaky share they will never expect, it’s also one that helps you! Why? Because now, you can finally give an honest answer when they ask “what is your biggest weakness?”. Look them dead in the eyes, whisper “This fic is my Achilles heel, I would die for this fic”, and then start reading. You might not get the job, but at least you shared. 🙃

Fic: The Things You Do - by @traitorjoelite

Pairing: fwb!steve rogers x fem!reader

Who to share with: Millions of listeners on Spotify

So you’re In the studio, and Selena Gomez has invited you to be the guest rapper on her new single. You want to bring your A-game right? Once she finishes her verse, go ahead and start reading this aloud. It doesn’t rhyme, and will definitely make the song way too long to be radio friendly, but no one will care when you and Selena sweep all the awards for this years Grammys. 🥳

Fic: Just Like Love (ongoing series) - by @fortheloveoffanfic

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Who to share with: Your fellow commuters

Are you a people person? Do you think that sharing requires a certain amount of physical intimacy? Have you ever wanted to have a literal captive audience without actually taking hostages? If any of these apply to you, the packed subway car is the perfect setting to share this fic with others! Please let the passengers know ahead of time that you will not be responsible for any missed stops. 😬

Fic: Breach (completed series) by - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Pairing: dark!Winter Soldier x Reader

Who to share with: A select group of people who want to read but either can’t read, dislike the physical sensation of reading, or don’t have the time to sit down and read

You’re back in the studio! Except this time you’ve been hired as an Audiobook narrator. I don’t have any advice on how to get this job, but once you have it, read this right into the mic because I guarantee you it’s better than the material you were given. 🤭

Fic: What I Hate About You - by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Pairing: Steve x Reader/OC - but from Bucky’s POV

Who to share with: Your therapist

Do you have trouble articulating your feelings? Do you struggle when talking about your experiences because it’s one of those things where “you had to be there”? Is it hard to describe your emotions because language is a construct that cannot convey our deepest personal thoughts? Your solution is right here! Share this fic with your therapist and maybe, just maybe they will understand your rollercoaster of emotions. 🥲

Fic: Scream (and pt 2 here) - by @st3rgirl

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader (with steve rogers, natasha romanoff, johnny storm, jake jensen, and brief mentions of andy barber & robert pronge)

Who to share with: The armed intruder who has just entered your home

Do you hate the panic and anxiety you feel when someone breaks into your home? Are you sick of hiding in the closet from violent criminals? Why don’t you give them a taste of their own medicine and let THEM feel the fear for once. The hunter becomes the hunted. 👹

Fic: Shame On You (Blame On Me) - by @lilbabycee

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Who to share with: Everyone within earshot at karaoke night

Are you tired of Melissa always stealing the spotlight with her Ariana Grande vocals? Do people keep “forgetting” to queue up your songs and skip over your turn? Just say you’re going to perform an original piece and then start reading this sucker. Everyone will have their lighters out for encores. 🤩

Fic: Karma (2 pt series) - by @onsunnyside

Pairings: ghostface!boyfriends!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale x cheater!reader

Who to share with: The angels at the pearly gates of heaven (or whatever supernatural being that guards the entrance to your preferred afterlife)

Was your lifestyle not rock ‘n roll enough to gain admittance to the sizzling hot party downstairs? Did all work and no play make you a dull, boring person? Don’t worry, just read this sinful fic and the angels will escort you straight to the eternal damnation you crave. 😈

Fic: Of Honey and Broken Glass (ongoing series) - by @vivianandherlily

Pairing: Mafia!Lloyd Hansen x Housekeeper F!Reader

Who to share with: Your thesis defense committee

Do you just want to get your masters degree? Are you tired of being outnumbered and overpowered by so called “intellectuals”? Hospital bills piling up because you lack the speed, strength and stamina to mount a proper offense? Can’t afford to lose another hand after your last one was very ceremoniously chopped off by an especially aggressive professor? Prepare yourself PROPERLY next time with the ultimate weapon - this fic. Because 1) let’s be real, it’s probably better than your thesis and 2) this bad boy will take out so many academics that you just might find urself the new dean of your university. 😏

Fic: Redemption (ongoing series) - by @syntheticavenger

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader / Steve Rogers x Female Reader / Andy Barber x Female Reader

Who to share with: Your fellow mourners

You have been chosen to read the funeral eulogy, and the crowd looks pretty tough. There may even be some hecklers out there. It doesn’t matter though, because this fic is guaranteed to get those tears flowing. If it’s still not enough, then unfortunately you will have to do something more extreme. Like leave them on a cliffhanger. 😵‍💫

And as a bonus share, this Bucky headcannon by @adrinktostopyourthirst

Who to share with: A jury of your peers

Save money by being your own lawyer and reading this fic as your defense. Boom. Guaranteed acquittal. Then use the money you saved to help us build our adoption clinic! What adoption clinic? Read to find out! 😉

💕 That’s all folks!! 💕

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #ransom drysdale #lloyd hansen #jake jensen #personally curated fic recs #fic recs

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karahalloway · 2 years

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions - Bonus Chapter: Extraction (Part 2)

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Synopsis: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: Extraction

Chapter Summary: Drake gets a lot more than he bargained for when he arrives in Montana

Word Count: 7,300 (Hey! Don’t look at me! It’ ain’t my fault people can’t shut up! 🙃)

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, cringe, too much unwanted PDA - basically, the Gales being the Gales 🤣)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Chronologically, this chapter takes place between Chapter 7 - Independence Day and Chapter 8 - Into The Lion’s Den and is written from Drake’s POV. Part I covered events in New York; this Part II covers Drake’s escapades in Bozeman, MT (subsequent part(s) will cover the plane journey down to Texas, and the arrival at the ranch, with maybe a tiny bit about Drake’s flight back to Cordonia).

