#silent screen stunner

[clarabowlover]

Stunning Tallulah Bankhead At The Tender Age Of 16

In Her 3rd Film - Thirty A Week (1918)

[starsofang]

Boyfriend Gaz who loves controlling the cute, little vibrator you put in every time he takes you out on a date. Whether it be dinner, movies, arcade, it didn’t matter.

Having complete and utter control over what setting he’s feeling that day, switching back and forth between turning it on and off — he reveled in it.

Seeing you squirm in your seat in the theaters, eyes unfocused on the big screen playing that movie you’d been talking about for weeks? It had his heart soaring with undying affection. He couldn’t get enough of the ditzy look on your face, or the way your hand gripped his infinitely tighter.

Or the occasional fancy dinner he’d take you out to. You, dressed so lovely and sweet, taking the time out of your day to be an absolute stunner, sat across from him with your legs clenched together from beneath the table. Your eyes silently pleaded for him to give you a break, even just for a second so you could enjoy the fine meal he’d gotten you.

Don’t think you won’t get rewarded, though. Gaz would never watch you writhe at the hands of his own greediness without giving you a proper pampering afterwards, whether it be a nice, hot bath together or making you melt on his tongue.

[its-avalon-08]

Can I request something with Lando? With a plus-size reader, where the hate gets to her too much, and she breaks up with him because the internet is hatting on her and being with Lando. Lando is so confused until like Max or someone asks if he has seen the hate, and it makes Lando go crazy at everyone for the hate to his favourite girl, and he gets her back. Please, I'll sell my kidney.🙏

don't go breaking my heart (ln4)

( bubs u don't have to sell ur kidney, here it is! hope u like it )

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, online hate, fatphobia

liked by landonorris, kellypiquet and others

y/nnnn seashells and splashes

200,456,446 comments

@landonorris : beautiful baby <3, so grateful you're mine ---> liked by author ❤️

@alexandrasaintmleux: stunner girl, ily <3 ---> liked by author ❤️

@hater123: I can't believe Lando is dating someone like her. Doesn't he have standards?

@trollqueen: Someone needs to hit the gym... hard. Yikes.

@f1fanatic: Lando deserves so much better. She’s just not on his level. or weight.

@bodyshamer: Wow, the beach really needs a 'no whales allowed' sign.

@toxicfan: I guess money can’t buy taste, huh, Lando?

@hatersunite: How can she even post these pictures without feeling embarrassed?

@jealousfan: Lando must be blind if he thinks she’s attractive.

@fatphobic: Imagine waking up next to that every day. Poor Lando.

@anonymoushater: Lando’s career is gonna go downhill with her dragging him down.

@judgy: Cover up, nobody wants to see that.

@meanperson: She should be ashamed of how she looks.

@bitterf1fan: Why is she even famous? Just because she’s dating Lando? Pathetic.

@envioushater: ewww, why would he even kiss her? Gross.

@bodyshamepolice: lando could do so much better than this blob.

@trollmaster: She’s just using him for fame. She doesn’t deserve him.

Y/N sat in the McLaren hospitality area, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She had been trying to ignore the hateful comments on her Instagram, but they were relentless, each one cutting deeper than the last. She scrolled through them again, her heart sinking with every cruel word.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she read the comments over and over. She had always been confident in her own skin, but the constant barrage of negativity was breaking her spirit.

Lily, Oscar Piastri's girlfriend, noticed Y/N's distress from across the room. She approached cautiously, her heart aching for her friend. "Hey, Y/N," she said softly, sitting down next to her. "Are you okay?"

Y/N didn't respond, her gaze fixed on her phone screen. Her silent sobs shook her body, and Lily could see the tears streaming down her face.

Lily gently took the phone from Y/N's hand and glanced at the screen, her own heart breaking at the sight of the hateful comments. She put the phone aside and wrapped her arms around Y/N, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," she whispered, her voice filled with empathy. "They’re just jealous and cruel. You’re beautiful just the way you are."

Y/N buried her face in Lily's shoulder, her sobs growing louder. She felt so overwhelmed, so small in the face of such relentless hatred. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered through her tears. "I thought I was strong enough, but I’m not."

Lily held her tighter, her own eyes welling up with tears. "You are strong, Y/N. Don’t let them win. They don’t know you, they don’t know how amazing you are."

But Y/N could hardly hear Lily’s comforting words. The weight of the hate was too much, and she felt like she was drowning in it. She pulled away from Lily’s embrace, wiping her tears with shaking hands. "I need to go," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N, please don’t leave like this," Lily pleaded, her concern growing. "Talk to Lando, let him help you."

But Y/N couldn’t face Lando, not now. She stood up, her legs feeling weak, and made her way to the exit. She walked out of the paddock, her heart heavy with the pain of the hateful comments, leaving behind the world she had once felt so at home in.

time skip

Lando entered their shared apartment, his usual cheerful demeanor dampened by a nagging sense of unease. The McLaren hospitality area had felt off after Y/N’s abrupt departure, and his concern had only grown since.

"Y/N?" he called out, his voice echoing through the quiet space. He spotted her in the living room, standing next to a pile of packed bags. His heart sank. "What’s going on?"

Y/N looked up, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Lando, I’m leaving."

His confusion deepened, worry etching lines into his face. "Leaving? Why? What happened?"

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "I just… I think you’ll be happier without me."

Lando’s heart pounded in his chest. "What are you talking about? I’m happy with you, Y/N. Why are you doing this?"

Tears filled her eyes again, but she blinked them back. "You deserve someone better, Lando. Someone who won’t bring you down."

He stepped closer, desperation creeping into his voice. "Y/N, you’re not bringing me down. I love you. Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s really going on."

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself as if to hold herself together. "I can’t, Lando. It’s better this way."

"Better for who?" he demanded, his voice breaking. "Not for me. I don’t understand. Please, Y/N, don’t do this."

She finally looked up at him, her heart breaking at the sight of his pain. "You’ll be better off without me, Lando. Trust me."

Lando felt a surge of panic. He reached out, gently taking her hand. "Please, don’t go. We can get through anything together. Just tell me what’s wrong."

Y/N pulled her hand away, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I’m sorry, Lando. I have to go."

She grabbed her bags and walked towards the door, her heart aching with every step. Lando followed her, his own tears blurring his vision. "Y/N, please…"

She paused at the door, looking back at him one last time. "Goodbye, Lando."

With that, she stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind her. Lando stood there in stunned silence, his heart shattered into pieces. He sank to the floor, his back against the door, unable to comprehend how everything had fallen apart so quickly. He had lost the woman he loved, and he didn’t even know why.

time skip

Lando sat on the floor of his apartment, his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face. His heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. The apartment, once filled with love and laughter, now felt unbearably empty. He replayed Y/N’s words over and over in his mind, each time trying to understand where it all went wrong.

Lando couldn't, his grief consuming him. His teammates noticed his absence and his silence. It was Carlos Sainz who finally decided to check on him.

Carlos knocked on the door, his concern deepening when Lando didn’t answer immediately. "Lando, it’s Carlos. Please open up."

After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled and tear-streaked Lando. Carlos’s heart sank at the sight of his friend in such a state. "Mate, what happened?"

Lando let Carlos in, the two of them sitting on the couch. "She left me, Carlos," Lando said, his voice breaking. "She said I’d be better off without her. I don’t understand why."

Carlos looked at him sympathetically. "Have you seen what’s been happening online?"

Lando shook his head, confusion mingling with his grief. "What do you mean?"

Carlos pulled out his phone, showing Lando the vile comments, the hateful edits, and the mean-spirited articles directed at Y/N. Lando’s eyes widened with horror and fury as he read through them, his heartbreak turning into a white-hot rage.

"They did this to her," Carlos said quietly. "She left because she couldn’t handle the hate."

Lando’s hands trembled with anger as he continued to read. "How could they do this to her? She didn’t deserve any of this."

Carlos placed a hand on his shoulder. "You need to speak out, Lando. This isn’t right."

Lando nodded, his resolve hardening. "I’m not going to let them get away with this."

He grabbed his phone, his fingers shaking as he typed out a message on social media. His anger and pain poured into his words:

"To all my so-called 'fans' who have been spewing hate towards Y/N, this needs to stop. She didn’t deserve any of this. She is the most amazing person I have ever known, and your words have hurt her deeply. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. If you truly support me, you will stop this now. Hate has no place in this world. And to those companies and individuals who have written those hateful articles and made those disgusting edits, I am coming for you. You will be held accountable."

He hit post, his chest heaving with the intensity of his emotions. "I’m suing them," he said to Carlos, his voice filled with determination. "Every single one of them."

Carlos nodded in support. "I’m with you, mate. Whatever you need."

Lando wasted no time. He contacted his legal team, explaining the situation in detail. "I want to sue every company that published those hateful articles. I want to take down every website that allowed those comments. This has to stop."

His lawyers assured him they would take immediate action. Lando felt a flicker of hope amidst his anger and heartbreak. He couldn’t undo the pain that Y/N had suffered, but he could fight for her, stand up for her, and make sure that those responsible faced consequences.

As the days went by, Lando’s social media post garnered immense attention. Fans and fellow drivers rallied behind him, condemning the hate and expressing their support for Y/N. The companies that had published the hateful articles received a barrage of backlash, and legal notices were swiftly sent.

Lando’s heart remained heavy with the loss of Y/N, but he found strength in his fight for justice. He hoped that, somehow, Y/N would see that he was standing up for her, that he loved her deeply, and that he was determined to make things right.

time skip

Lando couldn’t wait any longer. The moment he finished speaking with his legal team, he grabbed his keys and raced out of his apartment. He needed to see Y/N, to make things right. His heart pounded as he drove to her place, his mind racing with thoughts of everything he wanted to say to her.

When he arrived at Y/N’s apartment, he didn’t hesitate. He knocked on the door, loud and urgent. "Y/N, it’s me, Lando. Please open the door."

There was no response, but he refused to give up. He knocked again, harder this time. "Y/N, please, I need to talk to you. I’m not leaving until you let me in."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open. Y/N stood there, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She looked exhausted, her face etched with pain and sadness.

"Lando, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his heart breaking at the sight of her. "Y/N, please let me in. I need to talk to you."

She hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside, allowing him to enter. He closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts.

"Y/N, I’m so sorry," he began, his voice filled with emotion. "I had no idea what you were going through. I didn’t see the hate, the comments, any of it. If I had known, I would have done something sooner."

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but she remained silent, letting him continue.

"You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met," he said, his voice trembling. "You are strong, beautiful, and kind. Those people who wrote those horrible things about you don’t know you at all. They’re just cowards hiding behind screens."

He took her hands in his, his eyes locked on hers. "You are perfect to me, Y/N. Every curve, every smile, every moment we’ve shared. I love you more than words can say. And I’m not going to let them win. I’m fighting back. I’ve already spoken out, and I’m suing the companies that published those hateful articles. I’m doing everything I can to make this right."

Her tears began to flow again, but this time they were tears of relief and love. "Lando, I was so scared. I didn’t want you to be dragged down by all the hate because of me."

He shook his head, his own eyes filling with tears. "You are worth everything to me, Y/N. I don’t care about the hate. I care about you. Please, don’t leave me. We’re stronger together. We can get through this, I promise."

She let out a sob, her walls finally crumbling. "I love you so much, Lando. I was just so afraid."

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything. We’re going to get through this together. I’m never letting you go."

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, their hearts beating in sync. Lando gently kissed her forehead, his love for her shining through his eyes. "You’re my everything, Y/N. We’ll face the world together, and nothing will ever tear us apart again."

She clung to him, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace. "Thank you, Lando. I’m so sorry for everything."

He smiled softly, wiping away her tears. "You have nothing to be sorry for, love. We’re a team, and we’ll always be. I’ll protect you, I’ll stand by you, and I’ll love you with everything I have."

They shared a tender kiss, their love stronger than ever. As they held each other, they knew that no amount of hate could ever come between them. They had each other, and that was all they needed.

In that moment, all the pain and fear melted away, replaced by the warmth of their love and the strength of their bond. They were together, and together, they could conquer anything.

[sandcobangevent]

Missing you comes in waves (and tonight I'm drowning)

by @jonk-md and @glitterymumfriend

“Wait – wait, no, shit-” John scrambled for his phone, almost dropping it in his rush to activate the screen. Staring back at him was confirmation that it was 11:56am on Friday, 18th September.

His dad’s birthday was 17th September.

He’d forgotten his dad’s birthday.

He couldn’t believe it. He forgot. He forgot.

Distantly, he could hear Mariana calling his name, feel Sherlock’s hand on his shoulder. But he couldn’t do anything but stare at his phone screen until it went dark again, guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach.

He felt his lips moving, was vaguely aware of himself telling them he needed to call his mum. They might have said something in response, but John walked away in a daze, absently dialling Carol Watson’s phone number.

-

“Don’t be silly, Johnny love! It’s alright, I know how busy you are with that charming detective of yours.”

“I just- I’m really sorry, mum.”

“Nonsense! I was fine – I had a grand old time at the bingo with the girls, they kept me company. Speaking of, would you believe that Annie’s youngest has gotten herself engaged? Annie wouldn’t stop going off on one about the ring not being the right cut of diamond but frankly if that’s her only complaint it must have been a stunner, you know what she’s like-”

John hummed non-committally, shuffling things around his desk as he listened to his mum fill him in on all the gossip. Usually he’d have cut her off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it this time.

He already felt like he’d failed her, once again.

After a while, she trailed off, wrapping up the tale of how Mr Prescott’s dog had gone for the milkman again. “You still there, love?”

“Yeah, yeah I- sorry. I’m still here. That sounds lovely, mum.”

She was silent for a moment, before he heard her sigh. “John, lovely, it’s OK. It’s been over 20 years since he passed on. You don’t need to check in on your old mum every year, I promise. I miss him – I always will – but I stopped grieving for him before you flew out to Afghanistan that first time. Was too busy worrying over you instead!” she joked. Her voice sounded a little wobbly, and John felt even worse.

He forced a chuckle in response, reaching out to idly run his fingers over the top of the framed photos on his desk.

“Don’t go fretting about it like you always do. I know how much you get stuck in that head of yours – don’t do it now. Go talk to Sherlock and Mariana, head out for a pint or something and enjoy your day.”

“Alright, mum. Take care.”

“You too, Johnny – love you!”

“Love you too.”

The line disconnected, and John dropped his phone on the desk with a sigh, slumping into the chair and placing his head in his hands. He did his best to focus on what his mum had said – that she was OK, that he shouldn’t worry himself – but he couldn’t shake the shame.

The feeling that he’d failed her. Failed both of them.

John Watson didn’t leave his room for some time.

-

He knew the others were concerned about him, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. How did he admit to his two best friends that he’d completely forgotten his dead dad’s birthday, all because he was selfishly occupied with the podcast? That he’d not had the wherewithal to message his mum, even once, on the day?

That on top of all of the guilt and shame, he still missed his dad even after 25 years?

It was as if he’d plunged into an ice-cold lake the moment he’d seen the date. Like he’d been wandering along the surface, blissfully unaware until the once-solid floor had given way to murky water. He could make out the light from the surface above him, but everything felt distant and fuzzy, thoughts overruled by the fight-or-flight panic over an inability to breathe.

He doubted they’d be harsh with him – they were both far too good people to kick someone whilst they were down. But a small part of him, one that was surprised whenever people chose to stay, chose him, was too scared of risking it.

He played it off as tiredness, though he was fairly sure neither of them were convinced. But they were, as previously stated, good people, and didn’t push him on it. Instead they fussed from a distance, placing a cup of tea on the coffee table next to him without asking, or putting an old match re-run on in the background as they got on with their individual activities in the evening.

Hell, Sherlock had even complimented him about his idea of luring the murderers to 221B again.

As much as the quiet affection from the others warmed him, however, it was underpinned by a swell of guilt each time. That voice in the back of his mind told him that he didn’t deserve the care and attention. He’d been an awful son to both of his parents, and was wallowing in self-pity and keeping the truth of it a secret like a coward.

He tried to contest it – his mum had said herself that she was fine, and that he shouldn’t beat himself up over it. But every time he tried to remember that – to cling to it as if it were a rope – the self-loathing twined around his legs even further, pulling him deeper to the point where he was starting to lose sight of the surface.

He was almost relieved when he made it to bedtime and was able to hide away in his room again without being questioned. Perhaps he just needed a night to process things, and he’d be a bit more level-headed on how to resolve it all when he woke up?

He should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

-

He was at his early 10th birthday again, and his dad was in goal. He aimed, kicked, and watched in excitement as the ball just skimmed past his dad into goal. He’d scored!

But when he turned his attention to his dad again to brag about it, something was wrong. His dad’s mouth was moving, but he… couldn’t hear it.

He couldn’t hear his dad’s voice.

What did it sound like again? Was his voice on the higher end of the register like his, or deeper like Sherlock’s? Was there an accent?

He couldn’t hear his dad’s voice.

His appearance was the next to go. Between one blink and the next, he couldn’t remember the colour of his dad’s eyes any more. His features started blurring, fading away one by one. His hair, the shirt he’d been wearing, how tall he’d been.

Panicked, John reached out, flinging himself forwards to grasp at the figure that had replaced his father between the goalposts. It was too late, however – as his hand went to make contact, it passed through as if cutting through smoke, the edges of it curling up and away from him.

The form of Harry Watson dissipated.

He was gone, and John had no memory to cling to.

A distant sobbing noise caught his attention, and he wheeled around to see his mother. Not as she’d been back then – how she’d looked when he’d last seen her. He tried to go to her, but she took a step back, her bloodshot eyes meeting his as she scowled at him.

“How could you?!” she screamed at him, cheeks soaked by tears and hands clenched to her chest, “How could you forget him? How could you leave me?”

“Mum-”

She didn’t hear him. Instead, she turned and stalked away, out of the garden and into the distance. He tried to follow her, but he couldn’t move his legs. He tried to call after her, but when he opened his mouth no sound escaped.

Like his father, Carol Watson faded away.

Like his mother, John Watson was abandoned.

He was alone.

-

He didn’t come to awareness with a yell, the way he often did with night terrors.

Instead, John woke quietly, tears streaming down his face onto the pillow and chest aching with loss.

Once he realised it had been a dream, he climbed out of bed, turning on the desk lamp and reaching for the photo of his dad. He stared at it, taking in every minute detail as the memory – his actual memory – flooded back again. His dad’s eyes were hazel, like his. He’d been wearing his Star Wars t-shirt and shorts on the day, and his voice when he’d praised John for his penalty skills had been warm and slightly nasal.

Overwhelmed by the sheer relief that he still remembered, John’s body shook as he began to sob. He hugged the photo frame to his chest, biting his lip in an attempt to be quiet so as not to disturb Sherlock the next room over.

He felt like he was still drowning in that ice-water lake, still trying to claw his way to the surface but unable to. The same trapped feeling from his nightmare bled into his waking mind, leaving him powerless to do anything but cry as his thoughts spiralled.

He’d remembered this time, but what if he woke up another night and didn’t? He didn’t have any videos of his dad – his mum had never been able to afford a video camera when he was younger, all they had were disposable camera photos.

And his mum – he knew she’d put on a brave face often enough when he was a kid, both when his dad had been deployed and after he’d passed. She’d been inconsolable when the news first reached them – the neighbours had come over to look after them both once they’d heard Harry Watson had died – but she’d fought to keep herself together for him in the weeks, months that followed.

What if she had been putting that mask back on again to protect his feelings when she’d told him she was OK? He was torn between the urge to take the next train to Swindon to see her and the worry that if he did so, his fear that she was actually suffering would be confirmed.

He felt exhausted, and curled back up on the bed with the photo frame still gripped tight. The murky depths of his emotions dragged him under, and he fell asleep feeling like he’d never be warm again.

-

His lack of proper sleep was impossible to hide that next morning, and the concern from the others was even more palpable. John could barely make himself respond to anything, unable to even try and muster up a laugh as Archie rolled off the sofa whilst asleep.

Eventually, Mariana couldn’t take it any longer.

“OK, that’s it – what’s going on, John? You called your mum yesterday - is she OK?”

John swallowed, equally relieved and anxious that the topic was coming up. He took a steadying breath before responding, trying to twitch his lips into a facsimile of a smile.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” he replied, “Talked my ear off about Tockenham’s hot goss , as usual.”

