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toournextadventure · 6 months ago

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a novel life pt.5

Summary: Your girlfriend is an up-and-coming serial killer. Your girlfriend's little sister and her partner are also up-and-coming serial killers. With summer fast approaching, maybe you all need to get out of the city. Some fresh air never hurt anybody, right?

Word Count: 4k Warnings: swearing, mentions of Scream violence, smut (18+) Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Reader (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5)

Life with three chaotic good villains was… interesting.

You didn’t necessarily live with J and Tara; they had their own apartment at this point in time. It had been a decision made after you had officially asked Sam to move in with you. Honestly, it had seemed like a silent relief to both sisters that they didn’t have to tell the other to leave, instead creating a mutual, respectful decision between them.

That did not, however, stop them from coming over to yours and Sam’s at all hours, day or night.

Most of the time they came over for food. Which, to you, was rather ironic considering you were the only one out of the bunch who, on most occasions, couldn’t cook. You were under the sneaking suspicion they simply did it to be close to Sam again. It was understandable. Neither of them could bear to tell her that they missed her. That was something you had picked up on fairly quickly in your relationship.

The other times they came over, however… those were rather interesting. And Sam was not exempt.

“Not in the apartment,” you called out the moment you heard the door open.

“It wasn’t in the apartment,” Tara said with a huff. You knew it was her way of showing she cared.

“It was across the street,” Sam finished, followed quickly by the door clicking shut.

You sighed but quickly went back to your lesson plan. By all accounts, they were correct. It wasn’t in the apartment. And you would give them a little more; they weren’t on the premises either (another new rule you had enacted over the past few months). They were following rules.

Barely. But they were.

There was shuffling behind you - a sound you had unfortunately grown accustomed to - before someone sat down beside you. That was also something you were used to, and Sam’s head quickly fell to rest on your shoulder. Her breathing was even. You placed an awkward, sideways kiss on the top of her head.

“Did they match the criteria?” You asked. You underlined something on your lesson plan.

“Yes,” Sam said. “They matched.”

“She was creeping on some kid,” Tara chimed in from the kitchen. “And no, she wasn’t the mom.”

“Priors?” You asked.

“Stalking and domestic battery,” Sam answered.

“Which is on the list!” Tara called out.

Yes, you supposed they were. And they would know what was on the list; you had given all three of them laminated copies of what criteria could somehow justify their actions. Not that you condoned them, it still gave you the creeps, but if they were going to do it then they were going to be responsible. You weren’t going to be a jail bunny, or whatever they called those people.

Even with them following the rules that you continued to add to, you weren’t comfortable with the fact that they were killing people. Even the most awful people deserved a chance to live, did they not? Capital punishment had never been something you supported, and this was simply an individualistic version of it.

But Sam was pretty, and you loved her, and that alone could trump your personal beliefs.

“There’s no blood on my floor, correct?” You asked.

Sam tensed up against you and lifted her head. The noises in the kitchen ceased. You kept your nose buried in your books out of some sort of silent respect. When Sam stood up, you got your answer. You would give them some time to clean up; sometimes accidents happen.

God, you were starting to feel like your mother.

“There’s no blood on your floor,” Sam said when she finally sat beside you. After having cleaned the floor.

You smiled to yourself before straightening up and looking at her. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning in for a light kiss on her lips.

The lesson plan was the least of your worries for the evening. Sure, it was almost time for finals, and graduation was in two weeks, but your mind was preoccupied. How long had it been since you had spent any significant time with Sam alone? To the best of your knowledge, it had been at least since you had discovered their… secret.

You could vaguely hear Sam and Tara talking, but you were still staring aimlessly at your books. When had Tara and J done something together last? Not including killing, of course, you knew they did that all the time. But a weekend getaway, or an actual vacation. Had they ever gone on a vacation together? You and Sam surely hadn’t yet.

A-ha! That was it!

It was only a few days later that you talked with J and told them your plan. They practically jumped at the idea. After all, why wouldn’t they? It would give them alone time with Tara - away from New York City - and it would give you alone time with Sam. It only took one evening of planning before everything was set, and all you had to do was tell your respective girlfriends. Easy enough, right?

Oh, how naive you were.

“It’s just for one week,” you practically whined as you followed Sam through rush hour traffic. “Surely that couldn’t hurt.”

“I’m not just leaving Tara alone for a week,” she said without turning around. “Not since the attacks.”

“Darling, you cause the attacks now,” you said. “And so does Tara, and J, and I truly believe they’ll be alright without us.”

You reached out and pulled Sam closer when a car rushed by, splashing water where she had just been standing.

“I trust them,” she said. An exhale. “I mostly trust them.”

“Then where is your concern?” You asked. “Where is your hesitation?”

Sam didn’t say anything. She kept looking out at the street even as you pulled her a little closer, again, to the wall behind you. People continued to mill around and you didn’t want her to get run over, or worse, cussed out. You were aware of how volatile she could get when she was already stuck in her own mind. The last thing anyone needed was for her to lose her temper at some poor passerby who just wanted to keep walking unobstructed.

“I don’t trust other people,” she said, finally turning back to look at you. “They’ve both been attacked, what if it happens again?” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I won’t be there to help.”

You slid your hand down her arm to lock your fingers together. “My love,” you said. You waited until she looked up at you. “Tara is cold-blooded and calculated.” She smiled. “J is from a long line of criminals.” A laugh. “I believe they will be just fine.”

Her smile eased from laughter to something softer. There was a light spark in her eyes, something you only saw when, surprise, she wasn’t worried about Tara. And even though she would never admit it, she worried about J as well. They argued like siblings incessantly, but they cared about each other in their own way. It was almost sweet.

“Okay,” she finally said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your lips. She tasted of smoke. “One week won’t hurt.”

—---

You were questioning every decision you had made to lead to where you currently were.

If you had known that Samantha Carpenter, who had packed up her life and left on her own at 18, was a horrible road trip partner? You would have gone to Paris with Tara and J. It would have been the same time, give or take, but at least the ride would have been more luxurious.

But no, Samantha Carpenter, a literal Slasher icon, wasn’t a fan of road trips.

Sam sighed, and your grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“My dear,” you said, “we really haven’t got much longer.”

Though your eyes were focused on the road, you heard her shift. “Do you think they’re okay?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, “they’re alright.” Your tone was indicative of just how often you had said that sentence in the past six hours.

“Do I have a problem?” She asked. “Am I overprotective?”

“Yes,” you said. A car passed going far too fast. “You’re overprotective.”

“I need to relax, don’t I?”

You unclenched your jaw and loosened your grip. She was trying. Letting go of the reins wasn’t really something she was adept at. Now, you could understand, your mother was the same way. Not… quite to the same degree as Sam… but it was comparative. You knew, realistically, she wished to relax and enjoy the week. She just needed a moment to decompress and accept that she was allowed to relax.

“Everything will be alright, love,” you said. “They will be fine, and you will be able to relax.” You turned your head to meet her eyes. “I promise.”

She smiled at you and reached over to place her hand on your upper thigh before looking back out her window. Her fingers scratched lightly against your inner thigh. It wasn’t scandalous or risque. At best, it was a comforting touch; she often did it on your arm.

That didn’t appear to matter to your body, which was very much working itself up as she continued her innocent gestures.

You could act on these feelings once you arrived. There would be no fear of anyone walking in on you and interrupting the moment. Wait, that would be wonderful. You could act on those feelings twice! In one night! Just the thought had you shifting in the driver’s seat and ignoring the slight look Sam gave you.

By the time you pulled up to the campgrounds, you were thoroughly wrecked. The very thought of having genuine alone time with Sam was all-encompassing, and you were starting to thoroughly question if you needed to go into town to grab a few things for your stay. This was turning into the best decision you had ever made in your life!

“I’ll stretch my legs while you talk, if you don’t mind,” Sam said once you were both out of the car.

“Of course,” you said as you gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

The small cabin at the front of the park was cute; you didn’t much like the taxidermied deer heads on the wall, but you could look past it. It was homey, and you felt pretty safe considering you were practically in the middle of Nowhere Maine. There were lovely little couches, a beautiful oak end table, and the employee desk looked to be… mahogany? Perhaps?

“You ready to get your keys, camper?” The too-cheery employee asked. It was over the top and slightly grating, but you could appreciate the faux excitement.

He led you to the desk and got to work handing you the keys to the cabin you had rented. It wasn’t supposed to be anything extravagant, more like a place where you could both rest, relax, and enjoy the scenery. A lovely little firepit outside, a hammock, a supplied cast iron skillet. You were in your element.

You hoped Sam liked it too. Surely she would. Hopefully.

“Ready?” You asked as you walked back to the car.

Sam was leaning against the car with a half-finished cigarette resting between her lips. Smoking was a horrid habit; it stunk, it clung to clothes, and it was bad for your health. But you couldn’t deny she looked extremely sexy while she did it. The way her lips moved…

You needed to get her into the cabin. Quickly.

She smiled her beautiful smile. “Ready.” She took one more large inhale of the cigarette before putting it out on the bottom of her boot.

You were feeling very uncomfortable as you opened the door for her and practically raced to the other side. The cabin couldn’t be too far away, the park wasn’t exactly that big. And you were right. The trip only took another 10 minutes before you pulled up to the adorable little cabin.

And it was rather adorable.

It only took a few moments to get the bags from the back and get into the cabin. The inside was just as adorable as you had imagined, and judging by the near-instant relaxation of Sam’s shoulders, she agreed. Internally, you cheered. Hopefully, she could stay relaxed for the week. It was no less than she deserved, and she had more than earned it.

You practically demanded she take the time to sit, walk outside, relax a bit while you made dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy - you may not know how to cook real meals, but you knew how to camp - but it was nice. Something you could finish in only a few minutes that wouldn’t make you both feel miserable after a day of driving. And once it was all over, you could finally take the time to enjoy the feeling of being away from everything.

“How is it, darling?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around Sam’s waist from behind.

She hummed and leaned back into you. “It’s quiet.”

“Is that a good thing?” You asked again. You placed a lingering kiss behind her ear.

Sam turned around in your arms, quickly throwing her own arms around your neck. She looked at peace. You wondered if that was how she had looked before everything had fallen apart for her. There hadn’t been extensive talk of her past, but you knew things had essentially been ruined for her around her teenage years. Had she seemed carefree like this?

“It’s a very good thing,” she said softly.

With her fingers lightly scratching the back of your neck, that uncomfortable feeling continued to get worse. She had made you feel impatient for the past two hours at least. And her hands were on your skin, and she looked so beautiful, and you loved her so much. You could be forgiven for leaning forward to kiss her.

Sam wasted no time in pulling you closer. Her breath tickled against your cheek. With her body pressed entirely against yours, you couldn’t help but notice how perfectly you fit together. That was what love should be. Love was feeling like your bodies were molded, formed specifically to perfect each other.

“Turn your brain off,” Sam whispered against your lips.

“I’m thinking about how much I love you,” you specified.

She smiled. “Stop thinking and show me.”

Your hands slid down her hips to grab her behind her thighs. The pressure on your neck tightened as you lifted her up. She smiled against your lips, and you almost got distracted again. There was nothing quite like feeling Sam smile against you, no matter the circumstance.

You weren’t distracted for long.

There hadn’t been much time to get acquainted with the cabin, but you knew your way around well enough to carry Sam over to the couch. A large window overlooked the main room, and through it, you could see the stars and moon shining down. With the utmost care, you laid her down on the couch beneath you.

“We’re child-free this week,” you said.

She let out a huff of air. “I guess we are.”

“That means we can do whatever we want,” you continued.

Slowly, her smile grew. She was finally understanding what you were getting at. No one else around. That meant no needing to be quiet out of respect for your unwanted guests. Which meant you could do anything you wanted, at any time, for however long you wanted.

The arms around your neck tightened once again, pulling you down into another kiss. You didn’t dare break it as you moved around on the couch, trying to get a little more comfortable without possibly squishing Sam underneath you. At least from the new angle, one of your hands was free.

If there was one thing you didn’t like about Sam, it was that she usually wore tighter clothing. As stunning as she looked in it, it made it a little more difficult to slide your hand underneath her shirt. You didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for her; that was the opposite of what you wanted.

“Hang on,” Sam mumbled against your lips.

Her arms pulled away, but only to your chest. She pushed back against you until you sat up and she quickly followed. You sat mesmerised as she pulled the tight tank off. After all the time you had spent with her, you didn’t think there would ever be a time you weren’t thrilled every chance you got to see her.

“Take it off,” Sam said. The words were an order, but her tone was softer.

Right. Right, you needed to take your shirt off too, you couldn’t just sit there and stare at her the entire night. Well, you could, but you couldn’t only sit there and stare at her all night. Your movements weren’t as sift as hers, instead just pulling your shirt from behind until you could throw it to the floor.

You leaned forward and rested your hands on her hips, eager to remove those pesky pants of hers. They made her legs look wonderful, but they were in the way. But before you actually made a move, you froze and looked back up to meet her eyes.

“May I?” You asked.

There had been numerous occasions where Sam had practically scolded you for stopping and asking. You would know if I didn’t want to, she had said. But you had been raised with manners; only a verbal yes equaled consent. Even though you knew exactly what her answer would be, you wouldn’t dare risk misinterpreting her actions.

“Yes,” she said with a soft smile.

You smiled back, a big toothy grin, before gently laying her back on the couch and sliding her pants down her legs. Inch by inch, you saw her skin exposed. Flawless, even with its flaws. Splendid in its softness, a startling contrast to the roughness of your own fingertips. You could have sat there and worshipped her from her feet to her head, and it would have been an evening well spent.

Once her pants were off, you tossed them to the side and let your hands roam up her legs. Squeezing lightly on her calves - she would appreciate a massage later - before moving up to her thighs. Those thighs that held power behind them, that you loved to feel around your waist. Or your head.

You were so entranced by her that you didn’t even notice her move. The next thing you knew, hands were on your chest and you were falling back onto the other end of the couch. Those thighs you had been so captivated with were now on either side of your hips, and Sam, in all her beauty and glory, was leaning over you.

“You didn’t bring anything special,” she said as she leaned closer.

You squeezed her hips lightly. “No I didn’t.”

“I suppose you’ll have to wait until tomorrow then,” she continued.

Oh, she was going to be mean. It was in the way she slowly, torturously moved her hips. She was in just the right spot for you both to feel the slightest bit of relief, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. But there was a small uptick of the corner of her mouth, and her fingers were tracing patterns over your chest, and her breath was on your lips, and and and.

If she kept it up, your brain would cease all function.

“You’re teasing,” you said. You did your best not to whine.

“Yes I am,” she said, her hips moving just a little more. “You said it yourself, we’re child-free,” she continued. “Which means no holding back.” There was a glint in her eyes. “Which means I want you to be so frustrated that starting tomorrow, I won’t be able to walk properly.”

Oh. Oh, she was playing a longer game.

You could work with that.

That glint in her eye was dangerous; you had seen it before. She knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it. However, not once did she say you had to stop for the night. You kept one hand on her waist but let the other slid across her hip and down her thigh. Her breath hitched for a moment when you brushed against the inside of her thigh.

Part of you wanted to keep her as frustrated as you were. She had started all of this teasing in the car. You had been feeling pent up for hours already, and she thought she was just going to get off while you suffered? You didn’t show it often, but you could be just as cruel if you wished.

The other part of you wanted to hear her moan.

That was the part that won.

You were soft with your movements, tracing little patterns into her skin as you made your way around her thigh and- oh god she was wet. She had been just as pent up as you, it seemed. Any sensibilities were gone at the knowledge that she had been waiting for you, that she was almost to the point of needy.

Her hips moved to meet your fingers. The softest of moans fell from her lips when you ran your fingers over her clit. There it was, the first sound. The thing that could get you to lose all morals, all thoughts, you were filled with nothing but the desire to please her. To have her moan again and again.

Instinct took over; a primal desire. She was so wet your fingers slid into her with ease. Your mouth fell open as you felt her around you. It never lost its wonder. But you didn’t move your fingers again. If Sam was going to leave you to suffer for the rest of the night, you were at least going to make her work for it.

She let out a small whine when she realised it too.

“Come on, darling,” you said. “Be a good girl and ride my fingers.”

“You’re such a dick,” she huffed. But you noticed the smallest hint of a smile.

Her hands rested on your chest as she started to move her hips. Slowly, methodically, testing out just how much you would actually help her. Which, you would admit, was more than you had initially planned. You hadn’t intended to move at all; she would truly need to work for it.

But the beautiful look on her face, the quiet sounds coming from her lips, the way her body moved against yours? You couldn’t help it. Your hand on her hip helped her move even as she started to speed up. When she was in just the right spot, you would curl your fingers, drawing the most melodic moan out of her. That alone was enough to convince you to help her.

As her movements got faster, you sat up. Her arms quickly wrapped around your neck, holding you closer. You liked this position much better; you could feel every movement, every breath. Her body would tense up when you would curl your fingers, and when you positioned your thumb right over her clit? Oh, it was beautiful.

Sam wasn’t a loud person, but when you were so close, her moans were all you could hear. They were like music to your ears. She was close; you could feel it in her jerking movements and the little whimpers she couldn’t hold back. Your arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against you and kissed her.

She moaned into your mouth when she came. Hell, you were so pent up it was almost enough to make you cum. Her movements dictated when you stopped yours; you helped her ride it out until she fell slack into you. She shifted until her head rested on your shoulder.

“You did so good,” you whispered into her hair, leaving a lingering kiss immediately after. “My beautiful girl.”

You couldn’t see it, but you felt her lips press against your bare shoulder.

“What happened to making me work for it?” She asked in a breathy voice.

You let out a short huff of laughter. “What can I say,” you started. “I’d do anything for you.”

#samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter imagine #sam carpenter imagine

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beauty-funny-trippy · 21 days ago

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• TALIBAN spokesperson, Zabihullah Mujahid, told CBS News that the militant Afghan group admires Trump's views. A second Taliban leader said, "Trump might be ridiculous for the rest of the world, but he is sane and wise man for the Taliban." (source)

• Former KKK leader, David Duke, says Donald Trump promoted his racist propaganda about "white replacement" and made them mainstream. (source)

• Neo-NAZI Leader, Jeff Schoep, thanks Trump for promoting their fascist propaganda (authoritarianism, anti-lgbtq, antisemitic, anti-Muslim, anti-democracy), for legitimizing their beliefs, and for bringing white supremacy into the “mainstream.” (source)

America has repeatedly rejected these groups because of their immoral, un-American beliefs, ...but they haven't given up.

They know Trump is the candidate who can tear down the American dream and build the kind of America they desire — a nation where children can be raised in a culture of racism, fascism, and misogyny — immersed in a trifecta of hate. They want to normalize violence and repression against any group of people who are not like them.

The Nazis, the KKK, and the Taliban terrorists are standing with Trump.

Who do you stand with?

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bi-astolfo · 10 days ago

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Hey, everyone who didn’t vote because of the administration’s support of Israel how’re y’all feeling now? Huh? Now what? We’re still gonna support Israel under Trump’s administration and he’s signaled that he’s a staunch supporter of the genocide and urges them to “finish the job.” Meanwhile, Kamala Harris spoke out against the killing in Gaza but I guess that doesn’t matter.

Then what about the people at home? If they’re both just as bad when it comes to the genocide in Gaza then why not vote based on another issue? I guess trans people’s lives don’t matter to y’all? Having the supreme court conservatively stacked for the rest of our lives didn’t matter? Abortion rights? Gay marriage? The fact that they attempted a coup and were gearing up to try again if they election didn’t go their way? None of that mattered enough to get you to vote?

A lot of people are saying that anger should be directed toward the right and the people who voted for Trump. But so what? It’s not like my opinion matters to them. As a queer man, my life doesn’t even matter to them. It apparently matters to the the left but your lack of voting sure doesn’t show it.

So yeah, thanks for making a stand! You may have literally picked a hill to die on! Nevertheless, I hope you all live to regret it.

#us elections #donald trump #kamala harris #gaza #israel #politics #rant

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hotheadedhero · 4 months ago

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hey so how do you think 2003 or 2012 Leo would deal with a super sweet yet fiesty s/o? Like he is in their house and he apologises for breaking in, he just needed a safe haven to relax and s/o is like casually “If it was anyone else I’d beat them up, but you can break into my house any time you want. I actually trust you”?

AN: We going with 03! The wheel has spoken :P

Exception

Leonardo x Reader

What a week. As far as cleaning the streets of criminal activity goes, it’s been one of the hardest to date. At every turn, there are muggings, burglary, vandalism, all around chaos. You name it. Pure, unbridled chaos and every time the boys think they’re safe to rest up for five minutes, something else pops up and they’re back at it. By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense. New York isn’t without its delinquency but these rates are bizarre even by their standards. If this is all part of a bigger picture then they’ve got some big fish to fry.

As it would turn out, it was: a large-scale operation by a nameless syndicate, orchestrated in the hopes of tiring out the turtles beyond their threshold. If they’re too overworked to engage in their usual vigilante-ing, thieves and rogue punks alike could swarm the streets without having to worry about capture. It would have worked, too, were it not for one of the crooks and his blabbermouth. They can thank Casey and his questionable scare tactics for that one. Who’s to judge when it gets results?

Regardless, the boys couldn’t wait to settle down back home. Leonardo more so than anyone else. He’s ready to sit down with some candles and mentally scrub himself of this strenuous endeavour. The problem with that, however, is that his siblings have their own unique choices of downtime and they’re not exactly the quietest. Machinery hums on one side of the room, occasionally accompanied by shrieking metal. The other side of the lair vibrates with the heavy boom of hip-hop. Even the gentle click-clack of knitting needles just across from his is grating on the ears. He can typically drown out the sounds of his brothers but he’s worn to the point that even meditation won’t do the trick. There’s only one thing for it: he needs to get some air. Better yet, he needs to see you. It’s been far too long.

