#lover after lockup

[heartpascal]

i think any sort of joel x overly sensitive reader would be so cool, platonic or romantic. like they've survived through the apocalypse and you'd expect them to have hardened up a little but they're still so easily brought to tears 👀 joel is like annoyed by it at first but starts to realize that he'd rather they be a bit sentimental than shut off and guarded like himself

break beneath the weight

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader

▹— summary: joel struggles to deal with someone who isn’t as emotionally constipated as he is

▹— a/n: idk what i was doing with this. but. here!!! thank you for the req i apologise if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind :’)

▹— warnings: mean joel, emotional reader, FEDRA lockup, corrupt guards, dare i say… comfort?, (not sure what else! lmk if i missed something) not proofread!

▹— taglist: (ALL) = @rhymingtree (PEDRO) = @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours

masterlist

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Joel Miller knew from the moment he saw you that you weren’t made for life in the apocalypse. He could see it, clear as day, in the way you held yourself, in the way emotions played loudly across your face, in the way your fingers trembled around the blade in your grip.

Perhaps it was pity that led him to take you in, or the absence of his younger brother, who had always had a harder time keeping his emotions in check in comparison to his older brother. Whatever it might have been, he wasn’t sure it was a wise decision. In fact, if it hadn’t have been for Tess’s unexpected care for you, he might have kicked you to the curb already.

But instead, he found himself stuck with your presence. For whatever reason, which he couldn’t begin to understand, you had taken to clinging onto his side, following him wherever he went. Which included going on jobs during the day, and tearing up when he put his foot down after you tried to follow him to a deal.

It was irritating.

And while you had never openly burst into tears in front of him, it wasn’t like it was a secret when you went down the hall, shutting your door behind you.

Maybe, if he had met you before the outbreak, he wouldn’t have been so frustrated by you. Maybe, he could have been kinder to you, could have been the person you deserved. But the reality wasn’t going to fade any time soon, and Joel knew that. He just wanted you to realise it, too, before something happened that made you realise it.

But Joel had to realise that you had lived through this apocalypse just as he had. That you, too, had lost everything. The family you once had, the home you once lived in, and you couldn’t bear to lose yourself, too.

“No.” Joel said, before you had even had the chance for the question to leave your lips. He didn’t even glance in your direction, only continued packing the the bag in front of him. He glared at the bag as he spoke again, cutting you off as you opened your mouth to respond. “—What did I just say?” He asked, finally turning his head to look at you.

“You didn’t even give me the chance to—” You started, brows furrowed and throat tightening at his dismissal.

“—That’s right, I didn’t. So don’t start.” Joel reprimanded, tone flat as he turned back to his backpack. His brows were furrowed, expression practically made of stone, and you wondered, not for the first time, what he was thinking.

You frowned, “Joel.”

“Mind your tone.” Joel responded immediately, still unbothered by your persistence. He tried not to dwell on the fact that it was the same tone he used for Sarah, when she was younger than you are now, to remind her of her manners.

“Can’t you just listen to me?” You asked, practically begging him, which might have been dramatic, but you couldn’t help how desperation arose at his carelessness.

“No.” Joel said flatly, unimpressed by the emotion crowding your words. Dealing with your overly emotional nature was so low on his list of priorities, in fact, it wasn’t even on there. It was the very last thing he needed to do with himself, given the demanding nature of the deal he was headed to, courtesy of Tess’s orders.

It was frustrating for you, too, having to dampen your reactions when you were upset, just for his and Tess’s benefit. It was hard to be so alone in your emotions, to feel so isolated even when living with the only people you trusted.

They didn’t understand how you were still so capable of emotion, after everything that had happened. It left you vulnerable, which meant they were vulnerable. But you couldn’t help the way you felt, could you? Was it fair for them to ask you to numb yourself just to be more convenient?

All you were trying to do was ask to join Joel on his deal, ask him to show you the ropes. That was all. But he would never even hear you out, and it upset you. Why shouldn’t it? Joel and Tess may have taken you in if their own accord, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to remain completely unhelpful to them.

“Seriously, Joel, I’m just trying to—”

“How many times do I gotta tell you no before you’ll listen?” Joel huffed out, voice raised, as he whirled around to face you. It was instinctive, the way you flinched away from his almost-yelling. He stared at you with unreadable eyes, his expression changed from anger to something you didn’t recognise.

You bared your teeth at him, nose twitching with the effort of holding tears at bay. “Fine! Whatever.” You spat out, spinning around and storming down the hall, slamming the door behind you before you slumped down against it, hands covering your eyes, as if that could stop the inevitable. The tears fell regardless, the tight feeling in your chest making your throat ache. You just couldn’t understand him — you hadn’t even done anything.

There was no need for him to make you feel so… small. He didn’t need to dismiss you like that, and he certainly didn’t need to be so loud about it. Joel knew well enough by now that you were easily upset, a fact which seemed to be a great annoyance to him, which only made you more upset. You were trapped in one prolonged, vicious cycle with him.

The door to the apartment slammed shut only moments later, leaving you in the deadly silence that followed Joel’s exit, without his pottering around to provide any background noise. It made the ache in your throat worsen, and you sniffled, cursing yourself for your tears even as more fell down your cheeks.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Joel was ready to kill you, really.

He told you to stay inside, to hide in the apartment where there was the slightest semblance of safety, and this is what you do? You directly go against his word?

Now, he didn’t tell you why he wanted you to stay in, which he knows, may have been a big mistake, but really… was it so hard for you to just trust him? When had Joel ever done anything that wasn’t to ensure your safety? He told you to stay inside. That shouldn’t need a discussion, in his eyes. After all, he was the adult, you were the kid.

But instead, Joel had come home to an empty apartment, with no sign of your presence for the past hour, at least. And given the gunfire that had sounded just as Joel ascended the creaking steps with his equally aged knees, he knew that if you were out there, you were in danger.

He knows you’re not with Tess, either, because Tess was in another sector, closing a deal with another smuggling ring to bring them into the fold. She had left Joel with the responsibility of keeping you safe, and he had already been nervous the moment she had stepped out. After what happened the last time he was solely responsible for a kid, who could blame him?

Yet, Tess had silenced him with a “Get over yourself, Joel.” So what choice did he have? It was a reminder that Tess had lost just as much, and a reminder of how much better she was at coping.

If Tess got back, and you were still gone, what would he say? What could he say? She would be back by tomorrow evening, which meant Joel had a limited time to find you. Even worse, Joel had that sinking feeling that if he didn’t find you in that time, he never would. Which was something he couldn’t even consider.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to collect you from FEDRA custody, the very next morning, after searching all night for you. His time had been spent ducking into tunnels, speaking with contacts, avoiding FEDRA guards who were on patrol, and yet he caught wind of your presence in a facility just as the sun broke the horizon, reflecting the break of curfew.

When he walked in, approached the desk with a familiar FEDRA guard sat on the other side of it, he didn’t notice you immediately. But when he looked past the guard, into the crowded cage, he saw your tear-streaked face, staring at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Miller,” The guard greeted, sending a grimy smile his way, eyes showing a spark of interest. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked distastefully, fingers splayed across the dirtied pad of paper in front of him.

Joel knew this guy — and he also knew that he preferred to deal with Tess. Unfortunately, she wasn’t here. But Joel had no qualms with convincing this guy to do what he wanted.

“Sorenson.” Joel grunted out, nodding his head. “Kid’s mine. Let ‘em out.” He demanded, crossing his arms as he stood casually in front of the desk. Joel glanced in your direction, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the way fresh tears were rolling down your face.

“Oh, is that so?” Sorenson asked, glancing back and meeting your eyes. He smiled, maliciously, before turning back to Joel. “What do I get, if I do?” He questioned, as if he was in any position to negotiate. Which, to be fair, he kind of was. Only because of your presence, which limited what Joel was willing to do, in the way of putting you in unnecessary danger.

Really, he was probably making a mistake revealing his hand. Claiming you as his. It was just ammunition for dirtbags like Sorenson to come at him with, to come at Tess with, but what choice was there? He couldn’t well let you rot in this cage, even if you did ignore what he told you, because who knew when FEDRA would let a kid like you out? They��d try to recruit you into one of their schools, if nobody came for you.

Joel sighed through his nose, clenching his hand into a fist and ignoring the way his skin stung with the motion, a reminder of the last guy who had gotten in Joel’s way. “I can give you the next two weeks, free of charge.” Joel relented, expression stony as he glanced between the guard and you, as you stood with your face pressed against the bars of your cage.

“Two weeks? C’mon, Miller, I’m doin’ you a favour, here! Help me out!” Sorenson said, voice low, but louder than ur should’ve been. He glanced nervously around as if somebody would come and snap him up, before setting his sights on Joel once again. “Your kid’s in a lotta trouble, man. Four weeks.”

“Three.” Joel replied, firm.

Sorenson tilted his head from side to side, before shuffling through his papers with a nod. He took out a stamp from the drawer at his side, and pressed it onto a piece of paper with your name written at the top. He stood up, making his way over to the cage with a heavy sigh, and counted through his keys until he finally found the correct one.

You practically leaped out of the cage, the moment the door was open, and you headed straight for Joel. He said nothing as you gripped onto him, only putting his arms by his sides as opposed to having them crossed in front of him.

“Three weeks, Miller. Don’t forget.” Sorenson said as Joel ushered you away, and Joel said nothing to him. But Sorenson had dirt on him now, so it wasn’t like he could go against the deal. Tess was going to lose her shit.

He said nothing to you, the whole way back to the apartment, instead choosing to stew in his anger as you clutched his arm, sniffling.

You flinched when the door shut behind you with a slam, letting Joel go and practically curling in on yourself. It wasn’t entirely your fault, you might have argued, if Joel didn’t look so angry. He didn’t tell you that he knew about a Firefly attack in FEDRA, if he had, you would’ve never gone out! You only wanted to go and trade for some new shoes with the cards you had been saving up.

“Joel, I’m— I’m sorry.” You finally said to him, when he was quiet for far too long, when picking at your fingernails wasn’t enough to distract you from his silence. Vaguely, you noticed that your fingers were still trembling when you stopped picking at them, likely from the leftover fear.

Joel scoffed, rifling through a drawer in the kitchen. What he was looking for, you had no idea, but it was distracting him from giving you that scathing look, so you were glad for it. “You’re sorry.” He muttered out, disbelieving. He shook his head, glaring at the drawer in front of him when he finally stopped rifling through it. “What’d I tell you?” He asked, glancing up at you, eyebrows raised.

“To stay in the apartment.” You murmured in response, feeling your eyes well up once more. It wasn’t your fault, not entirely. You couldn’t help the way your body responded to people being angry at you! It wasn’t exactly something you could control.

“To stay in the apartment.” Joel repeated, staring at you with wide eyes. He shook his head again, apparently exasperated by you. “And what’d you not do?” He questioned, staring accusingly at you by now, his hands resting on the counter in front of him.

“Stay in the apartment.” You repeated, frustration coating your words. You knew full well that you had made a mistake, so did he really have to do this? Did he have to rub it in your face? That he was right, as always, and you were wrong? “I said I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

Joel wipes a hand down his face, feeling his age like never before, and sighs at the distinctive tremble in your voice. You were going to start crying, any moment, Joel knew it. And it seemed, given your desire to get away from him as quickly as possible, that you knew it, too.

“I—I made a mistake. I should’ve listened to you, I know.” You continued on in response to his silence, to his exasperation. He didn’t know what to do with you. Raising a kid before the apocalypse was hard enough, but here you were, a kid he hadn’t raised, who he was trying to parent, nonetheless. He doesn’t remember it reaching this level of difficulty, before the outbreak. Maybe that was why.

Joel didn’t exactly understand you, and he had never really bothered to try. After all, his time was spent keeping you and Tess as safe as possible, providing for you as best as he could. He may not understand you, may not know the ins and outs of your mind, but he cared for you. He wasn’t your dad, not exactly, and he’s not sure you could ever be his kid, exactly, but it’s about as close as he thinks it’d ever get.

Joel looked back at you, softening the slightest bit. “You gonna start listenin’ to me, now?” He asked, though it wasn’t really a question. It was more of a you are.

You nodded, movements jerky but without an ounce of hesitation in them. He frowns at the sight, brows furrowed, and sighs once again. “Are you alright?” He asked, then, after everything else was out of the way. With the way your eyes immediately started brimming with tears at the question, he was leaning towards the answer being no.

He stepped around the counter after a moment, in front of you in mere seconds, and his hands on your shoulders ushered you towards his chest with certainty. You gripped his shirt tightly, holding on to any ounce of comfort as if it was the most you had ever been given, and he said nothing even as your tears wet the material.

“I was so scared, I—I didn’t know what was hap—happening.” You confided, and it was exactly how he knew you would be in that situation. It was exactly the reason he had told you to stay in. But still, he’s somewhat sure that you know that by now, so Joel just gripped you tighter, as if he could squeeze the remaining fear out of you.

“I know,” Joel murmured, another sigh leaving his lips, blowing into your hair just below where his chin was resting on your head as he practically curled around you, hiding you from the world. “It’s all alright, now.”

He was still annoyed at you, still irritated by the way you disregarded his direct instructions, and the way you’re so easily emotional, but this was more important. He knew that much. So, he’d hold you as long as he needed to, as long as you needed him to.

And when Tess returned later in the evening, brows quirked at the way you were sound asleep already, Joel’s only response was a tired sigh.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It’s late one night, when Joel comes to a realisation.

The sun had long-since disappeared into the horizon, and he and Tess had been asleep for at least a few hours when he woke up to movement in the next room over. It was concerning, because you were usually asleep long before either of them. So, why you were up, Joel had no idea.

Whatever the reason, though, he couldn’t imagine it would’ve been a good one.

Which is the reason he got up, waving Tess away when she stirred awake from his movement. She squinted at him, as if questioning what he was doing, but settled back down soon after. She’d had a long day on jobs, Joel knew, which was another factor contributing to him dealing with whatever was going on with you.

He knocked your door, shuffling it open after less than a moment, and froze when he saw you kneeling on the floor, frantically shoving things back into a space below a loose floorboard. Your expression was scrunched up, as if you were trying to physically hold in your emotions before Joel could be exposed to them.

“Hey, kiddo,” Joel said, hesitantly, “Everything alright?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed, and hand still holding onto the doorknob. He frowned when you nodded wildly, squinting past tears in your eyes to look over at him, to silently urge him to just go. Instead of obeying the silent request, Joel made his way inside after shutting the door until it was just ajar. “What’s all this?” He questioned, peering down into the gap in the floor.

Your lips were trembling, eyes downcast, and you didn’t respond, even as Joel took a seat on the edge of your mattress in front of you. It might have been the most closed off Joel had ever seen you. It was certainly the most effort you had put into hiding your emotions from him, and especially into hiding the cause of them. It was… concerning. Not like you, actually, and Joel found that, as much as your emotional nature irritated him, you being distant was much worse.

His eyes were stuck, for a moment, on a single photo amongst the things in the gap. There you were, far younger than you are now, stood with a gap-toothed smile, beside who Joel could only assume was your father. He had never asked what had happened to your family, and there had only been a handful of times where you had hinted at it. Still, he had never taken the bait, instead choosing to avoid dealing with your emotions.

Today, Joel decided, would be different.

He reached down, plucking the photo from the gap, not saying anything when your hand hovered as if to stop him. He quirked his brows as he studied the photo, glancing between the present-you and the past you, and found more than one similarity. In the photo, he could see the shine of emotion in your eye — happiness, back then. Now, however, the gloss over your eye was one of sadness, despair. Nostalgia, maybe, or even grief. Joel wasn’t the best at detecting emotions.

“This your old man?” He asked, tilting the photo, watching the way the glossy print of it caught the dim light in the room. Joel looked back at you, then, focusing on you properly for the first since grasping the picture, and he found you struggling to hold onto the control of your feelings. “It’s alright, kiddo,” Joel said softly, smiling as best as he could at you, as comforting as he could manage. It had been a long time since he had tried to comfort his child. “You can talk about him, if you’d like.”

You shook your head, rising to sit beside Joel on the lumpy mattress. You plucked the picture from his grasp, turning it over and looking at the faded handwriting on the other side. It was unmistakably the writing of a child — of you, Joel realised, but below it, faded until it was almost invisible, was a translation of whatever you had been trying to say.

“I miss him.” You said, instead of anything else. You thought, perhaps, that this was something Joel could relate to. That it was something he could share with you.

“I know,” Joel sighed, placing an arm around your shoulder, squeezing as gently as he could manage to. He wasn’t good with emotions, not anymore. Feelings weren’t a Joel Miller special, and he preferred it that was. He preferred not to linger in his pain, in everything he had ever suffered through. He didn’t want to feel it.

But you… you were something else. Something purer, than him, he thought. While you were quick to tears, easily scared or stunned, you also radiated a certain happiness. It had taken over the apartment, so much so that Joel couldn’t even remember the shade of grey it had looked before you started staying with them. No, with you here, everything seemed warmer. And Joel Miller wasn’t an emotional person, anymore, and he wasn’t sure he ever would be again, but you made him feel something. Even if it was just a bit of warmth in such a cold world.