“Oh yeah? Any more news on Charlie’s mysterious beau?”

“Nah, they’ve kept pretty tight-lipped on- wait, hang on, how do you know about that?”

“We catch up pretty often, John. She asks me to give her updates on what you’re up to, given you won’t tell her any details yourself.” Mariana replied, smirking at him.

Usually, he’d sputter indignantly at the comment, but the mention of his usual avoidance made him feel even worse.

Mariana noticed, and her smirk disappeared quickly, replaced with a greater look of concern. She stepped forwards, leaning against the kitchen table he was sitting at and placing a hand against his arm. “Seriously, come on. What’s wrong?”

He sighed again, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling in order to avoid her gaze. “It’s stupid. It’s just… Thursday was dad’s birthday. And I was so distracted getting the episode uploaded, I didn’t realise the date. I forgot my dad’s birthday, Mariana.”

“Oh, John…” she bent forwards, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m so sorry.” she murmured against his temple, and John squeezed his eyes closed to avoid crying again. He pressed his head against her shoulder, taking deep breaths in order to try and calm himself.

“I usually call mum on the day, check in on her. Even when I was on my tours, I did my best to secure a video call on the day, or at least send an email.” he explained, absently processing the shuffling noise from the doorway indicating that Sherlock had just arrived in the kitchen, “Every year – and when I was home with her, I’d buy her some flowers or chocolate or something. But I didn’t this year. I didn’t think to, because I didn’t remember.”

“Was she disappointed? Is that why you’re feeling upset?” Mariana asked, letting go to lean against the table again and face him. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

“She says she’s OK, but-”

“But you don’t really believe her. Or, at least, your anxiety is telling you she’s lying.” Sherlock’s voice chimed in, finishing the thought. The detective circled around, taking the chair across the table from him, piercing eyes studying him intently.

Unable to speak through the lump in his throat, John nodded.

“Oh John, I’m sure she’s alright. It’s been over twenty years, right? And if you’re still feeling awful, maybe you could do something belated?” Mariana suggested, rubbing his arm soothingly.

Above his head, where the surface of the lake glittered faintly, a shape formed.

A life ring.

John reached for it, finding it to be just out of reach. But it was there .

“Do something…?” he rasped, turning to look at Mariana. She nodded, and the ring bobbed a little closer.

“You mentioned flowers – you know, I saw an advert the other day for a company that sends same-day delivery bouquets. You order one, and they’ll send the request to a local florist who can deliver them to the address you provide.”

This time, his fingertips brushed against the edge. Feeling slightly renewed, John kicked at the knot of doubts around his ankles, trying to free himself.

“She’s always loved dahlias,” he murmured, “do you think there’s a chance they’d have those?”

“They do generally bloom in Autumn,” Sherlock pointed out, “and whilst they have multiple meanings assigned to them within the language of flowers, one of those is ‘inner strength’. Sounds like a fitting choice.”

Something sliced through the vines around him, and his next kick brought him closer to the surface. And, as he searched on his phone and found an offer for a bouquet of mixed dahlias available for delivery in Wiltshire, his hand made contact with the ring and clung to it.

-

“Oh they’re absolutely gorgeous , sweetheart! Judy from across the road looked jealous as anything when that cute delivery lad came by with all these flowers for me! Bet she’ll be grumbling away at the next bake sale.”

“I’m glad you like them, mum.” he replied, breathing slightly easier at the happiness in her voice.

“I’d love anything from you, love, you could get me a £2 bouquet from Tesco and I’d be thrilled. But they really are beautiful.” she took a breath, before adding, “I’ve placed them in your dad’s favourite vase, on the kitchen table. Brightening up the room, as always. Oh! Speaking of brightening up, you’ll never guess...”

John listened to his mum chat away, somehow able to find even more things to talk to him about only one day later. Soon enough though, she said her goodbyes, explaining how she was meeting up with some of the book club for a couple of drinks.

“You tell Mariana and your Sherlock that I say hi, won’t you?”

“He’s not- I- alright, mum. Will do, I’m sure they say hi back. In fact, you know Mariana does, since apparently you two chat now!”

“Oh don’t worry too much, lovey, I’m keeping all the embarrassing childhood stories to a minimum! Toodles, love you!”

“Love you too- wait, what do you mean childhood- aaand she hung up.” he sighed in frustration, but aside from the concern that Mariana knew stories he’d wanted to keep buried he felt far more at ease than the last time he’d ended a call with his mum.

He wasn’t completely recovered yet – he was out of the lake, but the ice-water was still clinging to him, keeping him chilled. He was out of danger, though, and from the noises coming through the door to his room he suspected he’d be feeling even closer to normal by the end of the evening. Mariana had called an emergency movie night after his flower order had been placed, and had promptly ran out the door to gather supplies. He hadn’t seen her since – had spent most of the morning and early afternoon taking Archie for a long walk around the park – but he’d heard her shuffling around 221A as he’d climbed the stairs past her door.

Plugging his phone in to charge, he left to join the others in the living room.

He walked out to see bowls of popcorn on the table, pillows and cushions clearly raided from bedrooms scattered across the sofa and armchair, and the TV on, paused on-

“Is that Back To The Future ?”

“Yeah, seemed like a good choice for an impromptu film night.” Mariana confirmed, flopping into the armchair – her usual viewing spot – and tilting her head towards the sofa.

Sherlock had settled into his normal half of the sofa at the same time, and met John’s eyes from across the room. “You mentioned, once, that your father enjoyed the trilogy. That he’d watched them back-to-back a few times.”

John swallowed, taking a steadying breath at the rush of emotion that hit him. “Y-yeah, he-” he cleared his throat, working his jaw for a moment before carrying on, “he really loved sci-fi movies. Apparently he dreamed about getting a DeLorean for years after the movie came out. Mum says when I was born he’d argued the cause for me to be called Marty – Martin, legally, of course – but she shot that down pretty quickly.”

“Good thing, too – imagine being Martin “Marty” Watson!” Mariana teased, “You’d have been stuck with some stupid nickname like, I don’t know… Martian? MegaWats?”

“Hey! I’d have rocked the nickname MegaWats! Could have been known for my electric personality, eh?” he replied, grinning as he dodged the cushion Mariana flung at him whilst booing.

Sherlock sent them both an unimpressed look, but there was a barely-contained sparkle of humour in his eyes. The sight of it alone helped to ease some of the permafrost chill – he could feel his fingers again, and used them to retrieve the cushion from where it had landed.

The next moment, it hit Mariana with a satisfying ‘ thump ’. She squawked in mock-outrage, but before she could send it back Sherlock cleared his throat.

“Perhaps we can get on with watching the film now that we’re all gathered?”

Chuckling again, John settled onto the sofa and grabbed one of the bowls of popcorn. After some shuffling around, everyone was settled and Mariana hit ‘play’.

Mariana mentioned that she’d seen the movie once, years ago, but that she hadn’t really paid attention to the plot of it before. Sherlock appeared to be caught somewhere between bafflement and outrage at the storyline.

Now and again, John found himself pointing out something about the movie that reminded him of his dad – like how his childhood dog had been called ‘Einstein’ after the Doc’s dog. That had caused Mariana to demand to see photos of ‘Einstein Watson’, which John promised to find when he next went back to Tockenham.

Between those moments, however, John zoned out of the movie, having seen it so many times he didn’t need to focus on it. Instead, he switched between watching the screen and watching the other two.

These two people, who had known him less than a year and yet felt closer to him than any friends he’d made in the past. Who had listened to his worries and had put in the effort to try and support him. Who had remembered his dad’s favourite movie after one conversation, and had gone to the effort of setting up a movie night to watch it with him in the hopes he’d feel better.

And he did – he’d felt the tension leaving him as the movie progressed, breathing coming easier as he listened to Mariana laughing at the Doc’s antics, or Sherlock’s outrage at the idea a car would vanish into another point in time at just 88mph. A glowing warmth forming at his core, pressing outwards and chasing the chill he’d been trapped with since he’d first spotted the date on his phone.

As the movie came to its conclusion, with the DeLorean vanishing into the sky as the credits started to roll, Mariana sat up and stretched, yawning as she tiredly rubbed at her eyes with one hand.

“Right, I think I’ll leave you boys to it. Have a good night’s sleep, whenever you both eventually go.”

“Good night, Mariana – and thank you, again, for everything.”

She stepped over, ruffling his hair before bending down to press a light kiss to his forehead. “Of course, John. You’re one of my best friends, I wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone. I’m just glad you got around to telling us what was going on.”

“Yeah – sorry for worrying you. Have a good night!”

“You too. Night, Sherlock!”

“Mm, good night Mrs Hudson.”

The other two rolled their eyes at each other, before Mariana let herself out of the door. John heard her descend the steps, before the familiar sound of her flat’s door closing.

He knew he needed to call it a night – he hadn’t had all that much sleep the night before – but he couldn’t make himself get up.

“You’re avoiding going to bed. You’re still upset by something.”

John flinched, turning to face Sherlock. The other was studying him, looking concerned.

“I… what?”

Sherlock nodded towards his hands, drawing John’s attention to how he was picking at his nails. A nervous habit of his, and one that the consulting detective was well aware of.

He shrugged self-consciously. “It’s stupid, Sherlock. Don’t worry, I’ll get over it.”

“If it’s causing you enough upset to block you from going to bed when you’re clearly exhausted, it’s not ‘stupid’. What is it?” his gaze was zeroed on his face, now, kaleidoscopic eyes taking in every detail as if he was studying an elaborate painting.

Knowing it was futile trying to lie to him, he closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to explain.

“I just… worry, Sherlock. What if this is just the first sign that I’m starting to forget him? He’s my dad, he was the love of mum’s life, what if I start to forget more than just his birthday? What if I forget his face, or the sound of his voice, or all the other details I’ve tried so hard to keep hold of?”

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Sherlock’s head. “You had a nightmare last night. Not night terrors, not memories of the war or the bomb. It was about your father, about forgetting him.”

John sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, mate. I, uh… I dreamt that I forgot him, that everything I had stored in my head disappeared. As I said, it was stupid.”

“Yes, it was.”

John’s head shot up to stare at Sherlock, hurt by the comment. Sherlock met his gaze, however, and continued. “It was stupid, because it’s not something that would ever happen. Nightmares often are nonsensical – a culmination of negative images your psyche produces as it sorts through everything you’ve taken in. This one is no different.”

“How can you be so sure, though? I already forgot his birthday, who knows what will slip my mind next time?”

Sherlock’s gaze flickered over him, eyebrows drawn together in thought. After a moment, he seemed to reach the internal conclusion he was working towards, because he nodded slightly before meeting his eyes again.

“It’s not possible, because there are various behaviours and interests of yours that display the ways in which you remember your father. Would you like me to prove it?”

John’s heart skipped a beat, cautious hope forming. He trusted Sherlock, knew the detective never said something he did not mean. Not to him.

“Please.”

Sherlock nodded again, before looking away. His eyes flickered around the room, before focusing in on the muted TV, displaying an old re-run of Match of the Day.

“Your chosen support of Swindon Town is one indicator.” He began, eyes looking towards the screen but somewhat distant. John had seen this behaviour multiple times before when Sherlock had been processing things internally, figuring out how to vocalise his thoughts. He watched quietly, taking in how the light from the screen highlighted his features. After a pause, Sherlock found his words and continued.

“Whilst I don’t know a great deal in the way of sports teams, I know tat people will generally select their favourites for three key reasons. Either it’s their home town’s team, a team that is especially successful, or the individual grew up in a household where that team were already being supported.

“Your support of Swindon Town FC is a combination of the first and third reasons. From what I gather of the league tables – and your various outbursts of frustration – it is safe to rule out that Swindon’s team could be considered ‘successful’.”

“Oi!” John protested, jokingly. Sherlock glanced at him, flashing a boyish grin before continuing.

“So, focusing on those two reasons. Swindon is geographically the closest town with a larger, more well-known team, true, but Bristol isn’t too far away and both of their teams appear to be doing rather better in the league. So that would indicate the need for another reason.

“That other reason was something I noted when we visited your childhood home a few months ago. Amongst the various trinkets and wall decorations in the living room was a signed Swindon Town FC shirt, dated from 1985. Four years before you were born, and not something you brought with you to London, so not yours. No other visible team memorabilia around the house outside of your old room, so not Carol’s. Ergo, it belonged to your father. He was a Swindon Town supporter and, because of that, you grew up to be one, too.”

“What else?” John asked, “Supporting a football team doesn’t really seem that solid, if I’m honest.”

“Your music tastes,” Sherlock replied, shifting sideways on the sofa to face John more directly. John shuffled to match him.

“What about them?”

“In a similar vein to sports teams, many children will develop a fondness for music they heard growing up. Your taste is very eclectic – despite your tendency to sing that waterfall song whenever you’re brushing your teeth after a good day – but there’s a clear preference for the genres of rock and pop, often older tunes rather than the ones playing in the charts now.

“On days where the topic of parents arises – be that Mrs Hudson speaking to her father back in Spain, or a case that focuses on a parent-child relationship – you have a tendency to listen to certain artists and songs more often.

“Another observation I made in the home, past the football shirt, was the shelf of CDs above the sofa. Mostly bands and artists from an older time, based on the designs on the spines that I could see. A few names I recognised from the playlists you’ve shown me before. The CDs themselves haven’t moved in some time – the spines facing the room were clear, as was the shelf they’re on, but the tops of them were coated in a layer of dust. They’re in an awkward position, being above the sofa. When dusting, your mother runs the cloth along the shelf and the section she can easily reach, but does not make the extra effort to reach higher to dust the top.

“The CDs aren’t hers – they are your father’s collection. And on those days when you play certain tracks more often, those songs are from artists that appear on that shelf. You are thinking of Harry Watson, and listen to songs that remind you of him as a way to feel closer to him.”

They had drifted closer together without John realising. John took a shaky breath at the wash of emotions brought on by how much Sherlock had observed of him without him even realising. However, he still wasn’t convinced.

“A lot of people listen to the music they grew up with, though. That doesn’t necessarily make it about me remembering my dad.”

“A fair counterpoint – well-reasoned, well done Watson.” the detective replied, offering him another smile. “In that case, I’ll move on to something more specific. How about the way you hold cutlery?”

“What?”

“When using a knife and fork, you hold the knife in your left hand and the fork in your right. If it were only a fork you were using, it could be excused away, as it could be if you were left-handed or ambidextrous. But you aren’t – you’re right-handed.”

Sherlock reached across, taking John’s left hand between his own. One wrapped across the ends of his fingers, whilst the other took his wrist in a gentle grip, just below the tan-line from where his watch usually sat.

They’d held hands before, but this felt different – more tender, more intimate somehow. Sherlock’s fingers were cool, but points of heat emanated from every point of contact between them. He swallowed nervously, turning his attention back to Sherlock, whose eyes were still focused on his wrist.

“You wear your watch on your left wrist, and favour picking things up with your right hand – your dominant one. Carol is the same, from what I have seen of her, and appliances around your childhood home were in positions favoured by right-handed people. The handle of the kettle pointing to the right, for example. So, why do you hold cutlery with the technique often used by left-handed people? Because you grew up mimicking someone who was left-handed: Harry Watson.”

“How can you tell?” John asked, hushed. Sherlock’s thumb swept gently over the tan-line, and John’s breath hitched.

“In photos of your father, I could see a watch on his right wrist,” the detective explained, his thumb continuing to brush over the pulse of John’s wrist. “There was also a particular photo of him holding a rifle – a training session based on his uniform and the surroundings – which had his left pointer finger held against the trigger.

“Harry Watson was left-handed, and you learnt to copy him in the way you held cutlery, despite being right-handed like your mother. You still do it today. It’s a habit you share with him. One you aren’t doing consciously, meaning it’s written into your subconscious – something that’s very unlikely to change.”

Sherlock’s fingers squeezed around his own, and John squeezed back, before using his other hand to adjust their grip so that their palms were touching. He placed his free hand on top of Sherlock’s, their conjoined hands a source of heat that warmed him through.

“Then of course, there’s the photo on your desk.” the detective continued. His voice sounded slightly unsteady, and a light flush had started to form across his cheeks. John stared, entranced.

“You are a sentimental man, and have a few important photos in your room. But specifically, it’s the one of you and your father I want to bring up.

“It’s faded, the colour desaturated in parts but otherwise undamaged. Sunlight damage. Photographs can start to fade when exposed to sunlight, due to UV rays. Given the age of the photo and the state that it’s in – plus the fact that it’s current position on your desk avoids any sunlight reaching it – I can deduce it’s been out on display near-constantly since it was first developed.

“Your room in the house was covered in posters and photos, but only a few have made it to London with you. One is of your mother and people that I believe are your grandparents, based on similarities in features. One is the photo you have of us, Mrs Hudson and Archie from a few months ago. And the third is you and your father.”

Squeezing his hand again, Sherlock continued. “It’s a treasured photo, and one you clearly rely on. You think of your father often, and care deeply about the visual reminder. This leads me on to my final deduction.”

“Which is?” John breathed.

“You are not adept at remembering dates. In fact, you keep nearly every date that’s important to you on your calendar. Friends’ birthdays, anniversaries, special events. You have nearly all of them written down – to help you remember them. But not your parents’ birthdays.

“This is because they are so important to you that you have managed to remember them, unprompted, every single year. You said it yourself: this was the very first time you forgot your father’s birthday.”

Sherlock’s eyes locked with his, gaze intense and earnest. John felt like he was unable to breathe again, but this time the feeling didn’t scare him.

He was with Sherlock: he could never be truly scared of anything so long as he was there.

“Do you understand the importance of that?” Sherlock continued, “That fact, alongside all the others, combine to provide only one possible answer. You care deeply about your parents, especially your father, and his memory is so completely entwined with your day-to-day life that you will never be able to truly forget him.

“Mistakes happen, John, you’re human. But you resolved it as soon as you realised. A bad son would have stopped caring years ago, wouldn’t be so hung up on this that he suffered nightmares from it. You love them so much that you have continued to remember, even during some of the most stressful times of your life. You have faced so much pain, so many events that would make a weaker man crumble, and you have continued to think of your parents, remember them, and care .

“You’re a good son, John. You are a good man, and Harry Watson would be proud of you.”

Eyes stinging, John let go of Sherlock’s hands to pull him into a hug, ensuring to wrap his arms around the other’s upper back. He pressed his face against Sherlock’s neck, taking deep breaths to avoid crying. He felt Sherlock’s arms twine around him in return, pulling him closer.

With that final confirmation, all of the remaining despair left him, melting away under the blazing heat of Sherlock’s conviction. John doubted he’d ever feel cold again, so long as he was close to the man shining like the sun in his arms.

He pulled back after a while, but was reluctant to move away. Instead he studied his friend’s face. They were so close, he could feel the other’s breath against his cheek, could pick out the multitude of colours in his eyes.

“Sherlock…” he began, biting at his lip anxiously. Sherlock’s eyes flickered down, zoning in on his mouth, and he watched the detective swallow.

“ John. ”

Without thinking about it, one of John’s hands rose to gently cup his face. Sherlock’s breath stuttered, his eyes closing as he pressed into the touch. It was John’s turn to swallow, his thumb absently smoothing against the other’s cheekbone.

The signs were all there, but he had to be certain that he wasn’t reading into things.

Truthfully, John felt as though he and Sherlock had been circling around each other over the past few months. He’d become aware of it after he’d been shot by Abe Slaney, in the following weeks where Sherlock had hovered and fussed in his own way.

He noticed how they’d both hold onto each other perhaps a little longer than necessary, how they’d had more quiet, gentle conversations away from the recording on his microphone, how sometimes he’d stare at Sherlock only to realise he was staring back.

The emotional rollercoaster that had been seeing Carrie again had left him scared – scared that Carrie’s words would bring his myriad flaws to the surface and Sherlock would observe them and decide he wasn’t worth it.

However, Sherlock hadn’t seemed to pay it any mind. If anything, the lingering touches and quiet stares had increased, to the point where a day without coming into contact left John feeling unsettled.

Bringing himself back to the moment, John took a breath, and released it shakily.

He had to be certain, and for that he had to be brave.

