#get on a train to New York immediately gets almost killed by the butcher

[liliavalley]

On part 30 now and part 44 is still the fluffiest episode by far

[spoonmynoodle]

Little Boyfriend Just a little thingie I wrote avoiding school work. Should I continue? - "..The fuck are you getting at?" This is the first time in a while that a few men asked for your help, if you were asked before, you'd usually shut those fuckers down immediately, but these men are relentless. After months of avoiding them, they hunt you down, finding you within three days. You have your arms crossed in your chest and the hood of your jacket covering your face from the public. "Leave me alone...the past is the past- and this isn't Back To The Future." You reference a movie from the eighties, but it was almost as if the men cornering you didn't expect you to know the film, so they look at each other confused, leaving you confused because you didn't understand why they were confused. One of the men shook his head and turns his head back at you, shaking it before speaking, "We just need ya' on our 'special' little mission, just control your little boyfriend for us," his accent stabbed the air. This man was the infamous William "Billy" Butcher, or he's infamous to you, you've made sure to steer away from him and any of his boys. A supe hunter- his wife disappeared and he then found out that Homelander raped his wife, and her child killed her. Billy's brother shot himself after he left and his father beat him... at least this is what you know from your time spectating and learning from your own sources.

The skinny younger boy, who you don't know much about, steps forward. All you know is that a supe known as A-Train murdered his previous girlfriend, then after that incident, shit around New York started to go haywire. Hughie Campbell's his name. "You're a supe, and... we thought... or.." he shook his head, "... Soldier Boy mentioned you?" He started to ramble on, but your brain began to fog at the name 'Soldier Boy'. After finding out he was in Russia, you thought he left you, so you left your previous team- Payback. He was the leader who held the team together, although he was a fucked up man who did fucked up shit, you know that he also had a fucked up life, and you've noticed that people with fucked backstories are fucked up, or will end fucked up- Like Billy. But when you saw the incident on the news of the explosion, you knew it was him, but it's still unbelievable. The TNT Twins were always fucking, no longer fighting, Crimson Countess well... She's basically a porn star who also tries to be as sexy as she used to be, although the only thing she's good at is twisting the minds of people at her theme park, informing them about Soldier Boy's doings and his stupid movies. Swatto's dead, Gunpowder's dead, Mindstorm is who knows where, and Noir's in the Seven... Just everything is screwed. You- you supposedly dead, killed yourself after leaving Payback. Even though it had been years since everything had happened, you're not ready. "No." You stated firmly and closed your eyes, "Do I have to bring up everyone's whereabouts and- and actions to fucking vought?" You brush past Billy, no longer becoming closed in, "Leave me alone." You began to walk away from them, down the wet street back to your secluded home, you make sure no one is around after going into an alleyway, and you begin to clench your fists. As your knuckles turn white, dark fur begins to form on them, and your spine cracks and arches into a different form as does the rest of your bones, and you were now a cat. An unlucky black cat on the streets of New York, how pitiful. ---- You made it to your small house, forming back into a human as you approached the porch, but you saw a figure... and you knew that figure from anywhere. His green eyes spotted you. "Knew you were a fucking pussy," he smirked and stood from the bench, meeting you halfway.

[wtnrscap]

It never stops

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A lead in the ruins of Sokovia brings a face from the past back.

Ask:

Warnings: Set post-Endgame, swearing, a lil angst.

A/N: I have a bad feeling I’ve butchered your ask @badasseddy​ but I hope you still like it. Feel free to complain if you hate it. Currently writing a request a day, so I will get to everyone’s.

I cannot for the life of me remember who made this divider, so if it’s yours or you know who’s it is, please tell me so I can credit them.

81 years had passed since Bucky had last gone dancing, and he felt as though his eardrums were going to burst. Adrenaline shot through his veins, the alcohol having no affects. Sam nodded his head with the beat and Bucky groaned. Is this really what music passed for nowadays?

It took several punches to the arm for Bucky to realize that Sam was trying to get his attention, and he whipped his head around so fast they almost knocked each other out. Sam yelled and smacked Bucky’s metal arm, before screaming in pain.

 ‘Serves his right for dragging me to this hell’, thought Bucky. He watched as Sam pulled out a photograph and waved it in front of his face, “We’re looking for this girl. She’s undercover. Locate her and contact me on coms.”

 Bucky yanked the photo out of the air and stared at, memorizing the girl’s face. He vaguely remembered her, but he didn’t know why. Her Y/H/C hair was tied in a lose ponytail, with striking Y/E/C eyes and a distinctive smile. Her arms were wrapped out Sam’s shoulder, while Steve’s arm rest on her shoulder. Bucky tried to ignore the youth of his friend and chose to focus on the fact that the girl was pretty. The natural kind of pretty that all the girls wanted but compensated with layers of makeup. Bucky tucked the photo into his jacket with slight reluctance. It was the type of photo where he would have cut the girl out and tucked it into his army uniform, reminding himself what he was fighting for.

 The pair separated, Sam heading towards the dancefloor and Bucky the bar. A beacon of escape, Bucky decided. Sam had said no drinking on the job, but fuck Sam, if he wanted to drink, then he would. Bucky was immune to the addictive buzz anyway.

 The bar was empty aside from a man in a suit at the end, but he seemed a little distracted, a girl on his lap, giggling at something that probably wasn’t very funny. The girls in this club knew how to make their living. Bottles were stacked almost floor high, dirty looking glasses and a few dripping taps. A girl stood at the end, scrubbing a smeared flute with a grubby cloth. Bucky tapped his fingers and she sauntered over, “What can I get ya, pal? Looking a bit lost there…”

 “Well, I don’t really fit in. You see a lot of faces here?”

 “As a bartender? More than I care to count. Need help with something?”

 Bucky pulled the photo out, folded out Sam and Steve, and slid it across the wet bar, “I’m looking for this girl. Have you seen her?”

 The girl lifted it up gingerly, letting it drip. As she analyzed it, Bucky gave himself a chance to look at her, weighing her up. Her hair was black with green highlights, ending on her shoulders. Her eyes were the same as the girl’s in the photo but the smile, it wasn’t the same. This wasn’t who they were looking for.

 The girl slid the photo back, “She’s pretty, but I’ve never seen her. I think I’d remember her if I did.”

Bucky tucked the photo back into his jacket. The girl straightened up, a crease forming across her brow, “Are you sure you don’t want anything? A dry martini?” the girl looked up at him almost expectantly, but Bucky shook his head, “I’m good. I’ll probably be here till closing time, so if you see her, pull me over.”

 -

 “We can sink no lower…” mumbled Bucky, the toilet creaking dangerously below him. Sam hushed him quickly, “The girl is here. We have to stay ’till we find her.”