A/N2: If anyone wants a reminder of what Harper’s family look like, click here.

Bonus Chapter - Extraction (Part 2)

"Good evening, Mr Walker," greets a suited valet as I step off the plane. "Pleasant flight?"

"As pleasant as it could've been, given the circumstances."

"Well," says the guy, handing me a set of keys, "I hope that your onward journey goes smoothly, at least."

"I doubt it," I mutter, exchanging the keys for a hefty tip. "But thanks for the sentiment."

"You are most welcome, sir. Have a good evening." Turning on his heel, he jumps into the other car that’s waiting on the tarmac.

Pocketing the keys, I step up to the blacked-out Escalade and open the driver's side door. Settling myself in the seat, I quickly adjust everything and set my destination on the sat nav.

Ten-minute drive.

Pressing the pedal down, I navigate off the runway and onto a service road that loops around the back of the airport.

Getting here — despite the three hours I spent pacing at Teterboro while waiting for authorisation for the last-minute flight plan, not to mention the literal king's ransom I paid to charter a direct flight to Bozeman, and have a rental car meet me on the runway — had been relatively painless.

But now I have to somehow sneak Gale's family (plus luggage) out of their house and back to the airport without the paps realising that a personalised version of The Great Escape was taking place under their noses.

And that’s gonna be a logistical challenge.

Not just because I’m going to have to improvise on the fly — given that I've never been here before, and don’t know the lay of the land — but also because I’m going to have to coordinate half-a-dozen rambunctious civilians with zero tactical training or awareness.

Christ, what the hell was I thinking?

An exfil of this scale is normally a six-man job that requires days, if not weeks of prep.

I’m just one guy winging it on a hope and a prayer.

At least it’s coming up on 10pm Mountain now, so that means that I'll have the cover of darkness to work under. I don’t know if the neighbourhood has streetlights, but even if it doesn’t, the porch lights from the nearby houses are going to provide some illumination that I will need to work around.

I add that note to my already lengthy mental list of known unknowns.

And God only knows what crazy cocktail mix of unknown unknowns I'll also have to contend with...

Turning off the main bypass, I drive under the I-90 to merge onto the unlit two-lane that’ll take me to the small community on the outskirts of Bozeman that the Gales call home... and I feel my hands start to sweat as they grip the steering wheel.

There are a million and one things that can go wrong tonight.

We could get spotted. Someone could trip in the dark and get injured. We could get a puncture... or hit a deer (Montana’s know for its abundant wildlife, after all). We could run into a summer thunderstorm on the way south.

But despite the multitude of variables that I have to make provisions for, there is one thing that’s weighing on my mind more than anything else.

I’m meeting Harper's family for the first time.

Sure, I've seen them all on video about a month ago. So, it ain’t like we’re complete strangers to each other.

But this is different.

This’ll be an in-person face-to-face. A critical milestone in most relationships — sometimes even a make-or-break one.

Because this is when your girlfriend's parents decide whether or not your sorry ass is good enough for their daughter.

And even if that isn’t enough tacit pressure to deal with under normal circumstances, I’m in the doubly unenviable position of not only doing something like this for the very first time — given that I've never been in a relationship that had progressed to this stage before — but I’m also going to be flying solo.

Not that that’s my even biggest worry.

Yes, it would've been nice to have Harper with me when I met her folks properly for the first time. For convention's sake, if nothing else. But external events have conspired to rob us of that opportunity, and as much as that grates on me, I’m a big boy, and I can handle spending a few hours with her family by myself.

No. It’s the fact that here I am, about to turn up at the Gales' home in the middle of the night after a 4-hour flight, wearing rumpled, sweat-stained clothes, hair greasy and tangled from all the times I've raked my hand through it in frustration today, not to mention badly in need of a shower and shave, to bark orders like a drill sergeant at the people who could very well become my future in-laws.

Good first impression, that ain't...

I chew the inside of my cheek restlessly.

...especially when I have so much riding on this.

Being apart from Gale for this length of time has confronted me with the inescapable fact that I want — no, need — her more than the air I breathe.

And I have no clue how I'd managed to subsist before she blew into my life like a warm summer breeze, knocking down my walls, tearing up all my rules, and wreaking general havoc on my heart and mind.

Not that I care about any of that now... the things I thought were important enough to warrant pushing her away for. All I know is that I was a monumental idiot for even trying in the first place.

Her eyes saw through me, her smile lit me up, and her touch... Christ, just one touch from her was enough to make me want to shove her up against the wall and rip the clothes from her body.

In short, I've never felt like this with anyone before.

And a girl like her is only gonna come 'round once.

Hell, the fact that she showed up in my miserable life at all is nothing short of a goddamn miracle!

And given how close she is with her family, I know that if I want to spend the rest of my life with her, her parents and brothers will become a permanent fixture in my existence as well. So, I really want to start off on the right foot with them. Because I know that it’s going to be important for Harper that we get along...

...even if they’re the polar opposite of my family in every sense of the word, and Aunt Lee’s gonna get the shock of her life when we roll up at the ranch.

I shake my head wryly.

Christ... Married.

I honestly never thought I'd be making plans to get hitched. I hadn't even been looking for anything serious, let alone permanent. But after nearly losing her at the end of the social season, and then being forced to be apart for nearly a month, I’ve realised that life's too short to piss about, wasting time trying to deny how I feel and what I want.

And what I want is her. Full stop.

Not that I’m planning on rushing anything.