“Sherlock,” he began again, pausing as the other’s eyes fluttered open again to meet his, “I want to be clear, you can say no. If you aren’t interested, or- or anything, say no and I won’t bring it up again.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed slightly, eyes darting across his face. After a moment, he blinked, eyes widening slightly in realisation. “Are you-”

Be brave, John.

“Can I… can I kiss you?” he asked, voice wobbling.

He watched, awed, as the other’s cheeks flushed red. As his pupils dilated, and he licked his lips before replying.

“ Please .”

The second that word had left Sherlock’s mouth, John closed the gap between them. His other hand rose up, joining the first in cradling the other’s face as if he were made of crystal. Sherlock kissed him back almost immediately, one hand curling against the nape of his neck as the other was placed between his shoulders.

John Watson had enjoyed his fair share of kisses in the past, but none of them held a candle to his first time kissing Sherlock Holmes.

After an indeterminate amount of time, John pulled away, pressing light kisses to Sherlock’s cheeks, his nose, his temple, before returning to his lips again. Sherlock hummed into the kiss, the hand at his nape pushing up to card through his hair whilst the other hand pulled the doctor closer to him.

Eventually needing to breathe, John pulled back again only to press his forehead against Sherlock’s, awed by the dazed expression on the other’s face. His hands slid down from his jaw to his shoulders, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into Sherlock’s collarbone.

“Was that- was that OK?” he found himself asking, a twist of nervousness in his gut despite everything.

Sherlock brushed their lips together again briefly in response, before rubbing his cheek against John’s in a way that absently reminded the doctor of a cat nuzzling. It was oddly endearing – something that John thought often about the consulting detective.

Opening his mouth to tell the detective as much, he was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. He felt Sherlock chuckling quietly at him and grumbled amicably.

“Alright, alright, it’s not that funny.”

“It rather is, I’m afraid. But it’s understandable, you’re already running on fewer hours sleep than your body is used to, and emotional stress can be exhausting.” Sherlock replied, pressing another gentle kiss against his temple before moving back. John missed the warmth almost immediately.

“But I don’t wanna go to bed, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months!” he whined, too tired to be embarrassed by his own honesty. Another pretty flush formed over Sherlock’s face, and his expression flickered from surprise to amusement.

“I’ve wanted the same. But I promise you can kiss me again in the morning.”

John blinked, waking up a little at the implication. They hadn’t explicitly defined anything, but did that mean…?

“What about the day after? Do you promise I can kiss you then, too?”

Sherlock gave him a look that was so tender, so full of warmth and affection that he was worried he’d start crying again.

“I promise,” he vowed, quiet but emphatic, “tomorrow, the day after… as many days as you want.”

Well, in for a penny…

“All of them. I want all of them, if that’s what you want too.”

Another kiss, lingering.

“Nothing would make me happier, John.”

__________

Check it out on AO3 too!

[clarabowlover]

Anna May Wong

Song (1928) Dir. Richard Eichberg

[eug]

One year ago today here in Austin, TX, Janet Pierson, Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert at the world premiere of “Everything Everywhere All At Once” at SXSW. I love walking into a movie with no context, not having seen trailers or footage. I wasn’t really tracking “Everything Everywhere All At Once” (and kept screwing up the title) but knew I wanted to see whatever the Daniels were up to. SXSW only described EEAAO as, “a hilarious and big-hearted sci-fi action adventure about an exhausted Chinese American woman (Michelle Yeoh) who can't seem to finish her taxes.” The response that night in the Paramount Theater was at first totally silent and then purely explosive. When Michelle Yeoh walked on stage after the screening, WOW. The film was so much. I was sitting with Indiewire’s Eric Kohn at the screening and when the movie ended, mind blown, I turned to him with puzzled excitement and started rambling with joy about seeing such bold American filmmaking grappling with real topics and big issues. As Daniel Kwan noted in an Instagram post today, the Q&A was a stunner, audience lined up in the aisles to ask questions about, as Kwan recalled, intergenerational trauma, mental health and depression, and Asian hate crimes. “Everything Everywhere All At Once” was unstoppable at the box office last spring and seems to be the same in this season’s awards race (but we’ll know for sure tomorrow). It’s so great to be back here in Austin this weekend to watch new movies and see friends, salute Janet Pierson on 15 years at the helm of SXSW, cheer on incoming fest head Claudette Godfrey, and gear up for Monday’s convo with Tilda Swinton (Julio Torres’s first feature, “Problemista” - starring Tilda & Torres - premieres Monday and is a must-see)! So whatever may happen tomorrow night at the Oscars, congratulations Daniels, A24, and the entire EEAAO team! (at Paramount Theatre) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpqImaEpW_6/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[clarabowlover]

Louise Brooks In - A Social Celebrity (1926)

(No.200)

[clarabowlover]

Silent Screen Stunning Actress

Katherine Grant (1920's)

[clarabowlover]

(1924)

Lady of The Day 🌹 Corliss Palmer ❤️

[nomolosk]

“I hope all the documents are in order,” Adrien Agreste said, looking and sounding smug over the transmission. His ship was currently en route to the Francoise Space Station orbiting the planet Dupont, where the Dupain-Cheng’s had based their surface-to-orbit shipping business. Marinette Dupain-Cheng didn’t bother trying to suppress her glare. He should be well aware of the reasons for her frustration, but she reminded him anyway.

“Yes, Mr. Agreste Junior, the documents are in order,” she replied. “They have been waiting for your signature for the past month. A month in which, I might add, we haven’t been able to do any business at all.”

“My apologies for the delay,” Adrien said - but neither tone nor expression changed an iota.

By all the gods in the heavens, Marinette loathed this man. She couldn’t imagine any future in which she didn’t, especially given the reason for his visit today. He was going to buy out her parents’ business, and Marinette only had to deal with him because she’d refused to make her parents deal with him after everything else they had gone through. Unfortunately, this had only confirmed his awful reputation.

When it came to systematically ruining and then buying out competitors, Adrien Agreste - the scion of Agreste Shipping - was a one-man juggernaut, apparently all too eager to do a few dirty deeds in order to keep his otherwise indulgent lifestyle. By all reports he was a true Daddy’s boy, playing with money, power, and hearts as if he had no concept of personal responsibility. After all, Daddy Agreste would take care of any... unpleasantness. And all he had to do was be dear Daddy’s hatchet-man. It looked like he enjoyed it, too.

Fortunately, she had the means to wipe that self-satisfied look off his face permanently, thanks to a mole who called himself Chat Noir. He’d been feeding her inside information for over a year - information that had let her and the crew of the Miraculous put quite a dent in the Agreste Shipping bottom line. But for now, she had to play along.

“Just make sure you’re on time,” Marinette said through gritted teeth. “You’ve tortured my family enough. No need to drag it out any longer.”

“I’ll be only too happy to accommodate your schedule, Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien said. “And perhaps, afterward, you will let me buy you a drink to... commemorate the occasion.”

A smirk - an actual, god-forsaken smirk - appeared on his face. Marinette’s fingernails dug painfully into her palms. If he’d been within reach at that moment, he would have found himself flat on the floor with several broken bones, and Marinette would have found herself in a holding cell on charges of assault. Breathing deeply, Marinette reminded herself of the plan, and terminated the transmission before she could incriminate herself.

As soon as Adrien Agreste’s smug, smarmy, and infuriatingly handsome face disappeared from her screen, she closed her eyes and breathed, letting out all the tension and anger that had built up during their brief conversation. After all, under the right circumstances, Adrien Agreste might be exactly what her parents, and countless other victims, needed: a valuable hostage.

----

Adrien let that god-awful smirk linger for a moment before wiping it away with a weary hand. He slumped back in his seat and started massaging one temple while he swiped back to his desktop screen on the terminal.

He’d always hated this part, even back when he'd been naive enough to believe that the firm he was about to buy out had just had a run of bad luck. Back then he would have been secure in the knowledge that the ‘merger’ he’d ‘negotiated’ was a good deal for both parties, but he’d still been aware that it was a defeat for the original owners.

Now he knew all too well the depths Gabriel would sink to - the depths he would drag Adrien down to - all for the sake of his precious shipping empire. The clear disgust and loathing on that woman’s face only added to his own sense of personal guilt and disgust.

At least this time, if everything went according to plan, this family’s business would be just fine. This time, Adrien could look forward to handing control of that company back to the people who’d built it. He glanced at the time on the terminal and took a deep, calming breath.

Please, Ladybug… don’t let me down.

Adrien, in his persona as the mole Chat Noir, had given Ladybug and her team of raiders especially good intel this time, all but painting the word TARGET in bold letters on his own face. That, plus the file he’d sent containing a preview of every last blot on his father’s stainless reputation… yes. He knew how much Ladybug loathed Adrien Agreste personally. She’d often claimed a burning need to punch his face in their double-encoded communiques - not that she knew it was his face - so he was sure she would jump at the chance. He only hoped she could pull it off.

The raiding crew of the Miraculous had caused enough disruption to the Agreste Shipping lines that Gabriel had actually hired the Akumas - a mercenary group known for their brutal efficiency - to track her down. Chat Noir had warned her, and so far she’d managed to elude their crack agents, making them look remarkably foolish in the process.

He only hoped that, when the time came and he found himself on board the Miraculous at last, that she would leave him enough wits - and teeth - to stutter out the recognition phrase Chat Noir had given her.

----

Ladybug’s assault and infiltration were quieter than Adrien had expected. He wasn’t part of the Hawkmoth’s crew, so when the alarms went off, his only role was to get to a secure area and stay out of everyone else’s way. The most he heard of it was the alarm and muffled shouting in the distance while Nathalie hurried him away.

It wasn’t what he wanted - he would much rather have had an active role in the ship’s defense. But of course Gabriel would never allow that, and Nathalie enforced his rules with an iron fist. So he ended up crouched behind Nathalie and his Personal Gorilla Bodyguard™, waiting breathlessly for Ladybug to find them in the reinforced bunker that posed as a small cargo hold in the ship designs. Every small sound echoed in the space, but he wasn’t bothered by it. In fact, he hoped Ladybug’s team had audio sensors sensitive enough to pick them up.

A touch on his shoulder made his heart rate skyrocket even more - but it was only Nathalie, turning to check on him. Adrien covered her hand with his own and squeezed, letting some of his excitement show with a shaky breath. She must have assumed he was scared and squeezed back before turning to the hatch and adjusting her grip on her firearm.

He’d tried to talk her into giving him one of the shipboard assault rifles, too. He wanted to make sure his ‘protectors’ went down quickly if need be, but he told her that he needed some way to defend himself. She’d only given him a look. Apparently Gabriel was willing to sacrifice his only son before allowing him a weapon.

God he couldn’t wait to be free of his life.

A commotion in the corridor outside focused his attention. A sizzling sound came from the door and it whooshed open, briefly blinding him before the bulky forms of the intruders blocked the light. The dark shapes were outlined in silhouettes the color of their hardened spacesuits: pink, orange, green, and gold. His heart leaped again and he fought to suppress a smile.

Nathalie and the bodyguard were quickly dispatched with stun blasts, though it took several simultaneous shots to bring the bodyguard down. Then it was Adrien’s turn. He scooted back as the leader advanced, heart pounding with excitement and fear. Chat Noir had advocated for a hostage situation, but it was possible that Ladybug had decided on outright assassination. One way or another, this would all be over shortly.

The pink-haloed leader raised her weapon, pointing it at him. Adrien gulped and closed his eyes. He didn’t even have time to register the blast before his mind went numb.

----

Marinette leaned against a cabinet in the medbay, waiting for their hostage to wake up. It shouldn’t take long - the effects of the stunners they’d used could be counteracted by the contents of any decently stocked medbay, and Marinette made sure the Miraculous was always overstocked with medical supplies.

Her crew was there, too, all except for Max, who couldn’t leave the bridge. Nino and Alya were busy flirting with each other, Kim was trying to balance a (needle-less) syringe on the end of his nose, and Markov hovered overhead, ready to record everything. Marinette was taking no chances on being accused of human rights violations, though her hands ached with the need to punch their guest.

The unfairly attractive blonde strapped to the medical chair in front of her stirred, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. Kim put the syringe down, Nino and Alya looked up, and Markov beeped to indicate recording was in progress. Marinette also stood up and crossed her arms to avoid temptation.

Adrien Agreste opened unfocused eyes, staring into space with his head lolling a bit. He was clearly still out of it, but it didn’t take long for him to come to full alertness. Curiously, he remained silent, merely looking around the room in a manner so unconcerned that it immediately made Marinette suspicious.

“Are you carrying a tracker?” she asked harshly. They’d scanned him for any such device, of course, but it was possible Agreste Senior managed to obtain something small enough that it wouldn’t show up on a scan.

Agreste Junior met her eyes and his own widened slightly in obvious recognition. “Uh… no. Not that I’m aware of, I mean.”

He smiled, and it was... joyful?

“I’m afraid I’m going to miss that meeting after all, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, though I still hope for that drink sometime. Looks like you’ll just have to keep control of your own business. Thanks for not killing me, by the way - to all of you. I know you must have been tempted,” he added, looking around at them all before leaning his head back with a satisfied smile. “I wish I could see the look on my father’s face when he realizes he’s not getting me back.”

His tone was so full of glee that Marinette barely managed to keep her mouth from dropping open, but she must have looked as astonished as she felt, because his smile turned into a full-fledged grin.

“Oh, haven’t you figured it out yet, Ladybug?” he said, grinning and winking at her. Then he said the three words she’d been waiting to hear for over a year now, ever since her informant had told her he wanted out. Words she’d imagined coming out of the mouth of anyone - literally anyone - but his.

“Plagg, claws out.”

All four of them gasped. Marinette gaped at the man she'd thought she would loathe for all eternity.

“Chat Noir?”

----

“I trust the papers are in order,” Marinette Dupain-Cheng said, smiling at everyone on the other side of the conference table. Her parents sat beside her, but they continued to let her take the lead.

“Drawn up and ready to sign,” the lawyer said, tapping on a tablet before handing it to her. Beside him, Adrien Agreste smiled softly at her. Marinette ignored him and read the documents carefully, making sure that what remained of Agreste Shipping relinquished all claim to her parents’ business, and that the court-mandated payout would cover all the expenses of getting back up and running, with a nice cushion. Satisfied, she handed the tablet to her mother and father, who read and signed it. There was a round of handshakes and congratulations - sincere, as far as she could tell, with no trace of Adrien’s former smug persona.

“Well,” Marinette said, once everyone else had left. “I believe you owe me a drink.”

Adrien’s face lit up. “I do, indeed! Well, who am I to go back on my word? Shall we?”

He held out his arm and Marinette took it. After all, Ladybug had trusted Chat Noir and that had turned out well. Perhaps the future for Marinette and Adrien was equally bright.

@luckycharmzine

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch2: I’m Not Jealous...Why Would I Be Jealous? Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: The Losers run their first mission together since they bust the Child Sex Trafficking Ring a few months ago, and things don’t quite go according to plan, leading to some nasty tension between Jake and Stella. As time progresses the rift increases leading Jake to make a decision about the nature of his and Stella’s relationship, and the consequences of his decision lead Stella to make one of her own…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Some angst and 2 dumbasses so afraid to admit their feelings to one another, they’d rather ignore them completely…

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  Yeah, yeah, we’re sorry…but what would our fics be without the standard angst and dumbassery…and let’s face it, Jake IS a total dumbass. A lovable dumbass, but still a dumbass. Also, in this is a lot of Creative License. There’s limited detail about the CIA base online (dur) but I do have a fairly good grasp of UK Military codes and security levels as I worked on a lot of bases so we’re running with that…if it’s not directly the same over in the US then…sorry not sorry!

And yes, our other OC in here is shamelessly named after Evans… and our bub needs some love today.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

August 2007

“OK Losers, let’s fuck this shit up and get home. I got a date in less than 23 hours.” Clay grinned at Pooch who let out a chuckle.

“You sure don’t wanna miss that…she’s volatile.” Roque’s soft baritone came back over the coms.

“Yeah, which means I’d rather not be late.” Clay replied.

“Good call Clay, I’d hate to be picking up the pieces of you like I had to do with Pooch when he missed Future Mrs Pooch’s birthday last month…”  Jensen replied, looking at Pooch as he sat in the van, laptop open “How is Little Pooch performing since she ripped your balls off?”

Pooch glared at him and elbowed him harshly in the ribs “Ouch, Pooch be gentle!” Jensen rubbed at his side, wincing.

Clay rolled his eyes as Pooch and Jensen started bickering between themselves, Cougar’s soft snickering echoed down the coms from his vantage point perched on the building next door. “Ok, seriously, we’re trying to work here and all I can hear is you lot.” Stella hissed, “Can you focus up?”

“Sorry Arty.” Pooch said, shooting one last glare at Jensen who simply arched an eyebrow and sniffed slightly, tapping at the keyboard.

“And I can see you.” Jensen grinned as the CCTV footage of the inside of the office flicked onto the screen “Wave for the Camera Stel…”

At his words, Stella turned to look at the camera which was above her in the corner of the room and flipped him off. Clay gave a snort.

“That’s not a wave sweetheart.” Jake said and she let out a growl.

“Jensen, I swear to God…”

“Enough you two.” Clay groaned “Roque, Arty get on with it. Cougar, sit-rep on the auction.”

“Still going on…” Cougar obliged “Everyone still in the main room.”

“Jakey…” Stella spoke, and as they watched she began to search the room as Roque kept watch at the door. “Are you sure it’s in here?”

“Yup…” Jensen said “The signal says you’re right by it.”

On the screen Stella paused and looked at the large, ornamental cabinet against the right wall. She stooped to examine the lock and then snorted. “Standard dead bolt.”

“You think they’d be a little more careful…” Pooch mused, watching the footage on the laptop.

“Well to be fair they have a lot of security on the door” Stella replied, and with that hitched the skirt of the tight, figure hugging midnight blue body-con dress she was wearing up slightly and retrieved a tiny device from the top of her stockings.

Jake gave a groan, and then a little yelp as Pooch slapped him round the back of the head. “Pooch man…like, didn’t you see that?”

“Shut up!” Clay said, glaring at him, his eyes then flicking back to the screen as Stella began to wrestle with the lock of the cabinet.

“Boss, they’re wrapping up. Cougar spoke. “The device has sold…I got eyes on our middle man…”

“Ok…” Stella said, and they watched as she gave the little picking device a twist to the right before she sharply jabbed it downwards, then up. Then she gave a little “yes” of triumph and yanked the door open, only to then give a groan of frustration.“Shit.”

“Shit, what’s shit?” Roque asked, and Clay saw him turn back to look at her from where he had been peeking out of the door.

“It’s in a damned case…”  She said, yanking it out and dropping it on the desk, crouching down so she was eyelevel with the locks. “These are harder to pick than a fucking padlock.”

“You got company heading your way.” Cougar spoke “2 guys, armed, approaching from your left.”

“Fuck.” Clay mumbled, as Jensen tapped another button and a smaller viewing box appeared in the top right of the monitor displaying footage of the corridor.

“Want me to drop them boss?” Cougar asked.

“Let’s wait a bit, see if we can get out clean.” Clay said. “But be ready just in case.”

“Got about 40 seconds tops until they turn the corner and I won’t have a shot.”

“Roger.” Clay said

“Once Cougar loses sight we have about another 60 seconds before they hit your position.” Jake said, his eyes flashing as he watched the CCTV of the two men walk down the corridor before his eyes moved back to the larger footage box of the room Stella was in. “Come on Stel…”

“I’m going as fast as I can…” she grumbled, twisting the device in the fiddly locks. One of them sprang open and she hastily moved to the other.

It was deadly silent, Jensen holding his breath as his nerves started to get the better of him. Roque and Stella were both unarmed, they had to be to get into the auction in the first place. The only reason Stella had managed to get that lock pick in through the metal detectors was that it was made out of a specialist, plastic resin. His right hand rested over his mouth, fingers pulling at the whiskers on his goatee as his knee began to jerk slightly.

“Ok I got it…” Stella said, and she grabbed the large, metal hard-drive, flipping it over. “Jake now what?”

“The back should screw off.” He said, watching as she flipped it over, dropped it on the desk and hastily worked at the screw positioned at the top.

“I lost sight.” Cougar said.