Before dating, you both knew there would be nights and even stretches of such where you would go without seeing one another. Plans can change last minute if trouble is afoot. Dates cancelled for the sake of pedestrian safety. That being said, these last half a dozen days have been the longest length of time you’ve endured without each other. Maybe he could surprise you with his return. You’d think he learned from the times he and his brothers have unexpectedly crashed April’s that, that would be a bad idea. This is you, though. Arguably, you’re a bit more temperamental at times but he knows your soft spot for him could trump that. Probably.

Without thinking of the possible ramifications, he trudges along to your apartment. Albeit, it’s taking a lot longer to get than normal. He’s aware of how drained he is but walking through the sewers shouldn’t be this difficult. He’ll be thankful when he finally reaches you. Perhaps he’ll even be lucky enough to lay dead in your arms if he hasn’t pushed his luck by barging in unprompted. He quietly chuckles at himself, knowing you’d call him out for being such a sap.

Leo finally makes it to the manhole cover and pushes it off with some strain. The weight of it burns his muscles, nearing the point of shaking. Nonetheless, he drives through and lets out a breath when it clangs against the tarmac. Not his most graceful of exits but he supposes he can be excused at least this once. The extra ache is worth it for the sweet wave of serenity that washes over him when he sees your window. It’s a dim light. No doubt it’s from your living room lava lamp - the one with the orange wax that emits this gentle, pink-amber glow. It’s reminiscent of a sun-kissed sky that you can enjoy in the sanctuary of your own home. He likes that one. You always turn it on when the city enters night; when you want the sunset to last just that little while longer.

Without wanting to lose another second, he carefully positions the manhole cover back in place and advances up your fire escape. He peeks through your window on the off chance he might catch you. When you’re nowhere to be found, he slides the glass up and climbs through as quietly as his irritated legs will allow him. He’s about to call your name when something suddenly hits him on the head.

“Ow!” he yells out and rubs on the sore spot. The main lights flick on and there you are, standing in a readied pose with your bat raised high. “Couldn’t you do that in a batting cage or something?”

“Leo?” Your eyes gape wide as your stance falters.

In the dully lit room, all you saw was a figure. A figure sneaking into your home. It could have been anyone or anything. Obviously, your first port of call was to take action. Befriending and even dating one of the city’s self-proclaimed saviours means potential for a target on your head. There’s no telling who or what could come for you should they want to lure the turtles in with live bait. What you hadn’t anticipated was your loving turtle in blue to be the one tiptoeing into your apartment. You prop the bat on your shoulder and lean on the wall with the other.

“Ever heard of a phone?” you ask through a playful murmur.

One corner of his lips turns up into a coy smile and he laughs sheepishly, “Sorry, it’s been a long week.”

You have half a mind to remind him why breaking into someone’s home in a crime-infested New York is a recipe for disaster but he looks beat enough as is. Whilst you haven’t had much of a chance to talk this past week, you’re more than aware of what he’s had to deal with. If he’s here now, that must mean it’s been officially dealt with and taken care of. Good thing, too, because it seems like he could drop at any given moment. Oh. The baseball. Your boyfriend has been working himself to the bone and you’ve just whacked him in the face with a baseball.

Bashfully, you click your tongue and glance away. There are definitely better ways to greet your significant other. It’s likely he’ll use this against you when he’s feeling particularly cheeky in the future but you won’t worry about that now. You push your body off the wall and point at him with your baton.

"If it was anyone else, they'd be a bloody pulp by now." You prop the bat on the wall and turn away to your kitchen with a shrug. "But, sure, break in any time you want. You're lucky I trust you."

Your words hold a sarcastic nature, almost satirical, but he knows you mean well. The meaning behind them holds a sweetness. An apology wouldn’t have gone amiss but he did technically break in. He’ll hold his hands up and admit fault. Permission has been given at least. Not that he thinks he needed it before but if it saves him another bruise, it’s a win.

You truly love your friends to pieces but, if you’re being honest, they have their individual set of havocs they’d thrust upon your home were it them in place of your boyfriend. Raph the least, ironically enough, but his sai have a nasty habit of poking holes in your couch any time he sits down. Donnie often has a gadget on him you'd be too fearful of setting your furniture on fire. As for Mikey? He’s a food fiend who can and will deplete you of all your snacks. Let's not forget Casey but he’s a walking health and safety hazard if ever you met one. His visiting rights have been revoked after what he did to your Christmas ornaments and it’s the last time you’ve ever and will host for the holidays. You don’t like to talk about it. So, yeah, if there's any one person who can freely invite themself to your home, it's the turtle you love most.

When you’ve finished packing a cloth with ice, you sit Leonardo down and hold it to his head. His face scrunches up before easing and he smiles at you softly. This may not have turned out to be the romantic surprise he thought it would be but he’s glad to be back in your presence - in your home surrounded by personifications of your selfdom.

“That was a good shot, by the way,” he compliments, sporting that impertinent grin you’d expected.

Your teeth clasp down on your bottom lip, fighting an annoyed smile. “Don’t give me an excuse to use your shell as target practice,” you warn but the following kiss to his bruise reveals your empty threat. “But, thanks. Sorry for hitting you in the first place.”

His brows raise at you. “I’m sure you could make it up to me.”

You hum in response and shove the ice pack in his face. Your choice to tend to his wounds after he impolitely infringed on you is you making it up to him. Ungrateful pinhead. He’s lucky you love him. Very lucky indeed.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #leonardo #leo #leonardo 2003 #leo 2003 #tmnt leonardo x reader #x reader #request #answered

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schoolhater · 16 days ago

Text

it is election day. i wrote a little essay to share with my IRLs who can't fathom why i might want to abstain from participating in the bloodshed by putting holocaust harris in power, or giving the transpbobic and anti-abortion green party federal campaign money. i've reposted the entire thing under the cut for anyone who wants to read.

but before i begin: donate to mohammed al-habil. he is recovering from surgery, his little sister is chronically ill. the genocide ruined his senior year of high school. it’s his birthday today. he should be celebrating and instead he’s begging on an internet full of people trying to justify the continued destruction of his entire people.

learn more + donate

i keep hearing from people defending their choice to vote for the genocider that even though the democrats are bad, the republicans are worse. or that this election is the most important one. i often see trolley problems that declare that the *only* people who would suffer under the democrats would be palestine, and, because *americans* would suffer under the republicans, we have to put aside our grievances about the potentially-three-hundred-thousand-and-thiry-five people who have been murdered in the past thirteen months and offer our full support to the person who did it.

nearly every time settler colonialism has occurred in history, the first wave of settlers is some vulnerable yet radicalized population who believes they will achieve prosperity in the new world. the uae-backed rsf is establishing settlements using refugees from other african countries in southeast sudan right now. the first wave of israeli settlers were poor. even herzl planned this in the 1890s, in 'the jewish state' he writes that the first wave of settlers should be poor farm workers. and now, the modern settlers in the illegally occupied west bank live in and they are the most radicalized most. despite facing extreme racism within israel, arab israeli settlers are among the most radical zionists. the first settlers in america were poor and tired religious extremists from britain. when they came here they didn't have shit except the military backing of the empire and the carte blanche to commit massacres of indigenous people.

imperialism needs these vulnerable people. it needs to funnel the oppressed populations it creates back into the machine to enact further violence. these people are effective cannon fodder against the indigenous population. they are vulnerable enough that they cannot resist, but their lives are comfortable enough thanks to subsidized housing and special treatment that they begin to identify wholly with the imperialist entity, so they don't even want to. if you're stuck thinking 'well, of course kamala and trump are the same to palestine, but trump will be worse for us!' you've taken the bait. that's exactly the kind of attitude that is allowing this genocide to happen right now. do you know why the usa gives subsidized healthcare to israelis? why we give so many benefits to veterans? why do thousands of people risk their entire lives to come here after we destroy their countries? the usa wants to recruit you into participating in the genocide of gaza so you never oppose it, because it would mean opposing yourself.

even kamala harris knows this. multiple times she's repeated some version of "sure people care about the genocide, but they also care about the price of eggs" as if these things are remotely comparable. because to her supporters, they are. to americans, the rest of the world does not even exist.

i said this on my instagram story and i'll say it again - we understand that the israeli elections are just a performance of democracy to pacify criticism of a violent genocidal apartheid system. none of us would really care if netanyahu stepped down tomorrow because we would see the bombings continue. well, america is the world's "israel"! to the rest of the world, america is that attack dog that only ever brings death and suffering. and regardless of which party is in charge, that doesn't change. and the democrats arent even hiding it anymore.

what the discourse around this election and seeing so many people i once respected voting for the genocide has taught me is that there is no red line for the majority of americans. we are the most self centered, narrow minded, backstabbing group of settlers on this earth. we have seen the terrorist organization that occupies the land we live on fund 70% of the most vile horrific crimes against humanity - the most nightmare inducing rapes, tortures, kidnappings, incarcerations, concentration camps, people being burned alive, people being ripped apart, rendered unrecognizable as human bodies, literally vaporized, killing over three hundred thousand people over thirteen months - and we still want the entities that did all this to exist tomorrow. we want to invest into a future in which all of this still exists.

and when asked to stop, we will threaten to do worse. a greater evil is imagined.

what does this make us?

....

i refuse to participate in this bullshit even to support a third party candidate. i refuse to be bought. i refuse to invest my time and energy into an institution that kills children. i don’t care who runs it.

i wanted to push back against this idea before the polls close as a sort of last ditch effort to be heard. i am not being heard right now. i have gotten into way too many arguments with people i once respected over why voting in favor of a genocide might not be the best idea. and every time i am met with utter disrespect - i am not treated as a person with a political perspective based on my experiences and learning, i am treated like an idiot. and the people voting for genocide are pragmatists, somehow. in lieu of a reason to disagree with me they resort to belittlement. i feel betrayed. i hope this rant changes some minds; if not, let it explain why i treat you differently now.

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nteyamsully · 2 years ago

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dad!neteyam were teenage reader gets into a fight and shes like really fucking angry and only neteyam can calm her down and its just loads off comfort and cutesy shit to heal my daddy issues

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

thank you for the request anon ! instead of teenage reader, i decided to make the reader as the mom but it still focuses on neteyam and his daughter. i just think it'd be cute too to have it from the mom perspective. i hope you enjoyed this <3 a part 2 is coming !

summary they say a fathers' first daughter is a female version of him. neteyam begs to differ because his princess has way too much fire in her than he did.

pairing dad! neteyam x oc! daughter, neteyam x reader

word count 1.7k

warnings edited, neteyam just being a dad girl, suggestive content, just youngest children doing what they want, mentions of bullying, violence such as punching, blood

glossary yawntutsyìp (darling), pa'li (direhorse)

PART 1 ; PART 2 (wip)

You always had believed that having four kids that weren't too old apart would be a wonderful family balance. The second child would have someone to look up to but also have the responsibility of looking after their younger siblings, the third child would not have to rely only on one older sibling but rather two, and the youngest would be able to learn and receive different insights on things from their older siblings.

Neteyam said that your ideas were always beautiful and well thought. He loved the idea of having a big family with you. And the two of you did.

Nutxe, your oldest child. While he has his mother's attributes, he behaves precisely like his father. His personality always makes you think of Neteyam. Ki'täm, your second child, was a blessing from Eywa a year later. Identical to his father in every way. Your mate has always made jokes about how three Neteyams would protect you because of how each of his sons were like him.

But you didn't stop there; two years later, you had another boy. Ateyo, your son who resembles you. Unlike his older brothers, he would rather spend his time in the deepest part of the forest. Violence had never been his thing, so becoming a warrior didn't come naturally to him.

A year later, Lili was born. Neteyam loves his sons with his whole heart, but when he his daughter came out of your womb, a new sense of protectiveness awakened in him. It was already clear to you that your babygirl would be a daddy’s girl.

She was constantly spoiled by Neteyam. He was always giving in to her doe eyes, which she used against him since she knew her father would never say no to her. Even as she was growing, she continued using the same tactic.

Your now-teenage children were leaving the hut as you watched them and spoke enthusiastically about being approved to stay a litte late after eclipse. You sighed disapprovingly and looked at your partner.

Incongruously, Neteyam smiled. He moved up to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he encircled your waist with his arms. “They have grown,” he solemnly said.

“No, Mr. Sully,” you laughed. “You do not get to escape this by throwing the trump card. You have to learn how to say no to Lili.”

“I cant believe she is thirteen now,” he sighs.

“Neteyam!” you exclaimed, slapping his hand that rested on your hip.

Your mate chuckles, digging his face on your neck. “I hear you, yawntutsyìp. But know it is difficult when our daughter is exactly like you. Ateyo doesn’t use it against me, but Lili does.”

“And she knows it. It almost feels like if our youngest child attempts murder, you would let her get away with it because she is your favourite.”

Neteyam pouted as he took a step back, holding your shoulders gently as he turns you around. “Lili would never attempt murder.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Enough.” Neteyam pulls you closer to him by tugging the band of your loincloth. “The children wont be here soon. Let’s do something fun.”

Your hands rested on his chest. Before a word could leave out of your mouth, he pressed his lips against yours. You didn’t realise how much you’ve missed having moments like this with Neteyam. It has been far too long.

“Cant believe that you managed to get Dad to say yes,” smiled Ki'täm.

Because their father was aware of the risks posed in Pandora, it was occasionally challenging to win his permission. As lovely as the forest is, it is also dangerous.

Nutxe scoffed, “That’s because this little manipulative baby sister of ours did her magic.” He playfully glared at her before pinching her cheeks.

Lili hissed and slapped his hand away. “Be thankful that I had dad say yes because I’m about to make your life more exciting than it was when you were my age,” she says proudly.

While rolling his eyes, Ateyo kept silent. His sister having anything she wants was never something he liked. At least when she hasn't done anything to deserve it. Never did their father treat them unfairly, though.

Neteyam promised that he would treat all of his children equally. The intense pressure from his father that he experienced as a teenager was something he didn't want with his children. While Neteyam adores his father, he can't help but admit that he was cruel at times.

Ki'täm noticed his younger brothers’ silence, observing how a frown formed on his face. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. “What is wrong? I thought you would love this.”

Ateyo clicked his tongue. “Mom didn’t look like she was happy about it. And you,” he looked at Lili, “stop acting so spoiled.”

Lili rolled her eyes. “This again. Jealous that I get to do whatever I want?”

“Why would I be jealous for being a spoiled brat?” he argued.

“What the hell is your problem?” she exclaimed. “You should thank me that you get to explore the forest around more.”

Ateyo clenched his jaw, holding himself back from raising his voice. He could feel his anger rising by the second and he knew the choice to keep his mouth shut is better. Lili never backs down from anything she sees as a challenge, and by the looks of her face, she sees her argument with her brother as one too.

He always had to be the bigger person between them.

Nutxe pushes his arm in between them quickly. “Stop. You are attracting other people,” he whispered harshly before looking around, making sure that his grandfather isn’t on sight to witness this.

Jake had witnessed far too many of their disputes and had reprimanded them much too frequently when they're involved in violent tussles with other kids. He is Olo’eyktan, it is his duty to make sure there is peace and harmony within the clan. It's not simple at all, especially with his grandchildren causing problems all around.

Just as Nutxe started to feel relieved that both of his siblings listened to him, it disappeared immediately when he heard a voice laced with venom speak up.

“Don’t bother, Nutxe. Your baby sister loves all the attention.”

Risei. She was the bully of the clan. When Lili was a little girl, she witnessed her wrongfully verbally abusing a young na'vi. They were ridiculed only for their personality trait and shyness. Lili reacted angrily to the Risei's audacity by confronting her, however it didn't end happily ever after. And that was how their rivalry began.

“Do not start, Risei,” Lili snarled, her fists clenched. Ki'täm held her forearm and urged her to walk away, but she didn't budge.

Risei mockingly laughed, “Is that supposed to be a threat? You look like a baby pa’li who reacts when they don’t get what they want!” She peered over her little group, seeing them chuckle at her words which made her ego boost.

Ki'täm begged, “Lili.” He didn’t want to get in trouble yet, not when he wanted to explore the forest after eclipse.

“Ah, I forget,” Risei snapped her fingers in fake realization, “You get what you want. You must not know how it feels like, is it why you’re acting like this? Did daddy not give you what you want?”

And something snapped in the youngest sibling. Lili pushed Ki'täm's hold off of her and scowled at Risei. The girl was too busy laughing with her companions to notice her menacing aura. Risei was caught off guard when she felt something hard make contact with her nose, which caused her to lose her footing and collapse to the ground.

“I am so sick of you,” Lili seethed. She didn’t give her time to process and hovered above Risei, continuously slamming her fist on to her.

Risei’s friends hissed and were about to grab Lili, but Ki'täm quickly wrapped his arms on one of them to stop them from getting near. “Nutxe, Ateyo, grab the other two!” he yelled.

Ateyo groaned. Following what his older brother instructed was not the best course of action, but at this point it seemed to be the only option. If a girl attacked his sister, he would gladly be violent for her, but he knows his father and grandfather would skin him alive. As a result, he followed Ki'täm's suggestion.

Nutxe rolled his eyes at their stupidity. He quickly stepped in front of one of Risei’s friends, preventing them from interfering. “Do not,” he ordered, which thankfully they listened. He turned back to his sister, seeing that she had completely executed her anger.

“Lili!” yelled Nutxe. He attempted to pull his sister off her by the shoulders, however, his efforts were futile because she withheld great strength. She’s not recognised as potentially the next best warrior of their clan for no reason.

But the calls of her name were unheard to her. All she could see is red. Truthfully, she wasn’t angry with Ateyo. Her disagreements with him were monotonous and repetitious, which irritated her. Risei had always bothered her and each time, she bottles up her anger to refrain herself from going feral. Bottling all that anger was clearly a bad idea because it still exploded violently.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!” A loud and authorative voice boomed. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop Lili. “Hey! That’s enough!” A pair of strong arms engulfed around her, carrying her off the ground. She growled and kicked her feet in the air.

“Lili te Suli (Y/N)’ite. That’s enough!”

Her eyes were still filled with rage, but she continued to breathe heavily. Jake studied Risei's features. A cut on her lip and brow, a broken and bleeding nose, and an eye that is beginning to bruise. He shook his head slowly.

“I am fine,” Lili grumbled in his arms.

Jake dropped her on the ground lightly, staring at his granddaughter intently. “Yeah, I could see that.”

Lo'ak arrived on the scene, wondering as to why everyone was gathered in a circle. His father, whose hands were on his hips and who had his niece in his line of sight, caught his attention first. Then he noticed a female who was weeping with a totally messed up face.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled, eyes wide.

Jake rubbed his temple. “Lo’ak, call your brother and his mate to meet in the family hut,” he looked at the three boys who stood in their positions nervously, “the rest of you follow me.”

Lili remained glued to the spot while keeping an eye on Risei. She was completely guilt-free. She had it coming to her. She deserved it after repeatedly harassing and tormenting defenceless people.

“Lili te Suli (Y/N)’ite. Lets go!”

The voice of the Olo’eyktan made her move. She knew she’s fucked when her parents will find out and her doe eyes wont work this time.

don't forget to reblog, like, and comment your thoughts <3

#avatar fanfiction #avatar twow #james cameron avatar #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully fic #neteyam fluff #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader #loak fanfiction #loak sully

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chdarling · 16 days ago

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I am in France and woke up this morning to discover the terrible news. So sorry for the american people and the entire world because the damages will be massive even outside the borders of the USA. Be brave and strong, I think about you, and send lots of love from here (where it is becoming pretty shitty too politically...)

Thank you. I’m incredibly, devastatingly sorry for what this will do to the rest of the world. I don’t even have words. Please know that while half of this country is apparently made up of disgusting Trump-voting fascist scum, there are nearly as many of us who did not want this, who fought so hard against it. It wasn’t enough, but please just know that millions of Americans do not want what happens next. I’m sorry.

#ch answers #I’m honestly numb today #I expect the violent wracking grief will show up in the coming days

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lanymme · 2 months ago

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Hi! : ) If fic requests are still open, can I ask for some HakuRin? Perhaps them being gay idiots while the student council are getting a little tired of their oblivious flirting?

It would be my pleasure! I love these two.

Can you believe they gave extraverse Rin such an interesting fetish and then never did anything with it?? Criminal.

Hakuno Kishinami gazes warily down the steps leading out of Elizabeth’s labyrinth and into the final floors before the core.

“… It’s almost showtime. Are you stocked up on healing items? If you don’t have enough, head back and stock up at the Commissary. The jamming is up, but if Meltryllis is waiting for us, you’ll end up fighting. Healing is fundamental; the most powerful strategy."

As always, Rin is right. Hakuno may not remember everything, but she knows she has always been relying on this girl to help her through difficult situations, even before they all formed the student council.

Ignoring Gilgamesh’s insensitive comments, she has to agree with him that, one way or another, her friend is one competent woman. She’s glad they’re on the same side.

She makes her way over to the gateway leading back to the school grounds, and leaves Elizabeth’s labyrinth behind. Vertigo comes over her as she enters that brief white void, and her senses fade back into attunement in the familiar student grounds. As always, the relief from the strange pressure of the labyrinth, so far under the dark waters of the Lunar Sea, is welcome.

Gilgamesh draws up next to her, armor clinking, and makes a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Go. Make your preparations. I have matters to attend to. Don’t keep me waiting.”

In a scatter of blue particles, he disappears, leaving Hakuno alone in the schoolyard. Waving to the contemplative NPC who always sits out against the wall and offers advice, she slides the door open and heads into their little refuge. The wood creaks familiarly underfoot as she crosses the floor.