 “And that means hiding in the toilets?” snapped Bucky, meriting another hush from Sam. Bucky frowned, “Hey, this is your fault! This was your idea! She never turned up, we could have come back another day, but no, we’re here, hiding in this hell hole.”

 A thump from outside silenced him. Carefully, Sam left his cubicle, closely followed by Bucky, and propped open the door, enough for them to see and hear what was happening.

 “Club’s closed boys. You need to leave…” the voice of the bartender echoed around the room. Several guffaws responded, “We weren’t satisfied with our service.”

 “Not my problem. I run the bar, not the brothel.”

 “I don’t think Batroc will be very happy with that. He employs you, does he not?”

 “Yes…” the bartender’s voice trailed off nervously, “What are you going to do to me?”

 “Show you what we do to unwilling workers. Grab her and strap to the table… That one, in the corner…”

 Without hesitation, Bucky grabbed onto Sam’s arm, mouthing, “I can’t listen to this. We have to help her!”

 Sam’s hand flew over Bucky’s mouth, “We’re not here for her… Stay put!”

 Bucky pushed against Sam, trying to free himself from the Falcon’s grip, but Sam held him fast. A brief squabble broke out, Bucky and Sam fighting against each other, until Bucky used his metal hand to break free, rushing through the door to shocking sight.

 The bartender wiped her lip, staring down at three men, “Touch me again, and I will fucking kill you.”

 “Fuck…” thought Bucky, ‘I should not be this turned on…’

 “Hey, pretty boy? Pretty boy? Pay attention to me!” the bartender’s voice snapped Bucky out of his daydream, “Meet me in the alley in 5 minutes. Bring Sam.”

 -

 The dingy alley smelt of piss and sick, but the bartender seemed unperturbed, flinging her arms around Sam’s neck, “Oh, I’ve missed you Birdie!”

 “I’ve missed you too! We’ve been looking for you all night! Where have you been?”

 “At the bar! Your friend approached me, I thought he would recognize me, but no, and when I said the words, he didn’t reply with the code!” the bartender shot Bucky an angry glance. Bucky snapped, “What words? I wasn’t told of any words. And why would I recognize you? I’ve never met you in my life! This is so stupid!”

 The bartender huffed and pulled on her hair until it come off in her hand, revealing Y/H/C underneath. The black hair was a wig. Next, she pulled out the photo from Sam’s pocket and pulled up to her face and copied the smile. Bucky saw the resemble immediately, “It’s you…”

 “My name’s Agent Y/N L/N, I’m undercover here. You probably don’t remember me, we didn’t really meet, but I helped Steve and Sam disappear in 2016. I saw you from a distance, but you were kinda wiped out, no metal arm and longer hair. As for the words, I was told to offer you a dry martini, and you should’ve responded with ‘I don’t like my martini’s dry’.”

 “I hate martini’s altogether! And I gave you a photo of yourself!”

 “I’ve had 4 people give me a photo of myself today alone! The people after you are on your case!” Y/N’s chest heaved with anger and frustration, “Baltroc will be in the old Sokovian church tomorrow at midday. He’s made several attempts to take over the Sokovian people after the country fell with Ultron. We’ve tried to enlist the help of Wanda Maximoff, but we’ve had no response.”

 “She’s gone MIA… No one knows where she is…” responded Sam slowly, “If what you say is true, not that I am doubting you, then we need to get moving now. You are relieved of your duty. Where will you head?”

 “To New York. I’ll go to the compound.”

 “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you there…” Sam pulled Y/N into a tight hug before turning to Bucky, “We leave in 10.”

 Bucky nodded his head and looked down at Y/N, “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

 “Not your fault. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

 “Not your fault…” Bucky shifted awkwardly. Y/N smiled slightly, “Do you miss him?”

 Bucky’s eyes widened almost comically. He hadn’t expected that from her, the mention of Steve. He noticed the way her shoulders slumped at the question, her eyes losing their sparkle slightly. He wondered how the snap had affected her, and, for the first time, wondered what an Agent like her was doing here, in the burned ruins of Sokoiva. He tried to match her smile, “Everyday… It’s hard… I know that he is still alive, but the whole world believes him dead, and I don’t actually see him very often now, so sometimes, it’s like he’s dead to me too. It just never stops, this life. It’s fast and hard.”

 “I understand…” Y/N nodded her head, and Bucky spied a tear, and felt a pang in his heart, “Did… Did you love him?”

 “Oh God no!” gasped Y/N with a chuckle, “Me and Steve were more like siblings or best friends. He helped me and I helped him… I wasn’t snapped away, so spent the last 5 years with him. I trained with Natasha, and when Scott came back, Steve sent me away. To protect me, he said. I don’t doubt him, but I wonder, if I stayed, would’ve I been able to stop him from leaving?”

 “No. He had his mind set on it…”

 “Why’d you ask if I love him?”

 Bucky cheeks reddened, “Well, after I messed this up so bad, I wondered if once I got back to New York, you’d like to go for drinks… or not?”

 “Sargent Barnes, are you asking me on a date?”

 Bucky shivered at the use of the title, but tried to cover it, “Would you be opposed to the idea?”

 “No…”

 Bucky smiled at her as Sam yelled at him to hurry up. There was another moment of awkwardness before Bucky turned on his heel. Y/N stood still for few seconds before gasping, “Bucky! Wait!”

 “What?”

 It was Y/N’s turn to blush as she pecked a kiss on his cheek, “Be safe. Baltroc has a rep for maximum of casualties.”

 “I promise, doll…” Bucky smiled at took her hand in his, “Never thought the night would end like this. And now, I must really go.”

 -

 Sam frowned as they stepped onto the Quinjet, “How do you do it, man? 5 minutes ago, you barely knew the girl, and now you’re going on a date with her?”

 “It’s called charm, Birdbrain, you should try it some time.”

 “I have charm! And a wingman.”

 “Redwing does not count.”

 Sam huffed and sat down in a seat, “He so does. Besides, when she realizes you have a cyber-brain, she’ll be gone.”

 “Nah, I’ll just charm her again.”

 “Not with that grouchy face. If the wind changes, your face will be stuck like that.”

“I hate you…” muttered Bucky. Sam burst out laughing, nudging Bucky’s shoulder, and the man let out a small snort, smiling gently. 

It might never stop, but Bucky couldn’t deny, when it did, it was nice. Steve was gone, but he had Sam and now, Y/N too. Yeah... All was good.

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 9: We Brie-long Together

The boys finally talk.

To everyone who has shared their ideas for this story, I love and appreciate every last one of you! I tried to include as many ideas as I could in this chapter. This one’s for y’all! <3

Tag List: @peanut-in-the-goal @whataboutmyfries @raxelle-nite-in-gale @heyoitslysso @spookydiyharrypotterbat

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

@lumosinlove

.

