#hope breslin

[freesia-writes]

Ch 34: Attack

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 3.4k Fanart by @autistic-artistech!!

Hunter slipped silently through the door of Lyra’s cottage, knife in one hand to brace his blaster in the other as he scanned the hallway, sharp eyes moving constantly. He stepped slowly, avoiding the creaky spots of the wooden floor that he didn’t realize he’d memorized. As he peeked around the corner to the main room, he froze, dumbstruck.

Lyra was tied to a chair in the middle of her own living room, tears on her cheeks illuminated by the glow of her fireplace, and Luciana loomed above her with a menacing glare. 

“Where is it?” she hissed, fist clenched at her side. As she turned, a rush of adrenaline pumped through Hunter’s veins as he spotted a blaster in her other hand. 

“I told you I don’t have it,” Lyra whimpered.

“First you said the evidence was in the safe. Then there was no safe. Now you’re saying someone else has it. You think I don’t know who? You’re stalling, and I’m sick of it!”

Lyra remained silent, eyes tightly shut in hopeless despair.

“Hunter’s not coming to save you,” Luciana taunted with smug satisfaction. Her beautiful features were contorted into rage, her typically bright smile twisted in a sinister grin. “He’s going to be busy for quite a while. You’re going to talk one way or the other, so stop wasting time. If you don’t have the evidence, where is your daughter?”

Pain and fear emanated from Lyra’s helpless form.

“Where is your daughter?” Luciana demanded. “I know you went to find her on Keytoll. Then you two both ‘died’, or so you led them to believe, until you showed up here. So where is she?”

A minute shake of the head was the only response. 

Luciana slapped her across the face. 

“Where’s Breslin?!” she screamed, poking the blaster closer. Lyra slowly raised her head, finally meeting Luciana’s blazing eyes with her own, and took a shuddering breath. A sudden stillness settled over her, and her voice was low as she spoke with clarity and conviction.

“I’ll never tell you.”

“Agh!” Luciana yelled in frustration, lowering the blaster to her side and clawing at the ropes to free Lyra from the chair before yanking her to her feet with a sharp tug on her bicep. “Get up! You’re going to take me to her or I’m going to start shooting you to pieces little by little!” She pushed her forward sharply toward the hallway where Hunter was watching, tense and ready. As he leaned out slightly, hoping to de-escalate the situation, both women spotten him with a gasp. 

“Oh, babe, you’re supposed to be enjoying your massage,” Luciana taunted, her voice now sickly sweet. 

“Give me the blaster,” he said, his own fixed on her above his knife. 

“Afraid I can’t do that, sweetheart.” She let out a disconcertingly sinister giggle, then jerked Lyra back toward her, looping an arm around her shoulders to brace her against her chest. She lifted the blaster to Lyra’s temple, pressing it into the skin beside her tightly-clenched eyes. “Your pathetic girlfriend here has something for me.”

“We don’t need to do it this way,” Hunter said smoothly. He was the perfect voice of reason, completely unfazed with effortless stability, but his sharp eyes were on her like a hawk. “Let her go and we’ll sort it out.”

“You know I don’t like being told what to do,” Luciana taunted, squeezing Lyra more tightly and shoving her a step forward. “Now get out of the way or I’ll make you.”

“Hey,” Hunter said softly, not looking away from Luciana. The warmth in his tone coaxed Lyra to open her eyes, finding his stoic face immediately. “I know you can make me. You threw me over your shoulder at the farmer’s market,” he said quietly, eyes darting for a split second to Lyra before returning to the threat. “When we were promoting the self defense workshop where we taught how to get out of holds.”

He saw Lyra tense, and he could have staggered beneath the sheer wave of panic that radiated from her. He could feel it all – her hesitation, her terror, her disbelief, and the single flicker of hope that signaled her intent. Slowly nodding his head, he began calculating his shot. 

“Cute. Too bad this sorry bag of bones didn’t–”

Lyra released her knees and dropped her full weight without warning. Luciana’s arm smacked her chin as she fell, but she was on the floor in an instant. Hunter moved immediately.

A blue flash of light. 

Luciana dropped. 

Lyra gasped. 

A second passed.

Hunter emerged from the hallway, sheathing his knife and holstering the blaster. He took Luciana’s from where it had landed beside her motionless form and set it on the table behind him as he quickly kneeled in front of Lyra, whose body wracked with involuntary trembles. 

“You alright?” he asked. A ridiculous question.

“No.”

A flicker of a smile touched his face. “I mean, are you hurt anywhere? Did she do anything else to you?”

“No,” came the small reply. She rubbed her arms where they’d been tied, then clasped her hands together in front of her, pressing her lips to them as she tried and failed to regain her composure, unable to meet his eyes.

He waited for a moment, awkwardly hovering on his knees, and reached out a tentative hand to touch her arm. Lyra finally looked at him, innumerable emotions flying across her face, and her clumsy rush to collapse into his arms knocked him onto his butt, legs splayed to keep his balance. He shifted his back against the wall, slowly opening his arms around her as she tucked herself into a pathetic little ball and she dissolved into tears against him.

He rested his face against the top of her head and remained silent, mind racing and body buzzing. Her familiar floral scent slipped into his awareness, its subtle sweetness a stark contrast to the sorrow and fear and alarm radiating from her. He took a deep breath, silently inviting her to do the same as he emanated security and calm, and he felt the slightest bit of tension subside.

They sat that way for a while, Lyra doing her best to reign in the sobs that wracked her body, yet Hunter could sense the outpouring of grief that seemed not only about Luciana’s attack, but about everything. He acknowledged the ache in his own chest as he felt her cold body nestled against him, and tendrils of warmth and yearning drifting up from deep in his core. He hugged her closer, turning to rest his lips against her hair, and closed his eyes. 

He would be there as long as she needed. 

.

Artwork by @autistic-artistech -- go love on it HERE! And shout out to @noblelightfighter for mentioning the self-defense move of dropping to the ground coming in handy later (because I changed this scene and added it based on that genius comment, LOL).

.

Minutes ticked by, punctuated only by the occasional shudder or sniff from Lyra where she’d nestled into his front. Eventually, she settled enough to push away and sit up, wiping her eyes and refusing to meet his gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, picking herself up and offering him a hand, which he took and nimbly climbed to his feet. She slowly returned the chair to its place at the dining table, then stood still, arms hanging at her sides as she stared blankly at the floor.

“You’re okay,” he said softly, approaching with hands slightly out to his sides. “Want to sit?“ He beckoned toward the couch. She nodded and set herself in the middle of it, still in a daze. He was inexplicably drawn to her, feelings of compassion and protectiveness swelling in his chest, and sat tentatively beside her as she leaned forward to bury her face in her hands.

“What a mess,” she lamented. “I am so sorry to have dragged you into all of it.“

“Yeah…” he said, anxious at how his own potentially ill-timed attempt at humor would be received. “You should have warned me.”

A laugh burst out of her at the ridiculousness of it all, forcing its way past the heavy layers of shock and surprising her as it came out. She looked up at him, the lines in her face seeming to deepen, and he stretched an arm across the back of the couch behind her as a gentle invitation. A moment of hesitation held her back, as though she were deciding if she were worthy of his sympathy or not, but eventually she nestled against his side with a visible release of tension.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she admitted, turning her face away in shame. “I wish I’d done things differently. I really screwed everything up.”

“We both did.”

The fact rested heavily between them, weaving together common threads of trust and preservation that they’d relied upon their entire lives. Hunter sighed. 

“There’s a bounty hunter on my floor,” Lyra noted, staring at Luciana’s unconscious form. Hunter followed her glance, shaking his head in disbelief. How had he been fooled so completely? The entire thing felt like an odd sort of nightmare, and in the vulnerability of the current moment, adrenaline having flooded both of them entirely, he was floored by the depth of his desire to “return to normal”. But what was normal? As he pulled Lyra a little closer, feeling her heart beating against his ribcage, a sense of longing steadily grew stronger as all the ill-fitted stresses of the last few months began to fade.