Truthfully, it’s a relief. She knows she’ll have to face Meltryllis eventually, but she’s still nervous. It’s hard not to think what could happen if that woman catches her, to make peace with the fact that she ultimately has not control over whether they’re attacked. Gilgamesh is the most powerful trump card she could ask for, and even still…

She can't help remembering that spiked kneeplate, charging toward her. The bloodlust in that lovely voice.

Everyone they've lost.

She shivers.

That suspicious priest bows to her, but she can’t deal with him right at the moment. She needs some time with her thoughts.

So she heads up the stairs, and passes the Student Council Room where Rin and Rani are working hard as always, and makes her way to her own personal room to sit down. She closes her eyes, and takes a few deep breaths. It’s all going to work out, if they just keep doing their best, and never give up. The predictions of Seven Days Later don’t have to come true: they can stop it. She has to believe that.

Suddenly, she hears a knock and a polite cough at her door.

Her heart beats a little faster. She checks to make sure it’s all clean.

“Come in!”

Rin slides open her door and steps inside, shutting it behind her. Her face is a little flushed.

“Look!” She says, before Hakuno can say anything. “I just came by to do a follow up exam on you. It was my first time using the Ten Thousand Colored Stagnation, and I want to make sure I didn’t misplace anything in your frame when I changed your spiritron granularity.”

Hakuno considers reminding her that Sakura’s infirmary is just downstairs, but wisely decides against it.

“Okay,” she says. “Thank you. I’m glad to have someone like Rin looking after me. I’m in your hands, as always.”

Rin nods, matter-of-factly, and pulls her over to sit on the bed, a lingering hand resting on her shoulder.

She knows Rin handled it perfectly. But if Rin needs to confirm it for herself, that’s just as important.

Briefly, she communicates to Gilgamesh that she’s receiving a checkup, and that she might be a little bit late. All she receives in return is his laughter. Seriously, what a difficult Servant.

“Okay,” Rin says, imperiously. “Now strip.”

—

She sits there on the bed, uniform shirt off, while Rin examines her back, cool, slender fingers alternating between laying against her skin and clinking on her virtual keyboard. It’s, well. She’s a healthy young lady. It’s just a little embarrassing that Rin can probably see every change in her vitals.

Anyway, this is nice. She smiles fondly while her lecturer continues.

“—and you’re going to buy healing items and equipment like I said, right? You know all of us are relying on you. You have to do whatever you can to maximize your chances of survival, especially against an opponent like Meltyllis. Supplies and preparation are an essential factor in any form of conflict.”

“Of course! I always listen to Rin’s advice—I know I can always count on your support. I just. Well. Had to take a moment to calm my nerves.”

The next touch against her back is slightly less clinical, slightly more sentimental.

The permeable boundary between those two attitudes is just not fair to her heart.

“Anyway, I have more than enough money to throw around as it stands. It might feel nice to just dump a bunch of Sakurament into—Rin?”

Her friend freezes, hand against her back. One of her fingers twitches.

Ah. Right.

She remembers the neon figures of jewels and bills floating through the dark waters of Rin’s heart as she dived down to save her from BB’s control. “Hey! I don’t have a thing about money! I’m going to punch you!”

“…Rin?”

Briskly, her friend jumps up from the bed behind her, and starts making her way to the door without looking back.

“Well! Looks like you’re in good condition, you don’t need anything more from me. I’ll be in the Student Council Room monitoring your linkage to the school, so good luck out—“

“Wait.” Hakuno demands, standing up and taking her wrist. Rin still doesn’t turn back to look at her. “You know I wouldn’t judge you, or make fun of you, right? It’s… it’s okay.”

She can feel Rin’s heart beating in her wrist, fast and hard. She hears her swallow.

Her own heart is pounding in her ears. Her chest writhes with nerves.

It’s now or never.

She takes a step forward, then another, until she’s standing behind her, can feel her warmth.

Then she takes another step forward, one arm coming forward to wrap around Rin’s stomach, holding her tight, pressed up, against her back. That sweater is soft against her skin, and just a little rough.

She tries to put some steel into her voice. To give Rin some direction, something to hold onto, to calm herself. And. Well. Okay, her thoughts have been spinning ever since she saw Rin’s satisfied expression as Elizabeth whipped her with her tail, ever since she collected that Submission Desire SG. Maybe her intentions aren’t 100% pure.

“There’s something else I need you to do for me,” she says, gravely.

Is that… is that her own voice?

Rin trembles, slightly.

Desperately, she keeps hold of her thoughts.

She lets go of Rin’s wrist, still holding her around the waist, and manifests some of her saved up Sakurament with a stored hum. A thick, weighty stack of bills.

She reaches around, and presses them into Rin’s hand. Rin gasps.

“This is 20,000SM,” she says. She lets go of the money. Rin holds on.

Rin whimpers.

“Would you please,” she says, without a hint of question. “Go down to the commissary, and buy some healing items for me?”

She can feel the tension trembling in her friend’s body. She leans in close to her ear, and whispers. “I trust Rin’s decisionmaking to keep me safe.”

The sensation of Rin’s body melting in one ragged breath is the most erotic thing she’s ever felt.

“Y-yes,” she breathes.

“Thank you. Now go on.” She pushes Rin toward the door. “I’ll wait here.”

After Rin leaves, her legs turn to jelly. She sits back on her bed, supporting herself with her hands, and takes deep breaths to calm herself down.

After a few minutes, her heart finally stops racing, and she sighs, looking up at the ceiling.

Did she really just do that?

She has no idea where she got the nerves for something like that. She felt like she was going to pass out.

But more than that, Rin’s little reactions are carved in her memory. Maybe they’ll never go away.

Feeling her shiver. Feeling her relax. Feeling someone she’s always looked up to, admired and chased after giving up control to her. That moment where Rin’s trust in her took over her body.

Damn. Now she’s excited again. She can’t wait for Rin to get back.

She knows she has to face Meltryllis soon, but right now all she can think about is Rin.

And for now, that feels alright.

She realizes she’s still shirtless, and starts to dress herself, hands shaking with adrenaline

—

A few minutes later, there’s another knock on the door. Immediately, Hakuno’s heartbeat is back at full pace, nervousness swirling and tumbling in her chest. She stands up from the bed and opens it.

Rin is standing outside her door. Her face is flushed, and her brow twitches.

Hakuno steels herself, reaches deep down for the courage to push ahead.

She steps out of the way, and ushers Rin inside, who enters walking stiff-limbed.

“Here!”

Rin sticks out her arm toward Hakuno, a small item folder in her hand. She doesn’t look at her.

Hakuno takes it and stows it in her inventory.

“Thank you. I can always count on Rin.”

“You…!” she whips around. “Aren’t you even going to check out what I bought?”

She sounds angry, but looks nervous.

Ah.

Hakuno looks her in the eyes. Earnestly, seriously, she says, “Why would I have to? I know you made the right selection. I asked you because you’re the most competent person I know.”

Rin colors.

“You did what I said, right?”

She nods.

“Good,” Hakuno confirms.

Rin shivers. Her eyes are looking a bit hazy again. Hakuno’s stomach flips. Maybe it’s not fair to push her buttons like this, but Hakuno is doing it. She’s not stopping now.

I”n that case, I have something else I need you to do for me,” she says, with false confidence. She half expects Rin to snip at her for overstepping but… but instead, she’s staring at her, waiting, like Hakuno hung the moon.

Oh. Her eyes look so soft. She looks so relaxed, breathing fast and deep and even. Hakuno swallows.

“I need you to take this for me,” she hears herself say. She raises her hand, and a stack of 20,000 materializes in it. Rin’s eyes track to it like magnets. Hakuno is so turned on she feels like she might faint.

She presses the bills into Rin’s hand, folds the fingers around them. Rin watches it happen, breaths coming quickly, and then looks up at her, expectantly, waiting.

Adorable.

But she doesn’t tell her what to do. Instead, she materializes another stack in her hands.

Rin looks nervous.

She presses them into her other hand. Rin’s eyes track between her outstretched hands. She squeezes the wads of bills, eyes slamming shut, and shivers.

But she opens them again when Hakuno pulls out another stack. She stares up at her, pleading, as Hakuno presses it into her hand, balancing it between the other two. Her eyes say it for her.

It’s too much.

Hakuno pulls out another stack of bills.

Whether her life lasts only the next couple hours or seventy more years, she’ll remember the sound Rin makes until she dies.

Rin holds the 80,000SM in her hands, staring at it in disbelief. Hakuno heroically tries not to melt into a puddle, and instead circles around behind her, starts massaging her arms.

“That’s all yours. I’m giving it to you,” she says.

Rin whines.

But before she can object, Hakuno continues. “But Rin, I want you to do something. Would you please buy me a Mystic Code, and… whatever pair of socks you like best?” She laces her arms around Rin’s waist, and rests her chin on her shoulder. Rin melts into her hold. “It’s your choice,” she murmurs, her own breaths shaking. “The money is yours. But will you spend it all on me, if I ask you to?”

Rin takes one stuttering breath, and then another, and then another. She swallows.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll do it.”

—

“U-um, just to be safe, I checked if Kishinami’s condition was normal,” Sakura offers, her voice coming in clearly, if compressed, over the communication line.

Hakuno blows a foggy breath between her hands, and tucks them into her armpits. She looks around in the icy chill of Meltryllis’s hostile, forbidding Labyrinth, eyes tracking to each intersection in sight. Just in case.

“And then… well, it’s just that the temperature is cold on this floor, so I tried to raise Senpai’s body temperature a bit… but it won’t go up. Out of curiosity, I, um, secretly administered a healing item. The effect was negated.”

What.

“HUH?!”

“… I see. Considering this floor represents her “Sadistic Constitution,” it makes sense for it to have this characteristic.” Rani is unshakable as ever.

Hakuno hears a distant scream of frustration come over through Rani’s audio connection. “But it seems Miss Tohsaka is upset by this.”

Gilgamesh laughs heartily at their mistake.

“…Hakunooon, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I still think it was money well-spent.”

After all. The tights Rin put on her are doing a pretty good job of keeping her warm.

#ficlet requests #request fill #rin tohsaka #tohsaka rin #hakuno kishinami #kishinami hakuno #hakurin #fate extra ccc #fate/extra ccc #fate series #my writing

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year ago

Text

Delicate (Superstar Chapter 4)

Sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

'Cause I like you

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it chill that you're in my head?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Roy and the Reader deal with the aftermath of petty jealousy.

Roy Kent x Reader

5.9k words

Warnings: Language, some tension and innuendo, angst that made my heart hurt

“She’s my assistant.”

“Poor thing.”

The words kept floating in my head as I leaned against the exterior of the building, thankful that the photographers had left hours ago, not that they’d pay any mind to me. It wasn’t like I was a gorgeous model, or the ex-girlfriend of a famous footballer. Not like Brittany fucking Brett. Brittany Brett, who probably had her tongue shoved down Roy’s throat as he forgot all about nights cuddled in our booth as Rose brought us our usual drinks at the pub. Or texting each other dinner plans while Ted went off on one of his incoherent rambles in his office. Or humming “Something Good” in my ear as he passed me on the pitch. Or the dozens of little moments of kisses and touches and glances filled with fondness, all seeming to hint towards the something real that Roy had told Jamie he wanted.

Honestly, I should have known better. He was Roy "Here There Every-fucking-where" Kent. I was no one special. Girls all over England probably grew up with his posters on their walls and screamed his name at games. I just happened to be the one to share an office with the man. I probably just provided him with a fun, flirty distraction while he waited for Brittany Brett, who the tabloids more than once referred to as Roy's "one who got away". In twenty years, I'd chuckle fondly as I recounted my brief fling with Roy freaking Kent with friends at a party, maybe make a viral post about his love for The Sound of Music, and be little less than a memory to him.

I’d have to be mature. Agree that what we had was fun and assure him that I could stay professional. I was sure I could at least get through the rest of the season before sheepishly thanking Ted and Rebecca for the opportunity to be a Greyhound and asking for a good recommendation.

“Shit! There you are!”

Keeley looked wild and panicky as she approached me. I groaned, not needing her commentary on Brittany Brett, who was probably a good friend of hers from Keeley’s modeling days, sharing that Gorgeous Girl™ bond that surely trumped any burgeoning workplace friendship.

“Are you alright?” she continued. “What’d he do to you?”

I rolled my eyes at Keeley’s dramatics. “Fuck’s sake, Roy didn’t do shit,” I muttered. “He has every right-”

Keeley shook her head frantically, hair flying. “What? No, Richard. Roy’s in there ready to pummel him. I’ve got Jamie trying to calm him down, which was probably not the best idea.”

“Fuck.”

I turned and rushed back into the venue, mentally cursing Keeley for helping me find shoes that, while gorgeous with my dress, were not made for running.

The party was still in full swing, no signs of drama. I turned back to Keeley, who grabbed my hand and led me out a side door, to a smaller party room that was clearly not prepared for any guests, judging by its bright lights and lack of decorations. Sure enough, Roy, Jamie, and Richard all stood there, Roy’s face uncharacteristically expressive. Of course, that expression was pure rage.

“The fuck did you do?!” he was bellowing as Jamie did his best to hold Roy back, sputtering something about calming the fuck down, Grandpa, which was clearly not helping matters.

Richard, showing no signs of panic on his face, held his hands up defensively. “Nothing! She just said she wasn’t feeling well and ran off! She is probably just in the bathroom.”

“Bullshit!” Roy nearly broke free of Jamie’s grasp.

“Roy!” I hissed, stepping forward to grab his arm as Keeley made sure the door was closed. “What the fuck?”

He turned his firey gaze to me, his eyes full of rage. “The fuck did he do to you?” he demanded. “I saw you run out of there like your fucking hair was on fire.”

“He didn’t do shit,” I said in a rush. “I wasn’t fucking feeling good. I had about a million drinks, in case you forgot. Needed some fucking air.” I huffed, crossing my arms across my chest. “You can’t kill one of your players. If nothing else, it’s bad for recruiting.” I stared at him, trying to ignore the warmth that I felt seeing the protectiveness in his face. “Just fucking stop,” I added quietly. “Just leave Richard alone and go out there and act like you didn’t just make an absolute arse of yourself.” I turned to Keeley. “I’m sorry about this,” I grumbled. “Clearly, I’m not the only one who drank too much. If this causes any issues in the press, let me know. I’ll help you clean up Roy’s mess.” I glared at Roy, who was still behind Jamie’s arm, though no longer trying to fight his way through the player. “I’m his fucking assistant, after all. Part of my job.”

Keeley shook her head and sighed, confusion in her eyes. “No, it’s all fine. Jamie and I were able to get them in here before anyone noticed anything was amiss.” She nodded to Montlaur. “But in case anyone’s being nosy, Richard, you should head on out. Jamie and I’ll come along in a moment. That way it’s not just a big group of us coming out all at once.” She offered up a small smirk in my direction. “Though we’d probably look like we just had the hottest orgy in the history of football.”

Her attempt to break the tension with humor only worked on Jamie and Richard, who let out soft chuckles.

I approached Richard, not giving a flying fuck that Roy was watching me intensely. “I’m really sorry for Roy,” I mumbled. “He clearly misinterpreted what he saw and got protective.” I shot daggers at Roy again before turning back to Richard. “I hope this doesn’t make work… weird.”

Richard shook his head, completely affable despite the drama. “Oh please. This is nothing compared to the husbands and boyfriends I have had to deal with. Especially the ones that found me still in their beds!” He laughed amiably before glancing warily at Roy. “But perhaps I will not ask you again to dance. And, sadly, I will not give you a kiss goodbye.” With an awkward smile, he turned and walked out, the noise of the party bursting through the door before it closed again, leaving the four of us in silence.

Keeley popped her lips. “Well, that was fun.” She glanced at Roy, who was red in the face and pacing, then back to me. “You gonna be alright?” Her eyes told me that Jamie could wait with Roy if I wanted to leave with her. That I didn’t need to deal with whatever this was, and that whatever this was, she wouldn’t ask. At least, not tonight.

“I’m fine,” I assured Keeley with a weak smile. “I’ll be out there in a bit, yeah?”

Keeley nodded then grabbed Jamie by the arm. Jamie shot me an apologetic smile and landed a friendly punch on my arm before following Keeley back to the party. Once again, the room was filled with the sounds of music, dancing, and fun, before giving way to the tense silence.

Roy stopped pacing, his face now more of a pink than red, and stared at me. “What the fuck?” he asked. It was a hoarse whisper, barely leaving his lips, and his eyes were filled with question marks.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I countered, perching myself up on one of the empty tables that dotted the room. “Why the hell were you trying to kill Montlaur? I know you think he’s prickish and all-”

“Because he’s a fucking prick!” Roy practically shouted. “And-and I told you I thought he was a prick to ask you out because we all know exactly what he’s interested in and then I turn and see you fucking clinging to him and suddenly you’re running out of the room looking like you’re about to fucking cry, what the fuck am I supposed to think?”

A hollow laugh escaped my lungs. “No. Back the fuck up, Roy. What happened between the dancing with Montlaur and the running out of the room?”

Roy stared at me in silence for a moment, his shoulders slumped as the gears in his head turned. “The fuck are you on about?”

“Okay.” I slammed my hands on my thighs and stood back up, making my way past Roy and towards the doors. “That’s how it’s going to be then. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. Lookin’ forward to seeing photos of you and Brittany Brett’s reunion in The Sun tomorrow. See you Monday.”

Roy reached out and grabbed my arm, his grip firm but tender. “Is that what this is all about?” His voice was as soft as his face, thick eyebrows raised. “Brittany fucking Brett?”

Apparently, I hit my boiling point. “Of course it’s about Brittany fucking Brett, Roy! Fuck! You spend weeks all over me, taking me out, singing along to the fucking Sound of Music at my place, you practically tell me you want me to be your date to this shit next year, you make me feel special, like I matter to you, and then you turn around and kiss your ex-girlfriend.” I pulled out of Roy’s grasp and crossed my arms. “Which, I mean, that’s your own damn business, I guess. You’re single, after all. She’s single. So, go. Be hot and rich and famous together.”

A deep frown twisted Roy’s face, his eyebrows more furrowed than I’d ever seen. “Single?” he repeated, practically spitting out the word. “You think I’m single? I’m not fucking single.” He shook his head earnestly. “I… I haven’t considered myself single since….” He glanced up at the ceiling and shrugged. “Well, fuck, since we kissed at your parents’ house surrounded by all those fucking posters of me.” He looked back down at me.

My breath caught in my throat as I gazed into those brown eyes that stared at me with that familiar anxiety swimming around. “Then… then why’d you kiss her?” My mouth felt dry as I prayed that the next words out of Roy’s mouth would magically fix things.

He shook his head earnestly. “No, no. I didn’t fucking kiss her.” He sighed and placed a tentative hand on my arm. “She kissed me. And I immediately pushed her off me, which you fucking missed apparently. Told her I’m seeing someone that I really like. And that even if I wasn’t- which I am,” he clarified tugging me closer when he realized I wasn’t fighting him, “-I wouldn’t want fuck all to do with her.” He looked down at me. “Don’t you remember what I told you on our first date?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re the only person that has ever made me feel like you want me.” He scoffed and nodded towards the door, towards the party. “How d’you think Brittney Brett made me feel? Like I was some fucking accessory, this thing that would get her photo in the press more if I was next to her. You would never make me feel that way. It’s one of the many, many things I adore about you.”

“Oh.” I looked down at our shoes, blinking as I turned Roy’s words over in my head, my stomach and heart doing flips that Olympic gymnasts could only dream of.

“Oh?” Roy dipped his head. “That’s all you’ve got? Oh?” A hint of a smile graced his lips. “Come on. Put me out of my fucking misery here.” His arm wrapped around my waist. “Tell me… tell me we’re okay,” he whispered.

His eyes were still full of that anxiety, but now it was mixed with hope as he bit on his bottom lip, waiting for me to answer. I gulped, my head spinning from the alcohol and the events of the evening and whatever woodsy cologne Roy had on that I knew he was wearing just for me.

Roy sighed, his hand tracing gentle circles on my back. “Or we could go out there and enjoy the rest of our evening, and we can come back to this tomorrow?” He leaned his head against mine. “Come on, I’ve got some dopey surprise for you. Been looking forward to it all night. Real fucking romantic.”

I lifted my head. “You’ve got a surprise for me?” The corners of my mouth turned upwards in spite of myself. “A romantic one?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, tapping his nose against mine. “So why don’t we get back out there before Keeley tells everyone we’re shagging in here?” He squinted at me. “Unless…”

Now completely smiling, I smacked Roy’s arm. “Come on. I want to see this surprise.” I slipped out of Roy’s grasp and took his hand, leading him towards the door. Just before I reached for the doorknob, Roy pulled me back to himself. “What?” I laughed, the weight on my chest dissipating.

“Just gotta do this first.” His hand cupped my face and he leaned close, pressing his lips to mine for the first time that evening. His grip on me tightened as his lips parted slightly, allowing me to taste the beer he’d been drinking all night. In the back of my head, I thanked Keeley for her high-end, smudge-free lipstick that would hopefully not create an obvious mess on Roy’s face.

When we parted, Roy smiled at me. As if he could read my mind, he hummed, “Am I wearing your lipstick now?” In response, I simply wiped away the small spot of red that I had left on the edge of his mouth, then shook my head to confirm that he was good. He studied my lips carefully. “Alright. If we don’t go out there now, we might never leave.”

He opened the door and gestured for me to lead the way like a gentleman, keeping a friendly distance as we rejoined the festivities.

“Alright, Kent,” I started over the music. “What’s this surprise?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “Should be happening in about three minutes,” he mumbled. “Why don’t we grab a drink?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Only if I can come to the bar with you,” I teased dryly, hoping it wasn’t too soon to joke.

His dramatic eyeroll assured me it wasn’t. “Come on then.”