Despite your tears, Joel thought that you might just be the strongest of all of you. After all, he didn’t possess the strength to face his emotions, not like you did. He couldn’t bring himself to feel. But if you could, if you could manage to retain some sort of happiness, if you could hold on to some of the happiness that came with these tragedy-tinged memories, why shouldn’t you? Why should he shame you for that? For being stronger than he is?

“I know.” Joel repeated, frowning down at the picture in your hand. Not for the first time, he wished that he had a picture of his Sarah. “I miss her, you know.” Joel told you, lightly, voice right. It was possibly the most you would ever get out of him, but as you looked up to him, teary eyed and aching heart, you knew it was enough for you. Even this slight glimpse into his feelings, it was enough.

“I know.” You responded, squeezing Joel in return, and you felt the way a slight smile lifted his cheeks at your gesture. “It’s going to be okay, right?” You asked, glancing back down to the other bits and bobs you had kept, all to remind you of what you had lost, of what you had had.

“I think,” Joel paused, shaking his head at himself after a moment, before he squeezed you tighter. “You’ll be just fine.”

#joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller father figure #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller one shot #tlou imagine #tlou imagines #tlou one shot #tlou x reader #tlou x you #heartpascal writes

[unsoundedcomic]

Did you ever come up with a name for Sette's mother?

She called herself Tibby Palliard but that were an assumed handle. Nary sent a lad upcoast to look for her family and found no Palliards, but did find tell of a mort called Gingerly-We-Go Sanguinary, who matched her description. Ging had slit the throats of her parents after they'd poisoned an unapproved lover and sold his body to the plodmen. She escaped the lockup by warming the bailiff's lap, then vanished in a stormie's blow-out so even the dogs and lizards couldn't track her down.

Hearing this is what made Nary love her for real <3

[hardlyevenexist]

im definitely dumb enough to end up on love after lockup, prison pen pal turned life time lover

[byneddiedingo]

The Antoine Doinel Cycle

Jean-Pierre Léaud in The 400 Blows (François Truffaut, 1959)

Cast: Jean-Pierre Léaud, Albert Rémy, Claire Maurier, Patrick Auffay, Georges Flamant. Screenplay: François Truffaut, Marcel Moussy. Cinematography: Henri Decaë. Film editing: Marie-Josèphe Yoyotte. Music: Jean Constantin. One of the unquestioned great movies, and one of the greatest feature-film directing debuts, The 400 Blows would still resonate with film-lovers even if François Truffaut hadn't gone on to create four sequels tracking the life and loves of his protagonist, Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Léaud). There are, in fact, those who think that the last we should have seen of Antoine was the haunting freeze-frame at the end of the film. But Antoine continued to grow up on screen, and perhaps more remarkably, so did Léaud, carving out his own career after his debut as a 13-year-old. (It's hard to think of any American child actors who were able to maintain a film career into adulthood as well as Léaud did. Mickey Rooney? Dean Stockwell? Who else?) Having Truffaut as a mentor certainly helped, but Léaud had an unmistakable gift. He is on screen for virtually all of the 99-minute run time, and provides a gallery of memorable moments: Antoine in the amusement-park centrifuge, Antoine in the police lockup, Antoine on the run -- in cinematographer Henri Decaë's brilliant long tracking shot. And my personal favorite moment: when the psychologist asks Antoine if he's ever had sex. Léaud responds with a beautiful mixture of surprise, amusement, and embarrassment. It's so genuine a response that I have to think it was improvised, that Truffaut surprised Léaud with the question. But even so, Léaud never drops character in his response. This praise of Léaud is not to undervalue the magnificent supporting cast, or the haunting score by Jean Constantin. It's a film in which everything works.

Jean-Pierre Léaud and Marie-France Pisier in Antoine and Colette (François Truffaut, 1962) Cast: Jean-Pierre Léaud, Marie-France Pisier, Rosy Varte, François Darbon, Patrick Auffay, Jean-François Adam. Screenplay: François Truffaut. Cinematography: Raul Coutard. Music: Georges Delerue.  Four years after he made The 400 Blows, Truffaut was asked to contribute to an anthology of short films by directors from various countries to be called Love at Twenty. As he had with the first film, Truffaut drew on his own experience, an infatuation with a girl he had met at the Cinémathèque Française. And since Léaud was available -- he had worked with Julien Duvivier on Boulevard (1960) after completing The 400 Blows -- it made sense for him to play Antoine Doinel again. A narrator tells us that Antoine had been sent to another reform school after escaping from the first, and that this time he had responded well to a psychologist: After leaving school, he has found a job working for the Phillips record company and is living on his own. Then he sees a pretty young woman at a concert of music by Berlioz and falls for her. Colette (Marie-France Pisier) is not much interested in him, but she is evidently flattered by his advances. Her parents like Antoine and encourage him so much that he rents a room across the street from them. (Truffaut had done the same thing during his crush.) But one evening when he comes to dinner at their apartment, a man named Albert (Jean-François Adam) calls on Colette and she leaves Antoine watching TV with her parents. It's a droll little film, scarcely more than an anecdote, and the stable, lovestruck Antoine doesn't seem much like either the rebellious Antoine of the first film or the more scattered Antoine of the later ones in the cycle.

Jean-Pierre Léaud in Stolen Kisses (François Truffaut, 1968) Cast: Jean-Pierre Léaud, Claude Jade, Michael Lonsdale, Delphine Seyrig, Michael Lonsdale, Claire Duhamel, Daniel Ceccaldi. Screenplay: François Truffaut, Claude de Givray, Bernard Revon. Cinematography: Denys Clerval. Production design: Claude Pignot. Film editing: Agnès Guillemot. Music: Antoine Duhamel.

The Antoine of Stolen Kisses is in his 20s, but has reverted to the more haphazard ways of his adolescence: He has been kicked out of the army, and now relies on a series of odd jobs to get by. But he has also renewed acquaintance with a young woman he met before going into the army, Christine Darbon (Claude Jade). Like Colette's parents, hers are quite taken with Antoine, and they help him get a job as a night clerk in a hotel. He gets fired from that job after helping a private detective who is spying on an adulterous couple, but the detective helps Antoine get a job with his agency. While working for the detective agency, he has to pose as a clerk in a shoe store, and winds up in a liaison with the store owner's wife, Fabienne (Delphine Seyrig). When that ends badly, he becomes a TV repairman, which brings him back to Christine, with whom he winds up in bed after trying to fix her TV. At the film's end, a strange man who has been following Christine comes up to her and Antoine in the park and declares his love for her. She says he must be crazy, and Antoine, who perhaps recognizes his earlier infatuation with Colette in the man's obsession, murmurs, "He must be." Stolen Kisses is the loosest, funniest entry in the cycle, though it was made at a time when Truffaut was politically preoccupied: The film opens with a shot of the shuttered gates of the Cinémathèque Française, which was shut down in a conflict between its director, Henri Langlois, and culture minister André Malraux. This caused an uproar involving many of the directors of the French New Wave. Some of Antoine's anarchic approach to life may have been inspired by the rebelliousness toward the establishment prevalent in the film community. But it's clear that the idea of a cycle of Antoine Doinel films has been brewing in Truffaut's mind: There is a cameo appearance by Marie-France Pisier as Colette and Jean-François Adam as Albert, now married and the parents of an infant.

Claude Jade and Jean-Pierre Léaud in Bed and Board (François Truffaut, 1970) Cast: Jean-Pierre Léaud, Claude Jade, Claire Duhamel, Daniel Ceccaldi, Hiroko Berghauer. : François Truffaut, Claude de Givray, Bernard Revon. Cinematography: Néstor Almendros. Production design: Jean Mandaroux. Film editing: Agnès Guillemot. Music: Antoine Duhamel.  Antoine and Christine have married, and they have settled down in a small apartment. (There's some indication that it's paid for by her parents.) She gives violin lessons and he sells flowers -- carnations, which he dyes, using some environmentally questionable potions. But settling down isn't in Antoine's nature, and when Christine gets pregnant he looks for more lucrative work. He finds a curious sinecure in a company run by an American: Antoine maneuvers model ships by remote control through a mockup of a harbor. ("It gives me time to think," he says.) One day, a Japanese businessman comes to see the demonstration, accompanied by a pretty translator named Kyoko (Hiroko Berghauer), and Antoine is soon involved in an affair with her. Naturally, this precipitates a breakup, though by film's end they have seemingly reconciled. Still, it's obvious that the marriage is not destined to be permanent. They can't even agree on a name for their son: She wants him to be called Ghislain, and he wants to call him Alphonse. Antoine wins out by a trick: He's the one who goes to the registry office to legalize the boy's name. Antoine also spends time writing a novel about his boyhood, to which Christine objects: "I don't like this business of writing about your childhood, dragging your parents through the mud. I don't know much but I do know one thing: If you use art to settle accounts, it's no longer art." Truffaut had his own regrets about the portrait of his parents in The 400 Blows. Less farcical than Stolen Kisses, Bed and Board still has a strong vein of comedy tinged with melancholy.

Claude Jade and Jean-Pierre Léaud in Love on the Run (François Truffaut, 1979) Cast: Jean-Pierre Léaud, Marie-France Pisier, Claude Jade, Dani, Dorothée, Daniel Mesguich, Julien Bertheau. Screenplay: François Truffaut, Marie-France Pisier, Jean Aurel, Suzanne Schiffman. Cinematography: Néstor Almendros. Production design: Jean-Pierre Kohut-Svelko. Film editing: Martine Barraqué. Music: Georges Delerue. Truffaut admitted that he wasn't happy with the final film in the cycle. It's a bit too heavily reliant on flashback clips from the four earlier films, and if it's intended to show that Antoine has finally stabilized now that he's in his 30s and divorced from Christine, it doesn't quite make the case. He has a new girlfriend, Sabine (Dorothée), his novel has been published several years earlier, and he works as a proofreader for a printing house. He's on friendly terms with Christine, and agrees to take their son, Alphonse, to the train station when the boy leaves for a summer music camp. At the station, he runs into Colette, now a defense lawyer, who is on her way to confer with a client -- a man who has murdered his 3-year-old boy. Perhaps a little too coincidentally, Colette is involved with Sabine's brother, Xavier (Daniel Mesguich), and she has bought a copy of Antoine's novel to read on the train. Antoine impulsively boards the train, and sets up a meeting with Colette in the dining car, after which she invites him back to her compartment. All of this sets up a series of revelations: Colette's marriage to Albert broke up after their small daughter was killed by a car. She claims that she supplements her small income as a lawyer by prostituting herself with men she meets on trains. Antoine finally made peace with his mother after her death when he met her old lover, M. Lucien (Julien Bertheau), who persuaded him to visit his mother's grave. (There is a flashback to the scene in The 400 Blows when Antoine, playing hooky, sees his mother kissing a strange man on the street.) Antoine became infatuated with Sabine after hearing a man in a phone booth arguing with a woman on the other end of the line and then tearing up her photograph. Antoine picked up the pieces from the floor, put them together, and after some sleuthing, discovered the woman was Sabine. His marriage to Christine finally broke up after he slept with her friend Liliane (Dani), who he previously had thought was having a lesbian relationship with Christine. And so on. The result of all the flashbacks and revelations is not to round out the Antoine Doinel saga, but to make Love on the Run feel over-contrived.  

#The 400 Blows #Jean-Pierre Léaud #Marie-France Pisier #François Truffaut #Antoine and Colette #Stolen Kisses #Bed and Board #Claude Jade #Love on the Run

[middleearthpixie]

Miss Fortune ~ Chapter Twenty-One

Miss Fortune - Modern AU

Summary: Everyone in Cranford Falls knows the Prescott family. Not only do they run Miss Fortune’s Crystal occult shop in town, but they’re also known for their psychic abilities. On occasion, they’re even called into service to assist the police on particularly difficult cases. All except Alex Prescott, that is. Unlike her three sisters, she’s inherited none of her family’s gifts. At least that was what she thought until the day the dead guy showed up in her bedroom asking for her help in solving a murder. His own.

Six months after his brother Frerin’s death, Detective Thorin Durin is on a downward spiral of self-destruction until Frerin starts showing up in his apartment, claiming his death was not an unfortunate accident but was, in fact a murder. Trouble is, Frerin doesn’t know who did it, so he wants Thorin to reopen the case and solve it, with Alex’s help.

As they work together to find out just exactly what happened to Frerin, Alex and Thorin grow closer. Neither one knows it, but Frerin isn’t just looking to solve his own murder, he’s trying to help his brother cope with his loss as well, and to find happiness with the Prescott sister who’s known as the quiet one…

Summary: Alex gets a phone call from Thorin, who’s in the ER after being attacked by Mrs. Urlino…

Pairing: Modern!Thorin x ofc Alex Prescott

Characters: Thorin, Alex, Charlie, Frerin, Gram

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,582

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Previous chapters can be found here. 

Alex fought back a sigh as she stared at the emails still waiting for Miss Fortune’s answer. The inbox was fuller than usual, and none of them appeared to be hate mail of any sort. Gram and Syd were downstairs, but Terry was at the tavern, Teddy was in the shop, and Charlie had called earlier to say she’d walked over to the shop and would catch a ride home with Teddy.

Even so, when her cell rang, she practically jumped out of her chair. Turning the phone over, she smiled as Thorin’s contact photo popped up. “Hey, where are you?”

“Hey, Lex,” his voice was low and throaty and made her smile as it tingled against her ear, along her skin, “I’m sorry, honey, I know I said I’d be there for dinner, but you aren’t going to believe this.”

“Believe what?”

“I’m in the ER. But, before you get upset, know it was Mrs. Urlino who put me here.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know how she attacked Charlie?”

“She jumped on you?” Alex practically fell back into her chair. “Are you kidding me?”

“I am not kidding. I took a uniform with me to arrest her and somehow she knew, because she was waiting for us with a knife.”

Alex’s gut clenched and a sour taste flooded her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just waiting for them to sew me up, but it’s no big deal. The PA told me about fifteen stitches should do it.”

“Thorin. Fifteen stitches? And that’s no big deal to you?”

“What? She slashed me with a butcher knife, babe. I’m lucky it’s only fifteen stitches.”

She sighed, reaching up to rub her forehead as a headache began stabbing her behind the eyes. “But you’re okay otherwise?”

“I’m fine otherwise, yeah. But, now she’s got resisting arrest and assaulting an officer added to the list of charges. As far as I know, she’s in processing and unless she can make bail, she’s spending the night in the Hotel Lockup.”

“For someone getting stitches, you sound way too upbeat.”

“Yeah, I’m trying not to think about it because I don’t like needles and I don’t like getting sewn up, and it was starting to hurt like a bitch.”

“Did they give you anything for pain?”

“I didn't ask for anything.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thorin.”

“I’m still on duty, or I was, and it’s all right. They’ll numb me up and get it done and over with and then all I want is a drink.”

“Okay. I’ll go tell Gram we’re going to be down one a dinner, then. Or, I can ask her to just wait to put the pasta on.”

“Don’t even think of telling her to wait for me. I’m in the ER, I could be here half the night. It was pretty busy when I came in. But, if it’s not too late when I get out of here, I’ll swing by, if you want me to.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You never know.” 

“Thorin. Do you swear you’re all right?”

“Alex, it’s fifteen stitches across my chest. I’ll be fine.”

“Your chest?”

“My guess is she thought she’d stab me, without realizing I’m like a foot taller than she is. She swung, the tip of the blade caught me and she dragged it down. She’s stronger than she looks, but I had size on my side.”

“That damn bitch,” Alex muttered, the words escaping on their own. “I really do hate her.”

To her surprise, Thorin laughed. “Don’t hold back, babe. Tell me how you really feel.”

“She was always a little weird, but lately… between you and Charlie, I’m surprised she hasn’t full on killed someone.” She leaned back in her chair. “Did she say anything to you?”

“Aside from telling me where to go? No. Why?”

“I don’t know… it’s weird, I guess. But, what if she was the one who set the fire? She thinks Charlie is a whore, and someone thinks I’m a whore. And we know she thinks my family is a bunch of dirty gypsies. What if she thought Frerin was a whoremonger?”

Silence answered her and for a moment, she regretted bringing it up. It sounded so less stupid in her head. “Or, maybe I’m way off. I don’t know. I see dead people and answer stupid emails for a living. What do I know?”

“No, wait…” Thorin replied slowly. “You might not be wrong, Lex. I—damn it, the PA just came in, so I have to go. Let me get this sewn up and I’ll be over, okay?”

She nodded, which was silly since he couldn't see her. “I’ll be here. Unless you want some company.”

“By the time you get here, I’ll probably be done. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in a bit.”

And with that, he was gone. 

“You think the old lady did it?”

She spun around to see Frerin lounging on her bed, hands up behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “How do you know I meant Mrs. Urlino?”

“Who else keeps calling your family a bunch of dirty gypsies?”

“Good point.”

“So, you think she did it?"