“She’s a bounty hunter?” he said, returning to the issue at hand.

“Apparently. She snuck into my house and wrestled me into the chair, demanding that damn evidence I had from so long ago. I panicked… I didn’t know what to do. I tried to stall her but she was getting crazy… Then I remembered that little button you gave me, for Omega originally… So I told her it was the release for a safe, and she pressed it, but when she started looking for the safe, she knew I had lied.”

“She was hired to get that old stuff from you?”

“Yeah. She tracked me here… years ago! It was terrifying that she was here all along, but apparently she was waiting for me to lead her to Breslin, because the bounty for both of us was much larger.”

“So she tracked you to Keytoll and tried to have you captured there…” he began to put the pieces together.

“Yes,” she sighed, reaching an arm around the front of his waist as though she needed all the comfort he was willing to offer. “Sorry, is this too much?” She suddenly realized her actions and sat up in a moment of alarm. 

“No,” said Hunter quietly, and grateful relief emanated from her as she resumed her position, prompting a wave of fondness within him as well. “That explains why she was so affected when she saw you here again, if she thought you two were dead…”

“Mmhmm,” she said sadly. “She reported it back to that nasty politician’s office to try to get her reward again, but apparently their patience was gone. She had to deliver or “she’d be next” or something. So the pressure was on, but she was desperate to get Breslin too.”

“She told you all this?”

“She was ranting like a crazy person when she first tied me up,” Lyra shuddered. “Angry at having to wait so long, scared of their threats, obsessed with getting what she  was ‘owed’… Ugh.” She trembled, still thoroughly shaken, and Hunter rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back.

“I suppose I was just a way to get information about you,” he muttered, but she picked herself up a bit and shook her head. 

“She could have done that easily, I would think. You were just a treat along the way.” A pathetic breathy chuckle was the best she could do, and he resisted the urge to groan aloud. 

“According to the ladies in your office, I’m more of a ‘snack’, whatever that means.”

“Food metaphors are usually positive.”

“As they should be.”

He was struck by the effortless way they settled into one another, although what would have been playful banter still felt hollow and fake, as though they were trying to recover some semblance of normalcy after a giant plot twist that definitely no one saw coming. At the same time, he didn’t want it to be fake. He found himself pining for the quiet connection, the leisurely enjoyment of the simple things in life. A ribbon of fear laced itself around his heart as he wondered if it was something they ever could have again, and the thought moved him to speak after a long silence.

“I’m a clone,” he blurted out, the fortifications around his own secrets beginning to crumble as he considered how she had truly bared her soul over and over now. Lyra opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, waiting patiently. “I was created in a lab during the war. Genetically modified and enhanced. Part of Clone Force 99. My brothers are clones too.”

“But you’re all so different,” she said.

“We were engineered with various specialties,” he explained, feeling an increasing lightness as he opened up. “We were sent on missions throughout the war, and after Order 66, we had to fend for ourselves… Find a new way to live in a changing galaxy.”

He continued on, pouring out his past as a peace offering between them. He shared about Omega. About Tech. About Crosshair. About Tantiss. All of it. By the time he finished, he was choking back his own tears at the sheer weight of all that they’d been through, and he clenched his jaw, swallowing hard.

Lyra rested against him in silence, having given him little squeezes of support at poignant moments in his story. When he stopped and remained quiet, she sat up slowly, observing his sharp features conflicted with a myriad of emotions. The depth of the concern and empathy on her face tugged at his heartstrings, and when she tentatively lifted a shaky hand to graze his cheek with the backs of her fingers, he let his eyes close for a second. She pulled away, sitting back to rub her face before dropping her hands with an exhausted stare at the flickering flames in the hearth.

“So what do we do now?” Her question hung heavily between them, as though they stood at an intersection of paths.

“Good question.”

She sighed. It was late, the glow from the planet’s moons barely penetrating the thick cloud cover, and Lyra glanced helplessly around the room as though it would give her the answer.

“What about her?” she finally asked, fear touching her face as she looked at Luciana. 

Hunter shifted slightly to free his blaster from its holster, flicking a switch on the side and raising it at the motionless pile on the ground. 

“Wait! Hunter! No!” Lyra yelled in utter panic. 

“It’s set to stun,” he reassured her, showing her the gun as though she were familiar with its components. “It’ll keep her out til morning at least.” 

With a cringe of trepidation from Lyra, he pointed it back at Luciana, flashing a few rays of the bright blue light over her body. 

“So now I’m supposed to sleep, after all that, with her in my house?” 

“She’s not waking up anytime soon,” he confirmed.

“Yeah… But still.” She twisted her hands anxiously. “I mean, I don’t think I can sleep anyway. But I also feel like I could collapse right here.”

“Mmm,” Hunter nodded. “Pretty normal response to shock.” 

Lyra stared at Luciana, gaze growing distant as she tried to have any coherent thought but just felt completely drained. She shifted in her seat, casting a sideways glance at Hunter’s knees, then slowly lifted her eyes to his face. 

“Will… Will you stay?” she asked, voice small and vulnerable. Again his chest filled with protectiveness. He hadn’t realized quite how emasculated he’d felt for the last few months, and it was deeply affirming to be reminded of his own strength and capability. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I don’t want to be a burden. I could help you carry her to the local jail instead…” She was grasping for options, and he resisted the urge to chuckle at the mental image. 

“I could carry her myself,” he reminded her, the shadow of a smile on his lips. “But I’ll sleep here on the couch and keep an eye on her.”

“I feel bad asking anything of you,” Lyra admitted, shrinking beneath her own self-hate for all that had transpired. “I don’t deserve it, Hunter. You should be free to live your life without all this… chaos. You’ve had more than your share, and I only make it worse.”

He waited for a moment, tendrils of pity swirling around the deep affection he felt, and then responded as soothingly as he was able. His words carried more weight than he’d anticipated as he spoke them aloud.

“I’ll stay.”

She nodded, eyes glistening.

Lyra decided to try to sleep, murmuring her sheepish thanks again and bringing a little smirk to Hunter’s face as he heard the lock on her bedroom door click once she was inside. She came right back out though, moving quickly as though embarrassed at her own forgetfulness, and offered him the softest, fluffiest blanket she owned before retreating to her room again.

Hunter laid down on the couch, pulling the cover around himself until it felt as though he were wrapped in a warm hug. Everything about this place was cozy to him. But he furrowed his brow at Luciana, his mind gearing up to strategize about every possible way to deal with that whole situation. He was surprised at how little he actually felt as he reflected on their time together, especially in comparison to the profound sense of emptiness and hurt that had burdened him since Keytoll. Granted, he’d had a lot more time to put down roots with Lyra… 

None of it mattered now, though. Part of him felt insulted while other parts felt relieved, and beneath it all there was a chasm cracking open as he ruminated on the fact that he’d been so thoroughly fooled. The exhaustion was beginning to settle deep in his bones, and he tucked his head against the armrest, angling it toward Luciana’s motionless body. He forced his eyes closed, other senses working overtime in hypervigilant rebellion against the sleep he so desperately craved. It would likely be a long night.

* * * 

The first light of dawn was peeking through the windows when Hunter woke with a start, a wave of apprehension sending goosebumps across his skin. His eyes flew to where Luciana had been laying, relieved to see that nothing had changed. And yet something was different. Tuning in to everything he could sense, his pulse echoed in his ears as he waited. Something was about to happen. 