As we walked to the bar, we passed Jamie and Keeley, who both eyed us curiously. Roy gave them a curt nod and I shot Keeley a small thumbs up, assuring her that all was good. I knew she’d either corner me later in the night with cheeky accusations or call me the next day demanding details of what had happened in that room after they left, but for now, all I wanted to do was be with Roy.

Once we were settled at the bar, drinks in hand, I turned to Roy. “Alright, what’s the surprise?”

He shook his head. “Nope. You’ll know it when you hear it.”

“Hmmf.” My gaze turned to the dance floor, where our friends and coworkers were moving to the admittedly great band, having a blast. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched them and enjoyed my drink. “D’you ever dance at this thing?”

“Not if I can fucking help it.” His eyes wandered to the stage, where the band was wrapping up their song. “But I might have to make an exception tonight.”

I took another sip of my drink. “What do-”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the band’s singer, a woman with dark, wild hair and a flowing dress, called out, “we had an anonymous request earlier this evening that we are thrilled to fulfill. We hope there’s some Julie Andrews fans out there.” She plucked at her guitar, creating a familiar dreamy tune.

“Perhaps I had a wicked childhood,” she sang. “Perhaps I had a miserable youth.”

I turned to Roy, my mouth slightly ajar. “The Sound of Music. Was this you?”

He shrugged, placing his half-finished beer on the bar and taking my glass from me. “Do you see any other Captain von Trapp-ish grumps around here?” He took my hand and nodded towards the dance floor. “Let’s go.”

My heart hammered as Roy led the way. I wondered if everyone could see the flush covering my face, even in the dim lighting. On the dance floor, Roy kept my hand in his, placing his free hand on the small of my back while mine rested on his shoulder. He kept a respectable distance, not exactly a professional one for two coworkers, but nothing anyone would bat an eye at. Not that it mattered; I could not care less about anyone else around us. Not Keeley and all her teasing, not Richard and his flirtatious ways, not even Brittany Brett. All I wanted was to be close to Roy and feel his warm breath on my cheek as he quietly sang the words to Something Good in my ear.

The rest of the night was miraculous and wonderful. Roy assured me that I could dance with other people without him throwing another fit- so I did. I danced all night as Roy watched. He laughed with Keeley as Jamie and I attempted to do the robot together and smiled as Dani Rojas twirled me around and clapped as Sam Obisanya dipped me dramatically and rolled his eyes good-naturedly while Ted held my hand in an attempt to teach everyone some square-dancing moves. After a particularly fun salsa with Isaac McAdoo, I approached Roy back at our table, who held out a glass of water to me.

“Having fun out there?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

I nodded. “An absolute blast. My feet are killing me though.”

“Guess I’ll have to fucking carry you home,” Roy joked, the fondness in his eyes telling me that he wouldn’t mind one bit.

“Looks like it,” I agreed with a smirk.

The band’s singer called for everyone’s attention. “We hope you’ve had a fabulous time tonight,” she began. “But unfortunately, it’s time for us say goodnight. On behalf of Rebecca Welton and everyone at A.F.C. Richmond, thank you so much for joining us and for all your support and generosity. Here’s one more song before we go.”

I turned to Roy. “Are you ready to head out then?” A small part of me was hoping for some alone time before calling it a night.

To my surprise, Roy shook his head. “Did you really forget? You promised me the last dance.”

I laughed and downed the rest of my water. “Were you serious about that?”

“Dead fucking serious.”

He grabbed my hand and stood, pulling me up with him. He kept my hand in his as he led me to the dance floor, giving it a small squeeze as he pulled me towards him. He placed his free hand on my waist, just as he had earlier. But now he pressed me close to his chest, definitely closer than two platonic, casual coworkers should be.

“But don’t forget who’s taking you home and in whose arms you’re gonna be, so darlin’ save the last dance for me,” the band sang.

“Are you alright?” Roy asked, leaning down towards me. “Tonight…. Didn’t exactly go the way either of us had hoped.”

“No, it did not,” I agreed, wincing slightly. “But I think we did a good job of salvaging things, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Believe it or not, even with almost killing Montlaur, this is the best fucking time I’ve ever had at this thing. Mostly because I didn’t get auctioned off like a fucking basket of fruit.” The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. “And because I got to spend time with you.” He somehow managed to pull me even closer, close enough so I could feel his heart beating. “Not nearly enough time though,” he added. “And I’m sorry about that.”

I shook my head. “We’re okay,” I assured him. “At least, I hope we are.”

“How about we talk tomorrow?” he offered. “We’ll have a good night’s rest and be sober, and we can talk about whatever shit we need to talk about.” He squeezed my hand. “How’s that sound?”

“I… think it’s a good idea.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, by the way.”

I tilted my head in confusion. “For what?”

“Saving the last dance for me.”

Roy walked me up to my apartment, his suit jacket having been wrapped around my shoulders since we left the venue. We paused at my door, the way we had for weeks now. He smiled down at me in that same way, softness in his eyes, lifting his hand to touch my hair.

“Well, I’m just glad the night didn’t end fucked,” he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. “You sure know how to end a date.”

“This was a date then?” he asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Eh.” I shrugged. “Depends, are you going to kiss me goodnight?”

His mouth was on mine in less than an instant. He pulled me tight against himself, one arm completely wrapped around my waist as I pulled him down to me by his tie. His tongue grazed my mouth, asking permission. I obliged, tasting beer and a hint of the chocolate cupcake he’d shared with me towards the end of the night. His hand that was still tangled in my hair tugged a little, trying to pull me closer to himself. We were a tangle of lips and tongues and hot breath and soft moans, neither of us caring about the possibility of someone seeing us.

I pulled back mere centimeters, just enough to whisper, “You want to come in?”

Roy gave a little groan, pressing his forehead against mine. “I want to. I definitely fucking want to. But I think we should say goodnight til we talk tomorrow, yeah?” He stroked my cheek, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Want to make sure we’re on the same page about things.” He paused, his thumb ghosting over my bottom lip. “Come over tomorrow. I’ll make you dinner.

The disappointment I had felt a moment ago melted and gave way to delight. “Roy Kent can cook?” I teased, fiddling with his tie.

He smirked with pride as his hand rubbed my hip. “Fuck yeah, Roy Kent can cook.” He kissed my lips, pulling away as my mouth chased his. “Tomorrow then?”

I groaned and buried my head in his chest, drunk off the drinks and Roy’s kisses. “Fine. Tomorrow.” I looked up at him. “One more for the road?” I purred, giving my best pout.

“You needy thing,” he chuckled, planting one more kiss on my lips before pulling away with finality. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised.

My mobile went off as I was lounging in bed late the next morning, smiling at Roy’s jacket draped over my bedroom door. I picked up the phone, my mind still back in front of my door, where Roy’s kiss had made my knees weak.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice dreamy.

“Alright, what the fuck happened?” Keeley’s squeals brought me back to reality.

I scrambled to sit up. “Morning Keeley!” I choked out, hoping I sounded breezy and casual. “How’re you? You have fun last night? Does Jamie remember doing the robot with me or was he too sloshed?”

I could practically feel her roll her eyes through the phone. “Oh no, we’re not playing this game. You owe me all the details about what happened with Roy last night. Spill.”

“Nothing!” I blurted, probably a bit too quickly. “We talked. He told me he thought Montlaur did something to hurt me and got protective. I mean, we share an office, we see each other every day, I kind of get why he’d be protective of me. Plus, you saw how much he drank, he probably doesn’t even remember what happened.” I cleared my throat. “So, we’re good. I’ll probably talk to him on Monday about apologizing to Montlaur, but other than that, I think we can all just forget what happened.”

“What about all the dancing?” Keeley challenged. “Roy never dances at the gala. Even when he’s brought a date, he’s good for maybe one dance. He danced with you what, like four or five times?”

I scoffed, flopping back onto my bed. “We danced twice,” I corrected Keeley. “As friends.”

Keeley hummed. “Oh, so you counted?”

“Shove off, Keeley,” I groaned, eyeing Roy’s jacket again. “Can’t you just accept that Roy and I are friends? I mean, shit, that’s headline enough.”

“Friends huh?”

“Yes!”

Keeley cleared her throat. “Then did your friend Roy Kent say anything about Brittany Brett? I’m desperate to know what happened there.”

My cheeks burned; I was hoping to forget that Brittany Brett had been at the party. “Nope. Didn’t say a word,” I said shortly. “Don’t know a thing.”

“Aw, babe,” Keeley clucked. “No need to be jealous. That’s long over from what I’ve heard.”

“’m not jealous,” I grumbled. But damn, I couldn’t resist the bait. “What have you heard?”

Keeley gave a small giggle. “Why don’t you come over tonight for a good old-fashioned sleepover? I can give you all the gossip like we’re little schoolgirls. We’ll throw on our pyjamas, get tipsy, sing some Spice Girl songs, crank call Jamie. Fuck, we can even go play knock-and-run at Roy’s place. Maybe we’ll catch a glimpse of him shirtless.”

Damn, this woman was a great friend. “Aww, Keeley, I’d love to hang out,” I started. “But I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Next time!” she gushed, unbothered. “What’s up tonight?”

“Oh, just some family stuff. Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid.”

Keeley gave a small hum. “Maybe brunch tomorrow?”

I nodded into the phone. “Sounds great.”

We stayed on the line for a few more minutes, making plans to meet for brunch at one of Keeley’s favorite places and agreeing that she should invite Rebecca to join us. After a couple more attempts on Keeley’s end to find out any dirty details about what happened between me and Roy, we hung up. Sometime during the call, I’d received a text message from Roy:

Can’t wait to see you

Of course Roy Kent’s house was huge. Of course it was. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the man was a retired football star. But standing in front of his house- mansion, practically- I was reminded all over again that this was the man on all those posters in my parents’ house. Roy “Here-There-Everywhere” Kent.

I stood tentatively in front of his door, debating if I should ring the bell or just send him a text to let him know I’d arrived. As I debated my choices and played with the hem of the dress that suddenly felt too short and too dressy, the door opened. Roy stood in the doorway, wearing the black slacks and shirt he’d been wearing on our first date. His eyes took their time eagerly traveling up my figure and to my face, where they settled tenderly.

“Fuck,” he whispered, cracking a full smile. “How’d you manage to look more gorgeous than you did last night?”

My face burned at the compliment. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” I answered, trying to sound casual as he ushered me in. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Got some sensor shit on the door,” he explained matter-of-factly as he closed the door behind me. “I dunno, Beard set it up for me. Man’s fucking paranoid.”

“Hmm.”

That was all I could manage as I took in Roy’s house. It was spacious, airier and lighter than I expected. I smiled as I recognized photos of his niece and sister everywhere, as well as an older man I assumed was his grandad.

“Sorry I don’t have posters of you all over the place,” he teased, taking my hand to lead me to the kitchen. “Could you believe they were sold out of you at the administrative-assistant-poster store?”

“Oh yeah, I’m really popular,” I played along as Roy pulled out a stool at the kitchen island for me to sit on. “Let me know if you want my autograph.”

He turned to the stove, stirring something in a pot. “How much d’you think I could get for it on eBay?”

“Enough to buy a nicer house. Sorry to break it to you, Roy, but this place is a regular shithole.”

Roy practically choked on his laughter. “Oi, now you’re getting personal.” He turned and faced me. “I’m really fucking glad you’re here,” he said softly.

My blush returned. “Me too.” I sat up to take a good look at the stove, trying to see what smelled so delicious. “Need any help?” I offered.

“Fuck no. You just relax.” He nodded towards a fully stocked bar in the adjoining dining room. “Drink? Or have you sworn off alcohol after last night?”

I shook my head. “I’ll take a drink,” I assured him.

Roy crossed over to the bar, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder as he passed me. When he returned, he placed two drinks on the island, the same one I ordered every time we went to the pub. He then served dinner and laid one of the bowls in front of me.

“Beef tzimmes,” he announced, sitting across from me. “My grandad used to make this for me when I was a kid. First thing he ever taught me how to make.”

I could feel my eyes light up as I took my first bite. “Shit, this is good!”

“Glad to know Phoebe’s not lying to me then,” Roy muttered as he began to eat his own bowl.

We ate comfortably, drinking and laughing and sharing jokes, as if nothing had transpired the night before. It felt like every other time we’d hung out; comfortable, relaxed, but charged with the attraction we shared. God, it was good to know that we could still be like this.

Roy cleared the bowls and left them in the sink before helping me out of my seat. “Wanna go sit outside? We can have our chat.”

My breath caught for a moment as I remembered why I was there in the first place; a serious talk awaited us. Roy placed a reassuring kiss on my forehead and grabbed our drinks, leading me out to his patio. I settled in a loveseat while he turned on a set of string lights.

“My sister made me get these,” he grumbled as he joined me, handing me my drink.

“She has good taste,” I remarked as I leaned back.

Roy snorted. “In fucking lights, maybe. In men…” He bobbled his head, making a face. He caught my unsure expression. “Sorry. You didn’t come here to listen to me rant about Phoebe’s shit dad.”

“Not this time,” I joked, trying to break the tension.

He leaned back, laying his arm around my shoulders. “So,” he started, his face suddenly serious.

“So,” I repeated.

Roy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry again. Really fucking sorry.” He turned his body to face me properly. “I’m sorry for trying to kill Montlaur. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and not talking to you. And I’m really fucking sorry you had to see Brittany Brett kiss me.” He shook his head and looked at me with those anxious eyes. “D’you forgive me?”

My heart tugged gently in my chest. “Of course.” I laid my hand on Roy’s thigh. “I’m sorry for screaming at you. And for trying to make you jealous. And for making you apologize to Richard.”

He frowned, confused. “You didn’t make me apologize.”

“No, I was saving that for Monday.”

“Fair enough.” He rested his free hand on top of mine. “Why’d you get so jealous?”

I shifted in my seat. “I mean… have you seen that woman? She’s literally a model.”

Roy shrugged. “So’s Keeley. You didn’t seem to care when she danced with me while you and Jamie did what I can only assume was an attempt at the robot.”

“Keeley’s not your ex,” I pointed out. “Brittany Brett is. And she was hanging all over you, and oh yeah, she kissed you.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “And I just don’t get why you were talking to her,” I admitted. “You say you want nothing to do with her, and that she made you feel like shit, so I don’t know why you would hang out with her at the bar.”

“No, that’s fair,” Roy agreed. “See…” He tilted his head back, thinking. “We went out during this really fucked time in my life. I was already starting to realize that I was passing my prime. And I was starting to get fucking scared that I’d never be a superstar again. And being with this internationally known model allowed me to pretend that I would be a hotshot forever.” He paused. “And then she dumped me for someone who was actually in the prime of their career. Which, obviously, felt fucking great.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I guess seeing her for the first time since then brought back some of those feelings of not being good enough anymore. And I guess I wanted to show her that I’m doing great.” He squeezed my hand. “Really great since I started seeing you.” He let out a growling sigh. “And once she started flirting, I think some part of me wanted to reject her this time,” he admitted. “But it absolutely wasn’t worth it seeing how things turned out.” He cleared his throat, looking down. “That’s some stupid shit, eh?”

I quickly shook my head. “I mean, it still hurt, but I get it now.” I paused, giving the ground a small kick. “I didn’t really appreciate the whole ‘she’s just my assistant’ shit though.”

Roy let out a dry chuckle. “Also fair,” he conceded. “Sorry about th-” He stopped, thick brows creased. “Wait, how’d you know that?”

“I may have been eavesdropping,” I muttered. “That’s about the point where I felt really shitty and dragged Richard out on the dance floor to make you jealous.”

“Hmmf.” Roy stared at me thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “D’you consider yourself single?”

I blushed, remembering the way I had yelled at Roy the night before. “Not really,” I admitted. “I haven’t even thought about another guy since the first time you bought me kebabs for lunch.”

“And I told you last night, I haven’t thought of myself as a single guy since that night at your parents’,” he reminded me. His fingers drummed on my shoulder. “I think the problem is, we didn’t think of each other as not being single.”

“What d’you mean?” I asked; Roy was talking in circles.

He shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think either of us would have been so fucking jealous if… if we both knew we’re both not single.” He glanced up at the string lights, face twisted in uncertainty. “Is that right?”

Something in my brain clicked. “Roy, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Don’t talk like we’re fucking thirteen behind a Tesco,” he snarled. “But yeah, sure, however you want to fucking call it.” He leaned close, eyes searching mine. “I just want you to know I’m yours. That’s all. And I’d like to know that you’re mine. Because if we know that, then all the other shit- ex-girlfriends and stupid French pricks- none of it’ll matter. Because we’ll know how we feel.” He shrugged. “What d’you say?”

I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his harshly, desperate to show him how heartily I agreed with him. “I think it’s a damn good idea,” I mumbled against his mouth.

#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #Roy Kent Superstar #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 4 months ago

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Sweet Decadence || Part 2 of 2 || Bi-Han/Sub-Zero

A/n: After so long, this part is finally finished. I am happy to share it with you. Thank you for your patience and the lovely comments. Please enjoy.

Also, when I first started this, I was under the impression that Sektor was a male due to Bi-Han's tower ending. I went back and changed the first chapter to make her female.

Warning(s): Kidnapping, snide comments, restraints, female reader insert, mixed emotions, bratty reader, Bi-Han being Bi-Han, rough sex, oral (m), sloppy make-out, slight begging, teasing, shock bracelet.

No Minors Allowed!!

You rouse to the undeniable sound of a train clacking over the joints in the track. Its jerky movement, to your dismay, threatens to put you back to sleep, but you can not ignore the icy chill that nips at your skin or the fact you should be dead.

“You can tell him yourself.”

The words Cyrax had spoken to you before you fell unconscious make sense now. She did not mean to kill you but to knock you unconscious. Whatever is in your system is making it hard to stay awake. This is not good. Forcing your eyes open, you glance around and take note that you are in a train cart, one loaded with numerous boxes. Based on your restrictive movement, you are no doubt by something, and to make matters worse, you are also gagged with a silicone bit. The two assholes did their homework it seems. But why? Is there a reason they kidnapped you?

A slow, taunting clap directs your attention to the corner of the cart below you as Sektor ambles out.

“Our fiery kunoichi awakens.”

You tell her to go fuck herself, but the bit hinders and slurs your words. Sektor does not seem to care either way. She squats beside you, looking you over.

“I thought that you would never wake up,” she states.

“You have little trust in me,” Cyrax interjects as she strolls through the cart from the same area that Sektor had come from. “I gave her a simple anesthetic gas. It sent her into a reversible coma, but I've been monitoring her.”

Isn't that fucking great? You turn up your eyes. No wonder you are extremely groggy.

“You've got luck on your side,” Sektor jests. She stands, then to your annoyance, nudges you with her foot. “We're nearly home.”

Home. Does she mean Arctika? You widen your eyes. Why are they taking you back? Did Bi-Han order them to?

“It's too bad he considers you a waste.”

A ruse. You bite down hard on the bit.

They baited me.

While you do not believe the attack on the town had been to draw you out, you do believe that you presented them with the perfect chance to kidnap you.

It irritates you to no end. Bi-Han has you in the palm of his hand, and no matter how far you run from him, a yearning to be with him drags you right back. It worries you just what sort of mindset you will be in when you see him.

Fuck. What do you do?

You figure that you can try to escape. The issue is the bit. With it in your mouth, you can not use your trump card. Then there is the anesthetic. Whatever is still in your system is hindering your ability to focus. Against both assassins, the chances of fleeing are slim to none. You groan, resting your head against the floor. There is no point in trying if you are sure it won't work. For the time being, you allow the vibration of the train to lull you to sleep.

After deboarding in Arctika, Sektor and Cyrax lead you from the train and into a small town at the base of the mountain in the region where the temple is. The trip is rather lengthy, having to trek through a snow-filled forest and up a mountain to the main summit. It is nearing dark when you arrive at the base, being forced down the same halls you had traversed daily when you were loyal to the Lin Kuei. Cyrax leaves you soon after, going who knows where, but Sektor takes you the rest of the way to the study room where you soon learn Bi-Han is waiting.

In front of the door, she knocks. Your heart races as you wait in apprehension for Bi-Han to answer, and when he does, your stomach fills with dread. Whether Sektor notices or not, you are unsure. But she chuckles.

“I guess you get to find out the answer to that question you were so eager to know.” She pauses, then pokes at the bit with her finger. “Does he like it when you spit or when you swallow?”

You narrow your eyes at her.

Grabbing you by the upper arm, Sektor opens the door and yanks you inside. You have been here before, you recall, to make reports. The room is somewhat different than you remember, but you can not figure out what it is as your eyes divert to Bi-Han sitting behind a grand desk in the center of the room. Your heart races.

It had not been so long ago that you had last seen him, but given the circumstances of that incident, you feel uneasy. You bite down on the bit, trying to maintain a neutral appearance despite how irritated you are.

Bi-Han spares you a look, then turns his eyes to Sektor beside you.

“Your results?”

“Efficient for the ninjas,” Sektor answers. She nudges your arm. “This one took out one all on her own, with vibration no less. A little rubber and a little tweaking should fix that though. Some tungsten or titanium carbine will also be needed.”

You raise a brow. Did Kuai Liang also take one out? You hope he and Tomas are well.

Sektor is either an idiot or she is so confident in her toys.

Why else would she admit their faults in front of you? Unless, of course, she knows something you do not, or have not yet to realize.

Bi-Han pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation, but he does not comment. You snort. His little project must be expensive.

“We will discuss it another time.”

“And her,” Sektor brings up. She motions toward you with a finger. “What will you have us do with her?”

Bi-Han directs his eyes to you, much to your dismay, then stands.

“Unbind her.”

You narrow your eyes. He knows you will not try to fight him; you are behind enemy lines. You won't win. Knowing this irritates you further.