“I don’t know,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “It sounded like it made more sense in my head.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Al.” He turned toward her. “She’s creepy. We responded to a call at her house about a year ago. She’d set the broiler on fire and instead of just shutting the door and killing the gas, she yanked the pan out and tossed it in sink. Curtains caught and the next thing she knew, her kitchen was gone.”

“And your company responded to it?”

“Yeah.” He sat up without a sound, but a chill swirled through the air toward her as he did. “She spent the entire time fighting with us about staying out until we got the fire out. Finally, I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her bodily away and carted her bony ass to the sidewalk.”

“She must’ve loved that.”

He grinned. “She kicked me in the shin and told me I’d burn in—” his smile faded—“that I’d burn in hell and I’d deserve it,” he finished softly.

“There’s only one problem with this whole scenario. Someone doctored your drink and she doesn’t strike me as one to hang around in bars.”

He clasped his hands between his legs. “Al, her son owns Darcy’s.”

“What?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She and Marco owned it, and when Marco retired, MJ Urlino took it over.”

“Frerin, that is nuts. Why would she do that? Because you dragged her away from her burning house? That makes absolutely no sense.”

“I know. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s a pattern, isn’t it? And it’s interesting to think about. I mean, we know she can be violent.” He shrugged. “She went after Charlie.”

“She bruised Charlie’s wrist something awful.” A chill drew along her spine at the image of the fingerlike purple marks on her sister’s wrist. “Frerin, she tried to stab Thorin just a few hours ago.”

“What?”

“You heard talking to him, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but I didn't know where he was calling you from. I got here in time to overhear you talking about someone who thinks your sister is a whore and your family thieves and I was pretty sure you were talking about Mrs. Urlino. But, she went after T?”

Alex nodded. “He just called me from the ER. Wait, I thought you were watching over him?”

“Well, I do, but not every minute of the day. What do you mean, she tried to stab Thorin?”

“I mean just that. Charlie went down to have charges brought against her for assault and when Thorin and a uniform went to arrest her, she fought back.”

“Is he all right?”

“He said he’ll be fine. Fifteen stitches across his chest. She didn't take into account your brother is a giant.”

Frerin rose from the bed and strode the length of her room. “And you talked to him?”

“Yes, Frerin. You heard me. He’s in some pain, but he’ll be fine.” A car door slammed and she peered out, which was silly because there was no way Thorin had been discharged that quickly. Sure enough, it was the people across the street. “He said—”

She turned back to to find Frerin gone. Probably on his way to the hospital to look in on Thorin for himself. A hint of a chill still hung in the air, one she tried to ignore as she sank back into her chair and tried to concentrate on the emails she still had to answer. 

Thorin breathed a sigh of relief as the nurse finished bandaging him up and stepped back. “You’re all set, Lieutenant,” she said, moving to the counter to pick up the small sheaf of papers. “Your aftercare instructions, and follow up with your primary care doctor in ten days to have the sutures removed. Oh, and a scrip for Tylenol Three for pain.”

“Thanks.” Thorin winced as he reached for the stack to set on the exam table behind him. “Diana, any way you can set me up with a scrub top or something, since my shirt’s been taken as evidence and all I have is my tie, which is garbage anyway?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiled. “I’d appreciate it.”

She stepped out of the room and Frerin said, “Flirting with the nurse, T? Al won’t like that.”

Thorin jumped. “Jesus! Don’t do that!”

Frerin grinned. “Al would be pissed.”

“I’m not flirting with anyone. Kerry took my shirt as evidence and I’d rather not walk around like this.”

Frerin stepped closer. “That is going to itch like a mother when it grows back, you hairy beast. And is that my St. Florian medal?”

Thorin fingered the thin gold chair he’d fastened about his neck earlier to keep from losing it in his office. “Yeah, Lisa brought it by earlier.”

“So that’s why she was there.”

“Yeah.” There was no point in telling Frerin about how she’d propositioned him before she left. Why make trouble if he didn’t have to. “You want it back?”

“Uh… in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly solid. Keep it. Another saint watching over you can’t hurt, right? I thought I lost it. I’m glad to know I didn’t and that it’s in good hands.”

Thorin sighed. “It fell into a drawer.” He looked over at Frerin. “And don’t remind me about the itching. I know how much it’s going to suck. What’re you doing here?”

“Al told me you got slashed by that crazy old lady.”

“Yeah. We arrested her for assaulting Charlie Prescott. Crazy old lady did not go quietly.”

“You know, her son runs Darcy’s now.”

The ice in Thorin’s gut had nothing to do with the chill in the air as Frerin moved closer still. “What?”

“Yeah. Maybe Mrs. Urlino likes to play with fire as well as assault women and cops.”

“Frer, as far as I know, there is nothing to tie her to your case.”

“Did anyone look?”

“You know I didn’t work it. I’ll have to check the file, but I don’t recall her name being on the list of persons of interest, so my gut tells me no. Why would anyone look into her? You weren’t exactly chasing old ladies to sleep with.”

“I wasn’t, but you might want to check it out anyway. It’s a little weird to me, that she’s threatened the Prescotts with the same words that were sent to Al at that blog.”

“And to me, as well.” 

Frerin’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Thorin nodded. “Yeah. I got an email a few days ago that just said Miss Fortune should die. But it came back as being sent from a library computer and they don’t keep logs of who uses them. Anyone could find my departmental email address just by going on the department website.”

“Crazy old lady with time on her hands might haunt the library.”

“Maybe. I can check.”

The door opened. “Okay, Lieutenant, you’re in luck, I found a scrub top for you.” Diana handed the rolled up bundle of dark blue fabric to him. “Hopefully it’ll fit you.”

He unrolled it and tugged it over his head. It fit, but only just, and he emerged through the neck of the top to find her offering an appraising look. “I guessed right,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah and I appreciate it.” He stood up and picked up the stack of papers. 

“Be careful, Lieutenant,” she said. “No more walking into any knives.”

“Not tonight, anyway.” He tugged open the door. “Take care.”

Frerin fell into step alongside him. “She wants you, man.”

“Yeah, well, I’m taken,” he muttered, trying hard to keep his lips from moving.

“Does Al know you’re taken?”

He subtly shook his head as he strode through the slow, revolving door that led from the ER to the outside world. And once they were outside and striding toward the parking garage, he said, “No. I haven’t quite worked up the guts to tell her yet.”

“You’re wasting time, T. Trust me. Tell her.”

“I don’t want to scare her off.”

“You won’t.”

They stepped into the shadows of the parking deck. Thorin’s truck sat in the first slot just beyond where the ambulances parked. “You drove yourself?”

“Yeah. I didn't need a ride to get a few stitches.”

“Fifteen is not a few.”

“It is in this case.” Thorin leaned back against the driver’s side door. “You really think that crazy old lady had the wherewithal to track you down to a bar, slip codeine into your drink, then follow you home and set fire to your house? Because if you ask me, it’s one hell of a stretch.”

“Yeah, I know and no, I don’t know if I think that at all.” Frerin shook his head as he paced between the Ford and the last ambulance. “But, she was nuts enough to wait for you with a knife and try to stab you.”

“Yeah. And I don’t know how she knew we were on our way there, either.”

“Probably just grabbed the knife when you knocked on the door.”

Thorin sighed softly. “Probably.” He rubbed his eyes. “It all happened really fast. Kerry knocked, Marco answered and when he saw the warrant, he said, ‘’bout time,’ and stepped back.”

“For real? Christ, even he thinks she’s batshit.” 

Frerin shifted to lean against the truck alongside him and Thorin tried to ignore the stealthy chill creeping through the truck body and into his back. He looked over at him. “She was at the sink when Kerry and I stepped into the kitchen and I swear, I never saw her grab the knife. She must’ve been washing it. She just turned and growled—and I mean growled, it was fucking spooky—‘burn in hell, fornicator,’ and swung.”

“Fornicator?” Frerin chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess she does not approve of you having sex with Alex outside of marriage.”

“How would she even know about me and Alex? Or me and any woman, for that matter?” Thorin lowered his hand. “I mean, I was there when she went after Charlie, but I’m in and out of that shop all the time.”

“Maybe she picked up on the musk in the air.” Frerin wiggled his eyebrows. “You and Al probably generate heat without even realizing you’re doing it.”

“Musk in the air? She didn't walk in on us fooling around, jackass. I showed up after she’d launched herself at Charlie.” He reached up to brush his fingers over the outline of the gauze beneath his scrub top. A mistake. It was tender despite the lidocaine injected into it for suturing.

The warm summer air dropped by a good ten degrees as Frerin sighed. “Tell Al how you feel about her. Trust me, you will not scare her off.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I do, that’s how.” Frerin looked over at him. “She knows about you and Lisa?”

“Yeah. I had to tell her.”

“Because she bumped into her at the station.”

Thorin glared at him. “Quit spying on me.”

“I’m not spying. I’m watching over you. Someone’s got to keep you safe, you know. I don’t want you over here. Al doesn’t want you over here. Stay there.”

Thorin tugged his keys from his pocket. “Yeah, well, even if they hadn’t bumped into each other, I had to tell her. And don’t ask me to explain why, because I can’t.” He hit the unlock button on the fob. “I just felt like I should.”

“I get that, and I give you props for being honest with her about it, even if you didn’t have to tell her.”

“I just—” A dull ache had begun to settle in around where he’d been sutured, but he had no intention of filling the scrip in his hand. A drink, a couple of Advil, and he’d be fine. “I don’t want her to think that’s what kind of guy I am.”

“She doesn’t. She gets it, T. She’s been there, remember?”

Thorin nodded slowly. “I know. And she does get it. She gets me, man. I wish I’d asked her out way before now.”

“Well, she’s with you now, so don’t waste any more time, okay? Just tell her.”

“You mean I should ask her to marry me, like you were going to ask Lisa?” He pushed away from the door and tugged it open and when he looked over, Frerin was in the passenger seat, his expression more serious than Thorin had ever seen.

“It would’ve been a mistake for me to propose to her. I always had the feeling she had her eye on you as her endgame.”

“That’s bullshit.” Thorin sat back in the driver’s seat, head tilted back. 

“No, I don’t think so. And seeing as how I was gone a mere three days before she jumped into bed with you kind of proves my point. You think, if something happened to Al—”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not,” Frerin replied without a trace of a smile. “You think you’d sleep with one of her sisters three days later?”

Thorin closed his eyes and sighed softly, shaking his head. “No. I wouldn’t. Then again, I wouldn’t sleep with one of her sisters if she and I broke up tomorrow.”

“Yeah, so… I rest my case.”

“I’ve done a lot of things I’ve regretted,” Thorin said, “but none as much as I regret that. I really am sorry, Frer.”

“Don’t worry about it. Really. We’re cool, T. We’re always cool. Now, go and tell your girl how you feel about her.”

“Yeah. I will—” He opened his eyes and looked over at Frerin.

The passenger seat was empty. The air warmed slowly and with a low sigh, he turned over the truck’s engine and carefully backed out of the space. 

Alex came into the kitchen to find Gram at the stove and Syd at the kitchen table with a glass of merlot in front of her. “Thorin isn’t going to make it for dinner, Gram.”

Gram tapped the wooden spoon lightly against the side of the saucepan. “Oh, that’s too bad. Did he get held up at work?”

“No, actually.” She crossed through the kitchen and into the dining room to take one of the balloon glasses off the bar cart in the far corner, and came back to pour herself a glass of wine as well. “He arrested Mrs. Urlino this afternoon.”

Gram looked up. “It’s about time. That woman’s a menace. Did you see what she did to Charlie’s wrist?”

“She tried to stab Thorin.”

Both Gram and Syd’s eyes went wide and Syd gasped, “What?”

“Yeah. That’s why he isn’t going to make it. He’s at Cranford Falls Medical Center getting fifteen stitches instead.”

“Do you want me to run you over there?” Gram asked.

“No. He figured he’d be finished by the time I got there.”

“That old bitch stabbed him?”

“Syd!”

Syd flushed. “Sorry, Gram. But really, am I wrong?”

“Well, no… but still…” It was Gram’s turn to go into the dining room for a wineglass while Alex sank into her usual chair nearest the doorway into the parlor. 

“She tried to stab him. But she’s barely five feet tall and he’s six-foot-three, so,” Alex shrugged as she lifted the wineglass, “she cut him, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“That woman is so spooky,” Syd muttered, shaking her head. “She’s always given me the creeps.”

Gram sat between them, setting her glass above her plate. “She’s off. She always has been. Still, she’s only recently violent.”

“She really hates us,” Syd said. “The last time I saw her, her aura was a calm pale blue until she looked over at you, Lex. Then it slowly burned red.”

“Me?” Alex swirled the wine in her glass. “Why me? As far as she knows, I’m the useless Prescott. You all are witches. I’m just your keeper.”

“I don’t know, but there was no doubt in my mind, she was looking at you. The only one who doesn’t send her into red is Teddy. She likes her.”

“Everyone likes Teddy,” Alex said, then brought her glass to her lips for a slow sip. The merlot wasn’t as light as a pinot noir, nor as heavy as a cab, but it was every bit as smooth and velvety.

“Yeah, I’m not so sure I’d want Mrs. Urlino liking me. What happens if you get on her bad side then?” Syd sat back in her chair. “I saw Marco at the grocery store a few weeks ago and asked him if he knew she kept coming in under the guise of wanting to talk to him on the other side and you know what he told me?”

“Take care, Syd,” Gram said softly, her blue eyes serious and stern, “I’d rather we not sit around and gossip like a bunch of old hens.”

“Gram, he’s afraid of her.” Syd set her glass down and nodded at Gram’s shocked look. “Yeah, he’s afraid of her. He told me not only does he refuse to sleep in the same room with her, but he locks his door at night. And once, she threatened to set fire to him in his car.”

“Damn, that woman is nuts,” Gram muttered, her eyes darkening was she reached for her own wine. 

“Yeah, and now she’s got assaulting a cop and resisting arrest on top of the charges Charlie pressed.” Alex traced her finger along the stem of her wineglass. “Do they even put old ladies in prison?”

“I don’t see why not. She’s dangerous.” 

The sound of a car stopping filtered in, followed by the slam of a door, and footsteps on the porch. Alex’s heart jumped when the doorbell rang, and she rose from her chair to make her way into the parlor, her heart leaping higher into her throat with each step.

The door tended to stick in the humidity, and it popped free with her third yank on the handle and when she saw Thorin standing on the opposite side of the threshold, in a scrub top—scrub top?—her eyes filled with unexpected tears.

She hit the storm door handle to disengage it and all but flung herself at him. A soft laugh skimmed her hair as he caught her, wrapped his arms about her, and said, “I’m fine, Lexi. I promise. I’m a little sore, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

“I know, but… damn… she tried to stab you.”

“Trust me, I am painfully aware of that.”

She felt the outline of the gauze through his shirt as he gave her a gentle squeeze, and when he set her back down, she reached up to trace it with one finger. “Fifteen stitches?”

“I think it ended up being closer to twenty, but that’s it. In a few weeks, it’ll just be another scar.”

“That’s it, he says. Are you kidding me?”

“I’ve got a bald patch that bothers me more, to be honest. It’s going to itch like crazy when the hair grows back.”

“How much did they shave?”

“Enough to sew it. Have you ever had stitches? They itch as they heal. My chest hair is going to itch as it grows back. I’m going to be miserable in about three days.”

“Poor boy. Maybe I can do something to take your mind off it.”

He grinned. “I’m listening.”

“Well, I don’t know exactly what, but I’m sure it will involve us naked somewhere.”

His grin grew wolfish. “Keep going, Lex. I’m liking this.”

“I’ll just bet you are.” She slid her arms about his waist and gave him a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re okay, all things considered.”

“You and me both.” He held up the paper bag he had in his left hand. “I thought I’d bring a peace offering.”

“You’re not in trouble, Thorin.”

“Yeah, but I was raised right. You don’t show up for dinner without bringing a bottle of wine, even if you don’t quite make it for dinner.”

“You’re in luck, because Gram got home late—don’t ask, she was with Parmenter again—and so we have not had dinner yet.”

“Did you tell them?”

“I kind of had to, but there’s something else I found out today about Mrs. Urlino.”

“Yeah?”

She looked up at him. The dark hair at his temples was damp and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. The humidity had crept up during the day and now it felt more like summer. “Come inside. The AC is on and you look like you could use a blast of cold air.”

He clumped into the house, then bent to brush her lips with his. “Where’s Frerin when you need him.”

“Right behind you, jackass.”

Thorin spun around and Alex peered around him to see Frerin lounging on the sofa, smiling. “I’m glad to see you two kids patched everything up.”

“There was nothing to patch up and you better be careful. Gram and Syd are here and they can probably both see you.”

“Will I scare them?”

“I doubt it.”

“Then it’s fine. I’m allowed to be seen, Al. It’s just not every can see me.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Okay, just thought I’d warn you.”

“And I do appreciate it.” Frerin smiled, looking from her to Thorin and back. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing. We’re about to have dinner.”

“Alex? Who was at the door?” 