The beams of light through Lyra’s gauzy curtains were brightening at too fast a rate for a typical sunrise, and he noticed wispy tendrils dancing through them. An odd sensation gripped him, the same sort he’d experienced beneath the waterfall, and the light developed that same bluish-green hue as it streamed toward Luciana. He sat up, reaching for his weapons as he watched like a hawk. Her body was bathed in the blue light, the delicate curls fluttering across before reaching her head, where they came together and swirled around before disappearing into her body, and he saw her sides rise and fall in a deep breath. 

His hand tensed on the blaster hidden at his side.

Luciana stirred, rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself up to a seated position. Rubbing her eyes, she looked blearily around the room with a quiet groan as she stretched stiff muscles from being crumpled in the same position for so long. When her eyes landed on Hunter, a sheepish smile curved her rosy cheeks. 

“Well hi,” she said in the cutesy voice she used to endear herself to people. 

Hunter nodded, watching her every move. 

“I guess that was quite a night,” she giggled, running her fingers through her red curls to smooth them into place. “I probably should have led with this, or maybe I did, but I’m Luci.”

.

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[readyforcheddie]

this whole time i thought abigail spencer was abigail breslin because i never bothered to google her lmaoooo anyway she's so pretty i hope her character and eddie's fuck nasty because i would like to see it

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Hellfire's Mama fox Chap. 8; Roxxi's secret is told

*Author's note*

86' was Eddie Munson's year and 2024 is Joseph Quinn's year from getting his casting as Johnny storm in the upcoming Fantastic 4 movie, to a Quite Place day one and Gladiator 2 coming later this year. So happy for our beloved brit :) And in honor of his rising success, I'd like to say that this story is back in business with two chapters ready to be read. Hope you enjoy this update and thanks for being patient for those that read this story. Hopefully I'll be done with the events of s.4 by the time the final season comes out that way I can plan accordingly how I want this story to go. But until that day comes, enjoy these next two chapters.

NEXT CHAPTER

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_______________________________________________________

Halloween came and went followed by the Thanksgiving holiday break.  And thanks to a special bonus that Wayne was given, the Munsons were able to afford a fairly good sized turkey this year after not having it since our sophomore year.

And I knew Eddie was excited cause with Thanksgiving now passed, Christmas was around the corner and that meant a longer break from Hawkin’s high.  And it was also the start of my next upcoming holiday oneshot.  Now typically I try to only do one big holiday oneshot either for Halloween or Christmas but ever since being away and getting my head cleared, I was able to pull out two epic oneshot campaigns for this year’s Hellfire club.

But I also knew what was coming up for Hawkin’s high.  Like I had told Lauren all the way at the start of the year, it was also the time of the Hawkins gymnastics tryouts.  After the final bell rang, I headed down towards the gym where I saw the assistant coach setting up the mats for the tryouts.

I hid behind my copy of ‘To kill a Mockingbird’ novel for English class when I saw a group of girls heading towards the gym with their bags and saw them walk inside.  More and more girls, including Lauren walked passed me until the final dismissal bell rang and I watched them all tryout.

Watching the girls practice their audition routine either on the balance beam or the monkey bars, brought back so many memories.  Like I said even though I hated the sexism aspect of the sport, the pressure my parents put on me as well as the entire community, there’s nothing that made me feel freer than being going out into that ring and performing my dance.  Gymnastics is the sport that makes Man feel what it’s like to fly.

I kept watching the entire audition from behind the gym door and was amazed at some of the talent from some of the girls.  Had I still been Captain, I’d be putting most of them on the team because they truly showed promise in taking the school to State Champion.

When auditions ended 2 hours later, I quickly hid behind my book once again and watched as the girls came out talking about either how well or bad they did before the coach and the current Captain Abigail Breslin.  Once everyone had left, I looked around before entering inside the gym.

The smell of the chalk still lingered in the air.  I walked to the center of gym and set my bag down before doing a couple of stretches.  Doing some split stretches, jumping jacks, and various leg stretches.  My muscles maybe tense from lack of use but I knew that muscle memory was still in there.

Once I was warmed up, I did a few cartwheels across the gym floor before eyeing the spring board just yards away from me standing before a beam.  I charged in hot before hoping onto the springboard and successfully flipped over the mat nailing a perfect handspring.

Raising my hands up in the air to stick the pose I could almost hear the cheers of the crowd as I now gracefully ‘skated’ across the mat.  I then prepared for my next move.  I took a few steps before doing two aerials before ending it with a handstand.

My arms shook as I tried to keep balance and I nearly felt myself fall over but I kept a firm grip by keeping my palms as flat as possible and my back as straight as I could.  Ever so slowly I lowered my right leg in front of me forming an L shape with my legs.

The lack of me using this much flexibility (at least not to the degree I use with Eddie) really was putting a strain in my body but I fought through the pain as I held the pose before flipping back up right.  As I kept hearing the applause, I then quickly raised and grabbed my left ankle before raising it all the way behind my head and I heard the applause grow louder.  I smiled before setting my leg down and held my arms outward in a T pose ending my warm up routine.

I could almost hear the crowd cheering my name and feel the spotlight shining down on me.

“Roxxi?” I snapped out of my daydream state and turned to see Dustin, Mike and Lucas all looking at me shocked and in awe.

“Oh…” I brushed my hair out of my face with my fingers as I said, “I didn’t expect to see you boys here so late.”

“We had to finish up a lab for Mr. Pollock’s class when Mike realized he had also left his math book here.” Dustin said.

“I see.” I cleared my throat.

“Roxxi. Are you…..were you really doing all those flips and leg raises?” Mike asked flabbergasted, his mouth refusing to close.  If Eddie were here, he’d have smacked Mike silly for gawking at me the way he was.

“How much of that did you boys see?” I asked.

“We heard the sound of a springboard and the slamming of feet so—right about since then.” Said Lucas.  Oh so they saw pretty much the whole routine.  “We didn’t mean to spy Roxxi. But were you trying to secretly audition for the gymnastics team but chickened out?”

“Lucas!” hissed Dustin as he smacked him in the ribs.

“What?”

“It’s fine Dustin.” I assured him.  I let out a deep sigh, “Guess there’s a lot I still need to tell you boys. Follow me.” I grabbed my bookbag and left the gym with the boys trailing behind me.

I lead them down to the basement to where I knew the school kept archives of all the past Seasonal trophies for every sport and school activity known to Hawkin’s High.  I took out my bobby pin and picked at the lock.

“Since when did you learn to pick locks?” asked Mike.

“When your boyfriend is Eddie Munson, you learn a thing or two. Mostly from when he forgets to grab the keys to the trailer.” After a few turns, I got the door unlocked and flipped on the light bulb to reveal all the stored boxes for the certificates and old shelf casings for the big trophies.

“What exactly are we doing down here Roxxi?” asked Lucas.

“Head over to the third case over there and look at the middle shelf.” I told them.  They walked past the shelves of trophies that came from the 70’s school year before finally reaching the 1980’s trophy shelf.

I knew then and there along with the debate team’s trophies and the swim teams, they’d also find the gymnastics trophies as well as all the newspaper articles in how I founded the entire gymnastics team and help them win their first ever State championship.

“You were a gymnast?!” the three freshmen exclaimed.

“Yep. Bred into it since I was two years old.”

“And you were the captain of gymnastics team?” asked Lucas.

“Not just captain. I was the founder of it. You see there never was a gymnastics team in the history of this school. So in order to keep up with my ‘gymnast physic’ as my parents forced upon me, I was forced to join the cheerleading team during my years at the middle school. But I couldn’t stand being a cheerleader. All the fake preppy smiles and corny cheers. Ugh it drove me nuts.” I shuddered.  “So when I got into high school, I had somehow managed to convince Principal Higgins to fund and start the Hawkins High gymnastics team.”

“Wait, I remember. Yeah a long time ago you actually made the front page news on your first win for the school. You were that (Y/n) Hemingway.” Dustin exclaimed.