Sektor releases your arms first, then unlocks the bit, freeing your mouth. You stretch your jaw to ease away the stiffness. In the meantime, she concludes her report, and then bows, but as she strolls towards the door, she suddenly stops as though he forgot something.

“What was the message you wanted to pass along? You said it right before the antiseptic put you out. Now is the time to tell him.”

She then leaves you alone with Bi-Han.

Bootlicker, you accuse silently.

You tighten your jaw, feeling your face burn in embarrassment. Why could she not keep her mouth shut? You sigh. It is what it is.

“You can rot in hell, that's what I told them to pass along,” you tell him.

Bi-Han raises a brow. If he is irritated by your comment, he does not show it.

“Time has done nothing to persuade you.”

Anger churns your stomach.

“Persuade me. As if fucking me was going to make me defect. Have you lost your mind?”

This is enough to push him. He points his finger at you in annoyance.

“You are the one who is lost. I am giving you the chance to be free from Liu Kang and his tyranny,” Bi-Han argues.

“He's protecting Earthrealm from people who wish to do it harm,” you state in disbelief. “Siding with Shang Tsung and General Shao could have ended with the death of millions of humans. You don't seem to–”

He interjects, clutching your face. Your lips pucker humorously.

“I am of clear mind! You and my weak brother are blinded by the aspect of peace!” Bi-Han explodes. “He chained us! I only wanted us to stand by his side, but he used us!”

His reasons are justified. You agree that the Lin Kuei could have been more, but Liu Kang had his reasons.

Right?

You ease his hand away from your face.

“Don't make an enemy of me, Bi-Han. Those things you let Sektor make; it's not too late to stop her.”

His eyes narrow.

“You would still deny the truth.”

You sigh. Of course, you do. You do not know what Bi-Han plans to do with the cybernetic assassins, but it can not be good. Not for the Shirai Ryu or the humans of Earthrealm.

“I won't join you.”

A soft click averts your attention to your wrist where a silicone bracelet now rests. It's lightweight, but something about it unnerves you. You shake your wrist, trying to understand why he would put this on you, and what it does.

“Is this some sort of tracker?” You ask.

Bi-Han strolls to his desk and lifts a small black device that reminds you of a walkie-talkie. On it is an LED screen that reads 400 square feet. That is the size of a large living room…or a study room. It takes you a moment to put two and two together, but when you do, you widen your eyes.

“A training bracelet! Are you serious?!”

Of course, he is. You glare at him waiting for an explanation, but Bi-Han ignores you and sits down behind his desk. This is too much, and the worst part is, you are confined to this room. You know what it is now that looks different about the study room. There is a plush couch shoved in the corner. It does not fit.

What is Bi-Han thinking?

You glance down at the bracelet, studying it. The band seems easy enough to remove, but you know it can not be so easy. You tighten your jaw.

This isn't good.

For the next few weeks, you learn the hard way the boundaries of your prison. It is not a fun experience, to say the least. The shock is enough to drop you to your knees. Escape seems almost impossible, especially since your sonic scream is no use, and tampering with the bracelet only seems to set it off.

Then there is the matter of the fence system. While the perimeter keeps you bound to the study room where you eat and sleep, there are times when it is extended to the temple so that you can use the bathroom and bathe. Cyrax is the one who monitors you during this time, as Bi-Han is much too busy. That or he is tired of your fruitless attempts to remove the bracelet. She is as loyal to him as Sektor is, but not nearly as remorseless as she. Still, there is no opportunity to escape.

You feel as though you have tried everything; all but removing your hand. If you can not make it out of Arctika, then something as brutal as cutting off an appendage would be useless. It truly is irritating, the arrangement.

And boring.

The warm water of the spring that the bathhouse is built around does little to soothe you as it once had. You feel worn down, caught in an endless cycle of mediocrity that you can not break from. Every day is the same. Wake up, cure your boredom, eat, then go back to sleep. Time away from the room is the same, becoming more tedious.

If Bi-Han planned to bore me to death then he has nearly succeeded.

It is not though, you know. It is the need for him he wants to exploit. There is no denying that you yearn for him, even he can see how much. He pines for you as well and each day the tension seems to grow. He is just too hell-bent on bringing you back into the Lin Kuei to break it.

Remembering your first time with him, you press your knees together as arousal ignites in you. It is a dull tingle now, but the more you think about him bouncing you on his cock, the more the feeling grows. The heat of the water almost feels too hot. You tighten your jaw in irritation. It is time to get out. You leave the spring-fed tub and then dry off, thankful that the bracelet is waterproof. Once you are dressed in a standard uniform, a blue and black tabard, the only clothing you had been given, you stroll out of the bathhouse. Cyrax waits by the door.

“Are you ready?” She asks.

There is no need for pleasantries. You nod, then she leads you back to the study room. She does not follow you in; she merely waits for you to walk in, then leaves you to your own devices. You know you are alone by the fact Cyrax does not knock first. Bi-Han must be busy. There is no need for a guard. Once you are inside, the fence system shrinks the perimeter via the device that someone has - you learned this the hard way.

“Home sweet home,” you grumble.

There is not much to do aside from sleep and read, so you choose the latter. For the next hour, you read a short story that you have read before, sitting at the desk with your legs carelessly resting on the top. Bi-Han will just have to get over it. In the middle of an intense scene, the door comes open swiftly. You direct your eyes to the entranceway as Bi-Han ambles into the room. What he does next is beyond you as you return your attention to the book, but you know he is heated. You grin.

Rough day, you opt not to ask.

Seeing him from the corner of your eye approach, you continue to read.

“Have you no respect?”

“That's apparent,” you retort.

He is your captor, not your Grandmaster. Some days you wonder if he forgets. Lifting your arm, the one with the bracelet, you wiggle your wrist.

“If you insist on treating me like an untrained animal, then I might as well act like one,” you add.

He wants you to move, you are sure, but instead, you flip to the next page and continue with the story. It is not until he removes the fence system device from his sash, do you spare him another look. A warning beep goes off, the same one that you hear a minute before the bracelet gives you a shock. You tighten your jaw. He demands respect, but he has none of his own to give. You toss your legs off the desktop and quickly stand, pleased that he silences the warning alarm.

He does not have to threaten you with the device every time he feels you misbehave. You would have gotten out of the seat had he asked. Probably. Without a word, you storm by him with a glare, but he grabs your upper arm and guides you in front of him.

“Where has this ill-mannered behavior derived from?”

As if he needs to ask. You know you are acting like a bratty child, but you are mad at him. He needs to understand how much.

“Does your avowed ‘Grandmaster’ condone this?”

You snort in annoyance. While you understand his dislike for Kuai Liang, nothing about this situation has anything to do with him. It is beyond him, at this point.

“He doesn't, nor do I act in such a way in front of him,” you retort. “He is fair and a good man, qualities you have forsaken.”

His eyes narrow; he tosses the remote onto the desk and then averts his eyes to your mouth, as though he is waiting for what you plan to say next.

“You are insufferable.”

Now who is being childish? You sigh.

“Then free me.”

What does he want from you? Your ability will pale in comparison to the cyborgs, or whatever name Sektor chooses to call them. It took more than enough effort on your part to take even one of them down.

“I'm no good to you, Bi-Han. You don't need–”

He interjects and then redirects his hand to your face, an irritating habit he seems to do only with you; even more irritating than his finger-pointing.

“It is not your place to tell me what I do or do not need.”

You remove his hand so that you can argue back without sounding like a muffled idiot, but your words are lost as he places his hand around your neck. Your heart races in fear. His skin is as cold as ice. He wouldn't, would he?

Preparing for a fight, you tighten your hand into a fist. At the first crack of ice, you plan to retaliate, but instead, Bi-Han offers you a semblance of weakness that you do not expect from him, leaning in to kiss you. His action is brief and a bit rough because the moment you do not return the kiss - you are in a state of shock - he parts and curls his nose in irritation. You widen your eyes.

You consider questioning him but know that it will do no good. He would not have kissed you if he didn't want to. An air of sadness washes over you.

“That isn't fair,” you state.

The Bi-Han that is high-strung is much easier to deal with. Not this one; not the one who strips you of your morals with a single kiss. He knows that you feel this way about him; weak and foolish. You tighten your jaw.

Walk away…walk away…

You should. It is an easier decision, but this attention is what you want from him. The situation is just…less than ideal.

“My beliefs align with the Shirai Ryu, but I am flawed. I can't bring myself to make an enemy of you.”

Not when he is flawed too. He is your main weakness, and one day, he will be your undoing.

So be it.

You are the first this time to initiate the kiss, but unlike you, Bi-Han is neither taken off guard nor hesitant to return it. He pulls you against his chest, trapping you between the desk and himself. One hand sinks to your waist while the other rises, urging you with his thumb on your chin to open your mouth. It becomes apparent to you that you are not the only one who is driven by need. Goosebumps litter your arms as the kiss becomes heated, a deep and heavy battle that leaves you weak.

Compared to the time in the fortress, this moment is more desperate. It feels like either of you might realize just how blind you are for the other, which is why you do not slow the pace when Bi-Han slides your trousers and underwear to your knees. You press yourself closer to him, taking pleasure in the warmth of his firm chest, a rare moment in which you want to indulge a bit longer, but to your annoyance, he breaks the kiss and leans down to lift you by the waist, sitting you on the edge of the desk. The icy surface on your bare flesh makes you arch your back and shift uncomfortably.

The cloth around your knees falls to a heap as you wiggle out of them, then spreading your thighs, you reach out to Bi-Han, pleased when he eases between them. You seize his sash, the one with the silver-plated ornaments, and with a tug, you untie it, letting it drop heavy to the floor. A sudden heat spreads to your face; a subconscious unease that sets off when you realize how close you are to his cock. The snide comment that Sektor had made causes you to bristle. You swallow hard, then curl your fingers beneath the band of his harem pants, sliding them down his firm thighs. The comment stays in your mind, taunting you like a cat toying with its prey. Whether it be because of the heated moment or not, the more you think about it, the more curious it makes you.

Moving aside the flap of his tabard, you take him in your hand, giving him a slow stroke before you lean in and press an open-mouth kiss to the underside of his cock. Bi-Han completely hardens. With a haughty grin, you wet your lips, and then slide him into your mouth, taking him halfway, before you lean back. A pleased hum encourages you to resume and when you do, you feel his hand on the back of your head as if to say ‘I know you can take more’.

You sink to the base; his pubic hairs tickle your nose, soft and groomed, then you slide back halfway and repeat the action. Once you are comfortable with the angle, you bob your head at a quick, steady pace. He tightens his hold on your head, desperately thrusting his hips forward when you slide away. Your pace changes sporadically, just to tease him. It's a powerful feeling, to be the one to subdue Bi-Han in such a way. But it does not last.

To your irritation, he pulls himself from your mouth and tilts your head back. You glare at him, but you have to admit, his flushed cheeks make him look cute. You snort, which you come to realize is a mistake. Bi-Han pulls your head back making you lie flat on your back. Fingers posed in a V, he sides them up your inner thigh to your groin, gently squeezing your outer lips together. Your muscles tense in response. Resting his thumb on your mound, he slowly traces your lips, applying just enough pressure to your clit to stimulate it before he abandons it. What is he doing? You are right here, spread out for him. Why doesn't he take you? Instead, he massages your inner thighs.

“Bi-Han…”

The sound of his name, desperate and low, makes your walls tighten. He is never like this. You have an idea what he is doing; he is getting back at you.

For a brief moment, you think that you might have misread his intentions, but when he rubs the pad of his thumb in slow circles around your clit, then abruptly stops, you know that you have hit the nail on the head.

“You're an ass,” you hiss.

His ruffled expression does not change, but there is a softness in his eyes, as though he is pleased with how frustrated you are. His fingers continue to tease you, drawing soft moans and annoyed whimpers when they brush your clit. You writhe beneath him and an embarrassed heat spreads across your face. This is too much. He does not need to make an example out of you, not to tease him.

“I'm sorry,” you apologize.

You sound desperate, but you do not care. Bi-Han pauses, then raises a brow.

“I have my doubts,” he voices.

You tighten your jaw. He's insufferable, but perhaps he is right. Given the chance, you would do it again. You swallow hard. The wetness between your thighs is uncomfortable. You just want him to treat you as he did back at the fortress like you were his and his alone.

“I need you like this,” you state, recalling your words to him.

He nearly yanks your ass off the edge of the desk as he rests your lower legs over his forearms. His cold gauntlets bite into your flesh, but you ignore the uncomfortable sensation as he spreads you. Then, to your immediate relief, Bi-Han slowly sinks his cock into you down to the base. There is a tight sharp feeling as your walls stretch to fit him, not used to his size, but it soon dulls as he begins to move. It's such a comfort to have him inside you again. You moan, clutching onto his wrists for some semblance of stability.

His thrusts have such power that they bounce you, knocking the air from your lungs. The desk creaks in protest beneath you. Then to add to the already-growing pleasure you feel, Bi-Han reaches between your thighs and rubs your clit with his middle and pointer finger. Your back arches and you tighten your jaw to suppress the loud gasp that nearly escapes you. Words can not describe how good you feel at this very moment; you can hardly make a coherent thought, lost in fucked out daze. All you know beyond this point is that you want to come undone; you need it.

A mild tickle in your lower body starts to spread beyond your control like a raging fire, then it becomes so intense that it pushes you over the edge. Your muscles stiffen as an orgasm overtakes you, bringing warm tears to your eyes. It's too much, but also unlike anything you have ever experienced before.

Bi-Han continues to fuck you with the same intensity even when you come down from your high. You can feel every thrust, every muscle in your body protesting. Your walls are sore and spent, as though you tried to swim through molasses, a fact he is unaware of. The head of his cock presses against your cervix, a mild pain that you overlook. After the orgasm you just received, he deserves his.

Slowing down his pace a bit, Bi-Han allows your lower legs to fall free, then unclasps your hands and pulls you into a sitting position. You immediately slide an arm around his broad shoulders, holding him close as he starts at a new rhythm. Tracing your fingers across his flushed cheek, you lean in and capture his lips; he soon reciprocates and the kiss becomes heated and a bit sloppy. Neither of you seem to care. His breath mingles with yours, hot and exerted, and then when he parts from you, tightening his jaw you know he is close.

“I want to taste you so bad,” you utter.

A moment later, he steps back leaving you empty, and wraps his hand around himself. You slide off the edge of the desk and sink to your knees in front of him, opening your mouth. Bi-Han strokes his cock until he orgasms, shooting ropes of warm cum onto your tongue; some of it splatters across the bridge of your nose and chin. Once he is finished, staring at you as though he is admiring his work, you bring your tongue back into your mouth, swallowing the mess.

Bi-Han looks more unkempt than he did the first time. Locks of his dark hair had slipped from the holder, curling near his cheekbone. His face, a flushed shade of red, makes him seem more human than he acts. It reminds you that he is flawed, and it's beautiful.

Your legs shake as you stand, leaning against the edge of the desk. To your shock, you watch Bi-Han pick up his sash and hand it to you before tucking himself away.

“Thanks,” you utter.

This entire moment is awkward. You clean up the best you can with the sash, then sit it aside; you are going to need another bath, but it can wait. Once you are redressed, you reach out to the high-strung Grandmaster, pleased that he comes to you. Frighteningly though, his hand sinks to the place where he had marked you, reaching beneath your shirt to run his finger over the sacred flesh. You tense, but he does not show signs of wanting to mark you again.

The thought does bring a matter to light. You frown.

“When the time comes for you to reunite with Kuai Liang on the battlefield, I beg that you do not ask me to turn on him.” You pause and slide your hand onto his cheek. “Please Bi-Han. At least grant me that request.”

He stares at you, unmoved, then frowns.

“You ask of me promises that I can not make.”

It is as you had expected. Forlornly, you nod. You fear what the future holds for you both, but for now, you take pleasure in the time you have with him before revenge tears you both apart.

The question is, will you burn with him when the time comes or not?

#bihan x reader #female reader insert #bihan mk1 #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat 1 #Spotify

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thebiggerbear · 1 year ago

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Only Ever Holding Onto You - One - Here We Go Again

A/N: This chapter is HUGE. The following chapters should not be nearly as long. I began writing this back in July and at that time, I hadn't watched the rest of the 3rd season of Big Sky so I did a lot of guesswork based on gifs, clips, and posts I had seen on here. So that's why some things might not line up to the show, sorry about that. Also, I completely made up the name of the pharmaceutical company.

This story actually was the gateway to Ghosts so there might be some similar threads you might notice. ;)

And a huge thank you to my beta @rieleatiel! You rock, girl!

Warnings: mentions of animal cruelty, mentions of animal injuries seen by Reader, mentions of kidnapping of minor

Word Count: 13k+

Series Masterlist

Series Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @rieleatiel

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

You rolled your eyes and made a left onto Washington. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what everyone who breaks into a chem lab says.”

“It’s true,” the man currently sitting handcuffed in your backseat insisted. “It’s the corporation that’s doing something wrong. They’re benefitting from those animals’ pain.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to enter the premises illegally,” you pointed out.

“What they’re doing is illegal,” he scoffed.

You couldn’t exactly argue with that one. When the call came in for a 10-62 and it was advised that the prowler was armed and dangerous, you had immediately rushed to the scene, beaten there by two officers from Helena PD and one deputy from your department. The perp had already been secured and in handcuffs, proclaiming loudly over and over that he was innocent as were the animals he had been trying to set free. Deputy Davis informed you that the only weapon that had been found on the man was a pair of bolt cutters, which had barely made a dent in the cages’ padlocks, never mind were they ever a real threat to anyone on the premises.

After contacting the higher-ups of her employer, an onsite supervisor insisted the company wanted to press any and all charges, maintaining that the animals in their possession had been obtained legally and the accusations against them were baseless. One glance past the woman’s shoulder at the cages of rabbits and cats being wheeled into another area showed that perhaps the man’s claims weren’t as baseless as she said they were. You had to keep yourself from hauling her down to the station on some trumped up charge once you noticed one cat in particular that had half of its fur missing and its side was littered with obvious injection sites. One rabbit even had sutures where an eye should be.

Unfortunately, you had a job to do and the law needed to be upheld. You insisted on taking the perp, one Martin Webb, into the station yourself. Since Davis had arrived on scene first, Helena PD couldn’t say a peep. That was one thing that hadn’t changed with your transfer here: the good ol’ jurisdiction issue between departments. Although, up in these parts, the Lewis and Clark County Sheriff’s Department and Helena PD did play nicer together than most other places you’d been. As Webb continued to ramble on in the back of your car, you were thankful for that little fact.

When he mentioned for the fifth time that he was doing the right thing, your phone began to ring. One quick glance at the screen showed that it was Deputy Poppernak. Without saying a word, you picked up the call. “What’s shaking, Pepper Snaps?”

You smirked when you heard the slight huff he let out when you called him the cute little nickname you had come up for him. He knew you did it to tease him good-naturedly but it still exasperated him at times. Truth be told, you had a fondness for the guy even though he did prove to be a bit of a suck-up when you first stepped into the station about six months back. Still he had always been welcoming towards you, took your quirks in stride, and he was a decent cop. That put him under the good list in your book.

“Hey, Y/N. The boss asked for me to give you a call and see if you were on your way back to the station.”

Your eyes practically rolled out of your head. Apparently, the sheriff had forgotten how phones worked along with the knowledge that you were more than capable of doing your job. If Poppernak got exasperated with you at times, your patience could be worn thin by one Beau Arlen on a semi-often basis, and that hadn’t changed with both of you relocating to Big Sky Country.

“Pops, correct me if I’m wrong, but when I radioed in to Madge that I was transporting a suspect back to the station, did I say it in Portuguese? French maybe? Japanese? Or in Gaelic perhaps?” You quipped.

“Uh, no. No, of course not,” Poppernak let out in a nervous chuckle. “It’s just, uh…sorry, one second.” You could hear his muffled voice speaking to someone; it was obvious he had covered the mouthpiece with his hand. You nearly rolled your eyes again, knowing exactly who he was speaking to, and instead chose to glance in your rearview to check on the man in the back. He had still been talking when you picked up the call but he must have gotten the hint when the deputy’s voice filled the car. Now, he sat quietly, staring straight ahead.

“Okay, sorry about that. Madge was asking me—”

You’d had enough, especially when you heard him using a quieter tone than before. “Cut the crap, I know very well who was asking you something. What does he want and why is he not calling me to ask me himself?”

He laughed nervously again. “Uh, well, he was just—I mean I was just wondering, do you mind stopping by The 1889 and grabbing the usual order on your way in?”

Your jaw tensed. You had a sneaking suspicion of the reason why your boss wasn’t calling you directly and instead was asking his employee to do his dirty work, and it infuriated you.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Poppernak added meekly.

You forced yourself to remember that he wasn’t the one who your ire should be aimed at. You’d get to that soon enough after you booked your suspect down at the station. You made another quick turn to head in the direction of the coffee shop. “Call the order in. I’ll be there in fifteen to pick it up and they better run it out to me or no dice. In case anyone at that station is too thick-headed to remember, I’m currently transporting a suspect.”

You heard a relieved breath come down the line. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re the—”

You ended the call before the deputy could finish speaking. Pops knew you weren’t mad at him and knowing him, he’d get right on placing the order at the coffee house you all frequented so the order would be ready in the timeframe you’d given him.

“Amazing. Animals are being cruelly treated in your own backyard and all you cops can worry about is your coffee order. ‘To protect and serve’...yeah right.”

You shot Webb a glare in your rearview mirror. “You have the right to remain silent, you know. Wouldn’t hurt to exercise it every now and then. Like right now.”

“How can I be silent? Do you have any idea what they’re doing to those animals? Do you have any idea how much pain they’re in? God, you people are heartless!”