Gram came into the room, and smiled as she caught sight of Thorin. “I heard you had an interesting afternoon, Detective.”

“You could say that. And please, it’s Thorin.” He held out the bag. “I had the guy at the liquor store pick it, since I know nothing about wine.”

“Apothic Red. Perfect.” She smiled at him, then at Alex, and then turned to go back into the kitchen, but not before saying, “And don’t think I don’t see you on my sofa, young man. Behave yourself.”

Frerin grinned. “You can see me, Mrs. P?”

“I can and you know it, Frerin Durin. If you’d like to join us, you’re welcome, but if it would make you uncomfortable, I understand and you’re welcome to stay right here for as long as you wish.”

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Modern AU #Detective AU #Parapsychology #Thriller AU

[callivich]

Hi Calli. Gonna go ahead and give you a question as well because I love reading people’s responses to stuff like this lol.

What would have been your dream Ian x Mickey centered storyline that didn’t happen on the show? Could be a storyline that exists but wasn’t explored as much as you wanted, or something entirely new.

For me personally, I look at S10 a little bitterly because I feel like their storyline in that season could have been amazing if certain things didn’t happen/were expanded on more or tweaked.

Hi Danielle! Thank you so much for asking me a question! 💖

This is a very tough question! My answer is I have 1 million different storylines I wish where written 🙈😂

Leaving aside the fact that Shameless is an ensemble and there are many different characters and storylines to be explored, here’s some I’d loved to have seen if there was time on the show:

Early seasons - it’s clear they had a sort of friendship as well as a sexual relationship, so more of them having fun and getting to know each other.

Anything canon divergent after s3. Either the dreaded episode didn’t happen or they ran away together, or they just talked. (At the same time, I think the aftermath of what we actually saw was painful and difficult and horrible but probably quite realistic to two teenage boys dealing with such a trauma.)

It’s obvious Mickey shouldn’t have been arrested for what happened with Sammi. So anything canon divergent from this point where he and Ian are broken up but then reunite (because, they would) - totally slow burn and not something we’d see on Shameless because there wouldn’t be time but I’d love to see them slowly but surely coming together.

Tbh, in terms of the show which did seem to focus more on Ian and Mickey in s10 and s11, I have to agree that a totally different storyline from s10 onwards would have been amazing. (I mean, essentially the writers were creating a new show - no Fiona, Ian and Mickey back together, Carl and Debbie really growing up etc, it’s a turning point for the show in a way, it kinda changes.)

I think a really interesting storyline, post- prison, would have been to cut Paula and have Larry be the parole officer for both of them. I’d love it if we’d see them working at the same place - trying to adjust to a world outside prison and a world where they’re absolutely openly together outside of their families/the Southside neighbourhood. They’ve gone from a tiny prison cell to the same workplace and things are very different but also very much the same. It would be a nice exploration of them as a couple in workplace and in a post-prison world where they are still finding their identities after lockup. Lots of bickering and humour but some emotional moments too (especially a better proposal!!)

I’d also love to have seen a s11 storyline where they were really planning the business together as well as planning on moving out. I wouldn’t expect them to be entirely on the same page - I would imagine there would be misunderstandings and arguments (but no exceptionally harsh words or violence because I think by this point they might not be great at communicating but I think they would at least try not to do those things)- but ultimately it would have been nice to have a season where they really, truly are trying to build their future together. I get the writers were trying to show them figuring out marriage but it sometimes felt that there past was ignored or that they had regressed as characters or that they were there to be funny despite their past storylines. So, it would have been nice to see them working together as a team, as lovers, husbands, best friends, as they planned or explored their future.

I will stop here because I could go on forever, there’s really so many storylines I’d wish we had seen! Thanks for the great question! 💖💖💖

#calli talks #gallavich #ask #as always with any of my posts please feel to add to things however you like! #but at the same time #these are just my opinions and I’m always open to discussion and new ideas

[bollywood143114]

Anjali Arora of Kachcha Badam fame was seen dancing to the song Harianvi Chori Ban Bin; Watch viral videos

Viral Anjali Arora video, Anjali Arora, who hit the all-round headlines with Kacha Badam, is not dependent on any identity today. Anjali Arora's social media following is no less than that of a superstar and that's why her videos are seen becoming part of the top trends on social media every day. Recently, Anjali Arora shared a new video of her on social media, which created a stir within hours of being shared. So far this video has been viewed by more than 2,11,000 people (as of this writing). Anjali Arora's new video has gone viral Anjali Arora's new video, known as social media queen, is becoming increasingly viral. Anjali Arora is seen in a black striped dress in this viral video. In this video, Anjali Arora's beauty and her outfits look no less than a glamorous queen. The way she is seen flaunting her beauty and her talent, she is no less than a top actress. In this viral video, Anjali Arora is seen flaunting her beauty with her dance moves to the Harianvi song. While sharing this video, Anjali Arora once again simply wrote her name in the caption. He also shared the location of the video in the caption, which reveals that the video was shot in Mumbai. Commenters are in awe of Anjali Arora's latest video. At this time, some are admiring Anjali Arora's beauty, while others are believing in her glamorous style. Tell me, in this video, Anjali Arora tells her lover with Harianvi song that - she is not a girl who will dance on anyone's bean, so don't mistake her for easy. Anjali Arora will be seen in Khatran Ke Khiladi 13 Talking about Anjali Arora's work front, we tell you that after Kangana Ranaut's controversial show 'Lockup', social media sensation queen Anjali Arora will soon be seen in Rohit Shetty's stunt reality show "Khatran". Seen doing stunts with his hotties. DISCLAIMER Thanks For Visit Our Site www.bollywoodofindia.com . We’ve taken all measures to insure that the information handed in this composition and on our social media platform is believable, vindicated and sourced from other Big media Houses. For any feedback or complaint, reach out to us at [email protected] Read the full article

[dargeereads]

Release Blitz Celebrations, Excerpt & Giveaway: Past Justice By Tibby Armstrong & Bianca Sommerland

The Asylum Fight Club, Book 20

This is not a beautiful love story.

But there is beauty in the darkness, and a love within family forged in blood, pain, regret, and triumph. To start here is to slip back to where it all began. From the boy who embraced a tempting nightmare to escape a hopeless reality, to the men who came together to find a home where even the most fragile heart, or the most depraved one, can be made whole.

The Asylum is more than a fight club.

Two teens raised within this haven drift away from the core of all it has to offer, drawn back as adults to find what they lost. One man, Sinaan ‘Sin’ Persaud, can bring them together, but only once he uncovers the war waged within the walls where romance can bring the sweetest pain and pleasure comes from indulging in things most speak of only in whispers. To first claim Garet Kincaid, he must join the young man on a road to redemption that began before he was even born.

To understand the challenges they all face is to explore a history dangerously close to repeating itself.

And expose the lies and secrets threatening to tear the foundation from the roots.

Universal Link

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Check out the Series on Goodreads

The Asylum Fight Club Series

Fated. Forged. Forever.

A place where men live and love by their fists—and ropes are for more than just the ring—The Asylum Fight Club isn't the easiest place to live or work, but it's a haven and a home for three men who've put their livelihoods—and lives—on the line to build a members-only gay sanctuary.

At the heart of The Asylum, Lawson Gaumond, Noah Leonov, and Curtis Smith, are three ex-lovers with one mission: to protect those they care for at all costs in an often unforgiving world of violence and vice.

They are three men, with one vision. Their bonds forged in blood. Fated to be together. Forever.

Universal Link

Check out the Series on Goodreads

Go back to the beginning with Book 1:

Flawed Justice

If there were an emergency number for adulthood, Matt Kincaid would have dialed it months ago. Raising his kid brother alone is already an uphill battle, never mind when an ugly gang initiation lands the teen in lockup. Again. Only, this time for a hate crime against a local fight club, where settling debts isn’t taken lightly. When the club offers to let Matt risk everything in a long-shot match with a man who’s as brutally handsome as he is tough, he jumps at the chance.

If Matt wins, all will be forgiven. If not? Well, he might as well move in, because ‘The Law’ will own his ass...for a very long time.

There are no limits to what Lawson ‘The Law’ Gaumond will do to protect the club he and his former lovers built. An inner-city sanctuary where Anniston Falls’ gay leather culture thrives, The Asylum Fight Club isn’t an easy place, but it’s home. Taking on a local hothead whose younger brother vandalized the space isn’t high on his priority list, but there’s something about Matt that cries out for a firm hand.

Lawson’s never backed down from a fight, and he’s not about to start when there’s no way he can lose.

When renewed gang violence erupts, spilling blood over The Asylum, Lawson and Matt must confront their pasts to find a way forward. Gunshots and knives should be harder to survive than this rough love, but coming to the ring armed with nothing but the truth is their greatest challenge of all.

Universal Link

Currently FREE until December 11th

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Book 20 Past Justice in the Asylum Fight Club Series, Tibby & Bianca are giving you a chance to win an awesome $100 Amazon Gift Voucher and 1 of 5 e-sets of the first 6 books in the series!!

A Rafflecopter Giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/cc0f2a57586/?

About the Authors:

Bianca Sommerland, author of the award winning Dartmouth Cobras series, was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec. After hitting the USA TODAY Bestsellers list, and being invited to teach several classes on writing in the sports and BDSM genre, they retreated to their writing cave and can still be found there, doing what they've always done. Which is writing whatever the characters tell them to.

Tibby Armstrong is the author of the (in)famous Hollywood and Boston After Dark series. She resides in her Connecticut hometown one mile from her ancestral family book farm. Seriously. There might be more books in her great-grandparents' 20 room Victorian farmhouse than in the local Barnes & Noble. With a Master's in Library Science and three cats, she's destined to be happily single and reading Romance novels until the end of her days.

More of The Asylum Fight Club: https://www.asylumfightclub.com https://www.facebook.com/AsylumFightClubCore https://www.instagram.com/asylumfightclub/

#Bianca Sommerland #Tibby Armstrong #Past Justice #The Asylum Fight Club #new release #release blitz

[zooterchet]

Cruising up in the Hate Truck (Job Recruiting Fair)

No Sympathy for the White Devil

You know, I had an insight in June, after my freshman year, that atrocities accused of by the enemy, are common American behavior; in order to kill American GI's coming home, since they're non-authoritarian and combat trained, being the exemplars of American logic. It happened in the 1940s, with African-American veterans of Italy, hunting white southern cops at high rifle, beginning the southern civil rights movement.

Homosexual: Being physically abused by your father (sociopath, a doctor, starting at dentist, the kinder you are, the more risky stuff the higher the malpractice suit - but any dentist, can do any operation). Pederast: Forcing sex on a homosexual male (police officer, a borders specialist, you make sure people, namely your own, don't cross borders with authority, therefore nobody will believe themselves authority, including you, the rule of selective prosecution). Transgender: Being sexually abused by your girlfriend, into pederasty (corrections officer, you are your own girlfriend, holding her in you forever, therefore you can be the savior of anyone in lockup, by spotting your girlfriend's boyfriend, and letting them duel). Terrorist: Getting abused into any of the above, by someone else's father, friends, or lovers, for resisting sex with them, being heterosexual (a male spy, MI-6 model, or a female spy, Mossad model, performing a criminal rank in a foreign society, as a local unit of government, except for American Bund, the farm prosecutors, those who determine if homicide has been committed; the DMT theory of death, the belief in no afterlife, afterlife's belief considered a child molester, to spot those who have committed homicide, by believing in a world afterwards, beyond life; those individuals, are labeled their foreign unit, and afford "the trial of the century").

[karmicstar]

Being involved with a man that is incarcerated takes a toll on a woman and her family. What was once a happy home has now been torn apart due to an ignorant decision made by her husband/significant other. This book is based on women who are going through the trials and tribulations of being married or involved with men in the prison system and how they remain strong when it comes to being faithful, keeping sane and making ends meet.

#prison #prisoner #inmates #inmate #incarceration #illinois #loves #lovers #love #long distance #long distant love #behindbars #love after lockup #jailbreak #jail #jailhouse rock #cook county #couples #courage #relationship counseling #latest news #google news #booklover #amazon #kindle #goodreads #kobobooks #creativity #empath #soulmates

[melwilson]

mel’s faves

my favorite fics | recommendations

hi! now that i’ve finally figured out how to make a masterlist, i’ve decided to put together a list of my favorite fics from some of my favorite authors. they are some of the most talented writers and deserve all the recognition in the world. let’s show them some love!

last updated: august 21, 2021

@wkemeup

the offer (bucky barnes x reader) | Zemo offers to sell the Winter Soldier in exchange for information. 

i’m with you  (bucky barnes x reader, mini series) | When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they are sent on a whirlwind weekend filled with cancelled flights, painful questions over giant checkers, an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, and a confrontational graduation. They find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love.

the witness (bucky barnes x reader, series) | Owner of a bar full of criminals, maybe you shouldn’t be surprised when you’re the sole witness to a hydra hit. In comes Detective Barnes, the quick-witted, flirtatious cop who somehow became a regular at your misfit bar. When he takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

feel again (doctor!bucky x reader) | Instantly captivated by the woman the nurses have dubbed the ‘frequent flyer’ of the emergency department, Bucky can’t help but fall for Y/n. He relishes every moment he can spend with her and with her apparent clumsiness, it’s quite often. That is, until he learns the real reason behind her injuries.

fireworks (bucky barnes x reader) | Bucky Barnes doesn’t do crowds. He certainly doesn’t do fireworks. But he’d follow you just about anywhere. 

flight risk (bucky barnes x reader) | Bucky becomes a flight risk after a failed mission and is put in lockup under Steve’s orders. Even though Bucky won’t say a word of what happened, you camp outside the door to his cell so he knows he isn’t alone.

@whirlybirbs

vacant mirrors (bucky barnes x reader, ongoing series) | shit’s been rough. shit was rough even before the blip. dr. hart shares an office with dr. raynor, and you share with waiting room with bucky barnes. set before and during tfatws; a friends-to-lovers, slowburn. 

@luciilferss

occupation:brat (steve rogers x reader, series) | _____ is the newest – and youngest – addition to the Avengers team. Rich, important parents, incredibly smart. Trained in gymnastics, martial arts, acrobatics and more. Got a face that she knows will get her anything she wants; the long lashes, the doe eyes and lips that she just has to pout to get her way. She’s a brat – and everyone knows that Steve thinks so because he’s constantly reprimanding her as if she’s the toddler she throws tantrums like.

heavy is the head (steve rogers x reader, series) | As the princess of the great lands west of the Indigo Sea, you were born with a burning loyalty to protect and serve your people. From war, from famine -- from the rebels that terrorize your land. But when an ambush from said insurgents sees you kidnapped, you’re suddenly torn between service to your country and duty to your family -- and, maybe, that odd little feeling that’s evoked by the terrifying men the rebels call Captain.

chin up (steve rogers x reader) | it's a shoddy deal made in a shitty diner much too late at night: when you call, he will pick up.

to be alone (alpha!steve x omega!reader, mini series) | it’s a normal morning for steve — and then a girl comes shooting out of the woods, and, well... it’s not so normal anymore.

mocha (bucky barnes x reader) | an almost fully recovered Bucky Barnes stumbles upon an oasis of quiet in New York city: a bookshop café called The Melted Spoon. The books are great, the coffee is greater, but it’s the cute barista that makes him return time and time again.

@helplesslyinlovewithcharacters

patience (derek hale x reader) | Derek helps (y/n) become comfortable with physical contact. 

fly home (derek hale x reader) | You’re never meant to meet your guardian angel but when Derek meets his, he knows his life will never be the same again, for better or worse.

just friends (derek hale x reader, mini series) | (Y/n) ropes Derek into pretending to be her boyfriend for a weekend but their repressed feelings for one another start to come to the surface, leading to a combination of both awkward and adorable situations. 

@samingtonwilson

territory (sam wilson x reader) | Bucky thinks you should mark your territory, but you’re too mature for that, right? Guess not.

hello kisses (sam wilson x reader) | hello kisses- after long periods apart, these can include A picking up B and spinning them around. fingers pressing into cheeks, palms cupping necks, and breathless laughs when they finally come up for air. 

@honeyhargreeves

dance with me (bucky barnes x reader) | you’re the portrait of gorgeous and he needs you.

just the cold (bucky barnes x reader) | bucky’s lips look absolutely adorable, and you tell him so.

@houseravenclaws

tap (bucky barnes x reader) | bucky never talked much. he fell in love anyway.

@divine-mistake 

you fracture light (bucky barnes x reader) | “She could fracture every single bone in my body and I would be thankful about it. Hell, Steve, she fractures me every time she looks at me, the way she displaces light as if it belongs to her—displaces me, ‘cause I belong to her, too. Like I'm the matter she’s gotta break apart to shine. I'd let her, Steve. I let her.”

this was a premonition, i think (bucky barnes x reader) | Sometimes you wish you had never fallen in love with Bucky. Screw that “it’s better to have loved and lost” bullshit. You wish you had never fallen in love with Bucky Barnes.