“Ok, grab the drive and get of there.” Clay instructed and at that point Roque spun back into the room, making to pick it up but Stella slapped his hand away.

“Arty, what…”

“If we do that we’ve no chance of tracking this back via the middle man to the buyer…” she shook her head, still working at the screw.

“Our priority was retrieving the device.” Clay said, “The buyer is a bonus.”

“Stella, do what he says.” Jake said, swallowing nervously “Get out of there, now!”

“No, I almost got this…” Stella mumbled and with a final twist of her wrist the back sprang open. Quick as a flash the three men in the truck watched as Roque pulled off his watch, twisted the back of it and retrieved the data chip inside, handing it to Arty.

“Lift up the large, flat circuit board in the middle.” Jake said, and she followed his instructions, quickly swapping the chips out. She then hastily screwed the back on before jamming it back in the case. She snapped the lock shut, before she rammed it back in the cupboard.

“30 seconds…” Jake muttered, “Stel…come on…”

She didn’t reply, instead she quickly locked the cabinet door and Roque grabbed her hand and they ran into the corridor, running in the opposite direction to the approaching danger.

Jensen hit a button, flipping the footage of the corridor so it filled the screen and felt his blood run cold. He could see the corridor was long. And there was no way Roque and Stel would make it to the corner at the bottom before the men spotted them.

“They’re not gonna make it…” he muttered, and all 3 of them in the van stood up, grabbing their guns.

“Cougar…” Clay instructed as they emerged from the van.

“I’m by the gates” he said simply and Clay cocked his gun.

“Roque, Arty try and hide until we get in there…” he said simply as they sprinted across the road towards where Cougar was waiting, all the time listening to the chatter on the coms.

“Door, door…” Roque muttered “Shit it’s locked…”

“Roque…” Stella hissed.

“What?”

“Shut up and…”

Her voice cut off and Jensen heard a noise on his comms, a noise that sounded very much like…

Oh hell, no.

“Are they…is she…” he looked at Pooch as besides him Cougar started chuckling “Are they kissing?” Jensen wheeled round to look at Clay “Tell me, that’s not kissing I can hear!”

Clay shrugged as Jensen pulled a face, making a disgusted snort through his nose. “Stel, are you kissing Roque? What the fuck-“

“Hey, what the hell are you 2 doing back here?” an unfamiliar voice sounded in Jensen’s ears, followed by the loud noise of lips smacking and he looked at Pooch, his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry…we just…erm…” Stella giggled, “Yeah, we…”

“Can’t keep my hands off her” Roque chuckled, and Jensen couldn’t help the growl that bubbled from his throat at the words “Can you blame me? She’s a stunner, right?”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be back here.”

“I know, we’re really sorry…I guess, well, I guess the excitement and the champagne…just got me a little…” Stella trailed off, giggling again.

Pooch grinned as Cougar winked at Jensen who’s jaw was set. He could picture exactly the face Stella was making, batting her eyelids all innocently, biting her lip.

And she’d just kissed Roque.

Fucker.

“Go on, get out of here…” the man’s voice instructed Roque and Stella and Roque said something back that Jensen didn’t quite catch as he pulled his ear piece out and turned off his coms link.

“Ok, back to the van.” Clay ordered, looking around at Pooch, Cougar and Jensen, who’s expression looked like that of a bulldog licking piss of a nettle. As the 4 of them headed back down the small lane to the non-descript Cable Company van, Clay shared a glance with Pooch who simply raised his eyebrows. Over the past 3 months since Stella had moved to the base in Virginia, the dynamic between her and Jensen had been the subject of immense puzzlement for the team. Stella had assured Clay when she joined that whatever had been going on was over, as they hadn’t seen each other for a year, but it was clear to see that them being in such close proximity of one another had thrown fuel on the allegedly damp fire.

For all intents and purposes the team basically agreed that they might as well actually be dating. They spent their evenings together, watched movies, went home for the same weekends… the whole “friends with benefits” thing they had going on was also complete bullshit as neither of them was seeing anyone else. Clay got the distinct impression, however, that Jensen was the driving force behind it not being official but here he was acting like a total brat because she’d had to kiss Roque as part of her cover. It was fucking ridiculous, but until either of them ended it or admitted their feelings, there was nothing he could do.  

“We’re out. Heading to you now.” Stella sounded in his ear just as Jensen opened the rear door to the van.

“Good.” He said with a smile as he climbed into the back of the can. “Nice work guys. All of you, job well done.” He said, nodding.

“Yeah, especially you Roque from the sounds of things!” Pooch quipped and Cougar gave a snort as Jensen slammed the ruggedized laptop shut.

“Watch it, that’s worth more than your annual pay check.” Clay pointed at Jensen, then to the laptop.

“Ah don’t mind him Clay, he’s just a little jealous.” Pooch teased.

“Jealous? I’m not jealous.” Jake said, far too quickly “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because Roque just totally tongued your girl” Cougar grinned, making Pooch snigger. Clay rolled his eyes.

“She’s not my girl.” Jensen snapped, and at that exact moment the door to the van slid open. Jensen turned to look at Stella, and he inwardly groaned as he knew full well from the expression on her face she’d heard him. But her outward slip was quick, and she recovered herself fast, stepping into the van closely flowed by Roque.

“Oooh, someone kissed someone.” Pooch grinned and Roque glared at him.

“What are you, 5?”

Stella flopped onto one of the fold down seats in the back, and took the water Clay handed her with a mumbled thanks.

“You ok?” he asked her.

“Yeah.” She nodded “I’m fine. Was just a close one.”

“Can say that again.” Pooch said and Stella rolled her eyes.

“Alright, knock it off.” Clay said, looking at her and then to Jensen who looked like a sulky teenager, and it was too good an opportunity to miss, so with a smirk he added “Otherwise Jensen’s gonna have a fit and as annoying as he is, we need him.”

“Like he cares.” Stella mumbled, and Jake glared at her, positively shooting daggers with his eyes across the van.

Roque chuckled, more amused at Jensen’s attitude than anything “Well if he doesn’t care he’s an idiot. You’re a damned good kisser Arty.”

Stella looked at him, and raised her eyebrow. “Glad I met with your approval Roque.”

Cougar nudged her and she looked at him as he nodded towards Roque, tipping his hat slightly “How was it for you?”

“A solid 7 and a half outta 10.” She shrugged and Clay, Pooch and Cougar erupted into laughter at Roque’s indignant look.

“7 and a half?”

“I docked half a point for the fact you bumped your head into mine…” she shrugged “And it would have been a 9 if you’d felt my ass.”

Pooch banged on the dash of the van, howling with laughter as Clay chuckled deeply, shaking his head. Cougar grinned at Roque who himself gave a snort, and Stella turned her head to look at Jake. Her eyes locked onto his to find him simply looking at her, not a shred of amusement on his face. Eventually he raised his eyebrows and looked away, taking a deep breath.

Stella rolled her eyes and swallowed. Ok, that had been a bit out of order, but hearing what he had said just before had hurt her. Yes, she knew she wasn’t ‘his girl’, she hadn’t been for a while but if she was honest she was struggling with that, and was fast coming to the conclusion that she couldn’t keep doing what she was doing.

The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to end it.

*****

As it turns out, the decision was taken out of her hands. Upon return to base, the relationship between them grew increasingly icy over the following week or so. They had no contact outside of work, and even in work it was civil at best. Stella was angry at Jake’s behaviour, how pathetic he was being over the whole Roque thing, a kiss that had been nothing more than an undercover distraction, but more than anything she was hurt. It was clear to her that he didn’t care about her like he used to. Things had already shifted between them dramatically since that evening a few months ago back home after they’d been out for drinks with Pooch and Jolene. He’d become a little more aloof so to speak, and whilst they still hung out, did all the things they used to do as best friends, and still fucked, she’d noticed how he was less affectionate before and after. Almost like he had deliberately put up a wall to remind her that this was simply an arrangement, so in her mind, especially after his outburst in the van following the latest mission, he had absolutely no right to be pissed at her for kissing or going with anyone, regardless. But, after a fortnight or so of being treated to Jake’s cold stares, being intentionally ignored in conversations, and being subjected to watching him attempting to flirt with any female he came across, Stella went into self-preservation mode and avoided hanging around with any of them outside of work as much as she could.

August ticked into September, and it was almost a month or so after the mission when Clay rocked into the little office the Losers used on the base and Stella smiled at him, looking up from a report she had been writing on a couple of recruits she’d been asked to train.

“I didn’t know you were back.” She smiled as he perched on the edge of her desk.

“Got in this morning.” He replied, “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Pooch is on Drill Ops, Cougar is on the shooting range and as for Jensen, your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t spoken to him in ages. In fact, I don’t even know if he’s in the State or not.”

“Still?” Clay groaned “Oh come on Arty, don’t you think this has gone on long enough? When are you gonna sort stuff out?”

“When he grows up and apologises for being a jerk.”

“So basically never.” Clay rolled his eyes.

Stella shrugged “I don’t want to talk about it Clay.”

“Fine, whatever.” Clay sighed, “Do you reckon you could at least try to be civil though? It’s gonna make running this team hard work if you two are at each other’s throats. And I don’t wanna have to ask one of you to leave.”

She looked at him, and he stuck his bottom lip out and she sighed before she turned back to her computer “I’ll think about it.”

“Suppose that’s better than a flat out ‘Fuck off, Clay…” he rolled his eyes, hopping off the desk and ruffling her hair. Stella ducked out of the way, swatting at his hand. “Oh, before I go, you got the reports on the Atlanta job?”

“Yeah, they’re in the Red Link area…” Stella pushed her chair back and stood up, smoothing down her uniform top before she gestured for Clay to follow her. Together they made their way down the corridor and Stella stopped at a high-security door, bending down so the scanner pad could take her retina print. Once inside the door shut behind her, and she swiped her ID into the slot to the side of the other thick, glass door which opened in front of her. She moved into the main room and turned, waiting for Clay to enter behind her.

“I fucking hate those things.” Clay mumbled as he stepped through the entrance. “They make me feel like I’m about to plummet through the floor into Thunderbird one.”

Stella chuckled “Its top secret, classified info Clay, you know this.”

She strode over to the key safe positioned on the wall, punched in the code and then selected the relevant key. Clay followed her to the a cabinet at the back which she unlocked and pulled out a Manilla file with the words “MILITARY SECRET- CLASSIFIED” Stamped all over, and the words “Operation Bon Echo” underneath. She handed it to him and then grinned.

“I don’t need to tell you that ya can’t take that outta this room do I?” she teased and Clay shot her a look.

“Stel, I been running Military ops since you were knee high to a grass hopper.” He arched an eyebrow and she laughed.

“Do you want me to stay so we can go through it or…” “No.” he shook his head “I just want to read it now it’s not that fresh in my mind. Helps me analyse it a little better. I’ll call an official Lessons Learned at some point.”

“Ok, well when you’re done make sure you lock up.” She said. “And don’t forget to make sure you swipe your ID again on the way out, or the system will still think you’re here.” “Grasshopper.” Clay looked at her again and she laughed.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check.” She smiled “I’ll catch you later.”

Clay waved her off and Stella let herself out. Deciding that she could do with a break she wandered out of the Original Headquarters building she was stationed passing the Kryptos sculpture in the little courtyard and made her way down through the landscaped garden area where a few people were milling around, sat at the various benches, taking in the bright early September Sun that had settled over Virginia. She passed the main entrance to the CIA Museum and made her way over to the Starbucks near the New HQ building. More people were sat outside on the benches and she felt herself inwardly groan as she recognised 3 of them. Pooch, Cougar and Jensen. Of course.

“Hey Arty!” Pooch called and she smiled, making her way over “We were just talking about you.”

“Sounds ominous.” She said, her eyes focussed on him to avoid looking at Jensen.

“We ain’t seen you properly in weeks.” Cougar leaned back in his chair, his hat as always perched on his head.

“Well I’ve been busy” she shrugged, “And speaking of which, I gotta get back so...” she gestured to the door of the Starbucks and smiled.

“Movie and pizza on Friday?” Pooch asked “Jolene’s coming here this weekend, sure she’d be pleased to see you.” “Yeah, maybe.” Stella nodded. Pooch flashed her a smile, as did Cougar, before she turned and walked away.

“So now you’re not even speaking? At all?” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged, picking at the label on his Starbucks cup. The words “Glasses” had been scribbled on the side by the barista as a means of identifying who the coffee belonged to. They weren’t allowed to ask the Agents’ names so instead they usually provided physical descriptors of something around their appearance when ordering. Cougars usually bore the word “Cowboy” given that he was rarely without his black Stetson and Pooch’s held the words “Eight Ball” on account of him being that closely shorn he was almost bald. Jake had found it amusing at the time when he’d offered that up to the pretty girl behind the counter…

“You’re being a pain in the ass.” Pooch glared at him. “And a buzzkill.”

“How, what…why am I a buzzkill?” Jensen looked at him, frowning.

“Cos she’s not hanging around with us anymore because you’re being a prick.” Cougar shot back, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

Jensen ignored Cougar, as he placed the cup down on the table, his finger absentmindedly trailing round the rim of the plastic lid. He knew he’d fucked up. He could remember the hurt in Stella’s eyes when she had opened the door in the van to hear him protesting how she wasn’t his girl. He’d been pissed off, and had snapped it out in a moment of frustration and anger but deep down he knew that it wasn’t true. Well, it was true…she wasn’t his girl anymore, because of decision he had made years ago, a decision that he’d come to with the best of intentions but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

What hurt him more than anything now, however, was the realisation he’d come to that night of the mission as he’d led in the hotel room. He was still dragging her along with every damned decision he made, and the more he thought about it the more he realised that had been the case through the entire time they’d known one another. They started dating when he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. They quit because he decided it was right. Then the ‘arrangement’ they had was something he came up with, because it suited him and he’d been selfish, well and truly had his cake and eaten it. She played along with his decisions every damned time and that made him feel like shit. Because she was such a strong, vibrant, stubborn person in every other area of her life. She was fierce, took no shit, she was a fucking bad ass…and the only explanation for her allowing him to be the way he was, was that she loved him, like really loved him. And he didn’t deserve her.

He knew what he had to do, he had to end their arrangement although he was pretty sure it was at an end anyway. Maybe his outburst in the van had been a blessing in disguise. But that said, she was still the best friend he’d ever had, the person he cared about most in the world and he didn’t want her to hate him to the extent she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. He might be a dumbass but he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t naive enough to think that things could ever go back to how they were before they’d dated, but he had to try and salvage something…even if it was simply so that she could actually bring herself to hold a conversation.

**** Stella was sat on her sofa, munching on a bag of popcorn when there was a knock on her door. Given that no one had buzzed through, that meant it was someone who lived in the block that housed The Losers’ CIA Owned Condos. Pressing pause on her remote, temporarily halting Simba’s pouncing lesson she padded over to the door and checked through the viewer. When she saw who it was she gave a deep breath and debated not answering it, before she gave her head a shake and mentally told herself to grow up.

“Since when have you started knocking on my door?” she asked, opening it “You usually just walk in…”

“Well given how things have been between us I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate me using my key.” He smiled at her. “Can I come in?”

Stella turned around and headed back inside her condo, “You want a beer?”

“No, it’s ok. Thanks. I errr, I wanna talk to you.”

“Sounds serious?” she turned back to look at him as she crossed towards her sofa. She perched where she had been previously sat, tucking her legs up besides her and Jake took a seat a few cushions down, nodding at the TV.

“You must know this off by heart by now.”

“You know full well I do.”

“Yeah, that and every other damned Disney film out there.” he snorted and she grinned, before she took a deep breath.

“I’m pretty certain you didn’t come over to discuss my Disney obsession Jake.”

“Yeah, erm…” Jensen cleared his throat. “I came to apologise. I’ve been an ass, a childish ass, and I’m sorry.”

Stella looked at him, before she took a deep breath, but she didn’t speak so he carried on.

“I want us to be friends again.” He said gently and she studied him for a moment before she sighed and gave him a soft smile, reaching for his hand.

“I’m sorry too Jake.” She said, licking her lips “I haven’t exactly behaved like a grown up either…and I’ve missed you.”

Jensen looked at her, and saw her eyes were shining and he knew she wasn’t getting him. He let out a soft sigh and hung his head and instantly her hand moved from his, reading his body language and signs as she always could.

“Jakey, what’s wrong?” she asked softly and he raised his head to look at her and he shook it gently side to side. God, she was making this so damned hard.

“I think you got me wrong Stel…” his eyes locked onto hers, his voice soft.

“What do you mean?” she frowned “I thought you wanted things to go back to how they were?”

“I do, but…not like that.” He shook his head “This thing between us, this…arrangement…I think its best we stop.”

Stella felt a wave of cold crashing over her and she temporarily froze as she realised that this was it, his final admission that his feelings for here were nothing more than friendly, that she was nothing more than a convenient way for him to simply get his dick wet from time to time. And now she wasn’t even that.

“Stel?” Jake said softly and she blinked a little, pulling herself together. She gave him the best smile she could muster and nodded.

“If that’s what you want.”

“I think it’s for the best” Jake chose his words carefully, because it wasn’t what he wanted, and despite himself, even now, he couldn’t lie to her.

“Ok.” She nodded, giving him another small smile.

“Hey, we had a good run.” He said, attempting to break the tension and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re a jerk.” She shook her head, and he shrugged.

“I know.”

There was a moment’s pause, and for the first time Jensen could remember, it was fucking awkward. And he had to get out of there. “I err, I should…” her gestured over his shoulder towards the door with his thumb and Stella nodded.

“Sure.” She agreed “I got a film to finish so…”

“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, standing. “Buy you a coffee tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Stella smiled.

He nodded to her, his hand falling to her shoulder as he stood up, giving it a squeeze.

Stella just managed to hold her tears back long enough for him to shut the door behind him.

***** Things between the two of them settled down after that, but there was a shift, that didn’t go unnoticed by them or the rest of the team for that matter. The once best friends turned lovers turned best friends with benefits now had to navigate simply being buddies. It was odd for them both but they managed to remain on good terms.  Not great, but good. They could hold a conversation, laugh, joke…the team was happier because of it. But there were no movie nights, no time spent alone. Neither wanted themselves put in that position, this was the new normal for Jake and Stella now, just how it had to be. It hurt them both- after so long, of course it would…but it was better than nothing.

Another month ticked over, and October brought some cooler weather. The leaves on the trees turned to their firey reds, golds and yellows announcing that Fall had arrived, and brought with it Stella’s favourite thing of the season…pumpkin spiced lattes.

“You have an unhealthy addiction to those things…” Pooch grinned as she picked up the coffee from the counter.

“Best thing about Fall.” She shrugged, turning to leave. She instantly collided with a wall of solid muscle and her precious latte went cascading down the front of her uniform and the crisp, white shirt of the unfortunate man she had collided with.

“Shit!” he yelled and Stella’s hand flew to her mouth

“Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry!” she looked at the man, instantly noticing the deep, blue eyes that looked back at her. They were shining with a natural, kind natured glint and she swallowed as the man sighed, and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, his voice deep “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Stella placed the now half-empty cup down on the side, and took the pile of napkins Pooch handed to her.

“Thanks…” she mumbled, before she offered them to the man.

“What, you’re not gonna wipe it down for me?” he winked and she gave a snort before she chuckled a little, shaking her head.

“I think I’m in enough trouble as it is, don’t you?” she smiled and he gave another chuckle, as he dabbed at his shirt which had now started to go a little see through thanks to it being wet. A not entirely unpleasant turn of events in Stella’s opinion. She scanned him up and down quickly, taking in his sharp navy suit, shiny shoes, black tie before she looked back at his face which sported an immaculately trimmed beard, sharp nose and jawline, brow furrowed in concentration as he focussed on cleaning his shirt up.

“No trouble.” He flashed her a smile that lit up his handsome face, his eyes crinkling slight in the corner and Stella swallowed a little, surprised to find her stomach fluttering ever so slightly with butterflies.

“I err, I should go…” she nodded. “I’m sorry again.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

She gave him another smile, the heat in her necks and cheeks unbearable, before she picked up what was left of her latte and along with Pooch exited the store.

“Ok, so he just totally watched you leave.” Pooch nudged her and she shook her head.

“Stop!”