“Uh huh.” You brought the car to a stop at a traffic light and took a deep breath. Losing your temper on Webb or Pops or anyone at the station would not help anything, but damn did Beau get on your nerves sometimes with his desire to placate and diffuse things. Most of the time, it was something you heavily respected about him; it was a great quality for a leader to have. At the same time, some people needed to be stood up to, put in their place, and knocked down a few pegs — and that is where you and Beau never saw eye-to-eye. It drove you crazy but you told yourself you would play the long game on this one. Beau knew how you felt. You two had argued about it enough times when it was just you two — but he refused to budge an inch. He believed time would resolve things. Six months was plenty of time in your mind but apparently, he didn’t share that sentiment. So, you did as you always had: you had his back and you followed his lead. It didn’t mean you had to like it sometimes, though. Especially not when—no, you would put it out of your mind for now.

“I’m serious, you saw the animals yourself. Do you really think they’re well cared for like they said? If you only knew the half of it!”

Webb’s rantings broke you out of your reverie. You thought over what he said, remembered the cat with the missing fur, the rabbit with the missing eye, and bit your lip in contemplation. When the light turned green, your mind was made up. “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Webb. And that job doesn’t include looking into the history of this company or what they do with their animals when it comes to testing.”

The man scoffed and you knew your words had been chosen well. “Of course not. Why would you care? I suppose you don’t care that the animals are kept in cages night and day. Not only do they pump chemicals into them consistently but they cause them pain purposely to see if their products work. I guess you also don’t care that this is a common practice for this company, or that they purposely pick up strays from surrounding neighborhoods and have even broken into people’s properties to steal their pets when the shelters and pet stores start to get suspicious! And you’re charging me with breaking and entering? What about them? And I bet you don’t care that they purposely starve these animals for certain experiments and that’s not even…”

You made your way to The 1889, keeping your gaze ahead of you as you maneuvered down the streets, all the while quietly listening and at certain points, trying to remember why you’d chosen to become a cop when it seemed like the odds always remained against you and innocents, humans and animals alike, continued to get hurt by every semblance of heartless assholes on a daily basis.

Deputy Davis, who had beaten you back to the station and waited for you to arrive, led Webb into the station as you followed behind with a tray of coffees and a paper bag full of food.

Pops immediately hurried over to meet you, a huge grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. You really are the best.”

You handed him both the tray and bag, giving him a nod.

Webb watched the exchange carefully before yelling out, “Yeah, so glad you can sit and enjoy your coffee and donuts while innocent animals are suffering!” The busy hum in the station dimmed slightly as everyone turned to look, but then it resumed when they saw the man responsible for the noisy interruption was in handcuffs.

“I’ll book him,” the deputy next to you insisted.

“Thanks, Davis.” You smiled slightly at the younger man. “I’ll get on the paperwork.”

“Let’s go.” Davis pushed Webb in front of him who kept yelling as he was being moved away.

You and Pops watched them disappear around the corner and then turned back to one another. “So, where is he?”

Pops’ amiable smile dropped completely and he quickly glanced in the direction of the sheriff’s office. Bingo. “Uh, I think he’s interrogating a suspect right now…”

“Right.” You then moved past him and proceeded right to the location that Pops unintentionally gave away before outright lying to you. The door was shut but that didn’t deter you. Without knocking, you opened the door and barged right in.

Sure enough, there was Beau, sitting in his chair with the infamous Jenny Hoyt perched on the desk to his left, barely a foot of space between them. Of course. Was there ever a moment in the day the undersheriff wasn’t trying to get into the sheriff’s pants?

The blonde glared at your intrusion and you folded your arms across your chest. You offered a meaningful look to Beau, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Did you always storm into your boss’ office without knocking like this back in Houston or is it only something you do here?” Hoyt snapped.

“Hoyt,” Beau warned.

Ignoring her sniping and ignoring her presence altogether — you leveled your eyes on Beau alone. “We need to talk.”

Beau glanced between you and his undersheriff, looking uncertain, before he gave a simple nod. “Give us the room for a minute,” he directed to the woman next to him. The corner of your lips lifted in the beginning of a smirk; wise choice on his part.

Hoyt transferred her glare to him but got to her feet all the same. She nearly stomped her way out the door, scowling at you the entire time. You stared her down, all too happy to close the door once she vacated the threshold. You seriously could not wait for that woman to take some vacation time; it’d be like your own vacation kicking in at the same time.

You turned around to find Beau watching you, exhaustion showing in the lines of his face a little more prominently than they had a moment ago. “Y/N, I—”

Holding up a hand, you interrupted him before he could plead with you for peace or make excuses like he had so many times before. “Aside from me thinking that it’s downright pathetic that you can’t even make a simple phone call to ask me to pick you up one of your favorite sandwiches because she’s within hearing distance, I have a bigger issue to discuss.”

Beau sat back in his chair, considering you for a moment. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You moved closer and took a seat. “The man I just brought in, Martin Webb, the one who’s being booked on a B&E charge from Avuna Pharmaceuticals? Turns out he was not armed like had been initially reported to emergency dispatch. He had a pair of bolt cutters on him that didn’t even work and he was not posing a threat to anybody. But the Avuna reps are insisting he was.”

“Who was first on scene?”

“Davis.”

“Any footage or eyewitness accounts that prove this guy threatened anyone before Davis got there?”

“Eyewitness accounts from paid employees and when we asked for footage after noticing cameras placed all around the lab, we were told that their legal counsel advised that unless we had a warrant, we were wasting our time and suggested we should be focusing on the arrest of the assailant in our custody.”

Beau snorted. “Not suspicious at all and damn ballsy.”

You couldn’t help but shrug. “Big corporation, big money. They’ll do whatever it takes to protect it all.”

He nodded in agreement. “Good point. Alright, let’s let the DA take it from here. For now, just book him and we’ll let the courts battle it out on what charges actually stick.”

You tilted your head at him expectantly.

“And,” he sighed. “I take it you already knew I’d say that and that’s not why you wanted to discuss it.”

“You know me so well,” you teased, giving him a smirk and sitting on the desk next to him on his right, keeping a polite distance between you. “Something doesn’t smell right with this case. If their response to our request to view their footage wasn’t enough of a red flag, then the fact that they’re looking to throw the book at this guy is. I ran him through the system. His record is relatively clean; he’s an activist, not an ecological terrorist.” You bit your lip. “I saw the animals while they were transporting them,” you said in a quieter tone. “I saw some things that... I think this guy, while a little misguided, is actually on the right track. Something’s off with this whole thing.”

Beau leaned over to place a hand over yours. “Darlin’, I know where you’re going with this and while it pains me to say it, I have to. It’s not our job. You said it yourself: big corporation, big money. This is for the courts. We can’t get involved.” You dropped your gaze to the floor and let out a disappointed breath. You knew as much, had said as much to Webb on the ride over, but it felt wrong for that to be the actual reality.

You felt Beau brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in tender strokes. It was his way of reassuring you and apologizing at the same time. You couldn’t help but give him a thin-lipped smile. You knew he would do something if he could, but he was right. Unless there was evidence to Webb’s claims of the company illegally obtaining those animals, this was not for you or for the department to get involved in. On the off-chance there was proof, that evidence would need to be transferred to the right agency who handled such cases. Your hands were tied and there was nothing you could do from your position, that fact wouldn’t help you sleep better at night or help you forget what you had seen.

“That being said, I will talk to the DA and see what he can do about the charges. I can’t promise anything but I’ll try,” Beau finished, after seeing your reaction.

You turned your hand over, grabbing onto his, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He returned your smile and squeezed your hand before gently letting go. “And thank you for picking up the order earlier. And for not letting Hoyt bait you into an argument.”

Rolling your eyes and getting to your feet, you made your way to the bulletin board on the far wall to study its contents. “Sometimes I wonder why you even asked me to come here.”

You heard a heavy sigh behind you but you didn’t turn around to look. “You know why I asked you to join me here, Y/N. I need someone who has my back.”

“You have plenty of people here who have your back.” You pulled the paper you were looking for off the board and folded it up. “Especially her. She’d have your back, front, and center if she had anything to say about it.” Slipping the paper into the back pocket of your jeans, you glanced back at Beau to find him glaring in your direction. “Am I wrong?” You challenged.

“I really wish you two would try to get along.”

You scoffed out a laugh. “I’m not the one who throws a temper tantrum every time I walk into a room. That would be the woman whose insufferable ass has been glued to yours for the past six months.”

Beau shook his head. “Why do I even try?”

“Why do you?” You agreed. “And why do you defend her at every given turn when you know she’s the one that has a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder?”

“I told you, she’s been through a lot. With her mom and everything…” Beau waved a hand to indicate there might be more to it than you knew. You didn’t think there was; you had heard about it from practically everyone around here, but you also knew Beau was a good man with a big heart. So while you didn’t excuse away the blatant hostility Hoyt had shown you from the moment you arrived, you knew that your best friend tried to be understanding and his patience was longer than the length of the building you were currently in.

“Right,” you muttered. When you first showed up here, Beau told you everything that went down in the amount of time it took you to be able to secure your transfer. You knew all about Jenny Hoyt, her mom, Cassie Dewell, their interesting history, Denise, Sunny, Buck, and everything that happened with Emily and Carla. As a matter of fact, as soon as Beau called you in a panic over Emily’s being taken, you had told your boss down in Houston, Burke Ellis, that you were done waiting for him to stop dragging his feet and you were out on the first red-eye you could book a seat on. As a matter of fact, that was how you and Cassie first met, and how you first came across Hoyt.

Beau had rushed over to you the minute he had spied you hurrying into the station, asking for Sheriff Beau Arlen and flustering Madge who had no idea who you were but that the man you said you were here to see was having a personal crisis and wasn’t up for seeing any visitors. You darted past her desk, which had further exasperated her, and you practically jumped into Beau’s open arms. You both hugged each other tightly and he nearly lifted you off the ground.

“Thank you,” he rasped out into your ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” You ran your fingers soothingly through the hair at the back of his neck. “Where do you need me?”

He had pulled back and it was then that you could see the toll this was taking on him; the fear, worry, and exhaustion were clearly pronounced on his handsome face. “Honestly?” He croaked out. He then grabbed your hand and quickly led you to an office in the back, both of you moving past many shocked onlookers, a 5’6” blonde woman among them who you would later come to know as the biggest pain in your ass in your career thus far.

You saw the gold lettering on the door stating this was Beau’s office and he slipped you inside before shutting the door and closing the blinds. He pulled you back into his arms, burying his face into your neck. He surprised you a moment later by picking you up and placing you on the corner of his desk, never once moving away from you. You could feel the wetness against your skin and you saw his shoulders shake as he let out a pitiful sob.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I just… My baby girl has been taken by this murderous son of a bitch and I—” He couldn’t even get the rest out and you shushed him, holding him together as best you could while he fell apart, scared out of his mind at what could happen to his daughter. Emily was like a niece to you; you couldn’t even imagine how terrified she must be, let alone how her father must feel. You knew one thing, though: you and Beau would find her and bring her home. In order to do that, however, you needed to keep Beau from breaking completely and re-calibrate his focus.

You had started to press kisses to the side of his head, promising that you both would do everything to get Emily back safe and sound. “I’m here now,” you murmured into his ear. “We made one hell of a team once, this will be no different. We’ll get her back, Beau.” He sniffled and moved back to look at you, nodding. You gave him a tender smile and wiped underneath his eyes before running your hand through his wayward hair (it had grown slightly since the last time you saw him) and stroking his bearded cheek affectionately. “I’ve got you. Always.”

He stared into your eyes for so long as you comforted him that you didn’t notice that he was moving closer until his nose nearly bumped into yours. You didn’t realize that your breathing had picked up or that your heartbeat had accelerated until your lips parted to let out a small puff of air. His green gaze dropped down to your mouth at the action and then you noticed him wet his lips with his tongue. Your own tongue automatically mirrored his and you swore you felt your heart stop when you saw him take it as a green light and start to lean in, closing his eyes. Alarm bells went off in your mind: this was your best friend who was vulnerable due to the situation at hand, seeking comfort from someone familiar to him that he knew he could fully trust; there was an active investigation going on into his daughter’s abduction and you knew you were on a timeclock; every second counted and there was no time to waste. Yet you were frozen, unable to react and unwilling to stop him from taking the solace he needed in you.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined your friendship with Beau possibly crossing the line into something more at one point. While he was married, you had never entertained it, but afterwards, there had been that one night… Nothing had ended up happening between you, of course, but it had definitely been a close call. You had attributed it to too much liquor and the need for consolation during a rough time in his life, being more than relieved when he didn’t appear to remember the next morning. So your friendship continued unmarred by any tension or awkwardness. Now…how could you not give him what he clearly needed from you at one of the worst times in his life?

You had just shut your eyes, making your decision and waiting for impact, when a knock sounded on his door and then it opened, a surprised gasp emitting from the doorway. You both turned to look, seeing a stunned woman standing there who you hadn’t passed by before. Beau let out a stuttered breath but pulled away from you all the same. It left a funny feeling inside your chest, but you told yourself he had made the right decision which prompted sweet relief to flood through your own veins. Nothing should occur between you and Beau right now, not when everything with Emily was going on and emotions were running high. And what if you had let him take comfort in you and it ultimately ruined your friendship? Not to mention he was now your boss. How complicated would that be? Your best friend meant more to you than one moment of throwing the rule book completely out the window.

The woman worriedly glanced behind her and seemed to relax when she didn’t see who or what she was looking for. She then gave Beau a small smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Beau cleared his throat and leaned against the desk, next to you, facing the door. You discreetly ran a hand across his back in reassurance. “It’s fine. What is it, Cass?”

Your eyes widened when you heard the nickname and quickly made the connection. This was Cassie Dewell, the local private investigator Beau had told you about. He had mentioned that they had become close friends since he took the job.

“I just came to tell you that I think I might be able to help with Sunny.”

Beau immediately got to his feet. “You think she’ll tell us where Buck’s taken Emily?”

Cassie shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. She’s been married to the man for years. She may not have known he was a serial killer but she knows everything else there is to know about him. She has to have an idea of some spots he might have gone to that we haven’t come up with yet. And we do have the update about Walter as leverage.”

Running a tired hand down his face, Beau sighed. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.” He glanced your way and you gave him a nod. Then he started, as if he just remembered something. “Sorry. Cassie, I’d like you to meet Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Cassie Dewell.”

Your head snapped in her direction. “Oh right, you’re the PI from the local agency in town that Em’s been working at.”

Cassie gave you a wave and you studied her, expecting judgment of some kind, yet there was no malice or hostility staring back at you. You had expected such a reaction from her walking in on you and Beau, yet all you could see was curiosity... As well as worry and guilt shadowing her eyes for a moment at the mention of Emily. “Yeah, that would be me. Hey.”

“Y/N’s from Houston.” Beau gestured towards you. “We worked quite a few cases together back in the day.”

Her eyes seemed to light up with recognition which surprised you. “Y/N Y/L/N…I was wondering why that name sounded familiar. You’re one of his former partners, right?”

You quickly exchanged a glance with Beau. “Sort of,” you confirmed.

“She’s transferring here but I asked her to come to help with…Emily…” Beau looked pained as he said the name.

You immediately laid a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

He gave you a thin-lipped smile and you squeezed him in reassurance.

“Nice to meet you.” Cassie’s voice pulled you both from the moment.

Your gaze snapped to Cassie’s. “Likewise. So, this Sunny…she’s the owner of the campground, right? Close to where the body of the first victim was found some years ago? And she’s the wife of the suspect?” Beau had told you a little about the case before Avery’s death and Emily’s abduction.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. I’m hoping she’ll feel up to talking. Beau, I wouldn't ask but…would you mind giving me a hand? It might help shake something loose if we both take a run at her. She’s more familiar with us, and Walter will give us more of a card to play.”

Beau thought it over for a moment. “Agreed. We’ve got to try anything and everything so let’s do it.” Cassie turned to leave when he called out to her, “I’ll be there in a second.”

She nodded and quietly closed the door behind her.

Beau let out a heavy breath and turned to you. “Y/N, I—”

You shot up, standing before him. “No need,” you spoke softly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed reassuringly when you saw his eyes tighten. “Let’s focus on saving your daughter.” You gave him a small smile and he nodded, pulling you into him to place his forehead up against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured, closing his eyes. When you felt him relax slightly against you after taking a deep breath, out of instinct, you did something you had never done before, not when you were this close together and it was just the two of you. You pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, right above his beard line, forcing his eyes to snap open, staring right into yours, and he focused intently on you.

“Let’s go find her and bring her home,” you whispered, stepping back only when he nodded, and turned towards the door.

“Do you want me to watch the interrogation or do you need me elsewhere?” You asked.

He came to a halt, thinking about it for a moment. “Interrogation.”

You nodded and opened the door, stepping through to see several pairs of eyes land on you. It might have been intimidating to someone else, but to you, it was just par for the course. Beau had warned you about the small town atmosphere compared to the big city one you were accustomed to, so you weren’t surprised in the least when people started talking in hushed tones to one another as you both walked past without a word to anyone. It appeared you and Beau were on the same page: Emily was priority and introductions to your new coworkers would have to wait.

He led you to a closed door where Cassie stood, waiting. You glanced around to look for the room you would be led to in order to watch the interrogation but didn’t see it.

“And who’s this?”

You turned to see the blonde woman from earlier, a forced smile on her face and her blue eyes assessing you.

Beau seemed caught off guard for a moment, his focus on getting to Cassie and then taking on Sunny, but he quickly introduced you. “Y/N Y/L/N, Jenny Hoyt.” You gave her a nod and she returned it. “Cassie and I are going to take a run at Sunny, see if maybe she has an idea of a location where Buck may have taken Emily and Denise.”

The blonde’s gaze softened as it landed on Beau. “Of course. If you want, Cassie and I can do it.” You noticed Cassie’s eyes tighten but she stayed quiet as the woman then leaned into Beau a bit, saying softly, “You’ve been through a lot in the last few hours.” You watched as she squeezed Beau’s arm in support. Ah, so this was the infamous Jenny Hoyt you had heard about. The same Hoyt that had given Beau a run for his money when he first took this job and then continued to be a wildcard in the field. The same one who Beau felt the ridiculous need to babysit. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you watched her gazing up at your friend as if he had hung the moon in the night sky but you schooled your features into polite professional interest by the time Beau glanced over at you.

“I’m good. Actually, Y/N, I’d like you to join us.” Both Cassie and Hoyt turned gaping expressions on you. While this was certainly a twist, you knew Beau wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t have his reasons. Sure enough, he elaborated, “I think a new face might provide the perfect shakeup that we need.” He gave you a meaningful look and like always, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

You gave the group a curt nod. “Sure. Can I see the file real fast so I know what I’m working with?” You held out a hand to Hoyt, assuming that she had Sunny’s file in her hand in expectation of the interrogation, waiting for her to pass it to you.

The blonde glared at you, a hint of suspicion in her eyes, before glancing back at the man. “Beau, maybe we should slow down and think about this for a second. We might only get one shot at this so maybe—”

“Hoyt, my daughter has been kidnapped by a serial killer. She fits his MO to a tee and we need to find her before…” He pressed his lips together tightly before blowing out a breath. “Look, Denise has been taken too, my ex-wife is a mess of tears, Avery is dead, and I’m barely holding it together. Just let me do what I have to do to save my little girl. So give Y/N the damn file.” He spoke the last part through gritted teeth, signifying the end of his patience, and that appeared to shock Hoyt and Cassie. You assumed that this was a new side of Beau that they hadn’t seen before but his daughter’s life was on the line. What did they expect? If he hadn’t said anything, you would have snatched the damn folder out of Hoyt’s hands yourself. Precious time was being wasted with the useless pissing match she seemed intent on engaging in.

Cassie recovered first. “Jenny.” She gave the blonde an encouraging nod.

Hoyt’s features tightened and her eyes were pure ice as she finally placed the folder into your waiting hand.

“Thanks.” You immediately started scanning the contents. After a minute or so, you felt you had a general understanding of Sunny and her history from the file in addition to things Beau had mentioned to you already. You had more than enough to be able to pull off what he needed you to do. You shut the folder and gave Beau and Cassie a nod. “Let’s do it.”

Cassie opened the door and led the way inside, followed by Beau and then you. Hoyt stared you down as you passed her but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Right now, your priority was the young girl whom you had watched grow up, who you had sat through a blistering hot, cheesy middle school graduation for — all to watch her walk across the stage in a cap and gown. Her life was on the line and you’d make sure she returned to Beau safely no matter what.

You weren’t in there long. You did exactly as Beau had intended for you to do. You teed him and Cassie up very nicely to get what they needed to. Not much time had passed before Sunny admitted she most likely knew where Buck went, especially when Cassie swooped in with the information that her son, Walter, was still alive despite Buck’s attempt to kill him.

Once you left the room, Cassie was intent on finding Sunny’s other son, Cormac, since Beau and Hoyt were going to drive Sunny to the location she had revealed. You were about to offer to do whatever was needed from you when you heard a loud cry erupt to your left. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a woman with dark hair rushing towards you. You barely turned in time for impact when Carla threw herself at you.

You held her as she cried, thanked you for coming, asked you to help find her daughter, mentioned her recently murdered husband, and just overall sobbed. This woman had been through one hell of an ordeal in the last few days. You couldn’t even imagine how torn apart you’d be if this were you, not to mention Carla was one of the most level-headed and toughest women you had ever met in your life. She was definitely tougher than you, and that was saying something considering you had seen some shit in your time. Now, seeing her reduced to tears like this, begging you to help save her little girl, to do whatever you had to in order to bring her baby back home to her…it turned your stomach and only added to the urgency of finding Emily and getting to her before that sick son of a bitch could hurt her. You hoped to hell he hadn’t already. Your stomach turned further at the thought and you could feel an all-too familiar fire that you kept a tight lid on when working cases that involved children…

You forced yourself to let go of the thought. This was about Emily and her parents, not about you. Ignoring your experience that nagged at you and insisted that, due to the circumstances and the time already passed, there was a likelihood of a bad ending here, you swallowed past the lump forming in your throat and refocused your energy into trying to calm Carla down so you could help find her daughter.