She has enough shit to deal with right now without me springing a surprise proposal onto her. So, I’m content to bide my time until the tour wraps up, her name is cleared, and her life returns to a semblance of normalcy.

And if that means waiting weeks, months, or even years for the stars to align, then that's what I’m going to do.

Because she’s worth the wait.

"The destination is on your right."

The nasally voice of the sat nav jars me from my thoughts.

Glancing in the indicated direction, I spot the Gales' craftsman-style house...

...and the veritable barricade of news vans camped in front of it.

"Sweet fuckin' Jesus..."

There’s no way in in hell that we’re gonna get past that without someone noticing.

"You have reached your destination."

Ignoring the navigation system, I roll slowly past the row of vehicles that lined both sides of the street, circling the block until I reach a spot on the parallel road directly behind the property.

Pulling up next to the curb, I turn the engine off and hop out.

The street is quiet and unlit. Several porch lights are on, and there's light peeking out from behind a few drawn blinds, but the spacing between the buildings is quite wide and unobstructed by gates.

So, generally positive...

Except for the fact that I’m still dressed in the clothes that I threw on this morning, and my white button-down glows like a fuckin' signal flare in the dark.

I briefly contemplate ditching it.

But considering that I left my suitcase back on the plane, not to mention how many pages I've torn out of the 'Meet the 'Rents' playbook already, the last thing I want to do was knock on the Gales' door looking like I’ve just fallen off the proverbial turnip truck.

I’m going to have to do this quick.

Taking a breath, I stride purposefully up the grass between the two houses that I parked in front of.

I really hope that no one’s logging my blatant trespassing through their window. But if they are, then I may as well make it seem like I’m supposed to be here, instead of making a big show of sneaking around like a literal thief in the night, as that would only increase my odds of getting reported to the cops.

Veering off to the right, I skirt the ranch-style fence that divides the backyards of the two properties until I arrive at the line that abutted the Gale's yard...

...and see that even though the fence is easy to hop, the rose bushes that have been planted along it on the other side aren’t.

"Fuck..."

I could retrace my steps, and find a way in via a different yard, but that risks me drawing even more attention to myself.

I’m going to have to commit. Hard.

After testing the fence rails to make sure that none of them have rotted through, I back up a few yards. Heaving a few deep breaths to pump myself up — and push down the voice in the back of my head telling me that this is a seriously bad idea — I break into a sprint.

I'm almost upon the fence when I use what momentum I've gained to leap upwards. My boot connects with the top rail, and pushing off of it, I sail into the air.

I feel my right foot drag over the top of the roses as I pass over the bushes, but luck is my side, and I don't get tangled in the thorns.

My foot hits the ground and I let my knees collapse as I throw myself forward to counteract the force of the impact. Rolling across the grass — which I realise mid-rotation is cold and wet from having recently been watered — I come to a stop on one knee, panting, with my shirt sticking to me...

...and the barrel of a Benelli M2 pointed between my eyes.

"Thought you were real smart, huh? Sneaking 'round the back..."

I raise my hands more out of instinct than anything else. "Sir, I'm—"

"Just here for a story?" The cold metal of the muzzle presses into my forehead. "So you and your sorry excuse of a paper can profit off of my daughter's misfortune? Well, you can take your story and—"

"I'm not a pap!"

A dry scoff reverberates through the darkness. "Sure, son. Keep on tellin' yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But I sure as hell won't—"

"It's me!" I shout. "Drake Walker! Harper's—"

Rob's eyes widen in the gloom. "Jesus Christ...!"

The barrel swings away from my head and I let out an explosive breath that I hadn't realised I've been holding as I feel my blood flow restart.

I hadn't been expecting a red-carpet welcome, but sweet fuckin' Jesus!

But I guess I should've known better. The Gales were in high alert, and I hadn't exactly given them a heads-up about my arrival.

"The heck were you thinking, son?" Harper's dad demands, offering me a hand to help me up. "I could've—"

"What's going on, honey?" asks Leigh, appearing behind her husband with a flashlight. "Did you—?" Her eyes — and blindingly bright beam — land on me. "Oh! Drake!"

I lift a hand to block the light. "Evenin', Mrs—"

The wind is knocked from my lungs as Harper's mom launches herself at me like a homing missile, nearly sending me ass-first into the damp grass again.

"We're so sorry, sweetie! Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I grunt, trying to regain my balance with the additional 140-or-so pounds on me. "I'm—"

"What are you doing in the yard?" she deplores, squeezing the literal bejesus out of me.

"The front door was out, so I had to use the back," I gasp, trying to draw breath — and failing.

Fuck me! This woman could give professional judo wrestlers a run for their money...!

"Probably not the welcome you were expecting, huh?" she observes, squeezing even tighter, if such a thing is possible. "But with all the unexpected visitors out front, Rob said we needed to take precautions."

"Hey. No harm, no foul. And I—"

"You could've given us a heads-up, son," grumbles Rob.

"Sorry, sir," I wheeze. "But—"

Leigh pulls away from me suspiciously. "Why are you all wet? The sprinklers weren't going off by themselves again, were they?"

I draw a relieved breath, my ribs groaning as they settle back into their intended positions. "No, I—"

"Everything okay here?" queries Brody, making an appearance with a stainless steel Dan Wesson 1911.

I make a mental note never to try and sneak onto the Gales' property again. Especially in the dark.

Leigh turns to regard her eldest son with a wry look. "Apart from your trigger-happy father almost shooting the first boyfriend Harper's introduced to us since that what's-his-face football player that took her to prom, we're peachy!"

Rob shoulders the single-barrel grouchily. "I'm allowed to defend my home, Leigh... And had I known—"

"You mean Dean?"