@writingsbychlo

to kiss a friend (stiles stilinksi x reader) | stiles stilinski has a crush. he doesn’t think it’s reciprocated. then, he gets kissed, a lot, and his whole world changes. 

@taylathornton

jj as a boyfriend (jj maybank x reader) | headcanon

kiss me more (drew starkey x reader) | during a movie night with your family, you and drew have to sneak away for a minute

@pogueslandia​

love you back (jj maybank x reader) |  the three times jj maybank told you that he loved you, and the one time you said it back.

coffee (rafe cameron x reader) |  a small coffee incident ended with a night of lovesick smiles and a date with rafe cameron.

soda can tab (jj maybank x reader) | jj learned a little something and he decided to test the waters.

@softboydrew​ 

first i love you (drew starkey x reader) 

a glimspe of y/n and drew’s nyc life (drew starkey x reader) 

@itsapeterthing​

share (xu shang chi x avenger! reader) | one with avenger reader where he asks her to teach him some magic? (or show him cool tricks)

karaoke (xu shang chi x avenger!reader) | after a message from wong, you arrive to meet shang-chi and his friend katy and as a night of fun ensues you realize you feel more than strictly professional about your new acquaintance.

@rodrikstark​ 

i’ve got time, i’ve got love (sam wilson x reader) sam’s on his way home. 

#bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #steve rogers x reader #derek hale x reader #good writing #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #melwilsonsfavefics #melwilsonsficrecs

[violets-page]

Heart on Fire pt.3

You’re Finn’s half sister and after Lexa kills him you make it your goal to return the favor.

enemies-to-lovers | word count 4.9k | series

This chapter is dedicated to the lovely @sonyadevillesbabygirl​ ╰(*°▽°*)╯

MASTERLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST | PT.2

You were with Clarke heading home when the assassin struck. The wind was cool and your torn shirt had been replaced with one of Lexa’s (you were going to tear it off but when you stepped outside the freezing air made you reconsider.) a light shawl accompanying it. You had stopped so that Abby could gather some water (much to Clarke’s disdain.)

You however were enjoying the view, the soft chirping of birds and the beauty of the surrounding nature almost made you forget about the problems around you. Until the man next to you fell off his horse with a loud thud. You were dragged to the floor by one of the grounders Lexa had sent to monitor your injuries'. He pulled you low as Clarke took off on her horse to find the shooter.

You wasted no time in pushing the man off and chasing after her. She was at the top of a hill, a man in a hazmat suit lay screaming and clutching his leg as Octavia ransacked his backpack. She stood over The mountain man clutching a stack of papers. As you neared you recognized your own face in the photos circled by a series of sickeningly red question marks. As Clarke flipped through them you noticed it wasn't the only one you were in. The photos where multiple shots of things. The grounder camp, camp Jaha, Bellamy, and finally Clarke and Lexa circled in red. Octavia stood on the other side of Clarke peering at the photos, at the last one she spoke up.

“You and Lexa were the targets.” The fact that someone other than you wanted Lexa dead came as a small shock to you, though you understood why.

When Indra heard this she turned to you. You had become a sort of messenger, communicating information between grounders and sky people. Lexa had suggested it to Clarke and seeing how your other option was lockup, you graciously accepted the offer.

“Ride to Tondc, inform the commander.” You nodded and clambered rather clumsily onto the closest horse. Before you could take of Clarke pulled one of Raven’s makeshift walkie-talkies from her bag and thrust it into your arms.

“In case you need to contact us.” You gave her a quick nod and small smile before galloping off.

The ride back was not nearly as peaceful, the horse jolted, tossing you back and forth as you tried to steer it. It failed to listen to you and you prayed it knew what it was doing. Its abrupt stop at the gates of the grounder camp had you grabbing its hair to keep from flying forward.

You quickly dismounted stumbling a bit when your feet hit the still earth. It had been communicated that you were the new messenger, so when you asked for Lexa that’s where you were taken. The large village was confusing and seemed to have no true layout besides Lexa being located at the center.

Her building was two stories high but also incredibly large. The layout was similar to your Ark textbook’s graphics of what an old school would look like.

A bald man with a faint scar running across the entirety of his face met you at the door. He led you through the winding halls to a large set of double doors, tossing them in with little effort. He shot you a look you couldn’t much interpret before entering.

The room was stunning. Candles were scattered everywhere, their flickering yellow flame illuminating the room. The concrete floor was covered with an array of mismatch rugs, leading to a  large wooden chair situated in the center.

Her familiar figure sat on the throne, surrounded by others. They spoke to her in aggravated whispers but her eyes immediately latched onto you. She spoke to the man closest to her, her eyes never leaving your figure. With a simple hand motion, she cleared the room. Only you and the bald man remained.

He got to his knees in front of her, gripping your sleeve trying to tug you down with him. Lexa smirked when you stepped away from him and remained standing. He glared at you from his lowered position, an unfriendly scowl on his face.

“That's alright Titus, you may leave.” He rose begrudgingly, still watching you as he walked away. When the doors clanked shut she spoke again.

“Back so soon?” her hands were folded delicately in her lap as she watched you with playful eyes. Every time she spoke you felt yourself bubbling with anger, pushing you over the edge like no one else could. Your brows raised softly as you shoot back at her.

“Not like anyone there misses me. You took care of that.” Her faintly pleasant expression quickly became one of subtle furry. She spoke harshly, you almost flinched as she spat the words out.

“Let. it. go.” She had told you before, that by sparing you, you were indebted to her. It was either die or obey. That didn’t mean you had to make it pleasant for her. You spat right back with almost as much fierceness. Almost.

“I don’t know how.” The silence that followed was deafening. You clenched your jaw to keep your lip from trembling. You recognized the look on her face, it was one Clarke and Bellamy often tossed your way. Pity.

It seemed like you stood there bathing in the silence for hours. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes.

“Why have you come here y/n.” The original deal was that you would stay by her side, under her eye at at her disposal. But after your blatant distaste for the commander she had allowed you to go back, reemerging only when necessary.

“There was an assassination attempt on Clarke, you were also a target, and-” and maybe me too. That part didn’t feel necessary so you let it fade.

She nodded slowly, waiting for you to continue. “Clarke gave me a radio, I’m supposed to stay here and relay information.” Clarke had given you a radio and well, you'd rather stay here, accompanied by Lexa’s scrutinizing eyes than Abby and Clarke’s controlling presence, pity looks, and constant lectures.

She nodded again, this time even slower and you got the feeling she didn’t believe you. If that was the case she made no comment about it.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Lexa had given you a room to yourself, it was massive, Larger than any room on the Ark, not that you could much remember it. When she finally left you alone you reached for the radio quickly patching through to Raven.

“Raven, It’s y/n, any word from Bellamy?” There was such a long pause of silence that you doubted the use of the radio, but finally, it kicked on.

“No, but...” her hesitation prepared you for the worst. “They’ve started bleeding them.”

Your chest hurt, these kids, kids who helped feed and protect you, to keep you alive- keep each other alive. They were dying while you stood around being pampered by a commander. Your skin crawled at the thought.

“If we don't hear from him in two days I’ll go in.” You had always been prepared to die if it was a worthy cause. Raven was silent on the other line before she gave a faint sight.

“Alright. But he’ll radio in. I know it.” You nodded, more to yourself than anyone else before slipping the radio onto a wooden log, acting as a nightstand for the bed.

The bed. It was enormous, surrounded by a long loose canopy, carefully sewn from scrap fabrics. You ran your hands along the fur blankets that covered it. It was insanely soft, its multicolored coating called to you. You sat at the edge of the bed, it dipped under your weight. That alone shocked you enough to make you stand. In the skybox, criminals were given hard mattresses and a single pillow. And on the Earth you had no bed at all, you slept in hammocks or on the ground.

Thinking of the hammocks made you think of your friends, the friends who were probably sleeping in cold cages right now. You gripped the blanket, dragging it to the floor, there was a fur rug, closely matching your blanket. You laid across it, curling up in the warmth of the fur. This was the greatest luxury you would allow yourself.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Your next few days consisted of standing behind Lexa during meetings and occasionally speaking on behalf of the sky people. (Although no one but Lexa truly wanted to hear you).

The cuts and tears on your body had almost fully healed due to the poultice that was applied on them daily. Lexa had come to your room the second night with a large jar of the foul-smelling goop. She had you show her all of your injuries, after showing each she would apply the cool paste across them. The rapid temperature change sent shivers up your spine. With each cut she touched the looks of sadness on her face deepened. By the third night of her applying them you got fed up with it. Her face, her fingers trailing gently along your body, the way it made your heart pitter-patter in your chest... It was too much to take.

You had snatched the jar from her hands before hastily applying the goop to all the remaining cuts and tears. In your rush, much of the gloop fell to the floor and stained your toes. She watched you, clearly frustrated but unwilling to snatch the jar back or protest. Instead, she stood watching you until you had deemed the job good enough. You had finished in a fourth of the time it took Lexa to do the job. From that point on nights consisted of her wordlessly dropping off the jar, observing, and then finally leaving. Not that she spoke much before that.

On the fifth night, when she knocked on the door, her arms were empty of the familiar jar. You waited for her to say something but she remained silent, ducking under your arm to enter the room. You turned around to face her and saw her running her fingers along the neatly made bed. Besides the moving of the blanket, the pillows and sheets remained crisp and untouched.

“You don't sleep in it?” For some reason the way she said it made you feel guilty as though your means of punishing yourself had been stupid and childlike. You felt the need to lie, to make up a situation in which you weren't deemed an ungrateful brat.

“The beds so big, it makes me feel lonely.” She watched you, considering your statement, a small smile festering on the edges of her lips.

“My beds always open.” Your eyes widened for a split second before you carefuly composed yourself.

“No thanks.” It was a joke. She had just been joking.

She stood, walking around the room as you turned to face her with each step. When your back was towards the bed she advanced towards you. The gaze she held was so intense you instinctively stepped back, but not before she took another step forward. And another. And another. Your calves were pressed against the bed as she watched you. Without clambering over the bed like a fool there was nowhere for you to go.

“Take the shirt off.” You stood watching her frozen. She wanted to check your wounds, you let out a breath at the realization before slowly gripping the edges of your shirt and tugging it off. You crossed your arms instinctively over your chest as the shirt dangled from your fingertips.

She studied each scar and wound on your body. Two were prominent, one on your bicep that ached when you move your arms and one on your stomach that was a constant stinging pain. Her eyes raked over your body painfully slow until you found the hairs on your arms standing on end as goosebumps breaking out across your skin.

Her fingers reached up to trail along the one on your stomach, you chewed on your lower lip as the base of your spine tingled. She stood so close. You could see the specks of gold in her eyes and see the remains of war paint smudged against her collarbone. You allowed her hand to rest on your stomach for a second, humoring her before quickly jerking back.

“That’s enough.”

Her hand hovered in the air for a moment longer before dropping it back to her side. Her eyes resumed their uncaring appearance, her lips formed into a thin line.

“I’m going to train you starting tomorrow. You are strong-minded but you lack warrior skill.” You were not too sure if that was a backhanded compliment or just a straight-out insult. She waited for no answer before quickly departing.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Training took place in a different room of the massive building, it was inside and away from the blistering heat of the summer mornings and nosey eyes of the grounder villagers. You were thankful for this.

She tossed you a long and slim sword, which fell at your feet with an echoed clatter. You stared at it almost laughing aloud.

“You’re going to give me, the girl who tried to kill you, a sword and tell me to fight you.” She looked at you as if you had just told her the sky was red and you were a pony.

“It’s a dull edge, you’re too weak to do any real damage with it.” You picked up the sword. It was heavy and felt just like a real sword, Your eyes raked over the long silver blade. Looked like one too.

You ran your finger over the edge, it was incredibly dull, The edge was practically rounded, but it was heavy and if swung could cause bruising. Lexa held a similar sword in her own hands. You prayed it was just as dull as yours. You gripped the thing, shifting it between hands and swinging the blade in an attempt to get a feel for the tool.

She spent a solid 30 minutes teaching you how to properly grip the sword and swing it before she was called away by the bald man from earlier. You continued  after she left. There wasn't much else to do and the silence calmed your mind. You swung the sword acting out battle with another an occasional sound effect slipping from your lips.

When she returned she looked beyond pissed. Her fist was clenched tightly and her eyes burned with a familiar fire. You smiled- more like smirked- a bit at this. It was refreshing to see her pissed at something other than you. When her eyes fell on your upturn lips she faltered a moment. The anger quickly dismissing to be replaced with something feigning.... shock maybe? It quickly disappeared as she scowled at you.

The training sword was still gripped in her fist and she nodded toward yours which was lightly clasped in your hand, the blade resting on the ground behind you.

“Try and kill me.” Hadn’t she been the one to tell you that no real damage could be done with the sword, was she expecting a play duel? Your questions were quickly answered by the clattering of a sword landing at your feet.

She had drawn her sword, her real sword, and tossed it to you. Her grip remained on the practice one and she lifted it, shifting to defense stature.

You bent down quickly grabbing it and taking a few test swings. It was much lighter than the practice one. Motions came more fluid and with ease. You ran your finger along the edge, flinching when blood prickled on your finger. She was fucking crazy.

“What if I succeed.” her face showed the faintest lines of humor.

“You won’t.” You took this as a challenge, It was a challenge. The first lunge managed to graze her, your eyes widened at the small tear in her shirt, even more shocking was when she shot you a small smile.

“I didn’t mean- ” You started, but you were cut off when she jabbed you in the side with the practice sword.

Bitch.

The rest of your attacks were quickly dodged, originally you weren’t going to kill her, maybe seriously injure or just tackle but with every dodge, you felt your frustration bubbling. You struck harder and made more lethal jabs. She made no attempt to fight you, just dodging and occasionally tapping her sword against yours to deflect an attack. It was strangely frustrating. If she would just stop playing coward and try and fight you would be able to cut her down.

“Fight me! Come on stop playing coward.” You had hoped the insult would be enough to jar her and get her to do what you wanted. But unlike you, she would not be so easily controlled by emotions.

She shrugged a simple lunge towards you, grazing your cheek, before resuming defense. You scoffed, half panting as she spoke.

“Finn was your brother.” It was spoken as more of a question, even though she clearly knew the answer. She was barely out of breath as she spoke, even though she was moving more than you were.

“Is. Just because he's dead doesn't mean he’s not my brother.” You huffed out. Sweat ran down your head, catching on your brow before dripping to the floor.

“I thought sky people had no siblings.” You didn't question how she knew this, Clarke must have explained their ways.

“Half brother, our mom...” You were trying to focus on attacking rather than the conversation. She however, seemed to be dodging without a care, her eyes weren't even on the sword, she was watching you, her eyes occasionally flickering to the blade.

“Would he be proud of you?” The question caught you off guard and you stilled. Her gaze was solely on you now, burning holes into your skull. When you didn't speak she continued.

“Finn is dead, He died for you, and here you are constantly trying to get yourself killed. Did you hate him, are you trying to spite him?” You couldn't tell if it was a genuine question or if she was just trying to get under your skin. Both occurred fairly often.

You lunged at her again a deep scowl set on your lips, this time the lunge was sloppy, you tossed your whole body weight into it and almost tripped when she stuck her blade out to catch your toes.

She continued. “You try and kill me, failing every time. Do you think he is watching you proud right now? Proud that you tried to undo everything he died for.” Tears spilled from your eyes before you could stop them.

You gritted your teeth and snarled at her. “Shut up.” She didn’t.

“He died for you, so you could live. So why do you want to die so badly?” You swung the sword at her without much thought. Your blade was knocked out of your hand by hers as she swung again, knocking your feet out from under you. you landed roughly your butt, quickly propping yourself on your elbows as she aimed your fallen sword at your chest. The sharp sword.

“You can’t handle a real fight. You let your emotions get in the way and it makes you weak. I will train you how I deem fit.”

“I’ll find someone else to train me.” You wrecked your brain for a grounder who would even be willing to talk to you.

“They have orders not to. You train my way or you don’t train at all.” Her eyes were cold and she turned around quickly, leaving you no time to respond.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

After a week she allowed you to fight her for ‘real’. It was obvious that she wasn't trying her hardest, but at least she was actually attacking you. Your legs were knocked out from under you for the 12th consecutive time. Your back hit the ground with a thud and a grunt. She took this time to clamber on top of you. Her sword pressed horizontally against your neck, most of her weight was on her knees but her butt was resting against your hips.

The position made your hair stand up and you glowered at her. “You're enjoying this aren't you.” You had meant the constant winning but it was obvious she perceived the words differently.

Her smile was genuine as she raised her eyebrows at you. “More than you know.”

You frowned at her, patting her thigh to get her to stand. She offered you a hand but you brushed it away, rising on your own and rubbing your tender back lightly.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

It wasn't that you were friends now but the large camp grew lonely after a while and Lexa was the only one who would talk to you. Conversing with her was the only way you stayed sane. You told yourself often that it was simply a means of survival. That it meant nothing. You often had to remind yourself when you were caught off guard by her smiles, or small touches every now then. When your mind made you forget who she was and what she’d done.