“I was. Once.” I said solemnly.  “My skills on the ring were the envy and admiration of all. The people of Hawkins called me the ‘Queen of the Skies’. Oh you boys should’ve seen me at the peak of my prime. I once kicked a three time gold medalist right down to a bronze.”

“So wait, if you were some hotshot athlete, what made you give it up? Clearly you still love it judging from what we saw back there. Why’d you quit?” asked Mike.  I fiddled with my bracelet that actually had a date on it, a date that I wish to forget but will and shall never, ever forget.  And neither would Eddie.

“You remember how I’ve said to never try and break the bonds you three share? That if they’re gone, no one will be there for you.” They nodded.  “Well….I got sick my first senior year. Very, very sick. And even though people could see me deteriorating both physically and mentally, all they kept asking me was when would I get back out onto the ring. Then when I finally got the strength to tell them all I’d never go back out there…..they turned on me. Save for one.”

Their looks of sympathy made my stomach churn uncomfortably.  This is why I don’t like talking about my past because of sympathetic looks like these boys were giving me.  I took a sharp breath of air before coming towards them.

“Now, we best be off. Wouldn’t want the janitors busting us for being down here. Since this is technically breaking and entering. Guess Eddie rubs off on me in both good and bad ways. But I don’t want you boys following too much into our leagues, understand?”

“Yeah, sure Roxxi.” They chorused out.

“Good, now I think the Home Ec. dept. still has those chocolate chip cookies from the cookie cart earlier this afternoon. Let’s go indulge in a few of them.” That soon got their minds off my story as they started talking about the joys that is the Cookie cart (a thing that isn’t known in the Middle School).

Later that night, I was in Eddie’s bed finishing up the last few questions from our English assignment when I felt Eddie slip behind me and press his chest to my back.  I felt him kiss my cheek as he asked me.

“How’s the homework coming along babe?”

“Alright. English already being my top subject this is a cake walk. How’s yours coming, and don’t say you’re just gonna copy my answers in the morning.” He gasped as he covered his mouth dramatically.

“Why my beloved Roxxi I would never…..” I gave him the look and raised my brow at him.  “Okay yeah I would have BUT that’s all in the past. Though I will need help with a few questions come morning.” He soon said sheepishly.  I shook my head at him before kissing his cheek.

“And such honesty rewards you with my aid after breakfast.”

“This is why I love you.” He kissed the corner of my lips before starting to get ready for bed.  Removing his jeans and taking off his shirt.  I packed my stuff back into my backpack and said.

“I told them Eddie.” He hummed as he was halfway of taking off his shirt.  “Mike, Lucas and Dustin. They—caught me in the gym after the gymnastics tryouts. And I showed them the trophy room down in the archives.” He went still as he looked at me with those chocolate brown eyes of his.

“Did….you tell them about—”

“You know I can’t ever get that far as to talk about that. But….they know about who I was. (Y/n) Hemingway, future Olympic gymnast.” Eddie came back over to me and pressed his forehead to mine.

“You sure you don’t regret staying with me?”

“Eddie,” I cupped his face in my hands.  “You were the only one who stayed at my side after…..the incident. All I was to everyone else in Hawkins was either the Satanic whore or the Washup gymnast. You were the only one who still saw me as me. Maybe even more.”

“I’ve always seen you as more Roxx.” He said as he stroked my cheek.  “You’ve always been my girl, my One. And I’m afraid you’re stuck with me till the end.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Eddie-bear.” He smiled before cupping under my jaw and bringing me into a soft, loving kiss.  I wrapped my arms around his neck as our kiss deepened and I felt myself lay on top of his chest while he rested against the bed.  After we separated, I placed my head over his heart as I felt his fingers stroke along my back while his hand pet down my hair.

“And just so you know, even though it’s hard for me to talk about it too. I just want you to know that……if you ever do wish to talk about it. You know I’ll be there to listen, right?”

“Thank you Eddie.” I softly hummed as I felt him kiss my temple before I drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat and his loving touch.

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Pairings:  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Synopsis: The operation to overthrow the drug lord, Amado Carrillo Fuentes, is the new mission assigned to you by the CIA. However, you have a lingering sense that this mission will not go smoothly, for sure.

AN:  This is my new fanfiction (of course, the old story el paraiso de las pandillas. is not finished yet Lol) when I watched Narcos: Mexico. I love Amando and Walt Breslin so much that I had to write a fanfic about them. I wrote it in Thai on Readawrite(Fyi : it a website for novels in Thailand) before translating it into English to share on Tumblr (apologies if the translation is a bit off, I'm not very good at English). This is an expanded universe from a series with quite a lot of details. I hope you enjoy what I wrote.

𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Next 

[Prólogo]ᅳ 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐫 ✟

It’ s where the first shot was fired, the one that started the Drug War. And after that, none of it would be the same. How could it be?

(Narcos: Mexico)

Looking back into the past, reflecting on the origins of all the evil, Walt and other American DEA Agent would say it started with a man named Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo. 

But for you, You think the real evil came from Amado Carrillo Fuentes 

Who is Amado Carrillo Fuentes? You should remember this name well.

Mexico has been a significant trading partner of the United States for hundreds of years due to the proximity of their borders, making it a strategic goldmine for trading all kinds of goods, from agricultural products, consumer goods, luxury goods, to drugs. It all started with a clear-headed Mexican man named Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo who saw the opportunity to make a fortune from importing drugs to the United States. He coordinated with cocaine producers from Colombia and consolidated the power of various criminal gangs throughout the country into one. Moving cocaine from one point to another by car, plane, or ship, in order to smuggle it into the United States, he became a lord of the drug trafficking world.

Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo, a man with multiple definitions, The godfather of Mexico.The boss above all bosses. Speculations were made that he might have been one of the richest men in the world from the drug trade. It was impossible to topple this man. However, it eventually happened in the end.But Miguel's downfall did not come from the DEA agents. Rather, it came from internal conflicts. Nevertheless, the end of Miguel can be considered the end of the drug war and a victory for America. That is what the government believes, and that is what all Americans think, but they are all horribly wrong.

Miguel was the center of the drug trafficking industry. He held everything in his hands and controlled it all. And when he was gone, the various cartels scattered like broken beehives. They competed against each other for power and were ruthless, with bullets and bloodshed spreading across Mexico. This was a more sinister era than when Miguel was still around.

Amidst this war, there was one man who emerged to play a prominent role above all other drug lords, and that man was Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

Amado was once Miguel's right-hand man, doing everything to protect The Godfather's interests until he learned the ins and outs of the dark business. But in the end, Amado chose to betray his own boss and was partly responsible for Miguel's downfall. He quickly rose to power and surprised everyone with his rapid ascent, even making major drug producers in Colombia fear him. 

The truth is, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo's departure was not the end but rather the beginning of a new era of power, with a new drug lord named Amado Carrillo Fuentes taking over. His name was crossed out with a red pen by the United States.

That's all you knew before you were sent on a mission abroad, joining the DEA team to collaborate with the Mexican army under Operation Special to bring down Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

"Do you know why I called you here?"

That's what happened on a Monday morning in Washington, D.C., the first time in months you were urgently summoned with a special order. In the large conference room, there were Raymonde Pemberton, the head of the CIA, and two unfamiliar men with unshaven faces, dressed casually in wrinkled shirts and black jeans. They sat on separate chairs, each holding your dossier in their hands, but no one bothered to read it. All eyes were focused on the woman in the room. –You

"Officer Y/N, formerly Marine and now a CIA agent, 27 years old, unmarried..." The man in a blue suit, who appeared to be the youngest, spoke in Mexican-accented English. He slowly took off his sunglasses before leaning back in the chair. He gazed at you, assessing and considering in a manner that made anyone being looked at feel uncomfortable. "No boyfriend and no children, right?"