Glancing behind Brody, I spot Tyler and Justin ambling up as well, Henry lever-action and AR-15 sporting rifle in hand, respectively.

My eyes widen.

Sweet Jesus! These people are packing enough heat to inaugurate their own private militia...

...which begs the question of why — if her family are such ardent supporters of the Second Amendment — had Harper said she'd never shot a gun before.

But that’s an investigation for another time...

"Was that his name?" muses Leigh. "I honestly can't remember... I didn't like him." She gives me a conspiratorial wink.

"You mean Mr Hot-Shot Halfback who got that free ride scholarship to the University of Denver?" offers Justin. "And wouldn't shut up about it?"

"Yeah. Him," affirms Tyler. "Heard he got into a bar fight and got kicked off the team."

"Wasn't he called Don?" asks Brody.

"No!" scoffs Justin dismissively. "It was Dave. Or... Dale. Possibly Drew. But not Dean. Dean was that guy she dated during the summer after her sophomore year. Who had that quad bike? Remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" exclaims Tyler. "He kept getting it stuck in the mud after all the thunderstorms we'd had that year."

"And Harp kept calling me up to pull it out for him..." mutters Brody begrudgingly.

I quirk a brow. Jocks and quad bikes, huh? And she had the sass to give me stick for taking her to the range...

"Alright, you three," chides Leigh. "Cut it out. I'm sure Drake's not interested in hearing about Harper's past love interests. Not to mention, we can't have him stood out here in the yard, waiting to catch a cold..."

"Honestly, I'm—"

But I'm not given a chance to get a word in edgeways because Leigh has already grabbed hold of my arm and is hauling me across the lawn.

"I'm so happy that we finally get to meet you, honey," she preens, leaning into me affectionately. "Harper's told us so much about you. Feels like you're practically part of the family already!"

I feel the heat rise up my neck at the sincereness of her remark. "Th-thank you, ma'am. It's great to—"

"Oh, sweetie!" she admonishes with a lighthearted smack on my arm as she pulls me up the deck steps. "There's no need for all that! I know you Southerners like to pride yourselves on your manners, but up here — and especially in this family — we're quite a bit more laid back. Just Leigh is fine."

"I'll keep that in mind," I concede, stepping into the kitchen.

It smells of garlic, onions, and beef, and I suddenly realise that I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But food’s gonna have to wait because—

"We need to get you out of that shirt, mister."

My eyes snap down onto Harper's mom, before dropping to my chest. "Err..."

"We can't have you running around in wet clothes after you came all this way to help us."

I feel my shoulders relax as my brain finally catches up with the context.

Christ, it's been a long day...

"I'll be fine. It's just a little da—"

But she's not listening. "Brody! Get Drake a shirt, while I dry his, will you? The two of you are about the same size."

"Mom..." groans Brody, pulling the back door closed. "This isn't the time to start doing laundry..."

"Popping one shirt into the dryer isn't doing laundry," she counters. "It'll take twenty minutes at most."

"Do as your mother says," announces Rob. "It's the least we can do for Drake after all the trouble he's gone to for us."

Brody meets his father's eye before nodding and heading towards the stairs.

"Thank you, ma— Leigh," I say sincerely. "You really didn't have to."

She waves her hand in front of her face dismissively. "Oh, it's no trouble. Now, hand me that wet shirt."

I stare at her outstretched hand. She isn’t seriously expecting me to strip in front of her... Is she?

"Shouldn't we wait until—?"

Before I know what's happening, Leigh's grabbed a hold of the front panels of my shirt and was making short work of the buttons. "There's no need to stand on ceremony, honey."

The heat explodes over my face. Am I seriously getting undressed by Harper's mom right now...? In front of the whole family?

I try to push Leigh's fingers away, but her hands are like gophers — small and impossibly fast. "You don't need t—"

"It won't take but a minute," she assures me.

"How did it get wet anyway?" interjects Tyler, completely unfazed by the impromptu disrobing. "We haven't had rain for weeks."

"He came in through the backyard, didn't he?" says Justin. "Sprinklers must've been on."

"No, I turned them off," Rob tells him, in the process of putting the Benelli back into its case. "Just before Drake showed up."

"Then how—?"

Leigh tugs the bottom of the shirt out of my pants to get at the last few buttons.

I stare at the ceiling, biting my tongue.

Christ this is awkward!

"He jumped the back fence," states Rob matter-of-factly as he strides past, gun case in hand. "Had to break his landing."

"You jum—?" Tyler demands disbelievingly, whirling back to face me. "But those rose bushes are nearly six feet tall!"

"I gave myself a running start," I croak, trying to focus on the conversation that I’m the subject of, instead of on how close Leigh's hands are to my junk.

Sweet Jesus... Of all the things that I made plans for tonight, this sure as hell had not been on the list!

Tyler's eyeballing me incredulously. "What are you... Superman, or something?"

"No, just—"

Leigh uses my momentary distraction to try and pull the shirt off me.

I grab the front panels together instinctively. "I was gonna wait for the new shirt before—"

"Oh, honey!" she laughs. "I've raised three boys, so I've seen it all. A little skin isn't going to phase me."

"That's kind of you to say, but—"

"Give her the shirt, man!" prompts Justin. "Because she'll just take it off you anyway if you don't."

"Yeah, it's much easier if you give in and humour her," agrees Tyler. "Unless you're trying to hide something..."

"No, but I can just get changed when—"

"Nonsense!" Leigh chides, stepping behind me and grabbing my collar.

I try to keep a hold on the shirt, but the woman's faster'n greased lightning and the next thing I know, she's whipped the damn thing off me.

"Whoa..."