Excerpt from Chapter 8 (If you don’t recognize this I would really recommend reading the last chapter!)

“We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Logan asked, green eyes hopeful. “At the game?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” The bus driver honked the horn, clearly fed-up with waiting. “You’d better go before they leave you behind.”

Logan and Finn gave one last wave before heading towards the door while Leo began making his way back to the kitchen.

“Hey!” Logan called suddenly. Leo turned back around to look at them. “Can we take you out to dinner tomorrow? After the game?”

Leo’s stomach churned at the wording. He gathered up all his courage, took a deep breath, and asked, “Is this a date?”

Finn and Logan beamed. Leo’s heart skipped a beat.

“I sure hope so.”

Leo smiled hesitantly at Finn’s words. “You’re serious?”

“Of course we’re – ” Logan was cut off by the horn of the bus again. He whipped around to shoot it a glare. “One second.”

He fished out his phone from his pocket and quickly sent a text to the team. Don’t wait for us. Harzy and I are going to take a cab back. He then proceeded to turn his phone off. “Finn, you might want to silence your phone.”

Then they both turned to look at Leo again.

His heart skipping a beat had now turned into a full-on arrythmia.

“I honestly can’t believe you didn’t pick up on this sooner.” Finn said, still smiling. “I mean, we weren’t exactly subtle.”

Leo finally closed the distance between them, hyperaware of the two pairs of eyes following his every move. “I had my suspicions. I was just…” He sighed, looking down. “Every possible outcome seemed so terrible and I was so scared that I was going to ruin all of this.”

He reached out to grab Finn’s hand, then looked up at Logan and gently cradled his neck in his hand, thumb brushing against his pulse point. “Guess that was kinda dumb, huh?”

Logan groaned and surged forward to capture Leo’s lips with his own.

Oh.

Leo exhaled in a sigh and kissed back, moving his hand slightly so that his fingers tangled in soft brown hair. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, holy shit. He had no idea how he’d become so lucky, but he definitely wasn’t about to question it. Logan stood up on his tiptoes, grabbed Leo’s shirt for balance, and tilted his head for a better angle.

“Oh my god, I love my life.” Finn whispered as he watched the two them. Leo smiled and broke away from Logan in order to kiss Finn with equal enthusiasm. With a muddled brain, Leo tried to sort through all the emotions he couldn’t put into words before Logan moved to kiss his neck, causing the blond to gasp. All previous train of thoughts had officially left the station.

“We – we should probably talk about this.” Leo managed to say in between kisses, his grip on Finn’s hand tightening.

“Kiss now, talk later.” Finn mumbled back. Logan hummed in agreement.

Leo couldn’t really find a flaw in their argument.

That arrythmia was quickly morphing into cardiac arrest.

After an undiscernible amount of time, though, he reluctantly had to lean back in order to breathe. Both boys looked up at him, pupils blown, and Leo smiled.

What on earth had he done to deserve this?

“As much as I’d love to stay here,” He said as he pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead. “I know y’all probably have to get back to the hotel. You’ve got morning skate, right?”

“No…” Finn whined, pressing closer to his boys.

“I already overfed your entire team the night before a game. I’m not going to be responsible for two of their wingers being tired all day tomorrow.”

“But it’s still early. Maybe we could just walk back to the hotel?” Logan suggested. “I’m not ready to say goodnight yet.”

“It’s November.” Leo countered, then sighed when Finn and Logan just sent him blank looks. He sighed. “Northerners. I will be a freezing, miserable mess if we walk around New York City all night in weather like this.”

Logan pouted, which proved to be very distracting because Leo couldn’t stop staring at those full lips.

“We could always go back to my place for a little while.” He finally conceded, watching the other two perk up. “It’s not too far of a walk. You guys can call a cab whenever you need to leave.”

“Yes.” Finn blurted, leading the way towards the door and dragging Leo and Logan along with him. “Let’s do that.”

“Hold on – Finn,” Leo laughed, trying to pull his hand free with little success. “I need my keys.”

Finn reluctantly let go of his hand, only to immediately grab it again when Leo came back with his keys. Leo arched an eyebrow as they stepped outside into the cold. “You know I still have to lock the door behind us, right?”

The redhead sighed dramatically and released his hand again. Logan smiled and said something in French about drama queens as he stared at Finn in adoration.

It didn’t make Leo’s heart ache anymore. Instead he just felt giddy – like he would never be able to sleep tonight.

How had this become his life?

Leo quickly locked the doors to the restaurant and then laced his fingers with Finn’s again. “Ready?”

“Lead the way, Peanut.”

So they began the walk back to Leo’s apartment, side by side. Leo and Finn shared stories about the places they passed as they walked – a strange combination of childhood stories from Finn and food recommendations from Leo but Logan soaked up every word, wanting to learn as much about his boys’ city as he could.

Finn was playing with Leo’s hand when he brushed his thumb across a thick, raised scar on one finger. He held it up to inspect and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “What’s this from?”

Leo looked down at it. “Oh, I almost took that finger off in culinary school.”

“You did what?”

“We were learning how to properly butcher a cow and it didn’t end well.”

Finn looked a little green. “Oh my god, baby.”

Leo tripped over his feet and looked over at Finn, who didn’t even seem to realize what he’d said.

Leo’s heart would never recover from tonight.

“Oh, Fish, show him that one scar you got sophomore year of college. The one from that asshole who played center at Brown?”

“Oh yeah! Nut, you’ve gotta look at this one.” Finn said excitedly, dropping Leo’s hand to roll up his coat and the shirtsleeve underneath it. “So it’s the third period, we’re tied one to one. I was on a break away, right? And then...”

They continued to share stories as they walked, although Logan was finding it harder and harder to focus on anything else but the rising spots of color on both of their cheeks and Leo’s nose, god it was too cute. The three of them finally reached an apartment building and hurried inside to get out of the cold.

Leo led them to his apartment and unlocked the door before welcoming them inside with a sheepish grimace. “Sorry about the mess, I’ve been making a lot of pasta and didn’t have time to clean it up before I left.” His stomach growled loudly. “Didn’t have time to eat, either, so I’m going to make a snack too. Make yourselves at home.”

Logan looked at the kitchen that was covered in flour, cooking utensils, and several different pasta cutters. He smiled softly at the sight, although he felt a little guilty. “You really went through a lot of trouble for tonight, huh?” Finn stood by his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. Logan leaned into him slightly as they both watched Leo preheat the oven and grab a wheel of brie and fresh raspberries from the fridge. Next came honey and crackers from the pantry.

“It wasn’t too bad.” Leo said as the oven beeped to signal that it had reached the right temperature. He put the brie in a pan, drizzled it with honey, and set it in the oven. “I enjoyed it. It’s been a while since I made pasta from scratch.”