"No,Sir." You responded calmly, understanding well why he asked such personal questions. Having attachments is not good for operatives, who are constantly at risk of death. That's why those who are entrusted with important missions are usually single.

"And what have you worked on before?"

"I was part of Operation Neptune Spear.[1]" You noticed the question lingering in the eyes of the two unfamiliar officers. You then elaborated, "Referring to the OBL[2] assassination, sir."

Both men turned to face each other, exchanging tense glances. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before the young man resumed his questioning.

"Mexican-American? Can you speak Spanish?"

"Yes, I can," you replied clearly in Spanish this time. Although you had never been to Mexico in your life, growing up in Texas had instilled a strong sense of being Mexican in you, just like a true Mexican.

The older man smiled with satisfaction. "Finally, America chooses someone who speaks Spanish for us." He stood up to give you a pat on the back. "Go back and pack your things, and say goodbye to America. You won't be coming back here for a while."

He was right. After that day, you never returned to America again.

This mission is called "White Storm." They say it's part of the Mérida Initiative[3], with the main leaders being two strange men you met in the conference room. You later found out who they were—the older one is General Jesús Augusto, from the Ministry of Defense, and the younger one is Julio Merrieta, the Deputy Chief of Police in Mexico, along with about four or five competent DEA agents and several Mexican police officers who were fully supportive of this mission.

The reason why the CIA needed to be involved in this mission was to reconcile the conflict that existed in the past between the DEA and CIA, including the disclosure of classified information alleging that the CIA secretly received money and weapons from Mexican drug traffickers to use in operations against communists in Cuba. This has caused significant damage to the CIA's reputation. so they needed to urgently repair their image. by sending a secret agent to directly assist the DEA. However, the problem is that no CIA agent is willing to work with the DEA. because, in the eyes of the CIA, the DEA is nothing more than a bunch of local cops. Being assigned to this mission is considered a downgrade or even a punishment. It has become a hot potato that everyone wants to pass on, and no one wants to hold it in their hands. That's why they decided to assign this hot potato to you instead.

Because you are neither DEA[4] nor PJF[5], your status as a CIA agent sets you apart from both sides. Additionally, being the only woman on this mission makes it difficult for you to be accepted by others. The initial phase of working together was filled with tension and numerous obstacles. However, after facing life-threatening situations together for several months, a slow bond began to form for everyone on the team. Although there are still some disagreements and conflicts, there is a growing camaraderie among the team members, and some have even become like family.

However, you are not particularly close to anyone to the point of calling them a best friend. But if you were to identify someone you were closest to and trusted the most, that would be Walt Breslin.

an American from Texas who grew up in the same hometown as you and was also a soldier like you. He speaks Spanish fluently. Walt is older than you by almost ten years. He is tall but physically lean, with a scruffy beard that he rarely shaves. This man's face often appears worn and melancholic. You never quite understood why until you heard a story from a coworker that Walt lost his beloved brother due to excessive drug use. He blames himself for this and has been obsessed with fighting against drug trafficking as if it were the only way to compensate for the guilt he feels within.

Walt was the first person to offer you simple camaraderie, handing you a cigarette at a police station in Mexico City. conversed about hometown stories and delved into criticizing the flawed workings of both the Mexican and American systems. He made you laugh from the moment you set foot across the border and has helped you on several occasions since then. He introduced you to the DEA team, protected you when you had issues with certain male colleagues, and made it clear that he did not agree with the sexist remarks made by other male officers towards you. These were not things you had ever received from anyone, even during your time in the CIA.

It took a while for you to realize that the feelings you have for Walt go beyond just the label of "friend."

When did it start? Perhaps it was when you and him were held at gunpoint by drug traffickers, or maybe it was when he pushed you out of the way of a bullet before it exploded your brain. What he did was incredibly foolish. You are a well-trained CIA agent, and there is no way you could have easily died at the hands of amateurs. Yet, despite that, Walt still continued to protect you. And every time you saw that dumb smile of relief on his face when you managed to handle those people without getting hurt, your feelings for him grew stronger and stronger.

You're falling in love with your teammate.

That's the last thing that should happen, especially when your work and his can turn into a graveyard at any time. You're well aware that a dangerous life is not conducive to long-term relationships. That's one of a million reasons why you've decided not to love anyone again, not to mention the unprofessionalism of it all. Although there have never been explicit rules against it, it's just not worth it to have love in the midst of working together.

Keeping these feelings a secret would be the best decision, both for yourself and for him.

"You look like you just got into a fight with a dog."

Diego Gillick, one of the members of the Mexican police team, was the first person to greet you after you walked into the National Police Headquarters that evening. You turned to look at the reflection in the glass door you had just walked through and realized that what was said was not an exaggeration. Your face was bruised, with a small amount of blood and dirt on your forehead.  Some parts of your white shirt wet stained and it didn't seem like they would wash out easily.

"I just had some business to take care of," you replied. The business in question was nothing other than undercover work. That was a job that the intelligence officers were good at. Sometimes it relied on technology, sometimes on people, and sometimes on their own strength. just like what happened three hours ago. 

There was nothing much except for being almost shot at twice while investigating a Cuban man who was suspected to have some connection with Amado Carrillo Fuentes. But that was something worth risking for. for the reliable information you finally obtained. You smiled before placing a cigarette in your mouth and lighting it with a flick, defying the "No Smoking" sign stuck on the adjacent wall. Inhaling deeply, you exhaled a light puff of smoke.

Julio, the Deputy Chief of Police and Head of the White Storm Mission on the Mexican side, was the first person you disclosed the good news to, including the verified documents. He carefully flipped through each page before his narrowed eyes looked up at you. "Amado is in Cuba. Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"I've known that he has been interfering with the Colombian drug traffickers ever since he started selling drugs in America. He needed to clear them out to avoid any problems with his own business in the future," you said, pointing to a document in Julio's hand. "There's a report of a private plane that flew out of Mexico yesterday. Its destination is Havana, Cuba. This could be a significant meeting between two major drug lords from both countries, which may indicate a major change in the drug trade that would impact all parties involved. I think we should take this opportunity to gather more information."

A major change in the drug trade is not an exaggeration when it comes to someone like Amado Carrillo Fuentes. If Amado succeeds with cocaine, this man will not only be the top drug lord in Mexico and America but also the world, surpassing even Miguel in his prime, and Mexico will become the paradise of drugs, replacing Thailand, which has held this position since the Cold War era.

The United States and Mexico need to closely monitor this matter.

"You're right," the Mexican officer said. and you could sense his focused gaze on you, indicating that he was thinking about something. "We need to make sure our people are there when they gather..."

"And that person is me," you interjected without waiting for him to finish.

He chuckled softly at your response. "There's no other damn fool in here who can infiltrate as well as a CIA agent. Be glad you've been given this opportunity." Julio's face remained unchanged, but his tone showed admiration. "And one more thing, those scumbag drug lords always like a beautiful woman like you."

At that moment, you felt a strong premonition of something bad happening in the future, something you yourself were not aware of yet.  However, you could sense it strongly, as if feeling your own breath. You felt the tension in every muscle and a sense of unease in your chest like a gaping void.

That's what you felt after accepting the role and saying, "Yes, I'll do it."

Part of the fleeting emotions that passed through your mind made you want to change your mind and reject it instead. But it's too late to retreat; it's too late to turn back.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

[1]Operation Neptune Spear : It is a classified mission under the Obama administration, with the cooperation of key organizations such as the CIA and SEAL Team Six, to covertly raid and assassinate Osama bin Laden in Abbottabad, Pakistan

[2]OBL is an acronym used by the military to refer to Osama bin Laden, the notorious terrorist and founder of the jihadist organization Al-Qaeda.