Glancing up, I see Justin and Tyler staring at me with mouths agape, like a pair of stupefied goats seeing Astro-Turf for the first time.

"There," Leigh declares proudly, tugging the sleeves off my wrists. "Much better to be out of these wet—" She trails off as her eyes land on my torso as well.

I pray for the ground to open up and swallow me.

How the hell did I end up standing shirtless in the middle of the Gale's kitchen?

Tyler's the first to recover his powers of speech. "Holy shit, dude! How much do you bench press?"

"At least 290lbs by the look of him," offers Justin before I can open my gob. "You auditioning for a 300 reboot we don't know about?"

"No, I just—"

"Try'na compensate for something...?" suggests Tyler with a shit-eating grin as he waggles his little finger meaningfully.

I groan inwardly. Can this night go any more sideways...? And where the fuck is Brody with that shirt!

"Should probably give Harp the heads-up," muses Justin, stroking his chin contemplatively. "Before she experiences major disappointment."

"What can Harper possibly be disappointed about?" breathes Leigh, eyes glued to my abs as she walks past towards the laundry area.

"The size of his— Ow!"

"Shut up, T," admonishes Brody, flinging me a plaid shirt.

I snatch it gratefully out of the air.

Tyler's rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "The hell was that for, man?"

"Dissing the guy to his face."

"Hey! I'm not wrong! It's statistically true that—"

"Guys with insecurities will call everyone else's assets into question?" I quip, pulling the shirt on.

There's a moment of stunned silence as the brothers stare at me.

Justin's the first to recover. "Hah!" he guffaws, slapping his younger sibling on the shoulder. "He called you out, T!"

Tyler reddens. "No! That's not what I—"

"Should've kept your big, fat mouth shut then, huh, baby bro?" grins Brody, giving me a covert thumbs-up from beneath his crossed arms.

"I'm twenty-fuckin'-five!"

"And yet you still act like a 12-year old," laughs Justin, pulling him in for a noogie.

"Fuck off, J!" shouts Tyler, giving his brother a shove. "You're just as— Ow! What th—!"

"Language..." admonishes Rob with a steely look as he strides back into the kitchen.

Tyler mutters something under his breath.

"What was that, T?"

"Nothing," he grumbles, shooting a death glare at Justin, who's fighting a grin, knowing he managed to get away Scot-free.

"Didn't think so," affirms Rob. Turning to me, he asks, "So, what's the plan now, son?"

"We should make a move before it gets any later," I advise. "This all of you?"

"Yup," affirms Justin. "Nana said she'll hold down the fort while we're gone. Plus, she doesn't like leaving her spider plants."

"Fair enough," I concede. "The rest of y'all packed and everything?"

There's nods all around.

"Great. Who's your favourite neighbour?"

Rob's brows furrow. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"We can't go out the front without getting spotted by the paps," I explain. "So we'll need to engineer an escape via one of the adjoining yards."

"Oh, that's easy," declares Leigh, reappearing from the laundry area. "We'll just use Nancy's yard. She won't mind."

"Yeah," mutters Brody. "But her yard's right next to ours. The news crews will still catch sight of us — especially when they hear six people dragging suitcases down the drive in the middle of the night. They're not dumb."

"Does she have a garage?" I ask. "I can back the car in and—"

"No can do," declares Justin. "It's filled to the brim with gardening crap—"

"Language!"

"Sorry, Dad!"

He ducks just in time to avoid Tyler's back-handed swipe at his head.

"Dammit...!" hisses Tyler under his breath.

"—and parts for that rusty, old bike that her husband never finished repairing before he died," finishes Justin without skipping a beat as he straightens back up.

Brody scowls at his brother. "That 'rusty, old bike' is a 1929 Brough Superior SS100 Alpine Grand Sport, you moron. And it's worth about ten of your ragtop Jeep's."

My brows shoot upwards. "You're joking..."

"Nope," affirms Brody sagely. "A restored model can go for close to half a mil."

"I know," I breathe. "There are less than a hundred of those bikes left. And each one is unique... and beautifully elegant."

Brody regards me contemplatively. "You into bikes, then?"

I nod. "Got an Indian Scout back home."

"Sweet! Which model?"

"Modified Bobber."

He's nodding enthusiastically. "What year?"

"It's a—"

"Can we park the bike drool-fest until after we get to Texas?" interrupts Tyler. "Otherwise we'll be stood here for hours..."

"Right. Yeah," nods Brody. Leaning towards me, he adds in a low voice, "To be resumed."

"You got it, buddy," I grin. Turning back to the topic at hand, I ask, "Right, so it seems like Nancy's yard isn't an option. Is there—"

"Actually, I think she said that her neighbours at the back were going away on some Caribbean cruise for a month," interrupts Leigh. "So, we can just hop over to Nancy's and then out the back into the other yard. Let me just call her and check."

"You realise that's trespassing, Mom..." Brody reminds her.

"Pfft," she counters, picking her phone up from the kitchen counter. "What they don't know won't hurt them."

Brody groans wearily. "That's not how it works... And anyway. It's the middle of the night. She won't be—"

"Oh, she'll still be up watching NCIS reruns on that old TV of hers," Leigh assures him, scanning unconcernedly through her contacts for the number she needed. "She's an all-out night owl."

"Here," I say, quickly pulling out and unlocking my phone. "Use this."

She regards me confusedly. "But Nancy's number is saved in here..."

"I know. But with the level of media attention you've been getting, we can't rule out the possibility that your phones have been illegally tapped. And if the paps are listening in, then any kind of escape plan will be screwed from the get-go."

Leigh looks at her eldest son questioningly.

Brody nods. "Drake's right. If you've got the technical know-how, it's stupidly easy to tap or track someone's phone."