You had Clarke but you couldn't radio her for anything other than basic updates.

Besides, it was east to be ignored here then return to a camp where no one trusted you alone, for fear you would hurt yourself or someone else.

You would eat dinner with Lexa, It was brought to your room and she would sit and listen as you briefed her on all the new updates. Usually they were just little things and then you'd sit in silence as you ate. Today it wasn't as silent.

“Your getting stronger. You’re going to make a great leader.” You scoffed aloud. Managing to cut her once during practice hardly classified you as stronger.

“I’m not a leader, just a messenger.” It was silent as she took a few more spoonfuls of soup

“You could be.” You didn’t answer, rolling the idea around in your mind.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Clarke always kept you updated. This evening, however, she decided to make an exception. You were training with Lexa, You had managed to knock her sword out of her hands but she had pinned your arms to the ground, Her knee in between your legs as you squirmed beneath her. The opening of doors made both of your heads shoot towards the entrance. Clarke stood there with the bald man (Titus you had learned his name was) Her mouth was open slightly but she quickly snapped it shut. No one moved until Clarke spoke.

“Can I talk to you? ...Alone?” It was obvious she was referring to Lexa as she pushed herself off you and nodded to the guard who had followed Clarke. The pair disappeared into the neighboring room and the guard quickly exited. Leaving you alone on the floor.

You had stood, sheathing your own sword when Lexa returned with a long cloak. Clarks vice became clear as she scrambled after her.

“You have to leave her there isn’t-”

“No.”

Lexa never let her emotions control her, but that one word had held so much anger that even Clark stepped back.

Lexa quickly tossed the cloak over you, tying the string and pulling the hood up as you stared at her.

“What's going on?” You looked between her and Clarke who's staring at Lexa with a mixed look of frustration and fear. As you stared at her in confusion she spoke up.

“What if we inform the leaders of the clans. Pick a rendezvous point in the woods. Each of them can slip out separately.”

“And how many more people will they tell. Where do we draw the line? You said it yourself Clarke, there isn’t time.” Lexa had never raised her voice at you before, but now she was practically yelling at Clarke, who was staring at her in desperation.

“What if we cancel the meeting, start a fire, Something! They are going to kill us all.”

Your eyes snapped to Lexa who looked beyond livid now.

“We don’t have time for this.” You didn't know what exactly was happening, but you knew that Lexa was ready to let everyone die.

You yanked your wrist from her grasp as she tried to pull young along, rushing to stand in front of her. “Wait a minute these people have families. You can’t just let them die.” She stilled, taking a few steps towards you till your noses were practically touching. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke.

“You showed strength today y/n, don’t let your emotions get in the way now.” You gaped at her as she swerved around you, regripping your arm to tug you along. You allowed your brain to catch up as you grabbed her wrist, ripping yourself free from her grasp. You took a few steps back so you were standing next to Clarke, Who was standing rigid, looking incredibly conflicted.

“This is wrong Lexa I won’t let you to do this.” You looked at her with pleading eyes, hoping that the fraction of her that cares about you would be enough for her to listen. Unconsciously, you felt yourself grab Clarke’s sleeve, rooting yourself to the spot.

Lexa’s eyes flickered down to your grasp and her features seemed to darken, her eyes glared spots in yours.

“It’s our only choice and you know it.” Her eyes shifted to Clarke who stood tense under her gaze. “You could have said something to your people but you didn't.” You looked at Clarke in shock. She hadn't said anything. To anyone. Clarke’s guilty eyes flickered to yours before Lexa spoke again.

“This is war y/n, people die.”

You shock your head, not able to wrap your mind around the situation.

“No. No, I won’t be a part of this.” You turned around to exit the tent, to warn someone, anyone. You saw Lexa’s gaze flicker to Clarke’s as the brunette sent her a curt nod.

You felt the gag in your mouth before you could understand what was happening. Your eyes widened as you looked at Lexa. She mumbled an inaudible ‘I’m sorry’. You knew it was a lie.

Her hands were on your hips, lifting you over her shoulder as she turned to exit the room. You let a muffled scream and slapped her back, her grip on your hips never faltered no matter how many times you punched her back. Clarke followed swiftly behind her. You glared at the blonde but she wouldn't even meet your eyes.

You were entering the woods when Clarke spotted her mom. She let out a soft no before turning around and chasing after her. Lexa made no move to stop her before carrying you further into the woods. You wanted to scream at the blonde, but she was already gone and the gag muffled your voice too much.

She set you down on your feet as you stumbled gently. The moment her hands were off your body you bolted. You didn't get more than a few feet before she was tugging you back, her hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you into her chest. You could see it now, the missel, its blazing body hurling slowly to the camp. You let out a choked sob as you turned to bury your face in Lexa’s neck. It was her fault, the whole thing, but you couldn't help but turn to her for comfort, for soothing. Her hands moved to you back as she rubbed small circles of apologies.

“I hate you.” Your muffled words held more hurt then anger.

The feeling only lasted seconds before the blast hit. It knocked you both off your feet as you tumbled to the earth below. Your vision doubled and the only thing you could hear was the god-awful ringing in your ears. Then it cleared. And you could see the rising flames, 8 feet tall. And the screams, they filled your ears and echoed through the woods.

You continued to lay there, watching the flames until you felt the gag being ripped from your mouth and Lexa’s hand tapping your cheeks. You sat up, the discarded gag hung loosely around your neck. It was then that you noted the absence of the blonde.

“Clarke, did she make it back?” Lexa said nothing as she clenched her jaw. You rolled over coughing on the smoke before stumbling to your feet.

“I have... I have to find her.” Lexa made no move to stop you as you stumbled through the woods in search of Clarke.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

There was a body on the road, a dead body. Its face laying down in the dirt and one arm missing from its body. Your mind didn't even process the brunet hair of the figure before the thoughts started running through your mind.

Clarke. Clarke’s dead body, her lifeless blue eyes.

Finn. His body lying in front of you. It was Finn. Oh my god, it was Finn. You ran to the body, pushing it over to reveal a woman's face. She was older, maybe in her 40′s. It wasn't Finn. It wasn’t even Clarke. But she was still dead.

You fell to your knees staring at the woman, silent sobs shaking your body.

"Y/n.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

She let out a sigh but didn’t move towards you. “Wait here. I will go find Clarke.”  Lexa disappeared and you were alone again.

You didn't move, just stared at the woman's unmoving body in front of you. She probably had kids, and now she was dead. She was dead and mutilated and lying alone in the forest.

The appearance of her boots in front of your face made you scowl.

“You’re a murderer.” You looked up at her in time to see her sad expression turn to one of boredom.

“I thought you'd established that”

_______________________________________________Tag list: @samustar @chicken-wang09 @helloalycia

Part 4

#lexa the 100 #lexa kom trikru #commander lexa x reader #lexa icons #lexa #heda lexa #lexa x reader #The 100 #the 100 octavia #the 100 masterlist #the 100 x reader #the 100 lexa #octavia blake #clarke griffin #clarke griffin x reader #finn collins #finn collins x reader #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x reader series #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake #x reader #reader insert #reader #wlw

[darkorderaf]

Prompts 125 & 141 with Alex Reynolds:)

Glad that your requests are open!

Oh hell yeah. I went a little enemies to lovers on this one and it admittedly took on a whole life of its own. Thank you so much for your request and please enjoy!!! <3

Pairing: Alex Reynolds x OFC. Prompts: “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!” “Use your words.” Rating: M. Warnings/Content: Smut. It gets spicy. Word Count: 2,118.

(I don’t own gif; credit to allelitewrestlings!)

“Is this a joke?”

“Am I in hell? Am I in actual hell?”

They spoke in a furious tandem. She tore the paper out of Alex’s hands and checked it again. The poor hotel receptionist wasn’t prepared for two seething wrestlers at midnight but there they were, completely upended by what the booking confirmation said. The room was indeed assigned to her and one Alex Reynolds. She ran her hand over her face and sighed in agitation. The hotel receptionist awkwardly slid their keys across the countertop. They took them begrudgingly, then looked at each other with all the warmth of dueling street cats.

Was this punishment for arriving last to the hotel? Had she unknowingly upset the Khan man himself? Similar questions ran through his mind.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. She kept a white-knuckle grip on her suitcase as they walked. “We’re not even in the same faction!”

Just last week, she and the rest of The Pinnacle had been feuding with Dark Order! And now her and her worst enemy with the great hair were supposed to share a room? This was all a bad joke. Alex rolled his eyes and checked the room number again.

“How about this? You pretend that I don’t exist,” he said, tone helpful and light but just as biting. He swiped his key and shoved the door open. He shot her a look. “And I’ll pretend that you don’t exist. That’s easy, right? We pretty much do that alre--”

Neither of them checked what kind of room it was. What kind of accommodations they would have. They were too focused on the fact that someone had the audacity to put them together. One queen bed sat in the middle of the small room, daring them to make a fuss. No couch or chair to be seen.

“I’ll sleep in the bathtub,” she said quickly. She didn’t want to cross the threshold because then that would make the situation all too real. “Yup, that’s where I’ll be.”

“Uh, no, that’s a negative,” Alex said as his head swiveled to stare at her. With how close they were, whatever he used to wash his hair rolled over her. It smelled...good. She frowned and he continued. “You’re not going to hold the one bathroom hostage.”

“I’m not going to hold it hostage!”

Alex arched a brow at her in challenge as he crossed the threshold of the room first. Nose crinkled, she followed in after him and tried to assess the floor space available. He seemed to be doing the same thing and that sat strange in her belly. He could just take the bed, claim it for himself and leave her on the floor, but he didn’t seem to be doing that. She eyed him suspiciously as he grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I don’t want you to murder me in my sleep, so…”

He gestured to the floor with an exasperated look.

“Oh come on,” she sighed, a hand on her hip and her head tilted. “I wouldn’t kill you, Reynolds.”

“Oh yeah? Really?”

“Think of all the legal trouble that would be. And over you of all people? Please.”

Their eyes locked from opposite sides of the bed and if there was a rumble of thunder, she wouldn’t question it. The rest of the night was, by all standards, boring. They gave each other a wide berth, barely exchanged words. He was already on the floor with his eyes closed when she came out of her shower. His travel blanket settled low across his bare chest and his arm settled on his belly.

As she towel dried her hair, she tried to think of when it started. Their animosity towards each other. They were part of rival factions so part of it was a given, the nature of the gig, but where did the rest come from? Every time they crossed paths, they jeered at each other. Nothing that dug too far under the skin but enough to rile each other up. It felt like it was almost immediate, as soon as they locked eyes for the first time.

Schoolyard. That’s what it was.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to murder me?”

His voice snapped her out of it. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice that his eyes opened or that he laid back with his hands behind his head. Or that he was looking at her with slow, languid blinks. Or that she had been intensely staring at him. The lighting in the room wasn’t the best but it shadowed and defined the muscles of his chest, his arms. Accentuated the sharp line of his jaw and his perfect brows. Her eyes narrowed at him and that brow of his arched again. Like he knew something.

Who gave him the right to look like the cover to a romance novel? And why was she thinking about that now?

She made a disgusted noise and didn’t answer him. She was just tired and frustrated with the situation, that was all. That was all it could be. There was no layer of hell where she found Alex Reynolds attractive.

Absolutely not.

The heat between her legs and in her low belly an hour later told her otherwise. Her brain, that traitorous asshole, had latched onto the idea of romance novel Alex Reynolds with the perfect hair and heated stare. It tingled her toes, her chest. She was so invested trying to purge herself of those thoughts with her eyes on the wall, half-awake, that she had hardly noticed that Alex had climbed onto the bed beside her. Her under the sheets and him on top. He had grumbled something about the floor being garbage and how he had a match tomorrow but she didn’t hear it.

She clenched her thighs together tight to give herself some relief. It wasn’t happening. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It would be too obvious if she got up and went into the shower for the second time that night. She slipped her hand down across the warm expanse of her stomach and settled it where she needed friction the most. A quiet whimper-like moan slipped out of her. A desperate sound that he absolutely heard.

“Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep,” he said to her, voice low and agitated. That didn’t help either and a sharp nudge against her swollen clit pulled another whimper out of her. Alex went still beside her. “Wait...are you...what!?”

She froze and slowly, she half-turned to look at him. He was propped up on his forearm, staring at her with a heavy look. His damp hair was swept back from his face and she could see him clearly through hazy, lust-colored eyes. Her instincts told her to get angry, to make a snide comment towards him to diffuse the tension, but her jaw was locked tight. He angled his head slightly, a question.

“Are you trying to get off right now?”

There was that look again. The one where he looked like he knew something. It frustrated her in too many ways.

“Alex,” she started, voice breathy. “I will literally pay you to never talk about this.”

He didn’t seem phased. His gaze swept over her and she involuntarily bit her lip. His eyes jumped back up to hers and his expression smoothed itself out. He shifted, quiet in thought. When did her breath get so loud, her heart so fast?

“Do you want help?”

She rolled onto her back. The sheets felt too hot against her skin. She looked at his hands, the way his fingers curled. His eyes met hers, half-lidded and curious.

“...what?”

“I’m completely serious.”

His tone had a finality to it that had her shoving the sheets down to let her molten skin breathe. She searched his face. Whenever she found what she was looking for, she nodded.

He shook his head and pushed himself up to slowly lean his upper body over hers. His face hovered inches away from hers. His hand went to her bare shoulder and he thumbed along her collarbone. A small smirk formed.

“Use your words,” he said. “C’mon, we know you’re good with them.”

Her pride and her lust met in a lockup. His hand moved down from her collarbone to between her breasts, the strip of skin between her panties and tanktop. A trail of lightning followed and she arched up into him. The way he pressed into her side, she could feel how hard he was. The words that slipped through her lips caused him to groan. That and when her fingers went to the back of his head to tug at his hair.

“Alex,” she seethed. “Please.”

He grinned at her and when their lips collided, it wasn’t far off from their usual. A push and a pull, a test and a challenge. Teeth nipped skin and he tore the sheets off to settle on top of her, his knees by her hips. They broke apart long enough for him to pull her shirt off, to mark her chest with his mouth and the harsh scrape of his stubble as he shimmied down her body. As cool and collected as he was, the pulse of his hands around her hips told a different story. He lightly bit the soft part of her belly and glanced up at her when her knees fell apart in invitation.

“You know I still don’t like you, right?”

He smiled before he answered.

“Uh-huh. I sure do.”

His hot hands skimmed down her sides and tugged her panties off. Given that he knew what she was doing before, he didn’t waste time and got right to it. She appreciated that and told him as much with a low, soft moan when his tongue pressed into her. He didn’t stay there long and she glared at him. Was he fucking with her?”

“Get up,” Alex told her as he got up onto his knees. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit up. “I want you to sit on my face.”

She couldn’t even bark a laugh, too stunned at his sudden proclamation to make a nasty remark as she moved with him. His arms hooked under her thighs and pulled her close to his lips. Her nails cut lines into the headboard. She smirked down at him.

“I didn’t think the Dark Order were such giv--Oh fuck.”

Alex set back to what he was doing before in earnest, giving her no chance to complete her thought. For as much shit as he talked, she should have known he was good with his mouth. He played with her, strung her along, built her up then brought her back down. Her back arched when he sucked on her clit just right and a smug hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest. One hand dropped from the headboard to thread itself into his hair and she leaned against the wood, her body taut.

“Alex, I’m c-close.”

Her voice was a hot whisper and she could barely tell that he nodded. Not until her first orgasm crashed through her and her thighs quivered, tightened around his head. Like an unexpected gentleman, he worked her through it and massaged her aching thighs. Her breath came back to her and her body went lax. He helped her down his body, her muscles warm and a bliss in her blood that made her all the more pliable in his hands. He set her back against the mattress and hovered over her again.

“Better?”

The complete nonchalance to the way he licked her off his lips as he sat up stoked another surge of heat in her. She reached for him and was stunned to see him move away. He smirked at her as he stood up, seemingly not caring about the fact that he was rock hard. Confusion flooded her face.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. You were the one having trouble sleeping,” he said, that goddamn brow of his cocked again at her. Her eyes fell to look at his hips. Fuck, she really wanted to touch him and he knew it. Her nails scratched her palms. “Not me.”

“What?”

He leaned into her and kissed her long enough so she could taste herself. Then he pulled away and smiled at her. She seethed.

“Oh, you absolute bastard.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. His voice lowered and took on a conspiratorial tone. “We’re stuck here for two days. You gonna make it?”

He walked away and she watched him leave. But before he stepped into the bathroom and locked it, he glanced back at her.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

#alex reynolds imagine #alex reynolds fic #alex reynolds fanfiction #alex reynolds smut #aew imagine #aew smut #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #dark order imagine

[middleearthpixie]

Miss Fortune ~ Chapter Twenty-Four

Miss Fortune - Modern AU

Summary: Everyone in Cranford Falls knows the Prescott family. Not only do they run Miss Fortune’s Crystal occult shop in town, but they’re also known for their psychic abilities. On occasion, they’re even called into service to assist the police on particularly difficult cases. All except Alex Prescott, that is. Unlike her three sisters, she’s inherited none of her family’s gifts. At least that was what she thought until the day the dead guy showed up in her bedroom asking for her help in solving a murder. His own.