[3]The Mérida Initiative is a cooperation agreement on security matters between the United States, the government of Mexico, and Central American countries. Its objective is to combat drug trafficking, transnational crime, and money laundering.

[4]The Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) is a United States federal law enforcement agency tasked with combating illicit drug trafficking and distribution within the U.S. 

[5]Policía Judicial Federal(PJF) was the federal police force of Mexico until it was shut down in 2002 due to its own rampant corruption and criminal activity.

[pragmatic-optimist]

Sonia, I'm roping you in with an ask even though you're not always here (miss u, love u) 💜 we know you are the romcom QUEEN - give us your top 5 favourite romcoms!

Hi friend, thanks for this totally not difficult-at-all question. Lol.

Okay, as you know, I can’t ever answer anything succinctly. I am going to take this opportunity to plug this nonfiction book I’m listening to on audio, titled “From Hollywood with Love: The Rise and Fall (and Rise Again) of the Romantic Comedy.” –highly recommend it to anyone who is a rom-com nerd like me.

The book asks the following question to determine what can be considered a romantic comedy:

“If you removed the love story from this movie, would you still have a movie? If the answer is no, it’s a romantic comedy.”

With this question in mind, here is my list (not in ranking order, I’m just listing them as they come to me.) Also, yes, this means I can’t list the 2000 gem that was Miss Congeniality. That is my #1 favorite Sandy movie. Not to worry, though, Sandy B. still makes the list.

Here we go:

Serendipity: The trope. NYC as a character. The cast—John Cusack, Kate Beckinsale, John Corbett, Molly Shannon, and the illustrious Eugene Levy who stole all of his scenes as the Bloomingdale’s employee making John Cusack’s life miserable lol. It’s just so good. It’s peak rom-com in the early 2000s. Those of you old enough to appreciate that era of rom-coms will know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s one of my all-time favs. 👏🏽

Two Weeks Notice: Sandy B. Listen, I had to work hard not to make every movie on this list a Sandra Bullock-starring film. I feel like choosing your favorite rom-com actress from the 90s/2000s is a little like choosing your boyband team from that same era. I am Team Sandy B. all the way. (No disrespect to Julia and Meg, and so many others who also made movies I loved.) I love Sandra in this movie opposite Hugh Grant, she’s so smart and so funny. The premise of this movie is actually one I still hold out hope for seeing written as firstprince fanfic someday. Sandra is an environmental lawyer who goes to work for a billionaire’s company in order to save a community center that is very dear to her. There are aspects of that plot that I think Alex and Henry would fit into, and aspects to tweak because I don't think Henry would be quite as arrogant or bumbling as Hugh's character. I could talk about this at length lol.

Definitely, Maybe: Again – the cast. Ryan Reynolds. Isla Fisher. Rachel Weisz. Abigail Breslin. The trope/premise?? So good. I love how it jumps through time and shows us how second chances present themselves in our lives. It’s just a really lovely film and probably my favorite Ryan as a rom-com leading man, though The Proposal is a close second.

Hitch: This movie had me in tears, both from laughter and emotions. Also, the scene where Will Smith is teaching Kevin James’ character how to dance. Iconic. "I'm making the pizza!" “Don’t need no pizza, they got food there!” 😂

My Big Fat Greek Wedding: Windex. Nia Vardalos and John Corbett, watching their characters meet and fall in love. Just so damn dreamy. 😍 I also really love how this movie portrays that when you choose a partner, you’re also choosing their family. 💖

Set It Up: I know this is six lol. But I had to add in a movie post-2010. I love this one so much. I know a movie has become part of my personality when I start adopting the dialogue into my everyday vernacular lol. “I overdicked” is said A LOT. 😂 Also GLEN POWELL. 😏

Thanks for the nice ask! 💕

[dutchessofcaladan]

Disney just released the trailer for The Santa Clauses S2 and I'm sobbing. I can't believe that after 17 years we're getting the return of The Council of Legendary Figures (both Michael Dorn and Kevin Pollak are seen in the teaser reprising their roles as Sandman and Cupid, the new actor for Easter Bunny is also shown). I'm hoping for a Jack Frost return as well, but I think Martin Short might've been busy with OMitB. Looks like we're also getting a "Crazy Santa" played by Modern Family star Eric Stonestreet and his sidekick will be played by Gabriel "Fluffy" Iglesias. I'm also going to trust Disney to bring back David Krumholtz as Bernard (and possibly Spencer Breslin as Curtis and Liliana Mumy as Lucy but I'm not gonna hold my breath on those). All in all, the teaser for this season looks really good and I'm hoping for another great season with Scott and the Calvins.

[proceduralpassion]

The Oil Has Run Thin

Day 7 of Narcoctober- Make something centered around non-death dark topics (we have a specific death day already). Morally or emotionally dark topics/themes.

Characters: Walt Breslin x OC (Soraya Turner); platonic but could be more 👀

CW: drugs/intoxication/hallucinations

WC: 884

A/N: Something smol for the Walt girlies, y'know?

Was it a knock that had woken her? Or was it the screaming? So loud. Incessant shrieking. Soraya opens her eyes and they bounce around the room, looking for the source of those horrible shrieks. 

When her vision focuses, she realizes that she’s in a hospital room. Pain ricochets throughout her head as she thrashes around. Her arms and legs are sore and she finds that she’s restrained when she looks down at herself. There are scratch marks on her hands and clots of dried blood are lodged beneath her fingernails. 

There’s no one else in the room with her at the moment, but a flash of movement at the door garners her attention. It’s her partner, Walt. They’ve been partners ever since they were given their assignment in Mexico together. A kinship had arisen between the two of them, and it feels sudden how they’ve gone from complete strangers to people who’d take bullets for each other.

Her mind is rattling around with so many thoughts, so many questions. She’s able to see through the fog for a second and see the crushed look on Walt’s face. Why did he look so broken? 

It hurts her. Her heart feels cracked because she’s never seen him so shattered before. They’ve seen a lot of each other. Frustration. Anger. And yes, even sadness. But this is utter misery painted on her partner’s face right now and she can even see the fear that he lets through. Usually, she can tell when he’s scared because he has intricate little tells like a twitching of his fingers or the inability to sit down. But that’s because he hides it and hides it well. To anyone on the outside looking in, he seems impatient and maybe even pissed off, but Soraya’s always been able to differentiate when he’s scared because of how much effort he puts into making it not look like so.

But he’s terrified right now as he looks at her and she doesn’t know why.

She doesn’t know a lot of things. She’s not sure she even knows why she’s in the hospital, much less restrained.

Her whole body’s in pain and she can barely focus, but that’s not giving her any answers right now. 

Walt, himself, was still trying to come to terms with what happened. He’d been on coms the entire time during the undercover sting. The work the two of you had put in was mostly paper trails and listening to tapes, but you two were also dedicated to chasing down any and every lead possible. When you get the tip on a new low level runner within the Guadalajara cartel, you take the opportunity to create a sting and get him on charges. The hope was to get him a lighter sentence in exchange for more intel that would help them catch and fry the bigger fish.

It all happened so fast. Too fast for Walt to even realize what was happening. He’s not even sure what happens in the short time it takes for him to realize that he’s lost comms with her. As he waits for news on his partner, he reflects and tries to think back to how he missed it. How her cover was blown. When exactly it was blown. What had happened to her in the time between when her comms went out and when he was picking her up bridal style and rushing for an ambulance. 

“The cocaine was laced,” the doctor explains, “We’ve got to run more tests to get a better idea of what exactly is causing her symptoms. Until then, she needs to be in restraints. For her own safety.”

In the ambulance, Soraya had started clawing at her arms, frantically screaming that there was a chip inside and that the mad men were out to get her.” 