Leo led the way to the living room where they all sat down on the couch, getting as close to each other as they could. Logan finally got to kiss the pink of Leo’s cheek, which earned him a soft smile.

“We still should probably talk about this.” The blond said, snuggling close to them. “I mean, how is this going to work? We all travel all the time. I’m based in New York and y’all are in Gryffindor. That’s a lot of long distance.”

Finn sighed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “I’m not going to lie to you, the season is going to be hectic. It always is. But we can visit as much as we can, and then there’s the offseason.” He smiled and poked Leo in the side. “You’ll be lucky to get rid of us then.”

“And you aren’t constantly recording new shows, are you?” Logan asked. “You could always visit or tag along to away games if you wanted.”

“I do a lot of videos from home, too. If you don’t mind me commandeering your kitchen every once in a while, I could always record them from there.”

“Peanut, literally nothing could make us happier than you taking over our kitchen.” Logan grinned at the thought, remembering the week Leo had spent in their apartment. He wanted to have that every day.

“Oh my god, we’re going to eat so much good food.” Finn sighed happily, resting his chin on Leo’s shoulder.

The timer for the brie went off. Leo rose to his feet to head back to the kitchen, shooting his boys a look as he went. “Your nutritionist is going to kill me.”

“Nah. You’ll be fine.” Finn reassured, giving Logan a lovestruck smile. He sent a similar smile back. “I’m sure you can run faster than him, anyways.”

“That’s not exactly comforting.” Leo called over his shoulder, taking the brie out of the oven and setting it on a plate with the raspberries, crackers, and more honey.

“I can’t believe a giant like you is afraid of a five-foot-nothing nutritionist.” Logan teased.

“If you’d seen the way he was glaring at me for all the pasta I cooked tonight, you’d be scared too.” Leo sat back down on the couch and picked up a cracker, scooping some warm brie onto it and adding some honey and a raspberry on top. “Now I know you’re probably full, but y’all have to try this.”

***

Logan looked over at Finn as the elevator began to slow down. “You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” He replied, but he was still smiling.

The elevator doors opened with a ding! and Logan and Finn stepped out. Their entire team was waiting for them in the hotel lobby with matching smug, teasing looks on their faces.

“You took a cab home, huh?” Talker chirped with a wicked grin.

The rest of the team erupted in cheers and whistles and cat calls, talking over each other in order to keep the teasing going.

“We signed up for this, didn’t we?” Logan asked, rolling his eyes.

Finn just kept smiling. He was going to be smiling for weeks after the events of last night. “Yep. And it’s definitely worth it.” Then he raised his voice for the rest of the team to hear, “Keep laughing while you can! We’re going to be soft, squishy romantics for at least the next month and you guys are going to have to deal with us. You’re going to be so sick of it, I can guarantee it.”

The team gave them uncertain looks.

“Now, get ready! I’m about to talk about our sweet ray of Louisiana sunshine the entire way to the stadium. I sure hope there’s a lot of traffic, because I have a lot to say.”

“Oh god. What have we done?”

“Blame Dumo - he’s the one who signed them up for that show.”

“Hey!”

***

The Gryffindor Lions Talk Show: Hosted by Butts and Kinzy

Longbottom: Looks like we’ve got a special guest in attendance tonight, folks! For those of you who don’t know, two of our finest went on a Food Network cooking competition during the offseason, and it looks like they’ve made a friend.

McKinnon: That’s chef Leo Knut. He was one of their instructors on the show. It’s nice to see that they still keep in touch. *clears her throat* There’s a link on all of our social media pages where you can watch Harzy and Tremzy be absolute disasters in the kitchen. Go check it out if you haven’t already! Now for our starting lineups!

[jemej3m]

a comprehensive set of rules (p.2)

i have no control over my writing schedule. it has been completely consumed by this au. this is all of y’all’s fault. 

heavy tw: blood and gore and bodies. also, bad people talking about raping allison and using homophobic slurs.

*

July:

“Andrew,” Renee called out, rapping her knuckles on the guest bedroom gently. 

Andrew was currently living out of one, black suitcase: he’d spent half his time at different hotels and half his time at colleagues’ homes, though calling Allison a colleague was a bit of a stretch. Wymack had let him camp out in his girlfriend’s spare room, seeing as his place was apparently too small for the both of them. Dan and Matt had even let him crash on the couch between motel rooms. 

Andrew was really fucking excited to get his place back. According to Neil, his father was pulling out all stops to get rid of him, or whoever was aiding him. As far as Andrew was concerned, Neil was in more danger, but the man refused to exonerate himself from the situation. The next best thing was ensuring that Andrew was untouchable. 

“Andrew, can I come in?” 

Andrew grunted, still bent over his files in the middle of the room. He’d pushed the bed to one side to make room and was suddenly shirtless, fan pulsating in the corner. He never did great in the heat. 

“Oh,” Neil’s voice squeaked like an elementary schooler’s clarinet. “Uh - I can come back?”

Andrew squinted up at him. “The fuck are you doing here?” he got to his feet and made his way over, reaching up to tug on Neil’s hair. Definitely real. “Huh.” 

Behind Neil, Renee snorted. Andrew glared at her: she put up her hands in surrender and paced off to do something else. 

Andrew shuffled Neil into his room and shut the door, treading carefully around his work. 

“This...” Neil looked over it, carefully avoiding the many photos and files and labelled evidence bags as he walked. He was silent as he moved, unnoticeable if he wasn’t always on Andrew’s radar. 

He also looked much more presentable than the last time Andrew had seen him, which had been before Dimaccio was arrested. A button-down, much like he wore when they first went to dinner. The collar was irritatingly popped, and his trousers were properly pressed, the shoes delicately shined. He looked like a rich man’s son. 

Andrew hated it. He also hated how good it looked.

“Sit on the bed,” Andrew instructed. “I don’t need you scuffing anything up.”

“This seems like a lot more than what’s necessary,” Neil said, avoiding looking at Andrew as he tugged on a shirt. “Also a lot more than we originally discussed.”

Andrew pointed at the profile of a smiling woman, and various other men. “Williams. Reacher. Jenkins. The three of them worked tirelessly on gang violence. They completely eradicated the Terrapin family from the game. Countless Bearcats and Catamounts have been locked up by them. But as soon as they turned to the Wesninski family, they were never found again. Three different detectives. Almost three consecutive years. They deserve justice too.” 

Neil was, clearly, not expecting to have to put names and families to the bodies his father had diced and scattered. His expression had become shuttered as Andrew talked, fingers curling into tight fists, the fabric of his trousers ensnared between his whitened knuckles. 

"You’re afraid.” 

Neil looked at him, eyes blazing. “He is all I’m afraid of. I can’t just - turn that off.”

Andrew crouched down on the floor in front of him. “You’re allowed to be afraid. You have to promise me that you won’t run away because of it.”