“Girl he was eye fucking you!” Pooch snorted “And you were eye fucking him!”

“I was not…” she protested, before he looked at her and she laughed, shaking her head “Ok, maybe I was…a little. Girl can look, right?”

“Hey, no judgement from me!” Pooch smiled “You’re young, free, single…”

“Yeah…” Stella sighed, stealing a look over her shoulder taking in the mystery man from behind “That I am. Thanks for the reminder.”

“You know you could just tell him how you feel.” Pooch gently suggested as they walked towards the entrance of their building.

“What?” Stella looked at him. “How I feel? I just, literally bumped into the guy.”

“I don’t mean him, I mean Jensen.”

“What? Why would you…” Stella looked at Pooch who raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head “That’s done, it’s over. He ended it, again, and this time it’s a clean break. I’m not raking over old ground, Pooch. Nothing good comes of it.”

Pooch looked at her as he swiped his access card, pulling the door open and allowing Stella to step into the building in front of him. She headed down the corridor, her camouflage clad shoulders slumped a little and Pooch sighed.

“Pair of dumbasses.” He mumbled to himself, as he headed after her towards the office.

***** The good thing about Arty and Jensen being on speaking terms was that their team social events were lighter in atmosphere, and at the end of the week when Clay suggested a few beers they all accepted.

It was the Friday before Halloween, and The Losers were gathered in a bar not far from their Condo building. It was packed full of people, some in fancy dress, some not. The bar itself was decked out in Halloween decorations, Jack-O-Lanterns spaced along the dark wood bar and on the taller tables at the sides of the room. As Roque and Clay came back from the bar with drinks for the team, they handed them out and Clay paused as Jensen had picked up the lantern from their table. He held it next to his face and arranged his features into a grin and Pooch snorted as Jensen placed it back down, picking up his beer.

“I take it from the fact you’re back that your pick up line didn’t work on that nurse.” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged.

“What was it this time?” Clay asked “Did you use the ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ line or was it more of a ‘I’m a trained, lethal killing machine, wanna see my weapon’ kinda moment?”

Cougar, Roque and Pooch snorted, whilst Cougar looked at Arty who was studying the label on her beer bottle “Tell me you didn’t fall for anything like that?” he quipped.

“JJ never used a chat-up line on me, Coug.” She shrugged and Jake looked at her.

“I was 10 when we met, Stel.” He arched an eyebrow “10 year olds don’t use chat-up lines.”

“We didn’t start dating until we were 17.” She looked at him, taking a swig from her bottle.

“Exactly, seven years later. Didn’t need one.” He winked. She rolled her eyes before she grinned.

“Actually, you kinda used one once…but we’d already been dating for 10 months by that point.”

Jensen frowned “What?”

“Prom night. We got home to yours and you turned to me, and said, and I quote, ‘wanna fuck’?”

Jensen grinned and Cougar looked at them both “Wait, you dated for 10 months before you…” “We did other stuff.” Jake shrugged.

Cougar snorted.

“We were kids, Coug.” Stella smiled

“Awww, did you pop his cherry, Stel?” Pooch grinned and Stella smiled in response.

“Hey, I popped hers too.” Jake chipped in.

“I feel like I should be congratulating you or something.” Clay said, causing the team to laugh and Stella rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t some big mission, Clay…” She looked at him and Jensen snorted.

“It felt like it.” He placed his bottle on the table before he smirked “I had to get my dad to make sure the house was empty.”

That entire day was imprinted on his brain, fresh as if it had happened only yesterday…but in that moment he was taken back to the conversation with his dad as he stood in the living room, just before heading out to pick Stella up.

“Hey dad…” Jake looked up as John walked into the room. “Will anyone be home when I get back?”

John Jensen looked at his son, arching an eyebrow “I know your game…” Jake shrugged and grinned. “Just…oh, I dunno, just be careful ok? I’ll take your mom out for a drink but I can’t promise we’ll be out late.”

“That’s ok.” Jake said, “Me and Stel aint planning on staying too long anyway. Just long enough to see who spikes the punch or starts the first fight.”

“As long as it ain’t you.” His dad looked at him and Jake grinned.

“Hey, I’m a lover not a fighter.”

“Yeah, sure you can kill ‘em all with love when you join the army.” John snorted and Jake shrugged.

“Come here, let me sort your tie…” John sighed, stepping forward to straighten the knot. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m asking you this but…you got any condoms son?”

“A few.” Jake shrugged.

At that John laughed “ A few? I admire your optimism.” He paused and then narrowed his eyes “Did you steal them from my stash?”

“No I bought em, Jesus…” Jake groaned “Like I needed that image.”

“Yeah because the image of my 18 year old son banging his childhood sweetheart is so much better.” John rolled his eyes.

“You and mom are like a hundred or whatever.” Jake looked at him, pulling a disgusted face “It’s gross.”

“Ok.. Now listen to me. If your mother finds out you’re…you know…this conversation, never happened.” John stepped back “You hear me?”

“Loud and clear pops.” Jake nodded “You know though, Stel’s stayed here before. Mom didn’t seem to mind.” “That’s because your mother never heard you hitting each base like I did. She thinks Stella stays in the spare room, whereas I know full well she stays with you and then sneaks back in there before everyone gets up…”

His dad had come through for him. He house was empty when they got back. His mom had actually been cool about it all as well to be fair, she loved Stella, still did as a matter of fact. As the memory of the morning after their first time came back to him, he grinned and looked at Arty.

“Remember mom knocking on my door in the morning, asking if she was bringing 2 cups of coffee in or 1?”

“Fuck, yes.” Stella snored “I nearly died of embarrassment.”

“But she never bothered putting you in the spare room again.” He winked as the group laughed. “Good times.”

“Yeah, yeah they were.” Stella sighed, before her eyes fell back to her bottle of beer, biting back the snipe she had brewing in her mind.

Before you fucked it all up…

“Hey…” Pooch nudged her and she looked at him, noticing he was watching something at the bar “Aint that flash coffee dude?”

“What?” Stella asked, her eyes snapping to where Pooch was looking “Oh yeah.”

“Who’s flash coffee dude?” Clay asked.

“Guy at the bar in the grey sweater.” Pooch said, grinning “Arty spilt a pumpkin spiced latte all down his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind though, was too busy undressing her with his eyes.”

At that Jake’s head snapped up and he looked over at the man who was stood with another guy a little shorter than him, chatting as he perched effortlessly on one of the high stools, his long jean clad legs stretching out in front of him, right foot resting on the rail at the bottom.

“That’s Evan Christianson.” Roque said “He works in Intel.”

“What kind of a dick name is that?” Jensen snorted

“Who cares?” Stella said, her eyes still on the man “With a body and face like that he can be called what the fuck he wants. Look at his poise…”

“You know…” Cougar took a pull of his beer “I’m not gay but I’m considering giving it a go.”

They all laughed bar Jensen who was studying the man Stella seemed to have the hots for. He wasn’t surprised at all to feel that green eyed monster stirring in his belly, but what could he do? They were free agents, it wasn’t like he expected her to stay single forever. He stole a look at Stella who was smirking a little at something Cougar had just said, shaking her head.

“Absolutely not, I’ll make a tit of myself.” She protested.

“You already did that when you spilt coffee all down him.” Pooch smirked “Don’t be a pussy.”

Stella bit her lip, weighing up her options. Should she? Could she? In the corner of her eye she saw Jake turn away, and momentarily felt a flash of guilt before she shook herself out of it.

He doesn’t want you anymore…

“Oh fuck it…” She shrugged, and grabbing her beer she headed off in the direction of the bar.

“Where is she going?” Jake asked.

“Don’t be a dumbass Jensen.” Roque smirked “It’s obvious.”

The men watched as Stella reached Evan and gently tapped his shoulder. He spun round and flashed her a huge grin, showing immaculate white teeth as he said something to her.

“Why is he smiling at her like that?” Jensen demanded and Clay looked at Pooch.

Cougar snorted “He likes her.”

“No shit Cougs…” Roque looked at him.

“Oh, he’s buying her a drink…” Pooch said, as Evan nodded towards Stella’s beer and then turned towards the bar tender.

“We have lift off boys!” Clay grinned, and the group smirked at one another, before they turned away, not wanting to watch or intrude. Jensen’s eyes, however, remained where they were until Clay slapped him on the shoulder.

“Cheer up Jensen.” He said gently

“I’m not…I don’t need to cheer up.” Jake shrugged, turning back to his beer. His eyes flickered around the bar then, deliberately avoiding the two of them stood at the bar before he focussed in on the Nurse he’d been talking to before he rolled his shoulders back and stated “Innabit losers, I got stuff to do.”

He headed across the bar towards the blonde and the remaining 4 men all looked at one another before shrugging, and continuing with their conversation. But Clay, always the leader, made sure to keep one eye on them both.

****

“It should be me buying you a drink.” Stella smiled and Evan laughed.

“Well what kind of gentleman would that make me?”

“The kind who had a hot cup of coffee spilt on him by a clumsy ass Captain who wasn’t watching where she was going.”

“Well, if I was the type of guy to use a pick up line, I’d tell you I was impressed that the clumsy, but might fine ass, belongs to a Captain.” He smiled and Stella grinned, her ego stoked a little at the veiled compliment to both her appearance and rank.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She flirted back, thanking him as the bar tender slid their drinks over to them.

“I hope so.” He winked, taking a pull from his bottle. “I’m Evan by the way.”

“Evan Christianson, yeah I know.” She smiled, taking a drink herself and he looked at her, his eyebrow raised “Roque told me.”

“Oh you know Roque?”

“Yeah. We worked together under Clay.” She nodded to her team where they were all stood round their table, noticing that Jensen wasn’t with them. But before she could think anymore of it Evan spoke again, as he raised his beer to Roque who did the same in acknowledgement.

“Small world.” He smiled at Arty. “So, do I get to know your name or…”

“It’s Stella.” She smiled, “Stella Stevenson, or as that lot call me Arty…”

“Let me guess, short for Artois, like the drink.” He smiled and she laughed, nodding. “Well, Stella or Arty, pleased to meet you. Again.”

“I promise to try not to spill a drink on you this time.” She smiled and Evan gave a little chuckle.

“Well I am partial to a pumpkin spiced latte, prefer to drink them though not wear them if I can help it.”

“I thought you wore it pretty well to be fair.” Stella smiled and he raised an eyebrow, a cheeky glint flashed in his eyes.

“That so?”

She bit her lip and turned back to her drink, picking it up and taking a big sip, smiling to herself as she felt Evan’s eyes studying her face.

From there the conversation began to flow. Evan told her a bit about him, his role in the Intel branch, how he’d himself been in the Navy having worked his way up to Commander by the time he was 30 before leaving a few years back to join the CIA. He was a few years older than her at thirty-five, and hailed from Boston, although Arty had sussed that anyway through his accent. She in turn told him about her life, her career and a little about her family. He seemed interested, genuinely. Asked her questions, answered hers as he bought another couple of drinks, each time declining Stella’s offer to pay.

It was a surprise to her just how easy the conversation and gentle flirting came to her. Whilst her and Jensen hadn’t been together or badged as exclusive, she hadn’t had any kind of relationship since he’d ended things with her 5 years or so ago. She hadn’t been interested, but here…well, she was finding that interest piqued.

A few hours later she left the bar with a smile on her face…and Evan Christian’s number safely stored in her phone.

***** Chapter 2 Part 1

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch 2- I’m Not Jealous, Why Would I Be Jealous

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: The Losers run their first mission together since they bust the Child Sex Trafficking Ring a few months ago, and things don’t quite go according to plan, leading to some nasty tension between Jake and Stella. As time progresses the rift increases leading Jake to make a decision about the nature of his and Stella’s relationship, and the consequences of his decision lead Stella to make one of her own…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Some angst and 2 dumbasses so afraid to admit their feelings to one another, they’d rather ignore them completely…

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  Yeah, yeah, we’re sorry…but what would our fics be without the standard angst and dumbassery…and let’s face it, Jake IS a total dumbass. A lovable dumbass, but still a dumbass. Also, in this is a lot of Creative License. There’s limited detail about the CIA base online (dur) but I do have a fairly good grasp of UK Military codes and security levels as I worked on a lot of bases so we’re running with that…if it’s not directly the same over in the US then…sorry not sorry!

And yes, our other OC in here is shamelessly basically Mr Evans himself...

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist 

 August 2007

“OK Losers, let’s fuck this shit up and get home. I got a date in less than 23 hours.” Clay grinned at Pooch who let out a chuckle.

“You sure don’t wanna miss that…she’s volatile.” Roque’s soft baritone came back over the coms.

“Yeah, which means I’d rather not be late.” Clay replied.

“Good call Clay, I’d hate to be picking up the pieces of you like I had to do with Pooch when he missed Future Mrs Pooch’s birthday last month…”  Jensen replied, looking at Pooch as he sat in the van, laptop open “How is Little Pooch performing since she ripped your balls off?”

Pooch glared at him and elbowed him harshly in the ribs “Ouch, Pooch be gentle!” Jensen rubbed at his side, wincing.

Clay rolled his eyes as Pooch and Jensen started bickering between themselves, Cougar’s soft snickering echoed down the coms from his vantage point perched on the building next door. “Ok, seriously, we’re trying to work here and all I can hear is you lot.” Stella hissed, “Can you focus up?”

“Sorry Arty.” Pooch said, shooting one last glare at Jensen who simply arched an eyebrow and sniffed slightly, tapping at the keyboard.

“And I can see you.” Jensen grinned as the CCTV footage of the inside of the office flicked onto the screen “Wave for the Camera Stel…”

At his words, Stella turned to look at the camera which was above her in the corner of the room and flipped him off. Clay gave a snort.

“That’s not a wave sweetheart.” Jake said and she let out a growl.

“Jensen, I swear to God…”

“Enough you two.” Clay groaned “Roque, Arty get on with it. Cougar, sit-rep on the auction.”

“Still going on…” Cougar obliged “Everyone still in the main room.”

“Jakey…” Stella spoke, and as they watched she began to search the room as Roque kept watch at the door. “Are you sure it’s in here?”

“Yup…” Jensen said “The signal says you’re right by it.”

On the screen Stella paused and looked at the large, ornamental cabinet against the right wall. She stooped to examine the lock and then snorted. “Standard dead bolt.”

“You think they’d be a little more careful…” Pooch mused, watching the footage on the laptop.

“Well to be fair they have a lot of security on the door” Stella replied, and with that hitched the skirt of the tight, figure hugging midnight blue body-con dress she was wearing up slightly and retrieved a tiny device from the top of her stockings.

Jake gave a groan, and then a little yelp as Pooch slapped him round the back of the head. “Pooch man…like, didn’t you see that?”

“Shut up!” Clay said, glaring at him, his eyes then flicking back to the screen as Stella began to wrestle with the lock of the cabinet.

“Boss, they’re wrapping up. Cougar spoke. “The device has sold…I got eyes on our middle man…”

“Ok…” Stella said, and they watched as she gave the little picking device a twist to the right before she sharply jabbed it downwards, then up. Then she gave a little “yes” of triumph and yanked the door open, only to then give a groan of frustration.“Shit.”

“Shit, what’s shit?” Roque asked, and Clay saw him turn back to look at her from where he had been peeking out of the door.

“It’s in a damned case…”  She said, yanking it out and dropping it on the desk, crouching down so she was eyelevel with the locks. “These are harder to pick than a fucking padlock.”

“You got company heading your way.” Cougar spoke “2 guys, armed, approaching from your left.”

“Fuck.” Clay mumbled, as Jensen tapped another button and a smaller viewing box appeared in the top right of the monitor displaying footage of the corridor.

“Want me to drop them boss?” Cougar asked.

“Let’s wait a bit, see if we can get out clean.” Clay said. “But be ready just in case.”

“Got about 40 seconds tops until they turn the corner and I won’t have a shot.”

“Roger.” Clay said

“Once Cougar loses sight we have about another 60 seconds before they hit your position.” Jake said, his eyes flashing as he watched the CCTV of the two men walk down the corridor before his eyes moved back to the larger footage box of the room Stella was in. “Come on Stel…”

“I’m going as fast as I can…” she grumbled, twisting the device in the fiddly locks. One of them sprang open and she hastily moved to the other.

It was deadly silent, Jensen holding his breath as his nerves started to get the better of him. Roque and Stella were both unarmed, they had to be to get into the auction in the first place. The only reason Stella had managed to get that lock pick in through the metal detectors was that it was made out of a specialist, plastic resin. His right hand rested over his mouth, fingers pulling at the whiskers on his goatee as his knee began to jerk slightly.

“Ok I got it…” Stella said, and she grabbed the large, metal hard-drive, flipping it over. “Jake now what?”

“The back should screw off.” He said, watching as she flipped it over, dropped it on the desk and hastily worked at the screw positioned at the top.

“I lost sight.” Cougar said.

“Ok, grab the drive and get of there.” Clay instructed and at that point Roque spun back into the room, making to pick it up but Stella slapped his hand away.

“Arty, what…”

“If we do that we’ve no chance of tracking this back via the middle man to the buyer…” she shook her head, still working at the screw.

“Our priority was retrieving the device.” Clay said, “The buyer is a bonus.”

“Stella, do what he says.” Jake said, swallowing nervously “Get out of there, now!”

“No, I almost got this…” Stella mumbled and with a final twist of her wrist the back sprang open. Quick as a flash the three men in the truck watched as Roque pulled off his watch, twisted the back of it and retrieved the data chip inside, handing it to Arty.

“Lift up the large, flat circuit board in the middle.” Jake said, and she followed his instructions, quickly swapping the chips out. She then hastily screwed the back on before jamming it back in the case. She snapped the lock shut, before she rammed it back in the cupboard.

“30 seconds…” Jake muttered, “Stel…come on…”

She didn’t reply, instead she quickly locked the cabinet door and Roque grabbed her hand and they ran into the corridor, running in the opposite direction to the approaching danger.

Jensen hit a button, flipping the footage of the corridor so it filled the screen and felt his blood run cold. He could see the corridor was long. And there was no way Roque and Stel would make it to the corner at the bottom before the men spotted them.

“They’re not gonna make it…” he muttered, and all 3 of them in the van stood up, grabbing their guns.

“Cougar…” Clay instructed as they emerged from the van.

“I’m by the gates” he said simply and Clay cocked his gun.

“Roque, Arty try and hide until we get in there…” he said simply as they sprinted across the road towards where Cougar was waiting, all the time listening to the chatter on the coms.

“Door, door…” Roque muttered “Shit it’s locked…”

“Roque…” Stella hissed.

“What?”

“Shut up and…”

Her voice cut off and Jensen heard a noise on his comms, a noise that sounded very much like…

Oh hell, no.

“Are they…is she…” he looked at Pooch as besides him Cougar started chuckling “Are they kissing?” Jensen wheeled round to look at Clay “Tell me, that’s not kissing I can hear!”

Clay shrugged as Jensen pulled a face, making a disgusted snort through his nose. “Stel, are you kissing Roque? What the fuck-“

“Hey, what the hell are you 2 doing back here?” an unfamiliar voice sounded in Jensen’s ears, followed by the loud noise of lips smacking and he looked at Pooch, his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry…we just…erm…” Stella giggled, “Yeah, we…”

“Can’t keep my hands off her” Roque chuckled, and Jensen couldn’t help the growl that bubbled from his throat at the words “Can you blame me? She’s a stunner, right?”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be back here.”

“I know, we’re really sorry…I guess, well, I guess the excitement and the champagne…just got me a little…” Stella trailed off, giggling again.

Pooch grinned as Cougar winked at Jensen who’s jaw was set. He could picture exactly the face Stella was making, batting her eyelids all innocently, biting her lip.

And she’d just kissed Roque.

Fucker.

“Go on, get out of here…” the man’s voice instructed Roque and Stella and Roque said something back that Jensen didn’t quite catch as he pulled his ear piece out and turned off his coms link.

“Ok, back to the van.” Clay ordered, looking around at Pooch, Cougar and Jensen, who’s expression looked like that of a bulldog licking piss of a nettle. As the 4 of them headed back down the small lane to the non-descript Cable Company van, Clay shared a glance with Pooch who simply raised his eyebrows. Over the past 3 months since Stella had moved to the base in Virginia, the dynamic between her and Jensen had been the subject of immense puzzlement for the team. Stella had assured Clay when she joined that whatever had been going on was over, as they hadn’t seen each other for a year, but it was clear to see that them being in such close proximity of one another had thrown fuel on the allegedly damp fire.