Her eyes were like pinballs in an arcade game, dotting everywhere with an unfocused gaze. She wasn’t making any sense as Walt held her arms and it was like she wasn’t even aware of her surroundings. 

The doctor had gone to go check on Soraya and let Walt know whether he could see her or not. As he waited, he rubbed his forehead continually before wringing his hands and pacing the floors. He was infuriated. At their perp, who was now in the wind. At himself, even more so. His plans were always failure after failure and now they had gotten someone he cared about in a dire situation. 

When the doctor gives him the go ahead, Walt knocks on her door, although he’s sure that she probably doesn’t hear it. He walks in and is stuck to his feet at the sight of her. 

He did this.

The restraints.

The deep scratches on your arm.

The crazed and scared look on your face.

Your eyes meet him and for a second, Walt thinks she recognizes him. 

But then, she’s back to wracking her body and scanning the room, looking for something, even as Walt rushes over, trying to calm her.

Soraya looks at him again, fear and inquiry coloring her features, “What is that?! Who is that screaming?!”

Walt’s breath catches in his throat as he continues stroking her arm in what he hopes is comforting.

“It’s you, Soraya.”

A/N: Def plan on writing more for them at some point, kinduva obsessed with them idk Click here if you wanna be added to my taglist. Taglist: @asirensrage @ashlingnarcos @narcosfandomdiscord @drabbles-mc

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 Read Between the Lines 🦇

❓ #QOTD What's your favorite 90s romcom? ❓

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🩷 Enemies to Lovers 🩷 Sapphic Romance 🩷 Books About Books 🩷 Lesbian MCs 🩷 Contemporary Queer Romance 🩷 Book 1 in a Series 🩷 Opposites Attract

[ Find my review below. ]

🦇 Books have always been a part of Rosie Taft's life. That happens when your late mother once owned a Manhattan bookstore you've now inherited. The only thing missing from Rosie's life: a romance to rival the ones she reads about. Though she has a flirty online friendship with lesbian romance author "Brie," they've never met; never turned those flirtatious remarks into deep, romantic gazes in reality. Jane Breslin works for her father's property development business by day, but by night, she lets her hair down and steamy side out as a romance writer. When the business terminates Rosie's bookstore lease, their world's collide and online identities are revealed. Can Jane pen her way back into Rosie's heart for a happy ending?

💜 By some coincidence, I watched You've Got Mail for the first time a few months ago. There's something about the sweet simplicity of 90s rom-coms that can get a heart all warm and cozy. Obviously inspired by the same premise, Read Between the Lines is a modern-day, WLW spin. The enemies-to-lovers, opposites-attract fills you with hope as you wait for all the pieces to click into place. Once they do, the romance feels easy, natural...but realistic in the sense that so many problems are ignored in exchange for that bliss. For a moment, Rosie and Jane exist in a comforting, sweet bubble, but as in real life, you can't ignore reality forever.

🦇 I adored Lacey's Stars Collide (and I'm eagerly trying to get my hands on her upcoming release Cover Story), but it's obvious this was one of Lacey's first lesbian romances. So much of the chemistry between Rosie and Jane was built off-screen, through the texts they exchanged long before the story started. Unfortunately, that makes it seem like there's not a great deal of chemistry between Rosie and Jane once their true identities are revealed.

🦇The source of conflict feels a bit exhausting. Rosie remains hung up about the fact that Jane's family's company is the reason she's losing her bookstore, but Jane herself isn't the reason. Rosie struggles to disassociate losing her bookstore from Jane the entire time. Deciding to leave the family business, while a point of character development for Jane, shouldn't have been a solution solely for Rosie's benefit. None of the problems (internal and external) either woman faced built enough tension to give the story momentum.

🦇 The smut scenes are...not great. Some of the word choice is repetitive ("swirled and plunged" included, which is just...please don't), and there's more of a focus on logistics over emotion. Fade to black paired with a little post-coital pillow talk would have worked just as well (and perhaps felt less rushed, distance, and awkward). Again, it feels like this was Lacey's first WLW romance, in which case, you can see the growth in later novels.

🦇 Recommended for fans of You've Got Mail, Cleat Cute, and Fly With Me.

Quotes ❝ Her online crush, her real-life crush, and the woman who’d crushed her dreams were all the same person, and her mind was still struggling to snap all the pieces into place. ❞

[uswnt5]

I would sell my soul for them to play in the A league, it’s fun and also way less pressure for them lol. Go play for the Wellington Phoenix with Hope Breslin 😂

haha yes

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: If you die, I’ll kill you

Slate & Ossie ft. the smash and grab crew

Au to my fic After this is over

Words: 1653

Warnings: ambush with guns, injuries, gunshot and blood

An: this is an alternative outcome/ scene for the one in the fic. Ossie lives!

Whumpril 2023 (masterlist) day 27 | prompts: grabbed by the collar, forced to crawl

This is a preview * read in full on A03

Before

Unease has rooted deep into Slate’s gut, simmering as the hours passed by and latching on to her organs. Breathing through it, she kept her head high, mind focused, and didn’t get distracted.

They had a plan, and she hoped to God it would work.

Any sense of hope she had was thrown out the window when the overhead lights turned on at the airstrip, and numerous voices mixed as one as they shouted.

Rifle in hand, Slate ran to the tree line without consulting or looking back at Daryl. She was supposed to stay up here with him, but the guys were in trouble and outnumbered, nothing was going to keep her from trying to help. She could hear Daryl call for her as she sped through the trees, careful not to fall while moving as fast as she could.

By the time Slate reached the airstrip, she spotted Amat and Sal behind the flatbed truck, ducking oncoming fire and then returning it.

“It’s me! Don’t shoot!”

She announced as Amat looked back; he nodded in acknowledgment then focused on the guys ahead again. Bullets continued to fly as glass shattered from car windows. In between returning fire, she searched for Walt and Ossie, growing increasingly worried by the second as she didn’t see them.

“Where the fuck is Breslin? Ossie?”

She ducked, a bullet missing her shoulder. Then she spotted them coming around the yellow truck. “Thank fucking god-” she focused ahead again, then fired, shooting one of the men in the shoulder, then chest.

Danilo was nowhere in sight; neither were the extra four guys. Slate signaled to Amat and Sal, then noticed Walt pulling Ossie up by the collar.

“Ossie! “She called out, making a quick run for the other truck.

Just before she reached it, Slate dodged another bullet, then crawled low to the ground until she reached them.

“I’m hit,” Ossie groaned, eyes darting to the spot Walt was putting pressure.

She could hear the guys yelling among themselves, but all she could see was the blood slipping through Walt’s fingers and the worry in his and Ossie’s eyes. It could be a fatal gut shot, or above it. She hoped for the latter, more chance he’ll survive. It was hard to tell with his clothes and vest on.

Ossie weakly gripped her wrist, then said to Walt, "Walt - the keys are in the truck, right?”

Walt pressed hard on the wound again, “the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m fucking dying, man!”

“Fuck, no, no you're not!” Slate cupped his cheek with her free hand, “If you die, I will kill you!” She glanced up, then back at Ossie, “Breslin, cover me,” She quickly pulled out a knife and cut the bottom part of her shirt off,

Read on A03

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A03: artemiseamoon

[freesia-writes]

Ch 41: Cooking

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.6k

ONLY FOUR MORE CHAPTERS, MY FRIENDS! 😭

Song: “Hazy” by Rosi Golan ft. William Fitzsimmons

A number of weeks passed, full of regular work at the butcher shop, family dinners that Lyra and Breslin sometimes joined, visits to Omega at her jobs, and a variety of dates with Lyra. It was an odd period of time for Hunter – he felt as though everything were new, happening for the first time, complete with blushing flirtation, lingering hugs, and as many affectionate little touches as they could manage. It was like building a new layer on an established foundation with a renewed sense of confidence and hope. At times, there was a downright giddiness that he almost didn’t know what to do with. There were still flavors of that same old doubt too, that he was living a lie and somehow it would all collapse soon, and yet they were quickly and frequently assuaged by both optimism and eagerness.