Six months after his brother Frerin’s death, Detective Thorin Durin is on a downward spiral of self-destruction until Frerin starts showing up in his apartment, claiming his death was not an unfortunate accident but was, in fact a murder. Trouble is, Frerin doesn’t know who did it, so he wants Thorin to reopen the case and solve it, with Alex’s help.

As they work together to find out just exactly what happened to Frerin, Alex and Thorin grow closer. Neither one knows it, but Frerin isn’t just looking to solve his own murder, he’s trying to help his brother cope with his loss as well, and to find happiness with the Prescott sister who’s known as the quiet one…

Summary: Alex attempts shooting again, with somewhat better results… 

Pairing: Modern!Thorin x ofc Alex Prescott

Characters: Thorin, Alex, Gram

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,479

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @ggfamert @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Alex heard Thorin’s pickup before she saw it, and smiled as she peered through the window to see him glide to a stop at the curb just beyond the front walk. Two weeks. It had been just about two weeks since he first showed up to take her shooting and she’d had no idea what lay in her future.

He clumped up the steps and pushed the doorbell, then smiled when she managed to wrestle the door open. It was the hottest, stickiest day so far, and although the sky had gone leaden with the promise of rain, Mother Nature had yet to honor said promise. 

As a result, sweat beaded Thorin’s forehead as he said, “How many days until fall?”

“Too many. Come on in for a minute before you melt.”

“I am not made for this kind of weather.” He stepped into the parlor and sighed, his eyes closing. “Oh, this feels good…”

Alex bit back a laugh at the growling purr in his voice. It reminded her of how he whispered to her at the height of his passion and although he meant the cold air, the shiver that tore along her spine had nothing to do with air conditioning. “We don’t have to go back out if you’d rather not melt.”

“Nice try, Lexi,” he opened his eyes and grinned, “but you’re not getting out of trying this again.”

“But I don’t even want to ever use that gun,” she told him, gesturing at him to follow her. She led him into the kitchen, where Gram sat at the table, poring over a topographical map. “Why are you so insistent on making me?”

“I like the way you feel against me in the lane,” he said, then grinned as Gram looked up. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Prescott.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Eva and don’t beg my pardon. I like a man who’s honest with his feelings.” 

She smiled as she looked to Alex. “Do you want to take the Glock, Alex?”

“No.” Alex shook her head, moving to the fridge to take out two cans of Pepsi, one of which she passed to Thorin. “This isn’t my idea.”

“I don’t know,” Gram shrugged. “I think he’s got the right idea. You should learn. You’re in the shop more than any of us, and this town gets weirder by the day.” She turned back to Thorin. “Is Estella Urlino still in lockup?”

“Yeah. The judge set bail at fifty-thousand and I’m guessing Marco either can’t or won’t raise the ten percent for her bond.”

“Good.” Gram bent back to her map. “That woman is dangerous. I heard Marco was seeing about a restraining order against her.”

Thorin took the soda from Alex and drew out one of the other heavy, wooden chairs around the kitchen table. “I advised him to, if he’s honestly afraid of her.”

Alex sank into the chair next to him. “How’re you holding up with the itching?”

“It’s making me nuts already,” he said as he popped the tab and lifted the can for a swallow. Lowering it, he added, “I’m looking forward to blowing off a bit of steam on the range.”

She fought back a sigh. “Do I have to shoot?”

“Lexi,” he set the can on the table, “your grandmother is right. You spend the most time in the shop and you’re there alone a lot. I’d feel better if I knew you could defend yourself. And with more than a golf club,” he added as she opened her mouth to protest.

“Damn it.” She fiddled with the pop tab on her soda, but didn't open it. Then, she looked up. “Have you seen Frerin?”

Thorin shook his head. “Not today, I haven’t. You?”

“No. Not yet.” She looked over at Gram. “Have you?”

“Me?” Gram looked up from her map and gave a slightly shake of her head.” No. But why would I? You two are the ones he wants to visit with. Now, don’t you two have a date to get started?”

Alex winced, but Thorin grinned. “Yes, actually. We do. C’mon, Lexi.”

She offered up the side eye once again. “Why are you in such a good mood, Thorin? I thought you were itchy and grouchy?”

He winked. “I’m not so itchy now.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

He rose with a laugh and held out a hand. “Come on. I don’t want to hit too much traffic. What time should I have her home, Mrs. Prescott?”

Gram looked up, her blue eyes stern. “Depends on what your intentions are.”

The look he offered Alex was enough to make her heart actually skip a beat. “I promise you, Mrs. Prescott, my intentions are entirely honorable.”

“Why don’t I believe that for a moment?”

He caught Alex’s hand, linking his fingers with hers, and for a minute, she forgot how to breathe. It only worsened as he said, “They are.” He looked over at her and as his gaze locked into hers, he added, “I’d like to make an honest woman of her when this is all behind us.”

“Thorin…”

“What? I would. But, not tonight, so get that panicked look off your face.” He leaned over and brushed her lips with his. “But, I would like to keep you for tonight, if it’s all right.”

Gram offered up a long look that made Alex squirm momentarily, but then she smiled. “She’s a grown woman, Detective. Free to come and go as she pleases and if she chooses to spend the night with you, it’s none of my business.”

Thorin’s wink made Alex’s cheeks grow warm, as did his, “Good to know, Mrs. Prescott.”

“Of course,” she offered up a slight smile, “that doesn’t mean I want to know about it.”

“We’re just going to the shooting range,” he replied without missing a beat, his fingers tightening about Alex’s. 

Gram cracked then, chuckling as she said, “Go. And have be careful.”

“I’ll take good care of her, Mrs. P.,” he said. “Scout’s honor.”

Aronson’s was just as crowded as it had been the last time. This time, though, Alex’s stomach wasn't full of butterflies as Thorin smiled at the same short, balding man who’d been behind the counter the last time. “Hey, how are you?”

“Good to see you again, Lieutenant,” the man answered with a smile, which he then turned to her, “and you, too, miss. Ready to try again?”

“Not if I don’t have to,” she said, glancing up at Thorin. “This is not my idea.”

“You’ll be fine,” Thorin said, tugging his wallet from his back pocket, “but you need to show your license again.”

“Right.” She unzipped her wristlet and got her license free without any trouble this time.

The man behind the counter looked from Thorin to her. “Are you renting a firearm?”

Thorin shook his head. “No. I’ve got my personal weapon.”

“Ammunition?”

“A box of nine-millimeter again.”

“You got it.” 

  Thorin took the ammunition, handed over his credit card, and a few minutes later, his hand came to rest at the small of her back and he guided her back toward the range. Their lane was at the far end, and this time, she only jumped a few times at the pop of guns being fired.

In their lane, Thorin tugged his gun from the holster on his hip and set it on the shelf. “You want to try or not?”

She sighed, looking from him to the handgun. Somehow, it didn't seem quite so frightening to her this go-round. “Can I try?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “you can. Do you want me to teach you how to load it?”

“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.”

“Fair enough.”He picked up the gun to eject the magazine and set the gun back on the shelf before turning to the box of ammunition. He loaded the magazine, picked up the gun to click said magazine back into place, tugged the slide, then set it down again.

She bit back a sigh, then rolled her eyes. Only she would think watching him load a gun was sexy, but she did. The sight alone was enough to make her do a slow melt and wonder if she could just convince him to skip everything else but the incredible, mind-blowing, make-her-eyes-cross-when-he-made-her-come-a-third-time sex.

He glanced down at her and she had the feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking because she’d swear his eyes darkened as he said, “Come on. You go first.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” he caught her hand to draw her to her feet, “you have to. Come on. Show me what you can do, Lexi.”

His deep voice held a hint of teasing in it, smooth and playful and enough to make her stomach do a delicious flip. He caught her by the hips to draw her around in front of him and this time, as his arms came around her, she leaned back against him. It just felt so perfectly natural, her back pressed to his chest, although carefully, as she was ever mindful of the stitches that stretched from his collarbone diagonally down over his chest. 

He slid an arm about her waist, just as he had the first time they’d gone shooting, only this time, his lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “Do you remember what I told you the last time we were here? How to aim?”

“Front one’s the post, back one’s the notch,” she managed to whisper back as he brushed her hair aside and swept a kiss along the side of her neck. She scrunched as he hit a ticklish spot. “You didn’t do this the last time, Detective.”

“I wanted to,” he replied, his hand splaying flat against her stomach now. He trailed his lips up to her ear. “I wanted to just pull you into the backseat of my truck and have my way with you.”

Those words teased her ear as a whispered growl and she couldn't help her shiver even as she said, “You did not.”

“Oh, I most definitely did.” He brought his other arm down to slip about her waist now as well. “You should only know, Lexi, what I was thinking.”

“So tell me now.” The words popped out on their own and she couldn't believe she’d actually said them. 

“You know how you said you liked watching me shoot?” He waited for her to nod, then gave her a teasing squeeze. “I like how you feel against me like this. And when you look at me over your shoulder, like you did that night, all I can think about is how you’d look like this naked against the slider in my bedroom while I make love to you from behind.”

She shivered again. He certainly knew how to make a girl melt with only words. “So, why are we here and not there?”

His laugh was a warm caress against her nape. “We will be soon enough. And maybe you’ll indulge in a few things with me?”

“Indulge? In what?”

His lips skimmed along her ear. “I’m pretty sure I mentioned something about my handcuffs at one point.”

“You want to cuff me, Lieutenant?”

“Or you could cuff me,” came his growly reply. “I trust you, honey.”

She leaned back against him. “I trust you, too, Thorin?”

“So, maybe we can get up to a little mischief when we get home?”

“Maybe.” She gazed up at him. “If you’re good.”

“I promise, I’ll be a good boy until you change your mind and decide you’d rather have me as a bad boy.”

The idea of Thorin as a bad boy was almost funny to her, but then his eyes darkened and his smile grew almost wolfish and suddenly, it wasn't at all funny. Instead, something deep inside her clenched in the sweetest way possible. She was pretty sure she’d love bad boy Thorin as much as she did the seemingly straight-laced detective Thorin. 

She slowly turned toward him, easing her arms about his waist. “I have the feeling I’d like you as a bad boy, Thorin.”

“Yeah, you think so?”

“Oh, I definitely think so.”

His eyes practically sparkled as he held her gaze. “I love you.”

She leaned into him, bracing her chin lightly against his chest, still mindful of his stitches. “I like how that sounds.”

He didn’t answer, but bent to kiss her and when he pulled back, he whispered, “We should really make use of this lane.”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Not this time.”

“Damn.” She grinned. “Okay. Let’s see if I can keep my eyes open when I pull the trigger this time.”

“You’ll be fine. Just remember what I’ve told you.” He stepped back and moved to sink onto the bench. “You can do it, Lex.”

She drew in a deep breath as she lifted the Glock. It felt every bit as heavy as it had the last time, but for some reason, she felt a little more confident with it. Could she possibly be used to holding a gun so quickly?

A quick glance over her shoulder, at Thorin sitting on the bench, one arm draped along the back of it, his long legs slightly apart and stretched out. He winked and she knew what the difference was.

Him. He was there, and when he smiled, she no longer felt as nervous as she had the first time they’d come to Aronson’s. She knew where she stood, where they stood. She could now ogle his ass in Levi’s all she wanted without worrying about being caught. She’d seen what lay beneath his clothes, knew was it was like to be in his arms, to be kissed by him, to sleep with him, and that made all the difference in the world, apparently.

She squeezed the trigger, flinching at the loud pop, and as she fired, her eyes closed on their own. She stumbled back a half step and Thorin said, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Alex righted herself, set her jaw, and stared at the paper target as if trying to Jedi mind trick it. This time she was not going to blink. 

Except, of course, she did.

Each time she fired the gun.

“Damn it,” she sighed, setting the gun on the bench. “I close my eyes no matter how hard I try not to.”

He stood and moved to push the button to bring the target to them. She’d managed to hit it, but her shots were all over from top to bottom. “Maybe we should try something smaller for you.”

She raked her fingers through her hair. “Or just accept that I’m really awful at this. Can I see how you do it?”

“Sure. Just step back a little.”

He swapped out the target and she moved off to the side of their booth, smiling as he picked up his gun. Just like the last time, the urge to sigh swept through her. His expression grew serious as he aimed and squeezed the trigger and didn't so much as flinch with each shot he fired. When he’d emptied the clip, he set the Glock down and brought the target back missing most of its face and the center of its chest.

“Damn…” she breathed, shaking her head.

“I’ve been doing this a long time, remember.” He turned back to her. “And I come here a few times a month to keep in shape. You want to try again?”

She didn’t, but at the same time, she didn't want him thinking she was hopeless, either. “Can I?”

“Sure.” He picked up the gun to eject the magazine, reloaded it and then clicked it back into place and pulled the slide before setting it on the shelf.

She took a deep breath and stepped up. This time, when a new target was hung and whipped back to the far end of the lane, she lifted the gun, aimed as he’d taught her, and squeezed, this time managing to keep her eyes open. She squeezed off four more shots and smiled as she set the gun back down. “Aha! No closing my eyes that time.”

Thorin smiled, bending slightly to press a kiss into the top of her head as he reached to push the button to bring the target back. She’d taken out the entire center of the paper chest. “Nice work, Lexi,” he said with a grin. “We should frame this for you.”

A sense of satisfaction swept through her as she smiled down at her handiwork. “I don’t think we need to do that.”

“You sure? I’ll do it for you, if you want. Proof you’re not as much a disaster as you think you are.”

“Well, now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Trust me, I’m not making fun of you.” He picked up the Glock, engaged the safety, and eased it back into the holster on his hip. “You want to go grab something to eat? I promised you dinner, remember.”

“Sure. Where?”

“We can go back to Dom’s, if you want.”

“Dom’s is good.”

He smiled, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back, his fingers pressing lightly into her as he guided her back toward the front of the shop. They turned in their eye and hearing protection and stepped back out into the sultry air. 

Twilight streaked the sky coral and purple, with hints of gold woven across the sky like thread through a tapestry. Without thinking, Alex reached over and slipped her hand into his, and as their fingers linked, he gave hers a gentle squeeze. 

Back in his truck, Thorin cranked over the engine and kicked the AC on high. At first, warm air blasted from the vents, but it quickly cooled and Alex sank back in her seat as the chilled air washed over her. She looked over at Thorin, who plugged in his cell phone, then slid it into the holder mounted on the vent before shifting into reverse and carefully backed out of the space.

As he merged into traffic, he said, “So, how do you feel about shooting now?”

“I’m not as uncomfortable with it as I was the first time. But, I’m not running out and getting a gun of my own any time soon, either.”

“Well, anytime you want to hit the range, let me know. I’ll be more than happy to come back with you.”

“Why did you offer to take me the first time?”

He glanced over at her, one wrist resting on the top of the steering wheel. “What?”

“Why?”

“Truth?” He winked. “It was a safe way of asking you out. If you turned me down, my fragile male ego would’ve been fine.”

“Do many women turn you down?”

“Lex, I don’t ask out all that many women.” He checked the mirrors, signaled left, and switched lanes. “And that was before Frerin died. Afterwards? I didn't care about any of it—not women, not getting out, not sex. It just didn't matter as much.”

“So, what made you change your mind?”

“Frerin, believe it or not.” He looked over at her. “He was worried about me. I was drinking a lot more than I should’ve and that was really the only thing I gave a shit about. Coming home and drinking myself into a stupor.”

“And now?”

“Now?” A soft laugh bubbled to his lips. “I’ve got a second chance. And I’d rather be with you than a bottle of vodka any day of the week.”

As he said it, his hand came down to rest atop hers, his long fingers curving over her hand to make it vanish beneath his. She traced the back of his hand with her free index finger, along the vein that ran from his ring finger, across the back of his hand, to wrap over his wrist. “I’m glad I could help.”

“I miss him, Lex.”

“I know.” She covered his hand with hers to give it a gentle squeeze. “And I can’t imagine seeing him from time to time even begins to make up for it.”

“Yes and no. At least I get to see him from time to time, but it’s not the same as having him here completely. I don’t know I’ll ever get used to that.”

“I know.”

“Yeah.” His thumb brushed lightly along the back of her hand. “I know you do. You get it. You get me.”

He eased his hand out from between hers and caught hers to bring it up to his lips. His kiss came soft and gentle and when he lowered it, he didn't let go of it, but instead linked his fingers with hers once more. 

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Modern AU #Detective AU #Parapsychology #Thriller AU

[thatfanfictionchick]

MysMe : 707 x OC : Wake Up Call

It’s flirty fluff times here folks no need to break out the crosses.

I just really love Seven okay?