For all intents and purposes the team basically agreed that they might as well actually be dating. They spent their evenings together, watched movies, went home for the same weekends… the whole “friends with benefits” thing they had going on was also complete bullshit as neither of them was seeing anyone else. Clay got the distinct impression, however, that Jensen was the driving force behind it not being official but here he was acting like a total brat because she’d had to kiss Roque as part of her cover. It was fucking ridiculous, but until either of them ended it or admitted their feelings, there was nothing he could do.  

“We’re out. Heading to you now.” Stella sounded in his ear just as Jensen opened the rear door to the van.

“Good.” He said with a smile as he climbed into the back of the can. “Nice work guys. All of you, job well done.” He said, nodding.

“Yeah, especially you Roque from the sounds of things!” Pooch quipped and Cougar gave a snort as Jensen slammed the ruggedized laptop shut.

“Watch it, that’s worth more than your annual pay check.” Clay pointed at Jensen, then to the laptop.

“Ah don’t mind him Clay, he’s just a little jealous.” Pooch teased.

“Jealous? I’m not jealous.” Jake said, far too quickly “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because Roque just totally tongued your girl” Cougar grinned, making Pooch snigger. Clay rolled his eyes.

“She’s not my girl.” Jensen snapped, and at that exact moment the door to the van slid open. Jensen turned to look at Stella, and he inwardly groaned as he knew full well from the expression on her face she’d heard him. But her outward slip was quick, and she recovered herself fast, stepping into the van closely flowed by Roque.

“Oooh, someone kissed someone.” Pooch grinned and Roque glared at him.

“What are you, 5?”

Stella flopped onto one of the fold down seats in the back, and took the water Clay handed her with a mumbled thanks.

“You ok?” he asked her.

“Yeah.” She nodded “I’m fine. Was just a close one.”

“Can say that again.” Pooch said and Stella rolled her eyes.

“Alright, knock it off.” Clay said, looking at her and then to Jensen who looked like a sulky teenager, and it was too good an opportunity to miss, so with a smirk he added “Otherwise Jensen’s gonna have a fit and as annoying as he is, we need him.”

“Like he cares.” Stella mumbled, and Jake glared at her, positively shooting daggers with his eyes across the van.

Roque chuckled, more amused at Jensen’s attitude than anything “Well if he doesn’t care he’s an idiot. You’re a damned good kisser Arty.”

Stella looked at him, and raised her eyebrow. “Glad I met with your approval Roque.”

Cougar nudged her and she looked at him as he nodded towards Roque, tipping his hat slightly “How was it for you?”

“A solid 7 and a half outta 10.” She shrugged and Clay, Pooch and Cougar erupted into laughter at Roque’s indignant look.

“7 and a half?”

“I docked half a point for the fact you bumped your head into mine…” she shrugged “And it would have been a 9 if you’d felt my ass.”

Pooch banged on the dash of the van, howling with laughter as Clay chuckled deeply, shaking his head. Cougar grinned at Roque who himself gave a snort, and Stella turned her head to look at Jake. Her eyes locked onto his to find him simply looking at her, not a shred of amusement on his face. Eventually he raised his eyebrows and looked away, taking a deep breath.

Stella rolled her eyes and swallowed. Ok, that had been a bit out of order, but hearing what he had said just before had hurt her. Yes, she knew she wasn’t ‘his girl’, she hadn’t been for a while but if she was honest she was struggling with that, and was fast coming to the conclusion that she couldn’t keep doing what she was doing.

The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to end it.

*****

As it turns out, the decision was taken out of Stella’s hands. Upon return to base, the relationship between her and Jake grew increasingly icy over the following week or so. They had no contact outside of work, and even in work it was civil at best. Stella was angry at Jake’s behaviour, how pathetic he was being over the whole Roque thing, a kiss that had been nothing more than an undercover distraction, but more than anything she was hurt. It was clear to her that he didn’t care about her like he used to. Things had already shifted between them dramatically since that evening a few months ago back home after they’d been out for drinks with Pooch and Jolene. He’d become a little more aloof so to speak, and whilst they still hung out, did all the things they used to do as best friends, and still fucked, she’d noticed how he was less affectionate before and after. Almost like he had deliberately put up a wall to remind her that this was simply an arrangement, so in her mind, especially after his outburst in the van following the latest mission, he had absolutely no right to be pissed at her for kissing or going with anyone, regardless. But, after a fortnight or so of being treated to Jake’s cold stares, being intentionally ignored in conversations, and being subjected to watching him attempting to flirt with any female he came across, Stella went into self-preservation mode and avoided hanging around with any of them outside of work as much as she could.

August ticked into September, and it was almost a month or so after the mission when Clay rocked into the little office the Losers used on the base and Stella smiled at him, looking up from a report she had been writing on a couple of recruits she’d been asked to train.

“I didn’t know you were back.” She smiled as he perched on the edge of her desk.

“Got in this morning.” He replied, “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Pooch is on Drill Ops, Cougar is on the shooting range and as for Jensen, your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t spoken to him in ages. In fact, I don’t even know if he’s in the State or not.”

“Still?” Clay groaned “Oh come on Arty, don’t you think this has gone on long enough? When are you gonna sort stuff out?”

“When he grows up and apologises for being a jerk.”

“So basically never.” Clay rolled his eyes.

Stella shrugged “I don’t want to talk about it Clay.”

“Fine, whatever.” Clay sighed, “Do you reckon you could at least try to be civil though? It’s gonna make running this team hard work if you two are at each other’s throats. And I don’t wanna have to ask one of you to leave.”

She looked at him, and he stuck his bottom lip out and she sighed before she turned back to her computer “I’ll think about it.”

“Suppose that’s better than a flat out ‘Fuck off, Clay…” he rolled his eyes, hopping off the desk and ruffling her hair. Stella ducked out of the way, swatting at his hand. “Oh, before I go, you got the reports on the Atlanta job?”

“Yeah, they’re in the Red Link area…” Stella pushed her chair back and stood up, smoothing down her uniform top before she gestured for Clay to follow her. Together they made their way down the corridor and Stella stopped at a high-security door, bending down so the scanner pad could take her retina print. Once inside the door shut behind her, and she swiped her ID into the slot to the side of the other thick, glass door which opened in front of her. She moved into the main room and turned, waiting for Clay to enter behind her.

“I fucking hate those things.” Clay mumbled as he stepped through the entrance. “They make me feel like I’m about to plummet through the floor into Thunderbird one.”

Stella chuckled “Its top secret, classified info Clay, you know this.”

She strode over to the key safe positioned on the wall, punched in the code and then selected the relevant key. Clay followed her to the a cabinet at the back which she unlocked and pulled out a Manilla file with the words “MILITARY SECRET- CLASSIFIED” Stamped all over, and the words “Operation Bon Echo” underneath. She handed it to him and then grinned.

“I don’t need to tell you that ya can’t take that outta this room do I?” she teased and Clay shot her a look.

“Stel, I been running Military ops since you were knee high to a grass hopper.” He arched an eyebrow and she laughed.

“Do you want me to stay so we can go through it or…” “No.” he shook his head “I just want to read it now it’s not that fresh in my mind. Helps me analyse it a little better. I’ll call an official Lessons Learned at some point.”

“Ok, well when you’re done make sure you lock up.” She said. “And don’t forget to make sure you swipe your ID again on the way out, or the system will still think you’re here.” “Grasshopper.” Clay looked at her again and she laughed.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check.” She smiled “I’ll catch you later.”

Clay waved her off and Stella let herself out. Deciding that she could do with a break she wandered out of the Original Headquarters building she was stationed passing the Kryptos sculpture in the little courtyard and made her way down through the landscaped garden area where a few people were milling around, sat at the various benches, taking in the bright early September Sun that had settled over Virginia. She passed the main entrance to the CIA Museum and made her way over to the Starbucks near the New HQ building. More people were sat outside on the benches and she felt herself inwardly groan as she recognised 3 of them. Pooch, Cougar and Jensen. Of course.

“Hey Arty!” Pooch called and she smiled, making her way over “We were just talking about you.”

“Sounds ominous.” She said, her eyes focussed on him to avoid looking at Jensen.

“We ain’t seen you properly in weeks.” Cougar leaned back in his chair, his hat as always perched on his head.

“Well I’ve been busy” she shrugged, “And speaking of which, I gotta get back so...” she gestured to the door of the Starbucks and smiled.

“Movie and pizza on Friday?” Pooch asked “Jolene’s coming here this weekend, sure she’d be pleased to see you.” “Yeah, maybe.” Stella nodded. Pooch flashed her a smile, as did Cougar, before she turned and walked away.

“So now you’re not even speaking? At all?” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged, picking at the label on his Starbucks cup. The words “Glasses” had been scribbled on the side by the barista as a means of identifying who the coffee belonged to. They weren’t allowed to ask the Agents’ names so instead they usually provided physical descriptors of something around their appearance when ordering. Cougars usually bore the word “Cowboy” given that he was rarely without his black Stetson and Pooch’s held the words “Eight Ball” on account of him being that closely shorn he was almost bald. Jake had found it amusing at the time when he’d offered that up to the pretty girl behind the counter…

“You’re being a pain in the ass.” Pooch glared at him. “And a buzzkill.”

“How, what…why am I a buzzkill?” Jensen looked at him, frowning.

“Cos she’s not hanging around with us anymore because you’re being a prick.” Cougar shot back, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

Jensen ignored Cougar, as he placed the cup down on the table, his finger absentmindedly trailing round the rim of the plastic lid. He knew he’d fucked up. He could remember the hurt in Stella’s eyes when she had opened the door in the van to hear him protesting how she wasn’t his girl. He’d been pissed off, and had snapped it out in a moment of frustration and anger but deep down he knew that it wasn’t true. Well, it was true…she wasn’t his girl anymore, because of decision he had made years ago, a decision that he’d come to with the best of intentions but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

What hurt him more than anything now, however, was the realisation he’d come to that night of the mission as he’d led in the hotel room. He was still dragging her along with every damned decision he made, and the more he thought about it the more he realised that had been the case through the entire time they’d known one another. They started dating when he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. They quit because he decided it was right. Then the ‘arrangement’ they had was something he came up with, because it suited him and he’d been selfish, well and truly had his cake and eaten it. She played along with his decisions every damned time and that made him feel like shit. Because she was such a strong, vibrant, stubborn person in every other area of her life. She was fierce, took no shit, she was a fucking bad ass…and the only explanation for her allowing him to be the way he was, was that she loved him, like really loved him. And he didn’t deserve her.

He knew what he had to do, he had to end their arrangement although he was pretty sure it was at an end anyway. Maybe his outburst in the van had been a blessing in disguise. But that said, she was still the best friend he’d ever had, the person he cared about most in the world and he didn’t want her to hate him to the extent she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. He might be a dumbass but he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t naive enough to think that things could ever go back to how they were before they’d dated, but he had to try and salvage something…even if it was simply so that she could actually bring herself to hold a conversation.

**** Stella was sat on her sofa, munching on a bag of popcorn when there was a knock on her door. Given that no one had buzzed through, that meant it was someone who lived in the block that housed The Losers’ CIA Owned Condos. Pressing pause on her remote, temporarily halting Simba’s pouncing lesson she padded over to the door and checked through the viewer. When she saw who it was she gave a deep breath and debated not answering it, before she gave her head a shake and mentally told herself to grow up.

“Since when have you started knocking on my door?” she asked, opening it “You usually just walk in…”

“Well given how things have been between us I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate me using my key.” He smiled at her. “Can I come in?”

Stella turned around and headed back inside her condo, “You want a beer?”

“No, it’s ok. Thanks. I errr, I wanna talk to you.”

“Sounds serious?” she turned back to look at him as she crossed towards her sofa. She perched where she had been previously sat, tucking her legs up besides her and Jake took a seat a few cushions down, nodding at the TV.

“You must know this off by heart by now.”

“You know full well I do.”

“Yeah, that and every other damned Disney film out there.” he snorted and she grinned, before she took a deep breath.

“I’m pretty certain you didn’t come over to discuss my Disney obsession Jake.”

“Yeah, erm…” Jensen cleared his throat. “I came to apologise. I’ve been an ass, a childish ass, and I’m sorry.”

Stella looked at him, before she took a deep breath, but she didn’t speak so he carried on.

“I want us to be friends again.” He said gently and she studied him for a moment before she sighed and gave him a soft smile, reaching for his hand.

“I’m sorry too Jake.” She said, licking her lips “I haven’t exactly behaved like a grown up either…and I’ve missed you.”

Jensen looked at her, and saw her eyes were shining and he knew she wasn’t getting him. He let out a soft sigh and hung his head and instantly her hand moved from his, reading his body language and signs as she always could.

“Jakey, what’s wrong?” she asked softly and he raised his head to look at her and he shook it gently side to side. God, she was making this so damned hard.

“I think you got me wrong Stel…” his eyes locked onto hers, his voice soft.

“What do you mean?” she frowned “I thought you wanted things to go back to how they were?”

“I do, but…not like that.” He shook his head “This thing between us, this…arrangement…I think its best we stop.”

Stella felt a wave of cold crashing over her and she temporarily froze as she realised that this was it, his final admission that his feelings for here were nothing more than friendly, that she was nothing more than a convenient way for him to simply get his dick wet from time to time. And now she wasn’t even that.

“Stel?” Jake said softly and she blinked a little, pulling herself together. She gave him the best smile she could muster and nodded.

“If that’s what you want.”

“I think it’s for the best” Jake chose his words carefully, because it wasn’t what he wanted, and despite himself, even now, he couldn’t lie to her.

“Ok.” She nodded, giving him another small smile.

“Hey, we had a good run.” He said, attempting to break the tension and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re a jerk.” She shook her head, and he shrugged.

“I know.”

There was a moment’s pause, and for the first time Jensen could remember, it was fucking awkward. And he had to get out of there. “I err, I should…” her gestured over his shoulder towards the door with his thumb and Stella nodded.

“Sure.” She agreed “I got a film to finish so…”

“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, standing. “Buy you a coffee tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Stella smiled.

He nodded to her, his hand falling to her shoulder as he stood up, giving it a squeeze.

Stella just managed to hold her tears back long enough for him to shut the door behind him.

***** Things between the two of them settled down after that, but there was a shift, that didn’t go unnoticed by them or the rest of the team for that matter. The once best friends turned lovers turned best friends with benefits now had to navigate simply being buddies. It was odd for them both but they managed to remain on good terms.  Not great, but good. They could hold a conversation, laugh, joke…the team was happier because of it. But there were no movie nights, no time spent alone. Neither wanted themselves put in that position, this was the new normal for Jake and Stella now, just how it had to be. It hurt them both- after so long, of course it would…but it was better than nothing.

Another month ticked over, and October brought some cooler weather. The leaves on the trees turned to their firey reds, golds and yellows announcing that Fall had arrived, and brought with it Stella’s favourite thing of the season…pumpkin spiced lattes.

“You have an unhealthy addiction to those things…” Pooch grinned as she picked up the coffee from the counter.

“Best thing about Fall.” She shrugged, turning to leave. She instantly collided with a wall of solid muscle and her precious latte went cascading down the front of her uniform and the crisp, white shirt of the unfortunate man she had collided with.

“Shit!” he yelled and Stella’s hand flew to her mouth

“Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry!” she looked at the man, instantly noticing the deep, blue eyes that looked back at her. They were shining with a natural, kind natured glint and she swallowed as the man sighed, and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, his voice deep “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Stella placed the now half-empty cup down on the side, and took the pile of napkins Pooch handed to her.

“Thanks…” she mumbled, before she offered them to the man.

“What, you’re not gonna wipe it down for me?” he winked and she gave a snort before she chuckled a little, shaking her head.

“I think I’m in enough trouble as it is, don’t you?” she smiled and he gave another chuckle, as he dabbed at his shirt which had now started to go a little see through thanks to it being wet. A not entirely unpleasant turn of events in Stella’s opinion. She scanned him up and down quickly, taking in his sharp navy suit, shiny shoes, black tie before she looked back at his face which sported an immaculately trimmed beard, sharp nose and jawline, brow furrowed in concentration as he focussed on cleaning his shirt up.

“No trouble.” He flashed her a smile that lit up his handsome face, his eyes crinkling slight in the corner and Stella swallowed a little, surprised to find her stomach fluttering ever so slightly with butterflies.

“I err, I should go…” she nodded. “I’m sorry again.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

She gave him another smile, the heat in her necks and cheeks unbearable, before she picked up what was left of her latte and along with Pooch exited the store.

“Ok, so he just totally watched you leave.” Pooch nudged her and she shook her head.

“Stop!”

“Girl he was eye fucking you!” Pooch snorted “And you were eye fucking him!”

“I was not…” she protested, before he looked at her and she laughed, shaking her head “Ok, maybe I was…a little. Girl can look, right?”

“Hey, no judgement from me!” Pooch smiled “You’re young, free, single…”

“Yeah…” Stella sighed, stealing a look over her shoulder taking in the mystery man from behind “That I am. Thanks for the reminder.”

“You know you could just tell him how you feel.” Pooch gently suggested as they walked towards the entrance of their building.

“What?” Stella looked at him. “How I feel? I just, literally bumped into the guy.”

“I don’t mean him, I mean Jensen.”

“What? Why would you…” Stella looked at Pooch who raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head “That’s done, it’s over. He ended it, again, and this time it’s a clean break. I’m not raking over old ground, Pooch. Nothing good comes of it.”

Pooch looked at her as he swiped his access card, pulling the door open and allowing Stella to step into the building in front of him. She headed down the corridor, her camouflage clad shoulders slumped a little and Pooch sighed.

“Pair of dumbasses.” He mumbled to himself, as he headed after her towards the office.

***** The good thing about Arty and Jensen being on speaking terms was that their team social events were lighter in atmosphere, and at the end of the week when Clay suggested a few beers they all accepted.

It was the Friday before Halloween, and The Losers were gathered in a bar not far from their Condo building. It was packed full of people, some in fancy dress, some not. The bar itself was decked out in Halloween decorations, Jack-O-Lanterns spaced along the dark wood bar and on the taller tables at the sides of the room. As Roque and Clay came back from the bar with drinks for the team, they handed them out and Clay paused as Jensen had picked up the lantern from their table. He held it next to his face and arranged his features into a grin and Pooch snorted as Jensen placed it back down, picking up his beer.

“I take it from the fact you’re back that your pick up line didn’t work on that nurse.” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged.

“What was it this time?” Clay asked “Did you use the ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ line or was it more of a ‘I’m a trained, lethal killing machine, wanna see my weapon’ kinda moment?”

Cougar, Roque and Pooch snorted, whilst Cougar looked at Arty who was studying the label on her beer bottle “Tell me you didn’t fall for anything like that?” he quipped.

“JJ never used a chat-up line on me, Coug.” She shrugged and Jake looked at her.

“I was 11 when we met, Stel.” He arched an eyebrow “11 year olds don’t use chat-up lines.”

“We didn’t start dating until we were 17.” She looked at him, taking a swig from her bottle.

“Exactly, six years later. Didn’t need one.” He winked. She rolled her eyes before she grinned.

“Actually, you kinda used one once…but we’d already been dating for 10 months by that point.”

Jensen frowned “What?”

“Prom night. When you told me the house was empty because you’d told your dad to scram for the evening...”

“Awww, did you pop his cherry, Stel?” Pooch grinned and Stella smiled in response.

“Hey, I popped hers too.” Jake chipped in.

“I feel like I should be congratulating you or something.” Clay said, causing the team to laugh and Stella rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t some big mission, Clay…” She looked at him and Jensen snorted.

“It felt like it.” He placed his bottle on the table before he smirked “I had to get my dad to make sure the house was empty.”

That entire day was imprinted on his brain, fresh as if it had happened only yesterday…but in that moment he was taken back to the conversation with his dad as he stood in the living room, just before heading out to pick Stella up.

“Hey dad…” Jake looked up as John walked into the room. “Will anyone be home when I get back?”