Neil’s shoulders were curled inwards. “I don’t want to become him. I don’t -” he looked at the photos of the officers and the remnants of their bodies and the ruination caused by his father’s work. “I don’t want that. I don’t.”

“So leave it behind.”

Neil grit his teeth. “I can’t! Look at me. Look at me. You think this is my father? Parading me around at events, trying to find me a wife who can bear my child, tracking my every move? Of course it’s not. My father is someone else’s weapon, a well-enamoured thug at best. He’s a Baltimorean gangster. He’s not the one in control here.”

Andrew put his hand over Neil’s wrist and let him breathe for a moment. 

“They know that he’s fucked,” Neil continued, eyes squeezed shut. “They know they’re going to lose him. So I’m being conditioned. I’m being shaped up to replace him. You know I’ve been in New York for the past two weeks?” He shoved his hair out of his eyes. Andrew opened his palm upwards, and Neil let himself tangle their fingers. “I want to escape my fate so badly, but my family has been indentured to them for - I don’t even know. Forever, it seems like.”

“Who, Neil?” 

He let out an aggravated sigh. “Who else controls enough of the east coast to keep the fucking Butcher in check? It’s the bloody Moriyamas.” Andrew stiffened. “If you breathe that name outside this room, I’m dead. You’re dead. Everyone you ever loved will die. They’re so well protected that the crazy second son can go off and do whatever he likes, including training to be a police officer and almost killing the partner he’s given, but it doesn’t even matter. It’s hushed up within the week.” 

He held tight onto Andrew’s hand. “The best I can hope for is a negotiation. A price that I can pay off in - a decade, maybe. Possibly two. Maybe securing a new family to pass the relationship to. I don’t know.” 

“Then that’s what you do,” Andrew vowed. “We deal with the monster under the bed first. Then the basement that lets them out. Don’t run,” Andrew insisted, his hand having worked its way up Neil’s arm to grip the back of his neck. “Don’t hide. You can’t afford to, not now.”

Neil rested their foreheads together. “I’ll try.”

Andrew’s thumb brushed circles under Neil’s jaw. “That’s all I ask.”

*

Breaking news: Nathan Wesninski being brought to court for multiple homicides, including Baltimore police officers and Mary Hatford, his wife...initially being assessed for money laundering and tax evasion, Wesninski is now being persecuted for multiple acts of violence, mutilation and extortion. Police officers under Captain David Wymack have collated resources and new-found evidence and will attempt to put Wesninski behind bars permanently.

*

August: 

Andrew’s heart was pounding. They’d tapped into comms just over an hour ago, received the corresponding telephone data and locations, and now they were paging the block. 

It was eerily quiet, and too dark for a suburban area. The cul-de-sac had no streetlights and all the houses were either empty, with for sale! signs posted on their laws, or all the blinds were drawn closed. It was only nine in the evening. 

Andrew took out his gun as they approached the house. Renee was at his shoulder. 

The house in question was two-storey, seemingly empty, the garage locked shut. The gardens were immaculately kept, the painted finish on the house brand new. God knows what was happening within: Andrew hoped that whatever mess had been made within wasn’t irreparable. 

Andrew’s radio cackled. “How do you want to go about this, Minyard?” 

Andrew cracked his knuckles and fished out his lock picks from his back pocket as he radioed back. “Silent entry. I’m going to unlock the door, and only our squad heads in. Everyone else surround the premises if they notice and escape.”

“Alright, sarge,” Matt said, jokingly, a few feet behind Renee. Dan must have pinched him because he immediate said “Ow!” 

Andrew and Renee crept up onto the front balcony: Andrew crouched down and worked for about two minutes till the lock had opened. Kevin had already phoned the security firm to let down the alarms, so Andrew and Renee stepped inside, unnoticed. Dan, Matt and Kevin dispersed, but Andrew always headed to the basement. 

The light was on. 

“...We should get back to Junior,” one voice said. “God knows he’s probably slipped free by now.”

“You kidding? We had him practically halfway into a coffin. Let’s just clean this up first.”

“Maybe pretty Alli’s woken up. If Junior wasn’t so fervently protective of her I’d’ve had her bent over by now.” 

“Christ, Romero." But the man was laughing. “Maybe now’s your chance.”

Disgust crawled down his spine. He glanced at Renee, just as they approached the doorway: she had her eyes closed momentarily, lips moving with a prayer. The door was left ajar. 

One, he mouthed. 

“Didn’t think boss had the guts to get rid of little Junior.”

Two, she returned. 

“Maybe he liked that bitch of a wife, after all. He could’ve had a kid with Lola and gotten rid of the pathetic faggot, but he stuck by Nathaniel anyway.”

Three, they both nodded, kicking the door wide open with his foot and grasping his gun in both hands. 

“Hands up,” he growled. “Drop whatever you’re holding.”

“Kneel,” Renee said, softly. “We will shoot you if you don’t comply.”

Neither of the men had guns. They dropped their knives to the ground and knelt down, furious. By them was a body, heavily dismembered. The hair was neither auburn nor blonde.

“Basement,” Andrew barked into his radio, training his gun on the one he recognised as Romero. His hands were limp, twitching by his sides. Andrew wanted to cut them from his body and watch him bleed. 

The other three skidded into the room, guns ready. 

“Go find them,” Renee murmured, under the cacophony of Dan and Kevin wrangling the perps to the ground, Matt kneeling by the body. “Andrew, go.” 

He nodded stiffly, falling back. Up the stairs and to the left was the door to the garage, which he kicked down. Switching the lights on, he looked to the two persons still on the floor, tied up and beaten down. 

“Andrew,” Neil gasped, covered in blood and cuffed at the wrists and ankles. Allison seemed alright, if a bit groggy, with a gag in her mouth and her hands tied behind her. 

Andrew grabbed the hedge clippers from the wall of gardening tools and broke through the handcuffs, cutting Allison’s rope bindings and tugging off her gag. 

“Perps restrained, fall in through the front,” Dan said through the radio. “Victim dead. Get a stretcher: Forensics team definitely not necessary.” 

“We can’t be found here,” Allison hissed. “We can’t be brought in.”

“Jesus Christ,” Andrew muttered, fishing the keys to his cousin’s place out of his pocket. “Fine. If you can get him on his feet,” he jerked his head to Neil, who muttered I’m fine. “Go to Nicky’s place. I’ll meet you there later. Unless you need a hospital?”

“It’s all superficial,” Neil mumbled, wincing. Andrew felt concern curl and knot in his stomach. He looked to Allison. 

“Maybe you should do a first-aid cert.”

“Maybe that’s not a half bad idea,” she grunted, hauling Neil to his feet. 

“The back should be clear of cops now,” Andrew said, cutting through the padlock on the garage door. “Get out.”