It took Beau peeling her off of you and promising that you both were going to look for Emily right then to calm her slightly. She held onto Beau and you grabbed her hand, ignoring your training yelling at you in your head, and swore you would do everything you could to help bring her daughter back to her.

“Y/N, Beau, please, you have to save her,” she begged. “Save our daughter!” She threw at Beau before Madge was able to lead her away. Watching her go, your jaw tensed as that fire from earlier threatened to return. You had the desire to find Buck and take the sick bastard down yourself.

Beau turned to you, his green eyes even more haunted than when you had first seen him, and that dulled the fire inside. No matter the anger you felt, it was nothing compared to what he must be feeling. You could only imagine the rage and hopelessness mixed with desperation that was swirling inside of him right now, and you knew exactly what he was thinking because you were thinking it, too. What if you couldn’t keep your promise to Carla? You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts. You wouldn’t think like that; those types of thoughts were useless. You needed to be at your best for him, for Carla, and more importantly, for Emily. Instead, you focused on the positives: you all had a lead right now, two in fact, and that was all that mattered.

You instinctively reached out and cupped his face with your hands, anchoring him as best you could. “Beau, listen to me,” you murmured. “You and Hoyt take Sunny to the spot she told you about. I’ll go with Cassie to find Cormac. Alright?”

He nodded, staring at you, and the movement forced a single tear to shake loose. You wiped it away discreetly before it could be seen and hugged him to you. “Go. Keep your phone on and if you need me, you call me. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find her,” you whispered into his ear.

You heard a sniffle in your ear. “Right, we’ll find her.”

“And we’ll take down this sick son of a bitch,” you promised, pulling back to look him meaningfully in the eye. Come hell or high water, you had his back.

Nodding again, he gave you a smile that was more of a grimace and placed a hand against your cheek. “Yeah, we will.” You reached up to give his wrist a squeeze.

“Beau.”

Both of you turned to see Hoyt and Cassie watching you curiously along with Madge and a deputy who you would come to find out to be Poppernak.

“We should go,” Hoyt insisted.

Beau glanced back over at you, quietly clearing his throat and removing his hand. “Yeah.” His gaze snapped over to the other man, as if he had suddenly just had a thought. “Poppernak, get Y/N here a vest before she leaves. Get one for Cassie, too.”

“You got it, boss.”

Poppernak walked away and Beau swung his head back to you. “You call me the second you get anything from Cormac.” At your nod, he laid a hand on your shoulder and lowered his head slightly to look you right in the eye. “Be careful.”

You couldn’t help but smile and say to him the thing you’d said to him every time he told you this in the past: “Always am.” His features softened the slightest bit at the familiar exchange between you. “Now, let’s go find your daughter and bring her home.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out and gave a sharp nod, what you had always called his game face filling his expression. Squeezing your shoulder, he released you and walked away. You watched him go and sure enough, the blonde’s glare entered your vision when she looked back over her shoulder while walking with him out the door. It was the same suspicious glare you’d been getting from her in the last hour, the same one you couldn’t help but notice when Carla had first launched herself at you. You knew then that whatever her reasons, she was going to be a problem for you.

“Ready to go?” Cassie asked kindly.

You gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s go get Em back.”

“And Denise,” she added.

“Right. Her, too.”

The both of you grabbed the vests Poppernak held out to you on your way out.

Cormac had actually proven useful and he had thankfully led you to the correct location Emily was being held in. Beau had been practically inconsolable when he called you before that, thinking Emily had been killed in an explosion. Even though you had seen him at the worst times in his life, and had just seen him breaking down in front of you back at the station, you had never heard the pain that saturated his voice right then. You struggled not to break down in tears yourself. Laughter, football games in the Arlen yard, ice cream runs after particularly tough days at school, you teaching her how to make paella and her mom’s smile when Em proudly insisted she made it all on her own later at dinner that night, rides on the ferris wheel at the fair because her dad was too scared to take her but wouldn’t admit it — the memories of time spent with your favorite teenager assaulted you in rapid succession. You forced yourself to focus on Beau, to keep him from falling to pieces right then and there. You knew that’s why he had immediately called you, before he had to tell Carla.

You were beyond grateful when a minute or two later someone interrupted your conversation to inform Beau that there was no evidence that Emily was in the explosion. The body they’d found appeared to be male. No Denise and no Emily. You had nearly fallen to your knees in relief right then, and you could only imagine how Beau must have felt.

And soon enough, you, Cassie, and Cormac located both girls, very much alive, and freed them. Emily had held onto you, her young face streaked with dirt and tears, clearly traumatized from all that had taken place over the last week. It broke your heart to hear her terrified whimpers. When she first saw you, she had cried out your name and once you had her in your arms, she refused to let go of you, which was just fine by you. You were grateful she was alive and appeared to be unharmed, but you secretly wished you could have two minutes alone with Buck, that sick bastard who had done this to her. Hell, you wouldn’t have needed your gun at all.

Beau and Hoyt showed up just as you were all stepping out into the sun and a huge lump formed in your throat when Emily finally let go of you to run to her dad. Seeing them embracing each other forced tears to run down your cheeks which you quickly wiped away.

You were grateful to Cassie for that day. Her hunch about Cormac and her personal connection to him had helped get Emily back home safely. Not only had the two of you worked well together in that short span of time, but ever since then, you could see that she was good to Beau, and to Emily. Both Arlens had massive respect for her and you could see why Beau had spoken so highly of her before you came to Helena, and why he insisted on having her back professionally despite her being a private investigator. It was common knowledge that law enforcement didn’t always like having PI’s poking around cases, but Cassie had been given full access and assistance. You now saw why and you were thankful that Beau had such a good friend up here, someone who truly had his interests at heart as well as his daughter’s. And now you were also lucky enough to be able to call her your friend. There were many movie nights at Beau’s that were filled with light-hearted teasing and plenty of laughter since you’d settled into life in Montana.

As for Hoyt…well, things hadn’t really changed on that front. She certainly wasn’t a fan of yours, no two ways about it.

You had gotten to know Poppernak a bit after you arrived but he was still in suck-up mode, so you decided to turn that to your advantage. It really didn’t take much to get it out of him; Hoyt had a thing for Beau, nothing you already hadn’t caught onto. Hell, she was practically all over him at his movie nights as well as anytime there was a meetup arranged at the local bar; if she wasn’t present for one reason or another, she was calling him constantly, either saying she needed a friend to talk to or it was under the guise of discussing ongoing cases. Beau never got a day off and there wasn’t one day he spent with Emily that didn’t get interrupted by a phone call from Hoyt. There had even been times he’d had to call you and ask you to take Em to a movie or keep her entertained because Carla was out and he had to go help the blonde on what should have been a case that a rookie fresh out of the academy could have handled. The kicker was that this was after what Em had been through, Hoyt knowing full well that Beau needed some time with his daughter after that ordeal. Not even you interrupted them, though both father and daughter had invited you to join them quite a few times.

At one point, you remembered the other thing Poppernak informed you about: rumors were circulating around the department that Beau and Hoyt were involved and had been secretly seeing one another. You knew Beau would have told you if he was seeing anyone, but it was no secret that Hoyt had appointed you as her archnemesis and you didn’t care for her at all. What if the rumors were right and Beau was too embarrassed to tell you? Or what if he thought it might make a bad situation worse? What if he wanted to find what he considered to be the right time to tell you? And if he was indeed seeing her, it would explain the incessant calls, the moon eyes, the distaste she had for you — all of it. The doubt continued to gnaw away at you and you didn’t sleep so well the first few nights after the talk with Poppernak.

Finally, one day you asked Beau point-blank if anything was going on between him and Hoyt. Once he closed his gaping mouth and put his eyes back into his head, he assured you they were just friends and he was her boss. She had been through some ordeals herself and he was just trying to be there for her, to give her support when she needed it. Nothing more. You knew it was complete and utter bullshit or Beau wouldn’t have been so suddenly interested in the case file on his desk. A case file you knew had been sitting there for the past two days.

There was no way that Beau was ignorant of Hoyt's attraction to him. The woman practically had a flashing neon sign on her forehead every time she looked at him, not to mention she had pulled out all the stops to let him know she was very much interested. Beau was an affectionate person by nature so little touches here and there between you were par for the course with him if you were his best friend, as long as they were welcomed and didn’t cross any lines or make you feel uncomfortable. There wasn’t a single opportunity Hoyt didn’t take to get her hands on Beau or to get those little touches out of him. Of course he knew; he had to. All of this was so blatant, everyone else around them knew, too, hence the rumors swirling around the department. Even Carla knew, as she’d mentioned to you one afternoon, and if you thought you didn’t care for Hoyt, then the former Mrs. Arlen downright despised the woman. People who Beau and Hoyt didn’t know knew, as evidenced by a witness at a crime scene asking to speak to the sheriff’s girlfriend again. Yet, if he was willfully ignoring her consistently throwing herself at him, then there was nothing more you could say. To his credit, you had never seen him return any flirtation or interest, no matter how hard Hoyt was putting herself out there, before or after your conversation with him.

There were a couple of times you discreetly noticed the hurt in Hoyt’s face when Beau chose to accompany you on a case, if he and Cassie were laughing together, or if he was extra tender with Carla when she would drop by the station to talk about Emily. It quickly became clear that this was more than a crush or some simple attraction; the blonde had serious feelings for your best friend. Knowing Beau the way you did and everything he’d been through the past few years, it shouldn’t surprise you if he was purposely putting blinders on when it came to this topic. Beau had dated some since his divorce, but he wasn’t ready to get serious with anyone. At least that’s what he’d told you time and time again, back in Houston and now here. It had taken him some time to get over his ex-wife and now Emily and his job were his top priorities. While deep down you might have a very tiny trace amount of sympathy for the blonde, Beau was the one who mattered to you in this equation. If Hoyt wanted to keep chasing after her emotionally unavailable boss, then that decision was on her. It wasn’t like Cassie hadn’t warned her, something the PI had mentioned to you one night after a few drinks while you both sat at a table, watching Hoyt pulling Beau onto the dance floor despite his clear reluctance. So if your best friend lived more comfortably in the land of Hoyt-is-just-being-extra-friendly-because-she-appreciates-my-friendship, then who were you to burst that bubble?

It did bother you tremendously though to see Beau not putting up any kind of boundaries whatsoever with Hoyt even though they were sorely needed. So, in your own subtle way, from time to time, you tried to suggest he put one up… Maybe two. He would humor you and hear you out, but then he’d either pick up the phone the next time she called him on a day off or he’d refuse, saying she was in a fragile state right now and he couldn’t afford to put distance there when she needed his support. After a few instances of this craziness and Hoyt’s attitude with you grew, you stopped being subtle which resulted in arguments that turned into yelling matches, tense silences on the rare ride-along, slammed doors (usually at your place since a slammed door at Beau’s would most likely have knocked that thing over; Pedro’s door was a good replacement though—that thing may be old but it was strong like a tank), refusals to look at one another, crossed arms, and sometimes radio silence for a few days if the disagreement had reached a bad enough point. You were always professional when on the clock and you always resolved things eventually, but this was one sticking point neither of you budged from. You knew Beau was a good man and had a heart of gold, something you loved and respected about him, but he could sure be infuriatingly stubborn at times.

And while you could admit Hoyt was a decent, hardworking cop, she was also a decent-sized, hardworking pain in your ass. You knew she’d be a problem for you and boy had she been. Her whole thing with the sheriff aside, it was no surprise that the source of her hostility towards you was the man himself, namely your friendship with him. You both were close and even though nothing had ever happened between you, it became clear that the blonde detested any familiarity or affection shown by either of you to each other. You thought it was ridiculous and you refused to change your relationship or how you did things just because she was eager for your friend to look at her the way she had been looking at him. In fact, whenever you were around, she turned her obvious coyness and see-through flirting attempts up a notch. Presently, as of a few weeks ago, Hoyt had taken to physically marking her territory, or what she considered to be hers, like her sitting on Beau’s desk—right next to him. She’d slide in beside him in your usual booth at The Boot Heel or she’d take the chair next to him during movie nights which would force you and Cassie to sprawl on the deck with a blanket, struggling to get comfortable on the hard wooden planks underneath. You fully expected one of these days to walk in on her jumping Beau right there in his office chair, something you hoped to hell you never did because you would never get that sickening image out of your head.

Sure, you had talked with Beau plenty of times about her open hostility. He had begged you to try to make peace which always made you laugh because you were not the intentional catalyst of all of the contention in this situation.

“I have to make peace. Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of your beer that Beau had offered to you when you arrived at his place a couple of months back.

Beau threw his head back against his chair in disbelief. “I’m just asking you to maybe extend an olive branch. This thing between you two is killing me... And everyone else in the department.”

“Maybe you should tell your undersheriff to, I don’t know, act like an undersheriff?” You ignored Beau’s loud groan and continued. “Isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Run the department while you’re out? My God, Beau, she can’t even go to the bathroom without your permission. You know that, right?”

“Y/N…”

“You and Em were supposed to go fishing last weekend with Cassie and Kai. I was going to take Carla out for the day to catch up and keep her mind off things while Em was gone. Remember that?”

You ignored Beau rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted.

“And what happened?”

“Y/N, a case dropped. Alright? It happens. When a dead body pops up, I need to know about it.”

“Know about it, yes, not work it.” He turned to meet your unflinching gaze. “No more bullshit, Beau. You didn’t make it to Sheriff by being stupid. You’ve worked in a bigger department before, dealt with way more crime, and overseen a bigger force. All on your own. If this were anyone else, you’d have told them to do their goddamn job by now, or you’d get someone else to fill the spot. You’re making excuses for her and you’re holding her hand like she’s a damn 5 year old.”

Beau dug his teeth into his bottom lip, staring at you in thought. “I told you, she’s been through a lot these past two years.”

“And you haven’t? Cassie hasn’t? Your daughter and her mom? Really?”

He let out a deep breath and sipped from his bottle. “We all have. That’s why when one of us needs a hand, we give it without question. When one of us falls, no matter how often or how long it takes, we help them get back up, every single time.”

You swallowed the argument on the tip of your tongue and sat back in your chair, staring down at your bottle and playing with the edge of the label. “Okay, Dr. Phil.”

A laugh erupted from the man and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shaking his head. “I’m just saying we all help each other as best we can. If that means she needs help on a few cases, I’ve got her back.”

“I think you and Hoyt have very different ideas of what the word few means.”

“Y/N, if it was you, if it was Cass, I’d do the same thing. You know that. Look, she was there for me when Em was taken.” You did your best to hide your flinch but it must not have been well enough because his hand suddenly covered both of yours. “You all were,” he clarified. “I’m just trying to return the favor.”

“Sounds like you two are a lot closer than either of you let on,” you mentioned quietly.

When he didn’t respond to that, you snuck a glance up at him. His eyes were glued to you but after a minute, he retracted his hand and dropped his gaze to the deck. “We’re friends.”

You felt a weird sensation in your chest, like something fell into the pit of your stomach with those two words. Beau was a very direct person. He looked you in the eye, he shook your hand, and he didn’t bullshit. That meant if he wasn’t looking at you, if he was feeding you this same line of bullshit, you knew that wasn’t the entire truth. You weren’t sure if it hurt because your best friend was lying to you yet again, possibly still not trusting you with the truth, or if it was due to what he’d said. Either way, you refused to look at it too closely, not wanting this feeling to consume you as it seemed intent on doing. It was easier to put distance there in your mind, to tell yourself that Beau Arlen was a grown man and he could make his own decisions. You just wished he’d get involved with someone better suited for him, like Cassie. Granted, Cassie was with Cormac and they seemed happy, but why couldn’t Beau find his own version of Cassie? Someone who wouldn’t interrupt his time with his daughter, who wouldn’t selfishly absorb all of his time off, who didn’t physically embody the definition of clingy, and who wouldn’t treat his best friend like shit day in and day out?

Honestly, you could care less about what Hoyt thought of you or how she acted towards you. For you, this was all a one-sided issue that Hoyt herself was making. You saw through her bullshit and you didn’t take her crap, and that infuriated the blonde. But what did she expect? After working a short stint in homicide in Manhattan and then with cartels, drug rings, and all sorts of other mess in Houston, very little had the power to intimidate you these days. Certainly not some little Miss Perfect whose work uniform appeared to consist of band t-shirts, leather jackets, and thick long heels as an undersheriff (how did that make for a successful running down of a suspect? seriously), who also batted her eyelashes at her boss and scowled at you from the moment Beau addressed your existence. You’d seen some things in your time and Helena’s runner-up for this Regina George wannabe was a mere speck on the windshield of shit on top of shit. You had no time for it. You just wished sometimes that Beau would stop trying to put it on your shoulders to do something about it, especially when he knew who the real culprit was.

And almost as if he had just heard your thoughts, he hit you with: “I’m asking you if you can be the one to reach out, Y/N, because I know I can rely on you. If I ask her… With Jenny, it’s complicated.”

“Not my problem,” you snapped out, taking another sip and refusing to look at him.

A very tense silence followed for the next few minutes as you both nursed your beers. You half-wondered if this night was going to end in yet another argument about a woman that wasn’t worth wasting a second over. This much disagreement was uncommon for both of you and you hated it. Oh, sure, you’d had your spats over the years but they were pretty minor and easily dissolved. And the silences… Usually, if a silence fell over the both of you, it was comfortable and felt overall peaceful. Not lately, which always seemed to follow a mention of Hoyt in some fashion.

You felt the all-too familiar burning in the corner of your eyes when you had the thought that had been getting louder and louder as more time passed: perhaps your transfer here had been a mistake. You didn’t regret being here to help when Emily was taken, but maybe once she was safely back home, you should have returned to yours. While Beau had made room for you in the department, there wasn’t really a place for you here; as much as you enjoyed spending time with your favorite family and new friends like Cassie, the person you had dropped everything and moved across state lines for was on the other side of a huge chasm that hadn’t been there before his move up north. It was growing every single day and you had no idea how to stop its progress or bridge the gap. You did your job well and deep down, you knew you would be more efficient elsewhere. You settled into the Montanan lifestyle as best you could but you had to admit to yourself that you knew it wasn’t a perfect fit. The more time passed, the more and more you believed your decision to be a mistake. The man you cared most about in this world had called you, told you he needed you, and you jumped without hesitation, not sparing a single thought or even looking to see where you’d land. Were you really that surprised that things were turning out this way? And every single time Hoyt threw hostility your way, it reinforced what you already knew to be true, the very message she had been sending you these past six months: you didn’t belong here. You turned your head to the side to discreetly wipe away a tear that had managed to escape and you took a breath to prevent any more, telling yourself to get it together.

You waited for your eyes to clear, to push back down the swell of emotions inside you, and took one last sip of your beer. Just as you were about to announce it was time for you to head home and thank him for the drinks, Beau spoke up. “See that?”

You glanced up to where he was pointing and caught the tail end of a shooting star. A small smile formed on your face as you took in the night sky. You had never seen anything like that before. That was one thing you’d give Montana. It was hard to believe but the sky was so different compared to Texas and definitely not the same as New York. Everything up here was so clear and beautiful. Big Sky Country indeed.

One night you, Beau, and Cassie had taken to trying to pick out as many constellations as you could find on Cassie’s smartphone. You were not completely successful but there were a lot of laughs as you all tried your best and then there had even been a very interesting conversation about UFOs and the possibility of extraterrestrial life. That had been a night for the books, especially when you and Cassie broke out into fits of drunken giggles when you grabbed Beau’s nose and made a weird mix of a boop and honking sound when you all discussed how you would greet aliens should they ever show up but were not hostile towards humanity. Beau had merely rolled his eyes in good humor and promptly cut you and Cassie off for the rest of the night, taking car keys from the both of you.

“A shooting star,” you whispered in amazement. “I think you’re supposed to make a wish on them, right? Did you make one?” You kept searching the sky, hoping to see another one so you could do just that. The other one was too fast and you desperately wanted to wish that things would get better and you could make your new home work like you had in Houston. The thought immediately saddened you when you remembered how a certain Texan and his family had helped in that department. You swallowed the lump back down and kept watching the sky, hoping like hell the universe would help you out just this once. Just one more. You weren’t wanting a meteor shower to suddenly happen of course, though that would be amazing to witness. You made a mental note to yourself to google it later to see when and where you could see one.

“Already did.”

Your brows furrowed at his response and you turned to find him watching you closely, almost as if he was waiting for you to realize what that wish had been. When you did, you scoffed and got to your feet, second shooting star and your wish be damned. “I’m not doing the olive branch thing so you can forget it. Not even some small rock from outer space is going to force me to do that one.” You stretched, feeling slightly more energetic than you had a moment ago, most likely due to the irritation you were currently experiencing. “Well, this has been fun but I should head home. Thanks for the beer.”

A hand pulled the nearly empty bottle out of yours and another dug into your jeans pocket, pulling your keys out before you could react. “Beau, what the— I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. Listen, you know the deal. You need to sober up before you leave.”

“I’m not drunk! I’m not even tipsy!”

Beau shot you a look. “It’s late. There’s a possible ice warning for later tonight. You’re staying.”

“I have work tomorrow!”

“Good thing you have such an understanding boss then, huh?” He gave you a wink which made you roll your eyes and fold your arms across your chest.

“If you’re so worried about my blood alcohol level, maybe don’t serve alcohol when I come over?”

“What, and miss great moments like…” He reached up and grabbed your nose, making the same boop-honking sound you had made weeks ago.

You pushed his hands away. “First of all, that is not what I sounded like. Secondly, I’m no lightweight. You know that. How many times have I drunk you under the table?”