"It's why I didn't call Brody back," I add as Leigh takes my phone and starts tapping Nancy's number in. "I know — from personal experience — that these people will go to any means to get a story. So, I didn't want to risk it. Even though I said I'd call once I had the details."

"No sweat, man," acknowledges Brody, clapping me on the shoulder. "We honestly didn't expect anyone — least of all you — to show up until tomorrow at the earliest anyway."

"Yeah, well, I was still on this side of the Pond, so I figured I'd make a detour on the way back to Europe."

"Okay, but how do you know that your phone's good?" asks Tyler.

"Because it has military-grade encryption software installed on it. And it gets regularly swept for bugs."

Justin looks impressed. "Any chance we can get our hands on that kind of tech?"

"Not without going back to Cordonia to fill out an insane amount of paperwork that requires four different sets of signatures," I reply dryly. "So you should switch your phones off and leave them here."

"Leave our phones!" cries Tyler. "But how are we supposed to—"

"I'll get y'all burner phones once we get to Texas."

"But—"

"You're very welcome to stay here under forced lockdown for the next however-many-weeks until the news crews get bored," cuts in Brody. "See how fast you go stir crazy."

Tyler drops his head dejectedly. "This sucks major balls..."

For once, Rob lets the cussing slide with a huff of understanding as he lays a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "No one said it was gonna be easy, T. This isn't a vacation."

"Trust me, I know," I say. "None of you should ever've had to deal with this kinda shit. But the aristos at court have a nasty habit of riding roughshod over anyone and everyone in order to gain even the tiniest bit kind of advantage for themselves. So, until we find the plotters and bring 'em to heel, this is the new forced reality."

"Just remember that it's nowhere near as bad as what Harp's got to deal with..." adds Brody.

"Yeah," agrees Justin. "At least the papers aren't spewing crap about us like they are about her... Some of the stuff they've come up with... Jesus Christ..."

"Best to just ignore it," I advise.

"Ignore it?" demands Tyler incredulously. "We're her family! Who's going to defend her from those trolls if not us?"

"I know you're just trying to look out for her," I say. "But engaging with all that BS is just gonna give the bastards further ammunition, and you sleepless nights. And you ain't gonna win an online shouting match. At least not until we've got the proof we need to set the story straight."

"And how long's that going to take?" asks Justin.

"Honestly?" I sigh. "No clue. But we're tackling it from every possible angle so we can, so hopefully sooner rather than later. For everyone's sake."

"Nancy said we can come on over," announces Leigh with a bright smile, stepping back into the impromptu semi-circle that we'd fallen into as we'd talked. "And she'll give us a ladder to get into the Millers' yard."

"Let's move out, then," I advise.

"...and hope nobody calls the cops on us," grumbles Brody.

"Lucky we have an in with the force, then, huh?" winks Justin, elbowing his older brother in the ribs.

"Just 'cause I'm a PI doesn't mean I won't get arrested for breaking the law," he counters dryly. "If anything, I need to be more careful."

"Oh, lighten up, Knight Rider," snorts Tyler, picking up two of the bags that were stacked by the stairs and heading towards the back door. "As long as you don't get your fat ass stuck on the fence, you'll be golden!"

"Says the person who got tangled up in that roll of barbed wire at the Harrolds' place!" laughs Justin, following suit.

"Because some idiot just left it in the middle of the field!" hits back Tyler. "Lucky the cows were on the other side of the pasture, or Old Man Harrold would've tanned your hide!"

"Those three will never grow up," grumbles Rob, as the three brothers exit the house, ribbing each other as they went.

"Nope," I agree. "But when things go south, they've got each other's back's... and Harper's. And that's what counts."

"Sounds like you speak from experience," he concedes, moving towards the remaining bags. "You got brothers as well, then?"

"Just a sister," I reply, following suit. "But Chris and I, we grew up together, so he's basically like a brother to me."

"This sister of yours, she is in Cordonia as well, or down in Texas?" he asks, hefting a back-pack onto his shoulder.

I heave a breath. "Neither. She upped sticks almost two years ago. Haven't heard from her since."

"Sorry to hear that, son..." he acknowledges, bending down again. "Hope she's doing okay."

I grab a heavy-looking, overstuffed suitcase before he can reach it. "Me too."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself with that," he admonishes. "Leigh's packed everything but the kitchen sink into that damn bag..."

"It's no trouble," I assure him, adjusting my hold on the handle. It’s heavy, but I can manage... just. "You're being forced to move out on short notice. It's gonna be hard to know what to take and what to leave. Especially since you don't how long you'll be gone for."

He gives me an appreciative nod as he grabs the last bag, before muttering, "I honestly never thought I'd live to see something like this... Life sure knows how to throw a nasty curveball when you least expect it..."

"True. But, we're batting back."

"All thanks to you, son," he says heartfeltly, leading the way out to the backyard again. "You went out of your way for us when you didn't have to, and we won't forget that."

"As I said, it's not a problem," I assure him. "Plus, both Harper and I'll feel better, knowing that y'all are somewhere safe until this blows over."

"How... How she holding up?" he asks, his voice wavering ever so slightly with worry as he glances over at me.

"Pretty good," I admit. "All things considered. She's tougher'n an old pair of boots."

He scoffs in agreement. "She gets that from her Nana. But, it's good to know she has someone like you in her corner. Especially as we can't be there for her..."

"Like I said, sir," I say. "I made a promise to look out for her. And I'm plannin' on keeping it, come hell or high-water. Because no one deserves to be taken advantage of like this. Especially her."

"Let's just hope you and that Chris catch the sons of bitches responsible..."