“Good to see you too, Minyard,” Allison drawled, pulling Neil along. With a wink, they were both gone. 

Andrew rubbed at his temples, giving himself only a minute of reprieve, before heading back into the fray. 

*

Nicky’s house was cold and dark. The two of them had been on a spontaneous trip around Europe for the last few months, visiting Erik’s family. Nicky wasn’t stupid: when Andrew offered him this and that, he took it without question and knew there was a reason why.

“When I get back,” he insisted over the phone. “When I get back the three of us are visiting Aaron. Got it?”

“Fine,” Andrew had grunted, hanging up on his cousin without a goodbye. 

Neil had parked himself on the couch, staring at the ceiling with square bandages across his cheeks. Bruises mottled his skin, and his hands and forearms were mummified in a similar fashion. 

“I was going to try and contact you,” Neil said, not needing to see Andrew to know who’d entered the house. “I would’ve called you.”

Andrew sat on the end of the couch as Neil drew his feet up to give him room. “Right.”

The man struggled into a seated position. “I was.” 

“Should’ve let them kill you,” Andrew muttered, glaring at the unused television. Neil snorted, swinging his legs off the couch and settling next to Andrew. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” 

“Just - shut up.” 

For a while they sat in silence. Andrew lit up a cigarette and smoked it through to the filter. Neil seemed to lean a little closer, attracted to the scent. 

“Hey,” he murmured, when Andrew threw the stub onto the coffee table. 

Andrew turned and looked at him. His eyes were clear, purposeful. Andrew remembered their first date, their second. Cleavers and thugs and light, candle light and club lights, striping across Neil’s cheekbones like something from a painting. 

Kissing him felt - 

Normal. Right. Like coming home. Like finding - not the last piece of the puzzle, but the last edge, making a solid shape to be filled in, something clear and decisive. Andrew’s fingertips found his jaw and he felt Neil’s fingers curl in the collar of his vest. His police vest. 

It was enough to draw him to a stop, pulling back just enough for him to breathe. 

“You don’t swing,” Andrew accused, poorly hiding how winded he was.

Neil huffed, equally as breathless. “You don’t date.” 

Andrew’s teeth ground together. “You don’t date cops.” 

“And you don’t date mobsters,” Neil retorted. “What’s your point here?” 

“Yes or no?” Andrew demanded, because he needed to know. He needed to know for sure. Without a doubt, with complete surety, with perfect clarity - 

“Yes,” Neil answered. “Obviously.” 

“‘Obviously’,” Andrew parroted with a scoff. “I hate you.” 

When Neil’s lips curved up into a smile, Andrew kissed him quiet. 

*

September: 

“You know I’ve got a week off, after next week,” Andrew said, trailing his fingers over the threadbare t-shirt that Neil wore. He said ‘next week’ and not ‘Nathan’s trial’. They’d both come to an agreement that where they could avoid talking about it, they would. 

It was out of Andrew’s hands, anyway. All the evidence was with the prosecutor, and it was their job to put him behind bars. 

There was no way Nathan Wesninski was getting out, now. Not a single chance. 

Which meant there was no reason to talk about it. Or about Neil’s future inheritance of his father’s position, or Andrew’s award of recognition for his work. Which felt rather cheap, really - he was just lucky that Neil had decided to give him a second chance. 

Then again, policing was mostly luck, and a bit of charisma. Andrew was usually lacking in both, but right now, in the golden afternoon sunlight, with Neil in shorts and unkempt hair, he felt incredibly lucky. 

Neil craned his head back to look at Andrew. His new scars were bright red, but healed over at this point. “Just Chicago?” 

Andrew hummed assent, closing his eyes and pressing his nose to the crown of Neil’s head. Casual intimacy had always been - too much. Too soft, too nice, like it was covering up something sinister. Never had Andrew felt so relaxed, not even after sex, which usually resulted in Andrew grabbing his shirt, shoes, phone and wallet and leaving immediately. 

And they hadn’t had sex yet. Andrew didn’t know if Neil would ever want to have sex. That was - unsurprisingly - not the most important thing on Andrew’s list of wants and needs. 

Instead, here he was, lying on his back in Nicky’s guest bedroom. Neil was lying next to him, on his side, head cushioned on Andrew’s shoulder. And he did want this. He’d been tied up and exhausted for months: now it was all coming to its peak, the finish line right around the corner. And they were - okay. Ish. Maybe. Probably. Andrew wasn’t peeved about it. 

“Don’t die whilst I’m gone,” Andrew muttered, fingers threading through his hair. 

“I have to go to New York, anyway,” Neil said, sullen. “Might as well do it whilst you’re away.” 

“How many times are they going to pull you up there?”

“Till they’re confident I won’t screw everything up in the change-over, I guess. Or maybe it’s about the wife thing.” 

Something in Andrew’s chest twisted. He simply hummed. 

Neil shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Andrew properly. “You know I’m not going to go through with it, right?”

“And if they threaten you?” Andrew reminded him. “Your life isn’t exactly yours.”

“Fuck them,” Neil said as he leaned forward, forever antagonistic. Andrew sighed: Neil paused. “No?”

“Yes,” he muttered, pulling Neil down. One hand brushed along the slither of exposed skin that revealed itself as Neil’s shirt rose up: Andrew relished in the shiver that flitted across Neil’s skin. His scarred fingers - covered in circular burns from a dashboard lighter and various scratch ridges - felt familiar and known when Andrew guided them to the back of his head. Neil was careful, as always.

Andrew had intended on asking when the hell Neil had heard about Andrew’s past, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. He didn’t want to talk about it now, anyway.

Just as Neil let Andrew push his shoulder back, following him over to kiss him into the mattress, Allison’s nails tapped impatiently on the bedroom door. Andrew broke away, startled, just as Neil cursed, sitting up. 

“Yes, Allison?” Neil demanded, clearing his throat. “What is it?”

“You sound odd,” Allison remarked, door handle turning. 

“Uh - !” Neil scrambled off the bed, looking to Andrew with wild eyes. “I’m - naked! Don’t come in.”

“Right,” Allison drawled. “Should I just wait in my room for him to leave, then?”

“I hate you,” Neil complained. “What do you want?” 

“Andrew’s phone was going off in the kitchen,” Allison said, slyly. “Sounds like the prosecuting lawyer wants some of your time, Andrew. Nice of you to glide by without saying hello.”

“I’m busy,” Andrew retorted. 

Allison just laughed, strutting down the corridor with her heels tapping on the wooden floorboards. Neil crossed his arms, red-faced. 

“C’mere,” Andrew said, still sitting on the bed. 

“But Thea,” Neil tried. 

“The law can wait,” Andrew insisted, extending his hand.

The look in Neil’s eyes sent sparks flying across Andrew’s skin. 