(P.S. I know next to nothing about this game because I’m only getting on to day 4 [and also trying to secure Zen’s route] so we’re gonna call this like, canon divergence or something if necessary)

y’all gotta suspend the knowledge that Seven sends his little personalized emojis or any other photos whatsoever kay

* * *

The first time Seven called her, Tanya was on day 3 of her sudden and bizarre lockup in “Rika’s” apartment. She knew next to nothing about him, other than he was apparently a genius hacker, a flirt, a hopeless cat lover, and an absolute menace to society.

She may have already been falling in love.

“Hello! This is Seven Zero Seven!” It was early, only just after 6am. Pale golden rays of light were starting to filter through the lacy curtains and she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

His voice was deeper than she expected. “I thought you’d sound different...” she mumbled.

“What? Sound different? What am I supposed to sound like?”

“I dunno.” she tapped on the dim screen, squinting at the picture that always came up with his correspondence. A black square with a pair of tortoise shell glasses and a smile. She wondered what he looked like. Outside the grainy black and white photo Jumin had shared of the “cat abuser”, his appearance was a mystery. “You’re a hacker, so...nerdy.”

“Nerdy?! God Seven, nerdy?” He sounded positively aghast. She snickered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

By day seven, Seven was calling her every morning and every night. He was equal shares salty and sweet. He either bragged about his teasing of the other RFA members, teased her, or buried her in flirtatious compliments. He shamelessly used pet names for everyone and she found it more than heart warming.

“You’re a monster.” she grumbled as she answered the phone, hitting the [speaker] button and holding the phone above her head as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. “Why you always gotta call so early, huh?”

“How else am I supposed to see how cute you look first thing in the morning?”

Tanya sprang up in bed, hand stilling as it dragged through her tangled hair and gaping at the phone. “How do you know that!” she yelped. Hacker she thought suddenly, eyes locking on the camera pinhole at the top of the device. With an embarrassed squeal she slapped the phone down on the bed, covering the back of it with her hand. Seven’s laugh rang in her ears.

“Don’t be like that! Your bedhead is adorable!”

“N-not fair!” Tanya croaked loudly. She threw the heavy comforter aside and took the phone up again, careful to keep the cameras covered as it rested on her chest. “I don’t get to see what you look like first thing in the morning so...so you don’t get to spy on me!”

“You think that’ll-hey, do those socks have cats on them??” Her knee high socks did indeed have cats printed on them and she looked around the room wildly.

“Dammit, Seven!” she growled, spotting the webcam atop the computer across the room with it’s blinking red light. Grabbing the t-shirt she’d worn yesterday she rolled out of bed and stomped halfway before lobbing the lump of fabric and covering the webcam. “Stop cheating!” She barely heard the phone beep over the sound of his laughter.

“Alright, alright! I guess it’s not fair to keep such a cutie in the dark.”

With her brow furrowed Tanya tenatively lifted the phone and tapped on the notification. Immediately her face was on fire and she made the verbal equivalent of someone key smashing.

The photo Seven had sent was of him lounging in bed (a place nearly foreign to him). He was wearing a black tank top, one arm under his head. He was as pale as she expected, for a shut in hacker and all, with a mop of bright red hair. He was winking rather cheekily, but the honeyed gold color of his eye was striking, his glasses pushed up on his forehead further mussing his hair.

With a flustered gasp she clasped her phone back to her chest, staring wide-eyed at the opposite wall.

Oh no. He’s hot!

“You all right there darlin’?” He sounded far too amused at her expense.

“F-fine!”

“Cause you’re looking a little flustered to me.”

“Sh-shut up, Seven!”

#i love him #he absolutely is a menace to society #just a straight up menace #let me hold him and love him #LET MEEEE #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme 707 #mysme luciel #mysme saeyoung #mysme oc #tanya

[stardustndice]

---- A Coffe Stain. A Pistol. A Sudden Confession. 

Part 1 of 2 of an FBI AU Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader Story. Read Part 2 Here.

a/n: this for u @hellotherekenobi . You made this monster and now you must deal with it (I love u tho thank you for the inspiration this was hella fun to write and I probably wasn’t accurate AT ALL concerning the FBI :)

Word Count: 3.0k oh dear god

You’re wading through the endless piles of busywork while rain taps at the window of the field office building. Your eyes dart to the time display on the seemingly-ancient computer provided by the bureau (you’d asked the higher ups multiple times for replacements, but evidently no one seems to listen to the rank-and-files anymore). 23:08. A groan slips past your lips as you run a hand through your hair. You make a mental note to shower when you get home. And how come your feet still ache from your heels even though you’d barely gotten up from your desk all day? As your thoughts continue to drift sleepily away from the task at hand, the sound of something hitting your desk tugs you out of dreamland.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” a gentle voice whispers, the source of a cup of semi-acceptable coffee. Ah. You’d forgotten that your partner was still at the office. You turn your head slightly to gaze up at Special Agent Obi-Wan Kenobi. He cut his hair. He looks much more…mature, yes that’s the work-appropriate word. He’s missing the silky locks at the back, with that tiny wave at the bottom that you’d stared at on more than a few field missions. The beard was a little longer, too.

Oh god, you hadn’t even bothered to look at him today. You’d rushed to your desk to get an early start on a new assignment. Your heart shrivels out of guilt, and evidently it’s clear on your face. Obi’s eyebrows knit together in concern, an expression you’ve etched into your brain by now. “Is…is everything alright?” he stammered, unsure of what to say to console you.

“No no no! I’m sorry,” you stutter, turning quickly in your chair to fully face him. “Shit, I’ve been so busy with…everything that I didn’t even notice that you cut your hair. It looks handsome, Obi.” He smirks and runs a hand through his hair, sweeping back a few strands that had fallen onto the middle of his forehead. “Yes, I suppose it does. Although, it rather upset me this morning when you didn’t comment. If you had gone to the break room you would’ve witnessed me sobbing on the sofa, drowning in my own sorrow,” he says, as he equips an expression of anguish.

“The couch with the moldy cushion?” You question.

“The couch with the moldy cushion,” he sighs as you theatrically turn to gaze horrified at the break room door.  After a few beats of silence, you break into giggles and he looks back at you, a warm smile creeping onto his face. Your gazes lock for a split second longer than your average moment when you conveniently remember something in order to drag your focus away from his stupidly gorgeous azure eyes. “You still having trouble with Sarek?”

He groans and drags a hand down his face. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbles as he trudges to his desk a few feet behind you and collapses dramatically into his chair. You grimace in apology and he gives a half-hearted smile in return. Sarek, a Trandoshan hunter who’d slipped through Agent Kenobi’s grasp several times, had struck again, this time kidnapping an assortment of women. The problem? Despite Kenobi’s talent for making connections, he’d made none between any of the victims that had been reported missing, no matter how many times he combed through their files.

It isn't easy to seep the determination out of Obi Wan Kenobi, but Sarek has almost done it.

You feel his eyes on you as you pivot back to your busywork. As you begin sorting through the manila folders, you take a sip of coffee and set it down. Obi packs up his things and gives you a nod goodbye before strolling out of the building. Going to pick up your cup of coffee for another caffeine charge, you realize you've set it on a file. A few choice curses cut through the silence before you pause, the cup in your hand hovering above a chestnut circle now imprinted on the page. Circled by the cup's stain is a familiar location, Kina's Coven. You wrack your brain to remember where it's from and it hits you: Obi Wan had referenced it when he first talked to you about the case. The connection. This could be it.

You leap out of your seat so fast you nearly ram into Kenobi's desk behind you. If I run I can catch him on his way out, you realize, and barrel through the glass double doors into the hallway. Quickly approaching the doors to the lobby, your hands fly out in front of you to push them open. The little air in your lungs is then knocked out as you collide with something and fall to the ground.

A leather briefcase thumps onto the carpet and you search for the person you knocked over to quickly find a mildly disgruntled but mostly amused Agent Kenobi lifting his head just a few inches in front of you, his breath tickling your cheeks and a grin lighting up his face.

"Hello there."

You look down and see that, while trying to break your fall, you've planted your hands on the plush carpet to either side of Obi Wan's chest. You’re also on top of him, your legs partially layered over his. Your face reddens and you scramble haphazardly to get off of your partner before someone walks in and sees you in such a...compromising position (yes, in the middle of the night, of course).

Thank God for push-to-open doors.

You brush off your pants and roll your shoulders. Despite rambling apologies, he waves you off and straightens his suit jacket. "It's alright," he remarks. "I haven't gotten that much action in a long time."

"Yes, I assumed you hadn't" you quip, a smirk paired with a raised brow painted on your face. "But that's not what I'm here for. I think I found something that will help your case." At that, Kenobi straightens, his eyes searching yours in question.

"Kina’s Coven recently reported one of their dancers missing, a Mirialan named Kaiela Hveti.” you explain, and your partner’s eyes widen.

“Kina’s? Most crimes at that lovely establishment are swept under the rug, are they not?” he asks.  “Few of our agents have been able to gather significant evidence against them.” You nod your head towards the door to the hallway and start walking, Kenobi trailing soon behind you.

“Not this one. Evidently Kaiela is a crowd favorite, meaning she isn’t someone they’re willing to lose without a fight,” you remark. “And I’m not just any agent, Kenobi. You of all people should know that,” you say, shooting him a playful wink and pulling open the glass doors back into the office.

Obi lowers himself into his desk chair, hunched over with elbows on his knees. You smile to yourself as you shuffle through the files on your desk with your back to your partner. Part of the reason why the two of you rose through the ranks so fast was your trust in each other; neither one of you was scared of being seen as weak or stupid if they had to ask the other for help. You learned about his “negotiate with deduction and knockout charm until someone ends up firing a gun” method quickly (which worked surprisingly well). He learned about your "figure out everything seconds before you might die" trick, too.

You practically read each other’s minds. You take care of each other.

Is that why your heart has been trying to squeeze its way out of your ribs whenever he utilizes his aforementioned charm lately?

You shake your head in an effort to clear your thoughts and hand Obi Wan the paper with the coffee stain, which he spots (of course) and raises a brow at before his head shoots up.

"You're making the face," you say, smiling softly. His mouth is barely open, eyes wide and searching the document. You wouldn't be surprised if you heard gears grinding in his brain. He doesn't answer, so you comically wave a hand in front of his face. "I'm guessing that this helps…?" you trail off, waiting for Obi to come out of his 'Eureka.' He snaps out of his reverie and beams at you, nearly sending you into cardiac arrest.

"Ok, Kenobi, I can't read minds, so you'll have to elaborate on your discovery," you said, walking back to your desk and sitting on the edge, crossing your arms. He looks at you strangely, so quickly you almost don't catch it, but then his face shifts into neutral before you can raise a brow.

"One of our intelligence analysts found email correspondence between Sarek and someone going by the initials K.H. It was...intimate. They are lovers, or at least they were, from what I could gather," he explains, stroking his beard.

"Did he frequent places like Kina's?" you ask. He shakes his head and you frown. Another dead end is materializing in front of you, as much as you hate to admit it. But all of the sudden, your partner snaps his fingers and grins.

"He didn't frequent the Coven, but if I recall correctly…" he fumbles through a stack of manila folders on the corner of his desk and triumphantly holds up a piece of paper. "Some of his friends operate in that area-"

"And Sarek doesn't want to be seen around them out of fear of being connected with their operations." you finish, nodding to yourself. Obi smirks, reading over the file again. "Little does he know, we've managed to dig up how Sarek is connected to each of them. Not the most rock-solid evidence, but enough to arouse suspicion," he remarks.

"So...are you thinking what I'm thinking?" you smile as your knee bounces in anticipation.

"If you're thinking of paying a visit to Kina's, then yes, I suppose I am," Obi sasses. The both of you share a look before darting up and racing out of the office to get ready.

——

There’s no way I’m getting into a strip club in a pantsuit, you think, staring at the questionable outfits in lockup. After what feels like months of searching, you find an incredibly revealing cocktail dress (much to your chagrin) and pumps. As you look at your new outfit, you sigh. Obi Wan didn’t even have to change out of his suit, and he’s probably waiting for you outside now. Blush blooms bright on your cheeks as you think of how on earth you’re going to keep it together, attempting to look sexy next to one of the most attractive people you know while also trying not to pin him to a wall and aggressively make out with him. Maintaining an air of professionalism is difficult when you’re simultaneously processing newfound, violently intense feelings for your longtime friend. After strapping a holster for your pistol to your thigh, you nod at your reflection in the mirror. Your shaky legs make their way out of the bathroom and head towards the garage. After a nervous deep breath and applying a coat of lipstick, you step out into the lot.

It doesn’t take you long to find Obi Wan leaning up against a jet black Maserati and your heart slams against your chest. He hears the echo of your heels and glances up. Upon seeing you, his whole stance shifts. He straightens his posture and squares his shoulder, straightening his tie and loosening his collar. A soft smile adorns your lips and you relax seeing his boyish panic.

“Ready to go? Have everything you need?” You notice that he combed his hair back into place. Obi clears his throat awkwardly, not something he does often. You’re so used to seeing him cool and collected under pressure and shake your head, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You sure I can bring you to a strip club? I don’t know if you can handle the literal strippers if you can’t handle your friend in a dress,” you tease.

“That’s not— I— hmph,” He mutters, unable to come up with a coherent comeback. Instead, he opens the passenger door for you and avoids eye contact. Was that a tinge of red on his cheeks? You don’t have time to look closer because he ushers you into the car, almost rudely.

——

The electronica pulses in the floor and up through your body as you stalk the bar, searching for anyone that matches the pictures Obi Wan gave to you in the car on the ride there. The two of you had split up, him waltzing down to the dance floor leaving you to shiver at some of the looks these men were giving you at the bar. You risk a glance at the dance floor and immediately regret it.

Two women and one man are practically draped over his shoulders and licking their lips, and you feel a needle prick your heart. You watch his mouth move for a moment. He’s undoubtedly utilizing his honey-sweet charm to trap one of those “friends” into spilling valuable information. Jealousy is racing through your veins like the venom of a snake. Quickly, you focus on the task at hand before he can catch you staring. It’s a good thing that you do: you spot one of the men you’re looking for. His name is Orwen, and he’s one ugly son of a bitch, with pale skin and a scar running horizontally across the top of his bald head.

When you slide gracefully onto the seat beside him, you make sure to accidentally hike your dress up to show the little bit of thigh that wasn’t already exposed in an effort to grab his attention. It works. He worms a thick arm around your waist and you try to swallow the bile rising in your throat. Instead, you focus on the cold metal of the handgun on the thigh farthest from him.

“Aren’t you a tall glass of whiskey,” Orwen slurs as he yanks you towards him by your waist. With all of the effort you can muster, you force a snake-like smirk onto your face and lean into him enough to smell the cheap beer on his breath.

“And I suppose a handsome fellow such as yourself is looking for a drink.” He gives you a wolfish grin and hops off the stool, roughly snatching your arm. He begins to drag you towards a side room. You venture a guess that it’s used for more…private activities.

——

Little do you know that your partner spots you from the dance floor. As soon as he sees Orwen tug you away from the bar, his easygoing charm evaporates. Anger bubbles in his stomach and he follows a stealthy distance away from the pair of you. He saunters to the room you’re shoved into. A “do not disturb” light is on, but he knows that there are no locks on the doors to these rooms for safety reasons. He is steady as he reaches into his suit jacket to place a hand on the holster holding his pistol, but not pulling it into view so as not to cause a scene.

When he opens the door, it seems he’s arrived late to the party. Orwen is lying on a neon pink bed with his head against the wall, hands behind his head. You, on the other hand, are at the end of the bed, pistol aimed straight at the raging boner in Orwen’s skinny jeans.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Obi asks, walking to your side. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and shake your head, grinning.

“No, actually, you’re right on time. Help me with this?”

“As you wish,” he mock bows, and moves to restrain Orwen. But before he can, a shriek echoes through the crowd.

You and Obi glance at each other before you run out to check on the situation. One of the women sucking up to your partner has taken one of the workers hostage. The girl sobs as a knife is pressed just enough into her throat to draw a line of blood. You whirl around to glance at Obi Wan.

“So the redhead gave you nothing? ‘Cause now she’s got a hostage and a knife,” you snap. Obi Wan swiftly handcuffs Orwen to the bedpost and scans the situation out on the dance floor. He cringes.

“Anyone tries to stop her and it’s game over for her hostage. We need to negotiate with her and find out what she’s after without setting her off,” he reasons. You huff and he raises a brow.

“Maybe if you weren’t busy flirting with her we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.” You immediately regret your words as soon as they leave your mouth. You’re tired and cranky and you didn’t mean them but seeing your crush sweet-talking her earlier certainly wasn’t aiding your struggle.

“I was only fraternizing with the woman to see if she had any information, you know that,” he says calmly, though you can see him tense.

“Oh, really? I don’t see why you wouldn’t full-on flirt with her, she’s certainly a catch,” you snark, rapidly descending into a defensive position in this stupid argument that you’re really starting to wish never happened. But fire is in his eyes when he turns to you and stops the turning of the world with a soft reply.

“Because she isn’t you.”

#Obi Wan kenobi #Obi Wan Kenobi x reader #star wars #Star Wars prequels #fanfic #fanfiction #me? writing? more likely than you'd think