"We're not gonna rest 'til we do, sir," I declare determinedly. "Because they've got a lot to answer for."

Reaching the fence line, I can see that Harper's brothers have already made it into Nancy's yard. Tyler’s stood by the back door, talking to someone inside. Justin is stacking the first round of bags by the back fence, while Brody is waiting to help us with our load.

"Hand that over, Dad," he instructs, reaching back over the waist-high fence.

"I got it," he responds, lifting the backpack up with a low grunt.

"What you've got, is a date with the ER if you slip a disk again," replies Brody sardonically, grabbing the bottom. "Not to mention, Nancy's gonna bite your ear off if you end up putting a dent in her new fence. Even accidentally."

"Not if she wants me to help fix it for her!" comes the deadpan response.

Brody shakes his head wearily, and I can't help but grin at the easy interplay between father and son...

...even as I feel a pang of regret slice through my gut at the subtle reminder of how my own time with Dad had been cut brutally short.

"Drake?"

I snap my head up. "Yeah?"

"Wanna pass that deadweight over?" asks Brody, indicating the heavy bag at my feet.

"Oh. Sure."

Picking the suitcase up, I'm in the process of hefting it over the fence, when I feel the weight lighten.

"Don't need you putting your back out, either, son," winks Rob, as he grabs the other end.

"Thanks," I say gratefully, meeting his eye with a nod.

Despite the night's ups-and-downs, it seems like the first official meeting is going well. Somehow…

"Jesus Christ!" exclaims Brody. "The hell is in this thing?"

"Ask your mother," advises Rob dryly.

"Ask me what?" inquires Leigh, appearing with a plastic bag in her hand, and a purse slung over her shoulder.

"What you packed in that damned suitcase that makes it weigh more than a prize heifer," replies Rob.

"Just clothes. And shoes. And some books. And sunscreen. And bug repellent. And the photo albums."

Brody's eyes widen. "What? All of them?"

"No, silly!" laughs Leigh. "Just the ones that have pictures of Harper."

"That's still half-a-dozen albums!" cries Brody.

"Look, Leigh," sighs Rob. "I know you miss her, but—"

"Pfft!" scoffs Leigh. "It's got nothing to do with that! It's so I can show the pictures to Drake's mom and auntie. As a way to introduce Harper to them, since she's not with us to meet his family for the first time."

"I'm sure Drake's already told them all about her..."

"But they haven't met her yet..." she counters. Glancing questioningly at me, she adds, "Have they?"

"No," I confirm, handing another bag over to Brody. "We haven't had a—"

"Exactly!" she declares. "So, it's my job, as her mother, to represent her! And the best way to do that, is with pictures!"

"Couldn't you just have picked out a few random photos?" deplores Brody. "Or better yet, just show them what you've got on your camera roll? They don't need a whole presentation with multiple exhibits."

I step in to back Brody up. Despite her mom's enthusiasm, I doubt Harper would be happy knowing that her gap-toothed kiddie pictures are going to be paraded around without her knowledge or consent. "That's very thoughtful of you, Leigh. But—"

"Oh, don't worry, dear! I'll let you have first peek." She beams up at me excitedly. "I know you're interested in finding out what Harper got up to in her former years as well! Especially since you haven't known each other for that long..."

I scoff abashedly, picking up the last bag. "That's really not—"

"...and I'm sure your mom has some adorable pictures of you stashed away somewhere too..."

I nearly drop the suitcase on my foot. "Wait. Wha—?"

"You lot comin'?" calls Tyler, striding past with a ladder under his arm. "Or you are you waiting for an invitation?"

"I already gave 'em an invitation," declares the squat, elderly woman following along behind him. She’s sporting a long, silver braid of hair down the back of her Native American-inspired poncho, and has a large, box-shaped thing in her hands. "Or did you misplace it already?"

"It was a verbal—" starts Brody.

"Of course not!" interjects Leigh, climbing over the fence to wrap her neighbour in one of those bone-crushing hugs of hers. "We treasure everything you give us, Nancy!"

"Except the unbearably itchy hats and scarves she insists on knitting for us each Christmas," grumbles Rob under his breath as he too clambers over the rails. "Those go straight to Goodwill."

Suppressing a snort, I hop into the yard as well.

Nancy sounded like a typical old lady, living out her grandmotherly persuasions vicariously through her acquaintances.

Nancy's eyes land on me. "Have you made another addition to your brood recently?"

"Sort of," Leigh admits with a smile, beckoning me over. "Nancy, this is Harper's boyfriend, Drake."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," I greet, stepping up to extend a hand.

Nancy gives me a critical once-over without taking me up on the offer of the handshake. "Boyfriend, eh...?"

I pull my outstretched arm back with a raised brow, trying to figure out what the issue is. "If you want to put a label on it..."

She narrows her eyes at me. "And how long has this been going on for?"

I open my mouth, only to promptly shut it, suddenly realising that that's a surprisingly hard question to give a straight answer to.

Do I count from the morning I showed up at her hotel room in Paris to stake my claim on her? Or the night before, when I realised that I was in love with her? Or should I go back to when we stuck our tongues down each other's throats at the beach party, even though she was still officially a suitor? Or even further back still to Lythikos, when I invited her to come off-piste with me, for what could technically be termed as our first date?

I decide to hedge my bets.

"’Bout a month or so...?"

That answer’s vague enough to cover all the bases, while being specific enough to (a) make it sound like I’ve actually keeping track, and (b) put off any incursive follow-up questions.

"A month, huh?"

"Give or take," I affirm, focusing on keeping cool as Nancy continues to scan me like a Terminator.

Her face suddenly cracks into a grin. "You're doing better than that last guy, then! He only lasted... What? Two weeks?"