*

“Took you long enough,” Thea Muldani said, a master of clipboards and abridged glares. She was a lawyer worth Andrew’s time, he knew that, but he also didn’t feel like putting up with Kevin’s heart-eyes or Renee’s unsubtle glances. 

Jesus Christ, he thought, slamming his bag on the table hard enough to cause everyone to jolt. “I’m here, now.” 

“Congratulations,” Thea remarked. “Don’t care. We have a problem.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. 

“Nathan Junior’s prints are all over a tonne of this evidence. If we don’t have him accounted for, defence is going to be all over it.”

“Are you serious?” Dan demanded. “Nathaniel would’ve been 15 when Mary was murdered.” 

“Doesn’t matter. If the evidence has been tampered with, it could be rendered useless. It would be extremely helpful,” Thea said pointedly. “If people’s CI’s could come forward and testify. We have almost no witnesses, except for Andrew and Renee, who claimed that Jackson Plank and Romero Malcom were acting on orders from Nathan whilst murdering Janie Smalls, last month. Neither of them will confess to any sort of collaboration with Wesninski, and two unidentified blood sources were found in the garage.”

“That sounds like circumstantial bullshit,” Dan argued. 

“And can we prove them wrong?” Thea shot back. “No. We can’t. For all we know, it’s been Nathaniel behind all of this instead. He’s certainly old enough now.”

Andrew stood out of his chair, grabbed his things and turned to leave. 

The lawyer gave him an appraising look. “I haven’t dismissed this meeting, Minyard.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew said. “If you won’t do your job, then I suppose I’d better go and fucking do it for you.” 

“It’s Thursday,” Thea reminded him. “Case starts on Monday.”

Andrew ignored her, making sure to slam the door on the way out. 

*

Romero Malcom was a sullen man. His skin was papery thin, even only a few weeks into his prison stay. Andrew couldn’t say that he pitied him. He sat down with his cup of coffee, leaning back in his chair with his leg crossed at the ankle. Romero was locked to the interrogation table opposite, shoulders curled in, fingernails scratching against the table top. 

Trying to get a rise. It wouldn’t work. 

“Honestly, between you and your sister, you seemed like the more rational one,” Andrew said, eyebrow arched. He put his coffee down and opened up his file. “Did you think about how your lifestyle had an expiry often? Nathan had Dimaccio as his right-hand man, but kept Lola as his carefully concealed weapon. You and Plank seemed just like...more prized cannon-fodder.”

Romero’s eye twitched. 

“You know, you said something that caught my interest,” Andrew leaned forward. “You said you’d’ve fucked Nathaniel Wesninski’s friend. What was her name?”

“Allison,” he said. 

“Right. You said you’d intended to rape her.”

“No wonder you’re so hung up on it, Doe,” Romero sneered. So they’d all done their research. “Well I didn’t, did I? Not that she’s shown up. She knows Nathan’ll kill her. He’s pretty sure she’s the rat.”

“Do you think she is?” Andrew inquired. “Mind you: I know who the rat is, and you don’t.”

“I think she’s the rat.” Romero sneered. “Princess bitch won’t be loyal to nothing but herself.”

“Which was why he asked you to kill her. She’d betrayed you all.” 

“We didn’t kill her.”

“No, but you were going to. He wanted you to kill all three of them.” 

“It was probably Junior that called the cops on us,” Romero scoffed. Andrew’s jaw ticked. “Fucking brat. It was about time.”

“About time for what?”

“To get rid of him.” Romero rolled his eyes. “Not that Plank could manage that, either. Useless. But Nathan gave us the call. We were waiting for it, honestly. Killing off Junior meant there was more of an incentive to keep Nathan out of jail. Otherwise there’s no other options.”

Moriyamas, Andrew thought, but he had no interest in involving them. “So Nathan called the two of you, ordered you to get rid of Allison and Nathaniel.”

“He didn’t want them showing their faces and causing trouble.” 

“So why Janie?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Romero laughed. It sounded like rusted truck breaks. Andrew was very close to knocking the scalding coffee onto exposed skin. 

“Nathan probably ain’t happy,” Andrew amended. 

Romero barked out another laugh. “He’ll be livid at this point. He sent me an email on exactly what he wanted me to do to your tiny little body, Minyard. An email. Who the fuck sends emails anymore? Anyway, yeah. He’s pissed.”

Andrew stood up from the table, carefully putting his audio recorder into plain sight as he picked up his coffee. “Well, I’d say it was a pleasure, but it wasn’t.” Romero looked at the recorder, slightly sickly. “Have fun in here, Malcom. I’m sure your sister sends her regard from max.”

With that he spun on his heel, the sweet sounds of Romero’s panic putting a hop in his step all the way out of the centre. 

*

“I’ve never...” Neil chewed his lip. “Get a blood sample? That’d put me into the system.”

“And help me identify your pieces as they come floating down the river, if your father’s bosses ever learn about this,” Andrew reminded him. “If I can prove that Romero and Jackson were ordered to kill you, there won’t be any ground to stand on. Neil. Remember what I said.”

The man looked at him from an extended moment of time, evaluating and revelautating. 

“Alright,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Okay.” 

*

October:

Andrew leant his head from side to side, letting his spine slot itself back into place. He hated everything about flying, so much so that even his cousin’s persistent chatter hadn’t been enough to distract him from his living nightmare. 

“Well!” his cousin said, somehow still animated. He and Erik had spent their time in Chicago getting over jetlagged and playing with Aaron’s new puppy, whilst Andrew spent his time watching their antics and silently drinking coffee with Aaron, save for the occasional question here and there. 

Heard you made a big bust, yeah. How’s the residency. A nightmare. Katelyn and I want a baby when it’s done, though. Interesting. You can be the Godfather. Save that for Neil. Neil? Like, the criminal guy? Don’t mention it. Andrew - I said, don’t mention it. Oh, fuck. You’re serious. Jesus Christ, okay. 

“Shall we get a cab?” Nicky inquired. 

“Neil can drop you home on the way to mine.” 

Nicky narrowed his eyes. “Neil? Like, absolute hottie Neil? Allison’s friend? The one you never called back because you’re an idiot?”

“I hate you,” Andrew insisted. 

“Oh my god!” Nicky squealed, tugging on Erik’s arm. “I didn’t know y’all were together. How long has it been? Andrew, you gotta tell me these things!” 

“On second thoughts, you should take a cab,” Andrew grunted, lugging his luggage to where he knew Neil would already be standing, waiting for them to arrive. 

Nicky’s laugh rang out like bells, just as Neil rose up his hand to wave the three of them over. 

Yeah, Andrew thought, letting Nicky gush whilst Neil looked at him like that. 

This isn’t half bad. 