John Jensen looked at his son, arching an eyebrow “I know your game…” Jake shrugged and grinned. “Just…oh, I dunno, just be careful ok? I’ll take your mom out for a drink but I can’t promise we’ll be out late.”

“That’s ok.” Jake said, “Me and Stel aint planning on staying too long anyway. Just long enough to see who spikes the punch or starts the first fight.”

“As long as it ain’t you.” His dad looked at him and Jake grinned.

“Hey, I’m a lover not a fighter.”

“Yeah, sure you can kill ‘em all with love when you join the army.” John snorted and Jake shrugged.

“Come here, let me sort your tie…” John sighed, stepping forward to straighten the knot. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m asking you this but…you got any condoms son?”

“A few.” Jake shrugged.

At that John laughed “ A few? I admire your optimism.” He paused and then narrowed his eyes “Did you steal them from my stash?”

“No I bought em, Jesus…” Jake groaned “Like I needed that image.”

“Yeah because the image of my 18 year old son banging his childhood sweetheart is so much better.” John rolled his eyes.

“You and mom are like a hundred or whatever.” Jake looked at him, pulling a disgusted face “It’s gross.”

“Ok.. Now listen to me. If your mother finds out you’re…you know…this conversation, never happened.” John stepped back “You hear me?”

“Loud and clear pops.” Jake nodded “You know though, Stel’s stayed here before. Mom didn’t seem to mind.” “That’s because your mother never heard you hitting each base like I did. She thinks Stella stays in the spare room, whereas I know full well she stays with you and then sneaks back in there before everyone gets up…”

His dad had come through for him. He house was empty when they got back. His mom had actually been cool about it all as well to be fair, she loved Stella, still did as a matter of fact. As the memory of the morning after their first time came back to him, he grinned and looked at Arty.

“Remember mom knocking on my door in the morning, asking if she was bringing 2 cups of coffee in or 1?”

“Fuck, yes.” Stella snored “I nearly died of embarrassment.”

“But she never bothered putting you in the spare room again.” He winked as the group laughed. “Good times.”

“Yeah, yeah they were.” Stella sighed, before her eyes fell back to her bottle of beer, biting back the snipe she had brewing in her mind.

Before you fucked it all up…

“Hey…” Pooch nudged her and she looked at him, noticing he was watching something at the bar “Aint that flash coffee dude?”

“What?” Stella asked, her eyes snapping to where Pooch was looking “Oh yeah.”

“Who’s flash coffee dude?” Clay asked.

“Guy at the bar in the grey sweater.” Pooch said, grinning “Arty spilt a pumpkin spiced latte all down his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind though, was too busy undressing her with his eyes.”

At that Jake’s head snapped up and he looked over at the man who was stood with another guy a little shorter than him, chatting as he perched effortlessly on one of the high stools, his long jean clad legs stretching out in front of him, right foot resting on the rail at the bottom.

“That’s Evan Christianson.” Roque said “He works in Intel.”

“What kind of a dick name is that?” Jensen snorted

“Who cares?” Stella said, her eyes still on the man “With a body and face like that he can be called what the fuck he wants. Look at his poise…”

“You know…” Cougar took a pull of his beer “I’m not gay but I’m considering giving it a go.”

They all laughed bar Jensen who was studying the man Stella seemed to have the hots for. He wasn’t surprised at all to feel that green eyed monster stirring in his belly, but what could he do? They were free agents, it wasn’t like he expected her to stay single forever. He stole a look at Stella who was smirking a little at something Cougar had just said, shaking her head.

“Absolutely not, I’ll make a tit of myself.” She protested.

“You already did that when you spilt coffee all down him.” Pooch smirked “Don’t be a pussy.”

Stella bit her lip, weighing up her options. Should she? Could she? In the corner of her eye she saw Jake turn away, and momentarily felt a flash of guilt before she shook herself out of it.

He doesn’t want you anymore…

“Oh fuck it…” She shrugged, and grabbing her beer she headed off in the direction of the bar.

“Where is she going?” Jake asked.

“Don’t be a dumbass Jensen.” Roque smirked “It’s obvious.”

The men watched as Stella reached Evan and gently tapped his shoulder. He spun round and flashed her a huge grin, showing immaculate white teeth as he said something to her.

“Why is he smiling at her like that?” Jensen demanded and Clay looked at Pooch.

Cougar snorted “He likes her.”

“No shit Cougs…” Roque looked at him.

“Oh, he’s buying her a drink…” Pooch said, as Evan nodded towards Stella’s beer and then turned towards the bar tender.

“We have lift off boys!” Clay grinned, and the group smirked at one another, before they turned away, not wanting to watch or intrude. Jensen’s eyes, however, remained where they were until Clay slapped him on the shoulder.

“Cheer up Jensen.” He said gently

“I’m not…I don’t need to cheer up.” Jake shrugged, turning back to his beer. His eyes flickered around the bar then, deliberately avoiding the two of them stood at the bar before he focussed in on the Nurse he’d been talking to before he rolled his shoulders back and stated “Innabit losers, I got stuff to do.”

He headed across the bar towards the blonde and the remaining 4 men all looked at one another before shrugging, and continuing with their conversation. But Clay, always the leader, made sure to keep one eye on them both.

****

“It should be me buying you a drink.” Stella smiled and Evan laughed.

“Well what kind of gentleman would that make me?”

“The kind who had a hot cup of coffee spilt on him by a clumsy ass Captain who wasn’t watching where she was going.”

“Well, if I was the type of guy to use a pick up line, I’d tell you I was impressed that the clumsy, but might fine ass, belongs to a Captain.” He smiled and Stella grinned, her ego stoked a little at the veiled compliment to both her appearance and rank.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She flirted back, thanking him as the bar tender slid their drinks over to them.

“I hope so.” He winked, taking a pull from his bottle. “I’m Evan by the way.”

“Evan Christianson, yeah I know.” She smiled, taking a drink herself and he looked at her, his eyebrow raised “Roque told me.”

“Oh you know Roque?”

“Yeah. We worked together under Clay.” She nodded to her team where they were all stood round their table, noticing that Jensen wasn’t with them. But before she could think anymore of it Evan spoke again, as he raised his beer to Roque who did the same in acknowledgement.

“Small world.” He smiled at Arty. “So, do I get to know your name or…”

“It’s Stella.” She smiled, “Stella Stevenson, or as that lot call me Arty…”

“Let me guess, short for Artois, like the drink.” He smiled and she laughed, nodding. “Well, Stella or Arty, pleased to meet you. Again.”

“I promise to try not to spill a drink on you this time.” She smiled and Evan gave a little chuckle.

“Well I am partial to a pumpkin spiced latte, prefer to drink them though not wear them if I can help it.”

“I thought you wore it pretty well to be fair.” Stella smiled and he raised an eyebrow, a cheeky glint flashed in his eyes.

“That so?”

She bit her lip and turned back to her drink, picking it up and taking a big sip, smiling to herself as she felt Evan’s eyes studying her face.

From there the conversation began to flow. Evan told her a bit about him, his role in the Intel branch, how he’d himself been in the Navy having worked his way up to Commander by the time he was 30 before leaving a few years back to join the CIA. He was a few years older than her at thirty-five, and hailed from Boston, although Arty had sussed that anyway through his accent. She in turn told him about her life, her career and a little about her family. He seemed interested, genuinely. Asked her questions, answered hers as he bought another couple of drinks, each time declining Stella’s offer to pay.

It was a surprise to her just how easy the conversation and gentle flirting came to her. Whilst her and Jensen hadn’t been together or badged as exclusive, she hadn’t had any kind of relationship since he’d ended things with her 5 years or so ago. She hadn’t been interested, but here…well, she was finding that interest piqued.

A few hours later she left the bar with a smile on her face…and Evan Christianson’s number safely stored in her phone.

[lilred1989]

WARNING: VIOLENCE, SELF-MUTILATION

When he had gone looking for Derek, this was not what he had expected. It had been impossible for him to stay away after seeing Derek on that screen in Quantico.

So, he’d packed up his things, loaned a car (why, oh why had he left Roscoe in Beacon Hills?) and driven to Derek’s last known location. He had of course tried to call the werewolf, but as always, Derek hadn’t picked up his phone.

If he was honest with himself, Stiles had not expected to find Derek that easily, but he had not stayed more than one night at rented cabin in the woods. The second night, it wasn’t even entirely dark outside yet, Derek had literally burst through the door, grabbed him and dragged him out.

Stiles was a thinker, but even he could not process things that fast. One moment he was waiting for his soup to finish cooking, the other moment a near feral werewolf grabbed him and dragged him through the forest. Then there was a bang, Derek stumbled and Stiles with him. A second bang made Stiles’ ears ring and Derek drop to the floor. A third bang followed and everything went dark.

When Stiles woke up, it was to the sound of cheering, snarling, growling and angry howling. He groaned, but a werewolf hot hand was on his shoulder immediately. The slight scent of pine that his human nose could pick up, told him that it was Derek.

When the noise didn’t abate, Stiles fought himself upright and slowly opened his eyes. He ignored the cold nose in his neck for a moment. It didn’t have priority.

Then however he blinked. Well, that was a new one. Stiles and Derek were in a cage. Their cage was in the middle of a row of cages. All around them were snarling, growling and howling supernatural creatures.

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice was low and the cold nose in his neck let out a hot huff of air. Good, the wolf was listening then. “Where are we, Derek?”

Another hot waft of air that sounded suspiciously like a sigh was his only answer.

“Don’t bother, kiddo.”, a voice from his left suddenly cut in. “He’s been non-verbal since they brought you in. The stunner is hell on born weres.”

Stiles eyes latched onto the source of the voice. In front of him was a wendigo, if the white eyes and sharp teeth were any indication. Stiles frowned: “Non-verbal? I know he doesn’t talk much on a good day, but non-verbal?”

The wendigo shrugged: “Most weres are non-verbal when they bring them in. The stunner damages their brain too much. A few get the chance to recover, others don’t. I’m Mark.”

Stiles nodded: “Stiles. So, since the werewolf latched to my neck can’t answer me, where are we?” Mark sighed: “Somewhere deep in Mexico. Underground fighting ring. And no, there’s no way out. There’s three ways to die though: one - you don’t adapt quick enough and wither away. Two - you die in the arena, hopefully quick. Three - the Calaveras find this place and kill us all.”

Cold dread settled in Stiles stomach. He did of course try to find a way out, but Mark’s warning seemed to have been sound. Stiles also kept talking to Derek, who did seem to be less feral every day. Stiles didn’t even begin counting the days. It didn’t seem important.

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was rough from disuse, but the urgency in it immediately shook Stiles awake. Three men stood in front of their cage. Without a word they dragged the cage out and into a huge concrete chamber. Both Derek and Stiles were silent, assessing their situation. When a second cage was brought in, Stiles stomach sank.

The fights were brutal, ugly and bloody. But Derek was formidable. Stiles didn’t know where the werewolf got his strength from, but he fought like a man possessed. And he managed to keep Stiles relatively injury free. Derek risked everything to protect Stiles, often tearing three or four opponents limb from limb in his wolf form.

One day though, even Derek’s strength wasn’t enough anymore. Their opponent was a giant of a man. He towered easily over Derek and was at least twice as broad. Derek didn’t stand a chance. And when Derek slumped down, covered in wounds, not able to stand anymore, Stiles knew this was it.

When the giant advanced towards Derek to finish him off, something clicked inside of Stiles. Power welled up in him and for one horrifying moment, he thought the Nogitsune was back. But this power felt warm. This power felt good. And Stiles gave in.

Like when he had been possessed, his skin became pale and the purple bags under his eyes became even more pronounced. Instinct took over. He grabbed a piece of broken glass from the floor and carved a rune into his skin, just below his ribs on the left side of his torso.

The moment the rune was finished, Stiles carved another one into the inside of his right lower arm. He then pressed the two bleeding runes together and focused his whole intent onto the giant. He immediately went up in flames.

Both Derek and Stiles collapsed just moment later.

When the Calaveras finally found the place, Stiles body was covered in runes that were carved into his skin. Derek had reluctantly done a few, but he had hated the idea of hurting Stiles.

Luckily for them, Chris Argent had been with the Mexican hunters and they had been saved instead of killed.

Standing in front of his father’s house, Derek covering behind him, Stiles reflected on everything that had happened. Everything that had changed. Derek had focused his whole being onto Stiles. They couldn’t be far one from the other.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. How was he even going to start explaining all this to his dad?

[movedyourchair505]

Napule Nights - ventiquattro

And, we have smut again! I can’t believe how lovely everyone is about this story, you’re all wonderful! Thanks again to - you guessed it - Elana, for helping xx

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x

When Jade stepped out of Turner's office, she almost knocked heads with Kane who was waiting impatiently on the other side of the door, Cook leaning back against the opposite wall.

“Soo?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, tilting her head to the side. “So what, Kane?”

“What 'appened?”

Jade shrugged, looking back at him and crossing her arms in front of her chest, her breasts pushed up underneath the thin material of the playsuit. “Wha-...”

“Evrehfin' alreyht?”

“I...” She paused, thought back for a moment to the way Turner had smiled back at her, the way she remembered it, knew it was now burned into her memory, she couldn't help her own mouth twitching with the hint of a smile.

Kane's face lit up and he let out a shot, grinning from ear to ear, his hand coming down on Jade's shoulder. “Reyht, so you're gunna come to me club openin' tonight.”

“Your club opening?” She questioned, licking her lips as she looked at him. “That's tonight?”

Miles nodded eagerly. “Fookin' excitin', innit? You'll come wif Al, yeh?”

She glanced back at the door of Turner's office over her shoulder, then slowly turned to look back at Kane. “I don't know...” she said.

He waved it off, squeezing her shoulder before walking past her and knocking on the door. “I'll tell 'im” he declared, wiggling his eyebrows, then giving her a wink when Turner's voice rang through the door. “Ya wanna come, reyht?”

She nodded. “Of course” she said.

“Alreyht” he cackled, clapping his hands, his energy beyond comparison. “Oh, one condition though, bella.”

She raised her eyebrows questioningly, waiting for his requirement. “Si?”

“Wear sumfin' sparkleh.”

-

When Helders opened the doors of the car after the short car ride, Jade was still conflicted due to the fact that she'd expected to meet Turner there, if not in the car. Instead, she'd followed Cook up from her suite to the small entrance hall and saw Turner waiting for her there, walking to the car by her side without a word. It was different seeing him now, she felt more at ease which opened a whole new variety of ways to draw a reaction from him, the shift in him had her more curious than ever before.

His hand was locked in a tight grip on her hip as they entered the club, she could feel the heat of his skin through the tight material of her peachy nude dress, backless with thin straps and a low v-neck line, detailed with rose gold sparkles arranged in patterns scattered over the matte fabric. She'd also paired it with a sparkly pair of heels for good measure.

“The Miles High Club?” She questioned Turner, turning her head to look up at him after reading the flaunting neon sign above the double doors outside.

“I tried teh talk 'im out of it” Turner said, the corner of his mouth twitching into that glorious half-smile that sent shivers down her spine and he leaned closer, his lips inches away from her ear so she could hear over the thudding bassline. It was that now recurring sense of familiarity, and as simple as it was, it carried something insanely attractive for her, had her craving more. “But 'e were so proud when 'e told meh.”

“There's me number one stunner” Kane drawled as he approached them, arms spread out wide.

Turner rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Alreyht, Mi...”

Kane's eyes widened and he cackled, turning to Jade. “Oh, no, Al, I'm talkin' to 'er...” he smirked, kissing both her cheeks. “Ya look fookin' exquisite, bella...”

He was wearing a hot pink suit, tight, seams sparkly, a leopard print shirt underneath. There were bits of glitter in his hair, some fallen down into his stubbled face.

“Thank you” Jade said, taking his hand as he offered it and drew her away from Turner to make her twirl into him. “You've been having fun, then?” She asked, gesturing to the glitter.

Kane raised an eyebrow, then raked his fingers through his hair, pulling out his phone to clean up his face with the help of the screen's reflection. “Alreadeh 'ad a couple o' dances, not gunna lie” he chirped. “Aneh chance the special man of the night will get one from you?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“She dun't work 'ere” Alex stated, his arm looping around her waist again to draw her close to his side.

She looked back at him, licking her lips. “I could” she stated, a glint of excitement sparkling in her eyes, turning to face him, one of her hands resting flat against his chest, smoothing down the jacket of his matte white suit, tight and paired with a black shirt.

“Dun't fookin' fink so” he stated, standing his ground, looking back and forth between her and his best mate, the look on his face unchanged.

Miles sighed dramatically, dropping his phone back in his pocket. “Well, let's 'ave it” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows before walking past them to greet another group of people that had entered, Turner directing her straight to the bar, ordering a glass of whiskey for each of them, one he knew he'd supplied Miles with for the club, one he knew Jade would love.

“Careful, Alexander” she said as they received their order and her fingers closed around the cold glass, a playful smirk plastered across her face. “Don't drink too much, or you might compliment me again.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, his eyes widening as he caught on, tilting his head slightly in disbelief. “I dun't need teh beh droonk teh fookin' compliment yeh, pupa” he drawled, sighing and taking a sip of his drink, his eyes then wandering slowly down her body. He licked his lips. “Yeh look fookin' mindblowin', Jade.”

“Should I blow something else for you too?” She asked, blinking, her expression innocent, the words rolling off her tongue so nonchalantly that she took immense pleasure in seeing his features tense before he got a grip.

“Fookin' low blow, doll...” he said, licking his lips, his jaw stretching slightly.

She smiled sheepishly, taking another sip of her drink. “Mm. Literally.”

“Bicchierinos!”

They drew their gaze from each other, turning to look at Kane approaching with a girl following, clad in a tight revealing dress made up of glittery leather, carrying a tray of shots of which Miles picked one up instantly, then a second and handing Jade and Alex one each, then ringing a third against their glasses and downing it. “Me two beautehs gunna dance wif King Kane?”

Alex cleared his throat, chuckling. “Uh, no.”

“Suit yaself, mate” Miles shrugged, downing another shot and gesturing for each of them to as well, then holding his arm out for Jade once his silent order had been followed. “Takin' ya girl.”

Jade took hold of his arm, turning her head to look back at Turner. He was paying more attention to the way her body moved than anything else, it made her smile that with one cheap joke she had his mind preoccupied with ease, yet she was waiting for his approval.

He snapped out of it, glaring at both of them before leaning back against the bar counter, the girl with the tray of shots eyeing him curiously. “I'll beh watchin'” he announced, eyes fixated on Jade's grip on Miles' arm as he whisked her away.

The club had now filled up, groups of people already dancing, drinking, girls spinning on the poles scattered across the room dipped in bright neon lights, the bass thudding. Alex's gaze followed Miles and Jade across the room, his eyes locked on the way her body moved, the way she swayed, snapped her hips from side to side, touched her hair, herself, the expression of pure joy as she looked around, got lost in her element, and Alex couldn't help but smile to himself at how much she obviously and unapologetically she loved the attention, the other dancers looking at her, drinking her in, but the spark of jealousy Alex felt was short-lived, extinguished instantly by the awareness that she'd looked most satisfied with all eyes on her when she'd entered the club with him, enjoyed and thrived off the gazes she received because she was with him.

Alex watched Miles spin her around, make her laugh and he swore to himself to make her laugh like that again personally before the night was out, watched them become the centre of attention on the dancefloor, a sense of pride filling him that she was there with him, the woman that was getting more attention than any of the girls performing on the poles, his body relaxing when Jade came striding back to him, turning to look at Miles and thankfully taking the drink Turner was handing her. She was slightly out of breath, yet focused more on the flair of drama at the other end of the room where Kane stepped up on one of the platforms a girl had just cleared for him and looked around over the sea of people that slowly were focusing on him as the music slowed and decreased in volume.

“Is 'e gunna give a speech?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow, looking at Jade from the corner of his eye. “Oh, fookin'ell...”

“Reyht...” Miles' voice roared as someone handed him a microphone. “Fanks teh all of ya for celebratin' this excitin' night wif meh, I alreadeh kno' weh're gunna 'ave sum phenomenal nights out at the Miles 'igh Club” he announced. “Wanna fank the boy first and foremost, the one and onleh, for makin' this possible, supportin' meh, I appreciate yeh, Al...”