"If that," agrees Leigh with a heavy sigh. "She didn't even introduce us..."

"But you're here meeting the family!" Nancy continues, punching me enthusiastically in the arm. "In person!"

I jerk at the unexpected — and surprisingly forceful — impact.

PDA should really come with a health warning 'round here...

"You've made it further than most," she confides with a wink. "She must really like you."

"Yes, we're all rooting for Drake," confirms Leigh, leaning into me with a cat-that-got-the-cream grin.

I feel the heat rise up my face again. "That's kind of you to say..."

"So polite," smirks Leigh, patting my cheek.

"And thin around the jowls," observers Nancy ornerily. "Do they not feed you at home?"

"I—"

"Best take this, then," she declares.

She thrusts the cooler into my sternum, knocking the breath out of me.

"It was meant to be for those Gale boys to tide them over 'til you got down to Texas. They're always hungry," she explains. "But by the look of you, you need it more than them."

I quickly wrap my arms around the box so it doesn't fall to the ground as she lets go. "Thank you, ma'am. But there's gonna be food on—"

"On the way?" She snorts derisively. "Gas station grub is expensive and gives you heartburn."

"Actually we're—"

"And you've got a long trek, so you'll be needing the fuel," she continues. "So, I packed you Swiss and baloney sandwiches and my secret recipe chocolate and peanut butter cookies to keep you going."

"Ooh! The boys will be happy with those!" enthuses Leigh.

"Thank you," I acknowledge. "That's really—"

"Mom!" hollers Tyler from the top of the ladder. "Quit shooting the breeze and— Ow!"

"And you quit trying to wake the whole neighbourhood!" hisses Brody.

Leigh turns back to Nancy apologetically. "Sorry. Being summoned..."

"Go. Go," she urges, making shooing motions with her hands. "I'll make sure no one follows you."

"How?" I ask, very much doubting — despite her mean right hook — that Nancy could tackle a pap to the ground if one decided to pursue us.

She fixes me with a level look. "I'll introduce them to the business end of my hose pipe."

A snort of amusement jumps out of me. "Fair enough."

"You kids take care," she says by way of good-bye, slapping me roundly on the back. "And keep me posted."

"You know we will!" Leigh assures her, giving her another quick hug and a kiss in the cheek. "See you soon, Nancy!"

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” I add with a nod.

“You too, Drake,” responds Nancy with a wink. “I’m rooting for you too.”

Turning away, Leigh and I troop across the lawn to the back fence where the ladder had been left waiting for us.

"After you, Leigh," I urge.

"You are such a gentleman," she preens, stepping up to the ladder and making short work of scaling it.

"Swing your legs over and jump down," prompts Brody from the other side. "I'll catch you."

"I can manage," she responds unconcernedly. "I used to climb human pyramids taller than this."

"That was over thirty years ago..."

She hops nimbly down. "Still got the reflexes, though!"

I climb up and over as well, landing with a low thud in the Miller's barked flowerbed. Straightening up, I see that the bags have also already made it.

The Gales look at me expectantly.

"Right," I say, grabbing a suitcase at random. "Next stop, Bozeman Yellowstone International."

Drake’s escapdes continue in Extraction - Part 3 (Coming Soon!)

Some notes for your FYI:

Flight to Montana — if you've read Sleepless in New York, you will be familiar with Teterboro airport — a smaller airport located in New Jersey that is used as a hub for private and charter flights in and out of New York. The timings I state above (re wait time for flight authorisation and flight time from New York to Bozeman) are accurate — unlike in the movies, you can't just hop on a private jet whenever you feel like it and go. That said, the speed with which Drake is able to charter a flight on short notice may be a bit unrealistic — normally you need to book in advance to ensure that the charter company does have planes/crew available, but for the purposes of the story, I assumed that (i) the Palace would have some kind of VIP charter account set up with a company already (which Drake was able to take advantage of), and (ii) on the day in question, they did have availability. And while I don't specifically mention how much Drake paid for the flight (which varies depending on which charter company he went with, the size of plane, distance travelled, etc.) a ballpark starting figure would be approx. $25,000 just for the Teterboro-Bozeman leg (and, no, I didn't accidentally add too many zeros because regardless of the number of passengers, you need to basically book out the whole plane) whereas the entire trip (Teterboro-Bozeman-Dallas) would be anywhere between $67,000-$100,000. In relation to the rental car, I don't know if Bozeman (which is a relatively small airport and which receives both commercial and charter/private flights) would allow a car to drive onto the runway (though I know that some private airports do allow this), but for the purposes of the plot and pacing, I decided that they do 🙃

Guns — Huge shout-out to hubby for serving as my impromptu gun expert, and giving me suggestions on what type of gun each person in the chapter should carry! I know zilch about guns, but I have learnt the following as a result of writing this chapter: (i) being quite rural and agrarian, most people in Montana would be packin’ (hunting is also a popular pass-time in this state); (ii) Montana is a state that subscribes to the Castle Doctrine (also known as the stand-your-ground law), that allows people to use reasonable force (including deadly force) to protect themselves against an intruder in their home. This is what Rob refers to when he says that he has the ‘right’ to defend his home; and (iii) the guns that have been chosen are some of the best / most popular sidearms for the purposes that each character would use them for. Rob’s Benelli is a solid and versatile shotgun that can be used for the purposes of home defence, hunting and skeet shooting. Brody (being a PI) would have a handgun, so we went with the Dan Wesson. Justin and Tyler have hunting/sporting rifles. This note is by no way an advocation of gun ownership; I’m just providing some background as to why guns are included in this scene, and why each character has the ones that they do.

Picture credits available here.

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