*

And that’s how they got together! andrew will continually tell himself that neil inherited the syndicate after they got together, even if there was only like a month or so between their first kiss and nathan getting locked up. neil will continually tell himself that andrew was only interested in him for the case. they’re both stupid liars who are in love. 

[agecfmiracles-archive2]

mobile bio - maria castle

Name: Maria Dunne Castle Age: 35 Species: Human Location: Hell’s Kitchen, NY

Maria Dunne came from an old money Irish Catholic family in upstate New York State. She had a happy childhood for the most part, until she was six years old. When she was six, her sister went to a school friend’s birthday pool party on a shimmering hot summer day. Maria was playing in her room when the phone downstairs started to ring, and then Mama started to scream. Lisa’s new swimsuit got caught on a vent at the bottom of the pool, and by the time any of the adults at the party noticed she had drowned, and suddenly Maria Dunne was an only child.

Still, her family managed to cobble together a good life in the wake of their tragedy. Maria began music lessons as a suggested therapy, though her strong personality shone through on her first violin lesson; the instructor was an old-fashioned goat of a woman, who tried to whap Maria on the thigh when she didn’t hold her elbow straight. And Maria whapped her right back, which was the end of violin. The following week a new instructor came, a younger more patient woman who taught Maria how to play mandolin so well that she could play reels at the local Irish heritage festivals by the time she was 14.

She was smart and strong-willed, like her mother, and a romantic at heart like her father, and so for the safety of all local boys she went to an all girls’ Catholic high school in Queens. The bright, shimmering hot summer afternoon after the last day of senior year, Maria and her friends went to Central Park for ice cream and to ride the carousel, and instead found a burly young man butchering a song on the guitar in the shade of a nearby tree.

It was all over from there. It’s not as if her parents forbade her from dating while in high school, but it was clear that they hoped she would wait until college to start meeting boys. Well, summer after senior year was close enough, right?

At the end of the summer, days before fall semester at NYU began, all her and her parents’ plans came screeching to a halt when Maria realized she was pregnant. Out of wedlock. With an Italian Marine hopeful. She told Frank before she told her parents, for obvious reasons, and Frank surprised her. He didn’t just offer to marry her because he felt obligated, he begged to marry her because he loved her. Her. So, instead of going to her parents unwed and pregnant, she went to her parents with a plan. She and Frank would get married. The timing was perfect because the school year’s nine months, right? So she would finish her freshman year of school a few weeks before the baby came, take a year off and live in the military family housing to be near Frank while he was training and have the support of other wives, then once the baby was old enough for daycare she would go back to NYU and finish her degree. Easy. They already had their marriage license printed ready to take to the courthouse.

Connor and Aileen Dunne were shocked. Mortified. Deeply hurt that their only daughter would hide that she was seeing someone while living under their roof, that she wouldn’t confide in them or even attempt to follow the usual customs of asking for her parents’ blessing before getting married. But they also admired the guts it took to do all of this and confess straight to their faces. They weren’t thrilled, but they agreed to the marriage, because they knew that if they didn’t they would lose the only child they had left. Besides, she wasn’t asking permission, she was warning them of the inevitable.

So Maria Dunne became Maria Dunne Castle at the city courthouse on a Thursday afternoon, wearing the white cocktail dress from her last high school winter formal and with a daisy in her hair. 

Two months into her freshman year of college, while Frank was away at boot camp, Maria got the call that her mother was diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer. The signs were in Aileen’s favor as long as they began aggressive treatments immediately, and Connor insisted that Maria stay in school and he would take care of everything. And Aileen got sicker, and sicker.

Frank came home on furlough a few days before the end of Spring semester, just as final exams were wrapping up. Maria was nine months pregnant and feeling every minute that crept closer to her due date, but was determined to get through her finals without complaining. There was too much on her plate between Mom, and the baby, and school, and so all she could do was put her head down and work hard and hope it all came out okay. She got the call that her mom was being hospitalized the night before her English final, and she started having contractions around midnight.

So, what? False alarms happen all the time, she told Frank even while he begged her to call her professor and ask to make up the final. She explained with very little patience that you don’t just make up a college final, and besides, she was fine. And Maria kept up that monologue until her 4pm exam. Frank waited outside the exam hall, sweating like a pig, watching her tense and lamaze breathe through writing her essay. But she did it. She finished and, triumphant, marched to the front of the room to hand in her test—and her water broke on the professor’s shoes. 

And that’s the story of how Lisa Castle was almost born in the passenger seat of Frank’s truck in the middle of a traffic gridlock, but thankfully training had been kind to Frank, and he abandoned his truck to the traffic tickets and carried Maria the last two blocks to the hospital.

Life actually got less chaotic, once Lisa came. When Maria and Frank brought the newborn upstairs to meet her grandmother for the first time, it was as if the new life reinvigorated Aileen’s will to survive; she turned to corner toward recovery and was deemed cancer-free six months later. Maria passed her finals and went on with Frank to North Carolina to finish his training. Lisa and Maria were a huge hit with the other Marine wives, enough to console and support her through Frank’s first deployment. Even so, they moved back to New York when he came home a year later, in one piece, thanks be to God, and Maria prepared to go back to school.

And for the next three years, things were okay. Maria finished an undergraduate degree in Communications, and six months later Francis Castle Junior was born—planned, this time around. They bought a house in Queens, close to where Connor and Aileen had moved during her treatment. They put down roots.

Then Connor and Aileen were killed by a drunk driver, struck down in the crosswalk after seeing a Broadway show. The last time she heard her mother’s voice was minutes before the accident, and she complained about the service at dinner before the show. And that was it. Maria did what she could to find comfort in her husband and children, but the grief was blinding, all-encompassing, her every synapse alight with agony.

But time moved on. Time passed. Frank left, and came home, and left again. Maria finished a graduate degree and got a great job at a record label in the city. She raised her children alone because her husband spend half his damn life across the ocean. She practiced mourning him on long nights alone, just in case, but he seemed to be immune to the same tragedies that seemed to strike every other military family. And finally, blessedly, when the kids were nine and eleven, he finally decided to come home and stay. The weight on her heart was finally lifting. Home, he was home, and he wasn’t leaving again.

And then she died. At least for two minutes, she did. 

When she woke up, all she knew was her name. No dead sister, no dead parents, no dead children. No husband. Her entire life was gone in the aftershocks of a traumatic brain injury. No one would tell her what happened at first, only that she had been in a medically induced coma for almost six months. By the time she was well enough to leave the SHIELD hospital, they explained to her that her husband (husband?) was a dangerous man, a terrorist, who was responsible for the shooting that almost killed her and did kill her young children. That he must never find out she was alive, or he would finish what he started. 

They helped her get a small apartment in Queens, near the cemetery where her children were buried. She was given exercises to help her redevelop her short-term memory and try to restore her longer-term memories. She isn’t sure she wants them all back, though.