He lifted a finger and opened his mouth to argue but then thought it over. “Good point.” You gave an approving nod. “But that was one time, in San Antonio.” He was referring to the day trip you had taken so you could visit the Alamo. You had never been and when you mentioned it, he insisted on being your guide. Carla and Emily were supposed to go as well but the latter had gotten sick so her mom stayed home with her. Beau didn’t want to leave Emily and you were willing to reschedule but Carla insisted you both still go. When you visited a bar later on, Beau issued a little friendly drinking competition between the two of you, as long as one of you was still sober enough to drive home. He had been convinced he would emerge victorious; he was wrong. That had been a long ride on the I-10. By the end of the night, Carla had her hands full with two sick people, each having their own trash baskets by their bedsides. It took some time but she eventually forgave you.

You held up two fingers. “Twice actually. You didn’t really think I’d let you forget Austin’s birthday party at that place in downtown Houston, did you?”

The man winced. “Alright, alright. Twice.” You nodded in approval. “Now, all the talk about drinking aside, you did just remind me how my time with people I care about has been interrupted quite a bit lately. Even if you’re set to drive, just stay. We can watch a movie and you can have the bed.”

A part of you wanted to accept but the other part wanted to retreat to your sanctuary, where you could break down in tears or mope around in peace. “I don’t really want to spend another night in the tin can,” you whined. “My bed is so much more comfortable and I feel it calling to me right now…” You glanced longingly in the direction of the road.

Beau’s jaw dropped. “Tin can? Between you and Em, I swear… Why can’t my girl get any respect around here?”

“Because you refer to it as a girl. You know how I feel about that.” Another eye-roll. “Beau Arlen, you keep rolling those eyes of yours at me, they’re going to fall out of your head. You just wait.”

“Sure they will.” He laid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer and giving you a smirk. You couldn’t help but lean into him, hoping to feel that closeness between you again even if it was only physically. “What if I whip out some marshmallows? Whaddya say?”

“Are you really trying to bribe me to spend the night? With a gooey, sugary, yet very deliciously fluffy confectionery treat, no less?”

“Is it working?”

You shrugged though deep down you knew it was. Marshmallows over a fire were your kryptonite and the son of a bitch knew it. “Tell me you have graham crackers and some chocolate that’s not expired, and you’ve got a deal.”

He beamed at you like a kid seeing wrapped presents under the tree on Christmas morning, making your heart feel a little lighter. How could you say no to that?

A few s’mores and quite a few more beers later, you were snuggled into his side, rapidly falling asleep. He had insisted you sit with him in his chair so you could both huddle under his one blanket for warmth on the cold night. Your drunken giggles may have made a reappearance as he worked to adjust the both of you for maximum blanket coverage but you would never admit to it if ever questioned in open court. You swore you’d buy him a few more blankets, especially when the thought popped into your head that there was a possibility that he and Hoyt had cuddled and done God knew what else under that thing. You’d even tried to wiggle it off of you since the thought took root in your stomach and soured (or maybe that was the beer), but Beau kept tucking it around you and pulling you closer until you finally gave up and settled against him with a sigh. The sound of his heartbeat and his deep voice as he spoke to you lulled you into slumber almost immediately. You thought you felt his lips brush against your forehead and you could have sworn he said something akin to “Definitely came true” but you had practically drunk your weight in beer and you were exhausted from the late hour as well as all of the roiling emotions inside of you so you couldn’t be sure it wasn’t something you dreamt instead. When you woke up with a massive headache the next day, alone in Beau’s bed with the blanket completely wrapped around you while the man snored from the couch, a dream was definitely what you chalked it up to.

And now here you were, yet again, at another impasse over the insufferable pain in your ass named Jenny Hoyt. The woman barely interacted with you, preferring to act like you didn’t exist or to silently glare at you from across the room, and she wasn’t even here, but somehow there she was, always in between the two of you. It really made you miss the old days, back before things went to shit for Beau in Houston. Back when things were a lot less complicated.

“Davis is booking Webb so I’ll go finish up the paperwork.” You turned to head towards the door.

“Y/N,” Beau sighed, giving you a pleading look.

“Thanks for the talk. I’ll catch you later.” You sent a forced smile his way and slowly spun out the door, closing it behind you. Passing by Poppernak on your way to your desk, you snatched a muffin right out of his hand.

“Hey! That’s the only blueberry from the bag. Madge got the other.”

“That sucks,” you teased before breaking off a piece of the top and tossing it into your mouth. “I thought you liked chocolate chip, anyway.”

“Nah, not anymore. It gives me bad heartburn,” he confirmed sadly.

You couldn’t help but arch a brow at him. “And blueberry doesn’t?”

He shrugged. “Not as much.”

With a roll of your eyes, you tossed the muffin back at him and he caught it with a bright smile. You slipped the paper out of your back pocket and punched a familiar number into your phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Your mother, Pepper Snaps.” Poppernak frowned over at you. You couldn’t blame him; you were being a total crankpot. It wasn’t just your recent conversation with Beau or Hoyt’s attitude or even your most recent case. You hated that you had to sit at a desk in the middle of a busy station while Beau and Hoyt got to have their own offices. Normally, you wouldn’t care, but when it came to phone calls or conversations best kept away from prying eyes and overeager ears, it was frustrating. You weren’t a deputy — you had as much authority as Hoyt, and Beau had made that perfectly clear to the department when you started (though you had a different title due to politics and budgetary reasons). Due to lack of room, however, you were forced to share a space with them, your deskmate being Poppernak. Not that you minded but damn the rest of the department could be so nosy sometimes. When you noticed a couple of other deputies watching you, you asked loudly, “Can’t a girl get some privacy around here?” All of them looked away, not willing to enter into yet another glaredown with you. They never emerged victorious in those encounters, even Miller who could be a real jerk when he wanted to be. They had all learned very quickly in your first week that you could hold your own and you could go endless rounds with the best of them. You could stand the heat and before long, it would be your kitchen and they’d be burnt to a goddamn crisp or running for the door.

“Mind your muffin,” you grumbled to Pops.

When the line connected and the operator asked you who you were trying to contact, you cupped your hand over the mouthpiece and asked for the department you needed. While you were being transferred, Pops arched his eyebrows at you in question since he had overheard you because no damn privacy.

You let out a sigh in resignation and shook your head. “I’m following up on a case. It’s nothing.”

“Sure sounds like something,” Pops said through a mouthful of muffin.

Giving him a look, you sat back in your chair and listened patiently to the public information that substituted what normally would be hold music. You thought back to your ride over to the station and what Webb had said while in the back of your car. You may have pushed the right buttons to get him to open up and say enough to help you make the decision you just made, but you didn’t have any evidence that anything he’d mentioned was the truth. Still, you knew what you saw and you knew what your instincts were telling you. Like Beau said, you couldn’t get involved but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do something.

A few minutes later, after consistently turning Webb’s words over and over in your mind and listening to the same public safety message for the twelfth time, someone finally answered.

“Agent Sanchez? It’s Y/N Y/L/N. Not sure if you remember me from the Carter case last year. How’ve you been?” Carter had been an escaped convict that a manhunt had been on for last year, and it had been an all hands on deck situation. You and your partner had been stuck with Sanchez and this other dickish agent whose name wasn’t even worth remembering, but you and Sanchez had gotten along well enough to help get the job done. In the end, Carter had been apprehended and dumped back in prison thanks to the cooperation and joint efforts of all of the agencies involved.

You made a little small talk and then you got right to the point. “Listen, do you happen to have any contacts in the branch office in Montana? You do? Do you think you could put me in touch? I have a case up here that I think one of their departments might want to take a look at.”

Sanchez gave you the name and number of his contact, told you to keep him updated, and let him know if you needed anything else. He also mentioned you should call him to go for a drink next time you were in town. Remembering the wedding ring he had been sporting, you gave him a vague but polite noncommittal, thanked him, and promptly hung up. You glanced up to find Pops staring at you wide-eyed.

“What?”

He glanced around, seeming unsure, and then leaned in closer. “Does the boss know you’re doing this? Because if Hoyt finds out you’re pulling the Feds into this, she’s going to—”

You held up a hand after you dialed the next number and unfolded the paper from your pocket, looking at the information you needed. “Pops, let me stop you right there. I spoke to the sheriff already about this case. What Hoyt does or doesn’t do, doesn’t concern me, and the same goes for her where I’m concerned. Understood?”

Poppernak shook his head and leaned back. “Okay but it’s your head if she finds out. Just warning you.”

You gave him a wide grin right before the line connected once again. “She can try.”

dividers by @firefly-graphics

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen x female reader #only ever holding onto you #only ever holding onto you chapter 1 #beau arlen fanfiction #thebiggerbear writes

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mariacallous · 11 months ago

Text

The Times has a rather odd piece today about Radek Sikorski, the new Polish foreign minister. Headlined “Why Poland’s new foreign minister reminds people of Boris Johnson,” it points out that Radek, like Johnson and indeed David Cameron, went to Oxford and joined the Bullingdon Club.

Well, yes, he did, and thank you for reminding us, but we should not hold that against him because there is one glaring and obvious difference between Boris Johnson and Radek Sikorski. Unlike so many Conservatives and Republicans, Sikorski did not succumb to populism. His return to power in Poland is an optimistic moment as it came as part of the regime change that drove the crank right law and justice party from power.

Sikorski fell out with Johnson over Brexit. He knew perfectly well that Johnson did not believe in leaving the EU because had Johnson had told him as much. But then 2016 rolled along and Johnson realised that Brexit was the cause that could propel him to power.

The story of their relationship is told by Sikorski’s wife Anne Applebaum in her memoir Twilight of Democracy: The Failure of Politics and the Parting of Friends, one of the best accounts of the rise of the new right in Europe, the UK and the US I have read.

When I gave it a glowing review in the Observer, a few readers complained. Why was I praising a conservative? I pointed out that her background meant that she understood the extent of the right’s betrayal of free markets and free societies better than any leftist. Give me a compromised insider over a purist outsider any day. The insiders know where the bodies are buried.

Here is what I wrote

Anne Applebaum can look at the wreck of democratic politics and understand it with a completeness few contemporary writers can match. When she asks who sent Britain into the unending Brexit crisis, or inflicted the Trump administration on America, or turned Poland and Hungary into one-party states, she does not need to search press cuttings. Her friends did it, she replies. Or, rather, her former friends. For if they are now embarrassed to have once known her, the feeling is reciprocated.

Applebaum’s latest book, Twilight of Democracy: The Failure of Politics and the Parting of Friends, opens with a scene a novelist could steal. On 31 December 1999, Applebaum and her husband, Radosław Sikorski, a minister in Poland’s then centre-right government, threw a party. It was a Millennium Eve housewarming for a manor house in the western Poland they had helped rebuild from ruins. The company of Poles, Brits, Americans and Russians could say that they had rebuilt a ruined world. Unlike the bulk of the left of the age, they had stood up against the Soviet empire and played a part in the fall of a cruel and suffocating tyranny. They had supported free markets, free elections, the rule of law and democracies sticking together in the EU and Nato, because these causes – surely – were the best ways for nations to help their people lead better lives as they faced Russian and Chinese power, Islamism and climate change.

They were young and happy. History’s winners. “At about three in the morning,” Applebaum recalls, “one of the wackier Polish guests pulled a pistol from her handbag and shot blanks into the air out of sheer exuberance.”

Applebaum was at the centre of the overlapping circles of guests. For the Americans, she was a child of the Republican establishment. Her father was a lawyer in Washington DC and she was educated at Yale and Oxford universities. Now her Republican friends are divided between a principled minority, who know that defeating Trump is the only way to save the American constitution, and the rest, who have, to use a word she repeats often, “collaborated” as surely as the east Europeans she studied as a historian collaborated with the invading Soviet forces after 1945.

Even when she was young, you could see the signs of the inquiring spirit that has made her a great historian. She went to work as a freelance journalist in eastern Europe while it was still under Soviet occupation and too drab and secretive a posting for most young reporters. She then made a standard career move and joined the Economist. But it was too dull for her liking and she moved to the Spectator in the early 1990s. The dilettante style of English conservatism charmed her. “These people don’t take themselves seriously and could never do serious harm,” she thought, as she watched Simon Heffer and his colleagues compete to see who could deliver the best Enoch Powell impersonation. She came to know the conservative philosopher Roger Scruton and Margaret Thatcher’s speechwriter John O’Sullivan, figures taken with unwarranted seriousness at the time. They had helped east European dissidents struggling against Soviet power in the 1980s and appeared to believe in democracy. Why would she doubt it? How could she foresee that Scruton and O’Sullivan would one day accept honours from Viktor Orbán, as he established a dictatorship in Hungary, whose rigged elections and state-controlled judiciary and media are now not so far away from the communists’ one-party state.

What was life in the English right like then, I asked in a call to her Polish lockdown in that restored manor house in the countryside between Warsaw and the German border. “It was fun,” she said.

It isn’t now.

Her husband knew Boris Johnson. They were both members of the Bullingdon Club at Oxford. She assumed that he was as much a liberal internationalist as Sikorski was. When the couple met Johnson for dinner in 2014, she noted his laziness and “all-consuming narcissism”, as well as the undoubted charisma that was to seduce and then ruin his country. In those days, Johnson appeared friendly. He was alarmed by the global challenge to democracy, he told them, and wanted to defend “the culture of freedom and openness and tolerance”. They asked about Europe. “No one serious wants to leave the EU,” he replied, which was true enough as Johnson was to prove when he came out for Brexit.

As for the Poles at the party, they knew Applebaum as a friend who had co-authored a Polish cookbook, and published histories of communism, which never forgot its victims.

Today she is a heretical figure across the right in Europe and America. Many of her guests would damage their careers if they admitted to their new masters they had once broken bread at her table.

Heretics make the best writers. They understand a movement better than outsiders, and can relate its faults because they have seen them close up. Religions can tolerate pagans. They are mere unbelievers who have never known the way, the truth and the light. The heretic has the advantages of the inside trader. She can use her knowledge to expose and betray the faithful. One question always hangs in the air, however: who is betraying whom? Although Applebaum has left the right, and stopped voting Conservative in Britain in 2015 and Republican in the US in 2008, she can make a convincing case that the right betrayed her.

In person, Applebaum combines intense concentration with an exuberant delight in human folly. You can be in the middle of a deadly serious conversation and suddenly she will break into a grin as the memory of a politician’s hypocrisy or an incomprehensible stupidity hits her. As the western crisis has deepened, the intensity has come to dominate her writing as she provides urgently needed insights.

You can read thousands of discussions of the “root causes” of what we insipidly call “populism”. The academic studies aren’t all wrong, although too many are suspiciously partial. The left says austerity and inequality caused Brexit and Trump, proving they had always been right to oppose austerity and inequality. The right blames woke politics and excessive immigration, and again you can hear the self-satisfaction in the explanation.

Applebaum offers an overdue corrective. She knows the personal behind the political. She understands that the nationalist counter-revolution did not just happen. Politicians hungry for office, plutocrats wanting the world to obey their commands, second-rate journalists sniffing a chance of recognition after years of obscurity, and Twitter mob-raisers and fake news fraudsters, who find a sadist’s pleasure in humiliating their opponents, propelled causes that would satisfy them.

Applebaum let out a snort that must have been heard for miles around her Polish home when I mentioned the journalist and author David Goodhart’s pro-Brexit formulation that we are living through an uprising by the “people from somewhere” against the “people from nowhere” – a modern variant on the old communist condemnations of “rootless cosmopolitans”, incidentally. It’s a war of one part of the elite against another part of the elite, she says. Brexit was an elite project. “The game was to get everyone to go along with it”. Were all the southern Tories who voted for it a part of the oppressed masses? “And who do you think funded the campaign?”

She is as wary of the commonplace view that supporters of Trump, say, are conformists, who have been brainwashed online or by Fox News. They may be now in some part, but brainwashing does not explain how populist movements begin. Their leaders weren’t from small towns full of abandoned shops and drug-ridden streets. They were metropolitans, with degrees from Oxford in the case of Johnson and Dominic Cummings. The men and women Applebaum knew were not loyal drones but filled with a dark restlessness. They may pose as the tribunes of the common people now but they were members of the intellectual and educated elite willing to launch a war on the rest of the intellectual and educated elite.

Populist activists are outsiders only in that they feel insufficiently rewarded. And their opponents should never underestimate what their self-pitying vanity can make them do.

One of Applebaum’s closest Polish friends, the godmother of one of her children, and a guest at the 1999 party, provided her with the most striking example. She moved from being a comfortable but obscure figure to become a celebrated Warsaw hostess and a confidante to Poland’s new rulers. She signalled her break and opened her prospects for advancement with a call to Applebaum within days of the Smolensk air crash of April 2010. She let her know she was adopting a conspiracy theory that would make future friendship impossible.

Outsiders need to take a deep breath before trying to understand it. Among the dead was Lech Kaczyński, the president of Poland, who controlled the rightwing populist party Law and Justice with his twin brother, Jarosław Kaczyński. The party has grown to dominate Polish politics, and the supposedly independent courts, media and civil service. The flight recorder showed that the pilot had come in too low in thick fog, and that was an end to it. Jarosław Kaczyński and his underlings insist that the Russians were behind the crash, or that political rivals in Warsaw, including Applebaum’s husband, allowed the president to fly in a faulty plane, or that it was an assassination. Repeating the lie was the price of admission to Law and Justice’s ruling circles and the public sector jobs they controlled. As Applebaum noted in the Atlantic magazine: “Sometimes the point isn’t to make people believe a lie – it’s to make people fear the liar.” Acknowledge the liar’s power, and your career takes off without the need to pass exams or to display an elementary level of competence.

Other friends from the party showed their fealty to the new order by promoting antisemitic conspiracy theories. The darker their fantasies became, the more airtime Polish state broadcasters gave them. “They had not suffered or been ‘left behind’ in any way,” Applebaum says. Yet they happily worked for propaganda sites that targeted her family. Because she is married to a political opponent of Law and Justice, and because she writes critical pieces in the international press, Applebaum, who had faced no racism in Poland until Law and Justice came to power, was turned by the regime’s creatures into the clandestine Jewish coordinator of “anti-Polish activity”.

I once believed you should never let politics destroy a friendship. But that maxim depends on politics not turning into a danger to you and those you love. Applebaum could not stay friends with women who would not protest as the state they supported went for her and husband.

The Anglo-Saxon world is not so different from Poland and Hungary. Britain has handled Covid-19 so disastrously because only servile nobodies, willing to pretend that a no-deal Brexit would not harm the country, could gain admittance to Boris Johnson’s cabinet. As Johnson politicises the public sector, showing “fear of the liar” looks like becoming the best way to secure a job in the higher ranks of the civil service as well. American Republicans have had to go along with every lie Trump has told since his birther slur on Barack Obama. As for breaking friendships, British Jews broke theirs when they watched friends in Labour cheer on Jeremy Corbyn and thought: “If they ever came for me and my family, you would stand by, wouldn’t you?”

Careerism is too glib an explanation for selling out, and Applebaum is too good a historian to offer it. Likewise, bigotry and racial prejudice were never enough on their own to move her friends away from liberal democracy. Among Applebaum’s acquaintances is one of Orbán’s greatest cheerleaders. She has a gay son, but that has not stopped her espousing the cause of a homophobic regime. Laura Ingraham, a Fox News presenter, became one of the earliest supporters of Trump, despite the fact that she has adopted three immigrant children.

Rather than grab at standard explanations, Applebaum understands that a society based on merit may sound fine if you want to live in a country run by talented people. But what if you are not yourself talented? Since the 1950s, criticisms of meritocracy have become so commonplace they have passed into cliche. Not one I have read or indeed written stops to consider how one-party states represent the anti-meritocratic society in its purest form. Among her friends who became the servants of authoritarian movements, Applebaum sees the consequences of the lust for status among resentful men and women, who believe the old world never gave them their due.

They were privileged by normal standards but nowhere near as privileged as they expected to be. Talking to Applebaum, I imagined a British government abolishing press freedom and the independence of the judiciary and the civil service. I didn’t doubt for a moment that there would be thousands of mediocre journalists, broadcasters, lawyers and administrators who would happily work for the new regime if it pandered to their vanity by giving them the jobs they could never have taken on merit. Hannah Arendt wrote of the communists and fascists that they replaced “first-rate talents” with “crackpots and fools whose lack of intelligence and creativity” was the best guarantee of their loyalty. She might have been talking about contemporary Poland, Britain and America.

“Given the right conditions any society can turn against democracy,” Applebaum says, and explains why better than any modern writer I know. To the political consequences of offended vanity – Why am I not more important? Why does the BBC never call? – a sense of despair is vital. If you believe, like the American right, that godless enemies want to destroy your Christian country, and prove their malice by not giving you the rewards you deserve, or think, like Scruton and the Telegraph crowd of the 1990s, that English culture and history is being thrown in the bin, and you are being chucked away with it, or agree with the supporters of the new tyrants of eastern Europe that a liberal elite is plotting to extinguish your culture by importing Muslim immigrants, and proving its contempt for all that is decent by laughing at you, then any swine will do as long as the swine can stop it. You will pay any price and abandon any principle in the struggle against a demonic enemy.

Shouldn’t she have seen it coming, I ask her. Shouldn’t she have realised that the world she inhabited included authoritarians, who would turn on her and everything she believed in. Typically, instead of huffing, puffing, and trying to pretend she has never been in the wrong, she laughs and admits that she probably should have asked harder questions sooner of her former friends.

Readers should be glad she bided her time. Applebaum can bring a candle into the darkness of the populist right precisely because she stayed on the right for so long. She does not know whether it can be beaten. She’s a journalist not a soothsayer. But I know that if you want to fight it, her writing is an arsenal that stores the sharpest weapons to hand.

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