Heads turned to look at Alex and he lifted his glass briefly in acknowledgement, licking his lips, relieved when the attention was back on his friend and he listened closely, absently moved his arm around Jade again, hands gripping her hip possessively, pushing her body closer to his.

She licked her lips, pressed herself against him best she could where she was standing while she focused on Miles' speech, feeling Turner shift slightly beside her. She still had not quite wrapped her mind around it, how he was less tense with her, less on alert which had the same effects on her, but she was aware that this was still the same man next to her that had mercilessly bent her over his desk, spanked her to tears, and it excited her, yet now the excitement of unpredictability was replaced with the anticipation of something else, of something more.

She leaned closer to him, bit her lip and inhaled slowly before she spoke, her lips close to his ear. “Alexander...” she purred, felt him stir beside her, his head tilting, his jaw stretching testament of his full attention and awareness. “Let me suck your cock now.”

He swallowed hard, his adam's apple straining his skin, his grip tightening on her hip as the irresistible blur of rose and expensive liquor began to cloud his mind, had him reeling with the nerve she had, her words a plea rather than an order.

He composed himself, his body tensing. “I bet yehr underwear's soaked through, innit, doll?”

She smirked, her breath tickling his skin. “I'm not wearing any” she revealed, pressing herself closer to him. “And you haven't even touched me.”

He bit down on his lip, his gaze flickering towards her, desperately trying to not give in as easily as he ached to. “Dun't need teh.” He cleared his throat. “And yeh dun't decide when I put me cock in yehr mouth.”

She bit her lip, her mouth practically watering. “Turner...” she whispered. “Please.”

He chuckled darkly, a slight shake of his head. “Jade, Mi's just … yeh can't even fookin' make it through-...”

“He's done now” Jade stated, unimpressed.

“Alreyht, evrehbodeh!” Miles chirped. “Promise teh enjoy yaself. Be nice to me girls.”

The guests once again scattered, and Jade looked expectantly to Turner, longing, desperate for him to give in, begging him with her eyes as she watched him slowly finish the contents of his glass and set his glass down without lifting his gaze from her, then scratching slowly at his jaw.

“Were last night not enough for yeh?” He asked, mockery tinting his tone.

She shook her head, pressing her thighs together to tend to the throbbing emptiness that was becoming gradually more unbearable. “Alexander...” she said slowly. “I need you to fuck me.”

He swallowed hard, the lack of shame and fluster on her face drawing him in beyond reason, it was irresistible that she wasn't subtle about how badly she wanted him, out of nowhere told him what she craved, pratically begged for him to wipe that smug smile off her face, to force her into submission again. “Yeh're gunna 'ave teh fookin' earn tha'...”

“Anything” she whispered. “I'm yours, Alexander.”

Alex struggled to compose himself when he felt his hand slowly run up the back of his neck, her nails scratching lightly at his skin, then drifting effortlessly through his hair, stroking, tugging just slightly and he breathed out shakily.

She knew it wouldn't take much now, especially now that she'd been allowed a glance behind his mask of power, and indifference, and she knew that he probably regretted just how much he'd shown her, she wanted badly to assure him that he had nothing to worry about, that she held no judgement, that she didn't view him any differently, that she still admired his endless power.

“Let me worship you, Alexander...” she whispered. “Don't you want me on your knees for you?”

She saw him tense, then turn his head. “Dun't yeh dare move” he ordered, reluctantly drawing his warm hand from her hip, approaching Kane in a sea of people on the other side of the room, a number of girls fighting for his attention. Turner walked right through, spoke merely a few words and held out his hand, received a wink from his best mate, then returned wordlessly to Jade at the bar, holding a keycard and had her walking with a simple cock of his head, stretching his fingers as he tried to hold on, hold on until they were alone to wipe that satisfied smile off his face.

His hand came down on the small of her back, guiding her forward and up a small set of spiral stairs, leaving most chatter behind, the volume of the music decreasing, then into a secluded room with tinted pink walls, velvet sofas lining the walls, several poles standing tall on little platforms.

“Mmmm, do you want me to dance for you, Turner?” She asked as she turned around, that glimmer of playfulness in her eyes seeking to seduce him only fuelling his desire to put her in her place and he was right there as soon as the door fell shut, his long fingers decorating her throat like a tight necklace and he stepped forward until the back of her legs met the edge of the sofa, forcing her down, her eyes wide, reflecting merely her anticipation, drinking in his every move in desperate curiosity of what was to come next.

“Mmm, and I thought you'd be nice to me when you fuck me now...” she mumbled, holding his gaze, licking her lips seductively.

“Wha' makes yeh so sure I'm gunna fuck yeh, pupa?” He drawled, gritting his teeth, his jaw locked, tense. “Why should I give in teh yehr sudden urges, eh? Yeh're so fookin' needeh, it's embarrassin'...”

She swallowed, committed to not allow him this win, not when she wanted to draw so much more from him. “Don't act like you don't like it...” she whispered, pushing her lower lip forward in a sultry pout. “I know how much it turns you on, hearing that I think about the way you take me, that it makes me want you all the time...”

He bit his lip, his eyes fixated on hers watchfully. “D'yeh fink about meh when yeh touch yeh're alone in yehr bed?” He asked in more of a statement than a question. “D'yeh fink about 'ow I fook yeh when yeh touch yehr little wet cunt?”

She breathed shakily, unable to resist the temptation of imagining it now, cursing him for how easy he could play her game and win with her own tricks and she gasped when his fingers gave a squeeze on her neck.

“Answer meh, doll.”

“Y-Yes...” she breathed. “You like that, don't you?”

He groaned, his eyes wide, his face tense with concentration, slowly shaking his head. “Yeh're so fookin' desperate for me approval, aren't yeh?”

Her gaze wandered slowly, from the stretch of his jaw, the slow movement of his lips to the curve of his nose, a desperate sound of need escaping her lips when his fingers once again tightened around her throat.

“Look at meh.”

Her lips toyed with the hint of a smile, she was so desperate that she was now willing to really push and see how far she could go. The security she had now made this game gradually more fun. “Is that how desperate you are for my attention, Turner?”

His brows furrowed, he blinked, bit down on his lip, then blinked again, unable to believe the nerve she had. “Jade, if yeh keep talkin' back teh meh, I might joost end up fookin' yeh, but I'm gunna do it so agonisingleh slow tha' yeh're gunna beg for me forgiveness, beg for meh teh fook yeh until yeh cry...”

“Mmm...” she mumbled, her mind reeling, yet she tried to compose herself, her voice nonetheless shakier than she would have liked. His promises, the images he painted with just his deep voice, that low drawl she ached to hear praise her while he drove himself inside her, it drove her mad, had her body trembling with lust under his firm grip. “I think I'm done begging” she declared. “Didn't do anything earlier...”

His eyes darkened. “Dun't yeh underestimate meh...”

“I know you don't do slow, Alexander...” she stated confidently.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, I fookin' will, pupa, if it means torturin' yeh and gettin' yeh teh cry for meh teh fook yeh.” He squeezed her throat again slightly. “I'll do anehfin' teh prove me point, Jade.”

“And what is your point exactly?”

“Tha' I can get yeh teh do anehfin'...”

She licked her lips again. “Mmm, I told you that earlier, and you didn't seem to care, Turner” she said.

“Beg for meh again and I might joost change me mind. Might actualleh fook yeh instead of leavin' yeh desperate, empteh … soakin...”

She sighed dramatically. “I guess I'll have to help myself then...”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Jade, I can 'ave yehr toys taken aweh...”

Her eyes widened. “Turner, you wouldn't dare.”

He smirked. “Beh a good girl then, Jade. Get down on yehr knees like yeh said yeh would. Ask meh niceleh teh give yeh wha' yeh want.”

She whimpered as he pulled her up, fingers tight around her throat, then pushing her down effortlessly to her knees, looking down at her expectantly.

“I kno' yeh like tha'...” he said. “Get so wet when I call yeh tha' so why dun't yeh be'ave now?”

She shook her head. “I won't beg to suck your dick again, Turner.”

He scratched his jaw, tilting his head to the side. “I'm losin' me patience, Jade...”

She was now at the point where she worried that he really would lose his patience, prove his stupid point by just leaving, and she couldn't afford that, had gotten him this far and the way she longed for him now, physically ached for him to fuck her was unbearable, she was barely able to think straight now, could only focus on the delicious stretch his cock provided when he fucked her, held her down and had his way with her, but her pride, her newfound confidence, it fuelled her to challenge him because she knew that's what he most of all craved.

She pushed herself up, had already worked him up so much, yet the look on his face when her face was on his level again was priceless, the fire in her eyes irresistible and Alex could hardly contain himself. He burned for her.

“Turner...” she spoke, her voice soft, coaxing and she brought up her hand, dragged her flat hand up his chest, pushing his chain across his collarbones, held her breath before loosely closing her fingers around his throat, breaking the silence before he would, before he would come down harder on her than she could ever anticipate. “Why don't you beg me to suck your cock, cucciolo?”

For a moment, the only thing audible was the slow exhaling of air as Alex tried desperately to stay calm, to not fall into her trap because she was playing right into his need to assert his dominance, because he loved it, loved how she pushed herself higher and higher each time to feel more powerful than him, enjoyed it greatly to put her right back into her place, but he didn't want to give her satisfaction just yet, no matter the anger creeping up inside him at her the nerve she had, the audacity.

“Jade” he drawled, calmly, not moving a muscle.

She smiled, biting her lip. “Yes, Alexander?”

“Dun't underestimate 'ow 'ard I'll spank yeh.”

She breathed shakily, forced her eyes to stay open, steady as they threatened to flutter, roll back from just the image in her head of her bent over his knee, juices running down her legs as he brought his palm down on her ass repeatedly, or his belt, while forcing his cock down her throat. She pressed her lips together to not allow herself to drool. Instead, she forced herself to stand her ground. “I've had worse.”

A blink, a stretch of his jaw and he snapped, with one swift move his fingers closed around her wrist, turned her arm and spun her around, locking both her hands behind her back under his firm grip and pushing her forward, her knees buckling as she knelt on the sofa and her pushed her face down on the backrest.

“Wha' the fook are yeh playin' at, pupa?”

She whimpered, wiggling her ass towards him as her dress was pushed up, her ass exposed in front of him due to the lack of underwear. “Mmm, you don't like that, do you?” She hummed, mumbling against the satin material. “Don't like thought of someone fucking me better?”

The muscles in his arms tense, he tried to breathe calmly, tried to tell himself that she thrived off the anger he offered, the way he couldn't handle even a twinge of a threat to his dominance. But she kept going even in the vulnerable position he'd reduced her to.

“Don't like thinking about the other men that got to touch me?” She teased. “Don't like thinking about how it felt? How wet they had me? How I screamed their names?” She was bluffing now, and she was sure he knew that, because while of course she'd had good sex, lots of times, no one had gotten her as desperate, had challenged her, had made her scream and cry as much and as good as Turner had.

“Nobodeh can fookin' take care of yeh like I can...” he groaned, nudging her legs and they fell apart for him almost automatically, her whole body shuddering when his fingers forced their way into her wet heat, the cry that fell from her lips indescribable, like nothing he'd ever heard from her, thick with desperation and desire. “Mmmmm, exactly” he groaned. “Dun't fookin' lie teh yehrself...”

She tried to push back into his touch, lifting her head and looking at him over her shoulder, the way he enjoyed so much to unwind her irresistible, the authority in his demeanor, she had to contain herself to not let go right there and then, cum pathetically around his fingers before he'd even properly touched her.

“D-Did you see everyone looking at me out there?” She whispered, her voice trailing off into a soft cry of pleasure as he started to finger her hard, driving his fingers inside her with increasing force.

He swallowed hard. “Jade, I'm fookin' warnin' yeh...”

She whimpered as he curled his fingers hard inside her. “S-Stop warning me and actually prove your point, Turner...”

He growled, drawing his fingers out of her and earning himself a desperate cry, her eyes wide with need as she looked back at him. “Tha' wha' you want?” He asked, his voice barely restrained now. “For meh teh let go?”

She moaned. “Oh, please, Alexander...” she whispered. As much as she wanted him to force his cock into her mouth, for him to spank her until she would be sore and marked for days, she had never been so wet, her juices leaking out of her and running down her inner thighs, she'd never been teased out of her mind like this, and the thought of his cock filling her was the only thing she could think of, knew that she wouldn't be able to have him deny her now, and she realised she might have taken it too far, too lost in her game of risking how far she could build him up, only to go too far and defeat its entire purpose.

“And 'ere I were, finkin' yeh was gunna follow me rules, like yeh said … joost can't fookin' be'ave...” He slammed his flat hand down on her ass, making her jerk forward and cry out at the unexpected roughness.

“I'm sorry” she whimpered, tears stinging in her eyes from the intense blow.

“Tha's rehyt...” he growled, another smack following.

“T-Thank you” she whined. “Thank you, Alexander...” She was ready to do whatever it took now, had overestimated herself once again.

Blow after blow followed, hard and merciless. “F-Forgive me...” she sobbed, gasping when he spanked her again to cut her off. “T-Thank you, I … Tu-... Alexander, I'll do anything.”

“Do as I say, pupa, tell meh I own yeh.” Smack.

“Y-You own me” she moaned, her body trembling in defeat.

“Tell meh yeh'll do wha'ever I tell yeh.”

She nodded eagerly.  “I'll do whatever you want.”

He spanked her again, then stepped back, the lack of touches had her writhing for more, her body shaking when she heard his belt buckle, crying out when the tip of his cock was lined up with her entrance, poked into her slightly and his hand came down on her hip to hold her steady as she sought leverage with her hands now free to move again, his own smoothing down her back to soothe her as he saw her still trembling.

Unable to control himself any longer, he pushed his hips forward, her throbbing heat enveloping him gratefully, the way she pushed back against him so tempting he didn't find it in himself to stop her, the way she arched her back, the curve of her ass, it was irresistible, her body shaking with pleasure, a long moan of relief ringing off the walls.

“This is wha' yeh wanted, principessa?”

She whined, started picking up the pace, desperate, urgent when she realised he was allowing her to move, did not keep her hips restrained with his usual firm grip, merely fell into a sync rhythm with her, and she reveled in the feeling of taking what she wanted, her walls burning, squeezing around his throbbing length, better than she remembered, always overwhelming and even better than she could picture in her mind, the way he filled her unmatchable.

He groaned, his lips parting reluctantly each time she pushed her hips back on him and he drove his own forward to meet hers, hypnotised by her, posture faltering when she looked back at him once again, her eyes half-open, laced with lust and he thrust inside her harder, forced her eyes to roll back and her voice to shake before she could even speak, desperate to dominate her because if she challenged his authority in a position like this, what else was she capable of?

Without a warning, he reached forward, fingers once again securely locking around her throat and he bent forward his chest pressed against her back, the way her heart raced almost making his knees weak. The fear of losing his dominance, of having to share it, of having already shared too much had overcome him now, was eating him up beyond reason and he squeezed her throat, buried himself deep inside her and held himself there, reveling in the way her legs shook and she took him gladly, took whatever he gave her.

“Tell meh” he drawled, his lips pressed to her ear, heat radiating off him through his clothes, overwhelming her with that scent. “Tell me yeh're not gunna leave meh.”

She could feel his breath on her skin, tense, frozen as he spoke so huskily, desperate, a plea rather than an order.

“Promise meh.”

She whimpered, the agonising lack of friction had her reeling, her mind clouded with lust to the point where she couldn't think straight, his cock buried deep inside her, throbbing, filling her so good she was struggling to breathe. “I-I...” she whispered, trying desperately to find her voice, knowing it couldn't fail her now. He pinned down in the most vulnerable position possible but she would have told him either way, would have sworn and promised him had she been on top of the world with him. “I promise” she cried, sobbing out her vows.

He breathed out shakily, his concerns soothed and pushed to the back of his head, the way she submitted to him, yet had so much power within where he held her, it had him weak and he felt his dominance reignited, his confidence, drew back just to drive himself inside her, again and again and standing up straight, watching her writhe as he screwed her mercilessly.

She took it gladly, overwhelmed and weakened by his sudden moment of need, sensing there was more to it but she knew that just like the previous night, there was no exploring it now, the hard thrusts of his hips against hers, his cock driving inside her and stretching her repeatedly had her so wet and desperate that she was no fearing disappointing him again, so close to letting go despite a lack of command.

“A-Alexander...” she dared to whisper.

He groaned, both his hands smoothing slowly down her back before one snapped up to grab her hair, wrapping it around his fist for leverage, fucking her harder, each thrust abrupt, deep, punishing. His threats discarded, he was now aching to release, the way she submitted to him enough to tame his anger about her disobedience. “Fank meh when yeh let go and yeh're allowed teh cum...”

She nodded eagerly, whining at the way he pulled her hair back, fucked into her again, again, then snapped his hips forward and buried his cock deep inside her, grunting as his cock twitched inside her, pulsing, the continuous spurts of his release coating her walls, drawing her orgasm from her, her walls squeezing around him as she came with a desperate whimper, her walls melting around him, her body trembling. “T-Thank you...” she sobbed, tears running down her face. “Thank you, Alexander...”

He hummed, satisfied, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to catch his breath, only pulled out of her once he was sure the waves of her orgasm had passed, groaning when he slipped out of her heat, instantly missing the snug fit. “Fookin'ell, Jade...”

She took a breath, her legs shaky as she turned around and stood up, adjusting her dress, biting her lip as she looked at him, their juices mixing and running down her legs. She quickly pressed them together, looking back at him as he tucked himself back in, then turned away from him to open the door.

“Jade” he said, the soft drawl making her freeze and she turned back to him, followed the nod of his head and stepped closer, looking back at him with wide eyes.

“Yes?” She asked, her heart beat faster again as his hand came down on the small of her back, the other cupping the side of her face and before she knew it, he pressed his lips to hers, captured them in a deep kiss, searing and needy, and laced with all the affection the way he fucked her lacked and she returned it gladly, needily, starved and overwhelmed by his scent, the warmth of his lips, the passion and the fire in the way he kissed her.

The kiss, the way he'd taken her had her mind in a blur of lust, reveling in the afterglow for the rest of the night and she knew that once she'd come to her senses again she'd curl up in bed and fuck herself to the thought of his cock pounding her, rubbing her clit and crying his name until her throat was hoarse, lost deeply in thought as she watched Turner talk to acquaintances that came up here and there, yet always coming back to her, steadying her when it seemed she stood wobbly on her heels, arm locked tightly around her hip as they made their way to the car after not being able to find Kane, being told he was “havin' it” in one of the private rooms.

They sat in silence and she felt herself getting sleepy, yet forced herself to sit upright until they overcame the short way to the headquarters, her eyes focused on him instead, taking in the way his smooth skin creased with the little smile that crinkled his romanesque nose, the way his fingers folded his lap, his firm thighs clad by the tight suit, his chain now readjusted.

It took a while for her to realise that they had been driving for longer than earlier, only then turned to look out the window, and the car already came to a stop, Helders opening the doors before she could question Turner. “W-What...”

Turner raised an eyebrow in confusion when she didn't move, gesturing for her to exit the car, then following closely behind, waiting as she turned around to look at him, irritation spread across her face. “Yeh alreyht?” He asked with a sigh, drawing a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lighting it, blowing the smoke to the side after a drag, the car driving off, Helders and Cook waiting close by.

“I thought you were taking me to the headquarters.”

He shrugged, placed his hand on her lower back and leading her to follow his henchmen. “Yeh're sleepin' 'ere” he stated, unimpressed, now slightly irritated himself.

“You sprung this on me again, I don't even have anything with me” she stated, yet knew better than to seriously resist. This was much better than what she'd had planned.

“Dun't worreh, yeh dun't 'ave teh dance for meh this time” he drawled, his heart skipping a beat at the smile that spread across her face, the small sound of a giggle, faint, yet audible enough to fuel his silent victory.

“Alexander...”

“Jade, 's alreyht” he assured her. “Yeh tell meh wha' yeh need and I'll arrange it.”

[clarabowlover]

Louise Brooks & Alice Roberts

Pandora’s Box (1929)

[clarabowlover]

Corinne Griffith - As Mary Boyne In

The Unknown Quantity (1919)