Hunter found himself pacing nervously between the stove, where a sauce had been simmering for a while now, and the shelf in the hall, where a small, old music player was filling the room with peaceful instrumentals. A fire crackled happily in the hearth, warming his cabin and making it a cozy respite from the chilly months that had replaced the balmy summer, and he heard Omega and Breslin laughing in the clearing outside. His heart leapt in his chest and he brushed off his apron, then re-rolled his sleeves to make them look a little neater. 

When the girls burst through the front door, he realized that he’d never actually had company at their house. He had always just defaulted to others’ homes or any of the beautiful places around the island, so there was something special about being able to host some of the people he’d come to care about most. They emerged into the main room, chatting happily, followed closely by a much quieter Lyra. Her hair was styled a bit more than usual, the top half in a loose braid with some wispy long bangs framing her face. She was bundled up in one of her large, thick coats and held a small package in her hands. 

Breslin and Omega ditched their jackets in the entryway and continued in, sending casual greetings Hunter’s way before continuing to Omega’s room, lost in conversation. There was a bit of an age gap between the two of them, but they each had their share of adventurous stories and a general zest for life that created a natural delight with one another. Hunter met Lyra in the entryway as she was unbuttoning her coat, and he courteously helped her pull it from her arms before hanging it up and watching her set her package down on the shelf. She glanced down at her dress, nervously tugging it into place, then looked up at him timidly. 

“It’s a little different than usual, but Breslin insisted,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose for a second. She was wearing a faded blue dress with a dainty floral pattern and pearlescent buttons up the middle. It was rather fitted around her waist – a contrast to her usual loose, flowy style – and had a thin lace trim along the neckline and sleeves. It was fancy and nostalgic at the same, and Hunter flushed with affection as he placed a tentative hand lightly on her waist, leaning in to brush his lips against her cheek. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, voice slightly weak.

He himself had opted for jeans, a cream-colored henley, a denim button-up, and a textured cardigan that was a pale green-gray, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to confess that Omega had told him to wear it as well, exhorting that “it brought out his eyes”. But as Lyra took an extra moment to hold his gaze, a  feather-light hand brushing some tousled waves of brown hair away from his face, he got the sense that she noticed, and it was disproportionately satisfying. 

“You’re so handsome,” she said quietly. He muttered some generic deflection, rubbing the back of his neck, then gestured for her to follow him into the main room, which mirrored the one in her house in the sense that it consisted of a kitchen, dining table, and living room all in one comfortable space. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly to soak in the delicious smells of wood fire, sauce, and the unique scent of him and his home. “Need help with anything?” she offered as she stood beside him at the stove. 

“If you don’t mind giving this a stir, I’ll finish chopping the vegetables for the salad,” he said, passing the wooden spoon into her hand. She nodded and began, leaning over to sniff the pot and letting out a little sigh of contentment. “You’re quite the cook yourself.”

“If you like steak,” he chuckled. 

“I do,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him in such an uncharacteristic display that he chortled.

“Well good.”

He took up his position at the cutting board beside her, smoothly slicing through an enticing variety of local produce as their conversation wove effortlessly through topics both meaningful and mundane. The sound of laughter floated down the hallway from Omega’s room, bringing a private smile to each of their faces. Lyra dipped the spoon into the sauce and brought it to her mouth, holding a hand beneath it to prevent spilling any, and tasted a bit from the end. 

“Whew,” she marveled, offering it to him. “You’re gonna have to share this recipe.” His eyes flickered from the spoon to hers as he bent to take a taste, enjoying the subtle intimacy of the act.

“I’m afraid that’s classified,” he grinned. “Only place to enjoy it is here. Can’t get it anywhere else…”

“Ohh,” she said as the realization dawned. “What a terrible conundrum.” A smile. A nudge of the elbow. They worked in silence for a few more minutes until the girls emerged from the hallway, drawn out by the delectable scents wafting through their door. 

“Smells like it’s about ready?” Omega guessed, more wishful thinking than any actual olfactory expertise. 

“Just about,” Hunter nodded, slipping out the back door to the porch, where some plump steaks sizzled happily as he opened the cover, prodding at them with some tongs. Lyra followed, emerging from the house with inquisitive steps.

“Now that is sexy,” she snickered, and Hunter snapped the tongs a few times before giving the steaks one final turn. He felt her arms snake around his waist from behind, and she leaned against him, peeking over his shoulder. “The steaks are nice too,” she whispered in his ear, and he couldn’t help a snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. 

“Ohhhh, look at you two,” came Breslin’s taunting voice from the doorway, and they turned to see both girls leaning against the wooden frame on either side, grinning at the two of them with infuriatingly knowing looks. 

“Can we at least get some dinner, and then you two can get a room?” Omega jabbed. 

“Actually, give us time to hit the road,” Breslin added. “I don’t want to be hearing stuff…”

“Okay, nothing to hear…” Hunter interrupted, indignant at his own unconcealable embarrassment. “Keep talking and I’ll throw you out right now.” He grinned, brandishing the tongs at each of them in turn. “You’ll have to go begging at Tech’s.”

“Orrrr just go buy dinner in town because we’re adults with jobs,” Omega teased. “We could even bring you guys a dessert. Although it seems like you already have plans for that.” They both giggled.

“I’m being bullied by two young girls,” Hunter muttered to Lyra, who guffawed so loudly that it startled all four of them and she clapped a hand to her mouth. 

“I think you’ll need to get used to it,” she offered unhelpfully. “Occupational hazard.” A playful shrug. He gazed at her fondly before feigning a hard look at the girls.

“Go set the table, will you?”

“Don’t burn the steaks,” Omega threw over her shoulder as they retreated to the kitchen.

“Is this real life?” Lyra asked, shaking her head in joyful disbelief. “This feels like a dream sometimes.”

Hunter smiled, piling the steaks onto the plate in his hand. It did feel that way.

* * * 

Dinner was leisurely and indulgent, with multiple courses that left them all absolutely stuffed. Hours had passed in authentic conversation, wit and humor, and memories and adventures. The fire was burning low, darkness having settled heavily over the island outside, and the dim light was threatening to put everyone to sleep in the complete and total satisfaction of a night well spent. Breslin was the first to drag herself to her feet, glancing down at Hunter and Lyra, who were reclining on the couch. 

The typically stoic clone was in a surprisingly vulnerable position, laying across it sideways with his feet dangling over the armrest and his head in Lyra’s lap. She had it cradled in her hands, her hair falling over one shoulder as she gazed down at him with unmeasurable affection, slowly caressing his forehead and cheek. Breslin smiled at the softness on Lyra’s face when she finally looked up.

“I’ll never make it to work tomorrow if I don’t get to bed,” she said regretfully, patting her mom’s shoulder as she walked around behind them. 

“Need company getting home?” Omega offered. “I figure you’ve been here long enough to know your way around, but it’s dark.” 

“I appreciate it,” the older girl smiled. “But mom showed me her nifty little fathier trick, and I really like getting to ride them around. And their night vision is way better than mine. Plus, then you’d have to walk yourself home alone!”

“Fair enough,” Omega laughed. “Well thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for having me! Hunter…” she began, an affectionate solemnity painting her features now. You’re a great guy. Your family is awesome. And I love that we’ve had the chance to get to know you. Thanks for everything.”

He nodded and smiled broadly, warmed by her sincerity as he pulled himself up into his usual seated position. “Right back atcha, kid.”

“See you tomorrow, sweetie,” Lyra murmured, basking in the glow of the fire and the joy of the moment. 

“Love ya, mom.”

Breslin disappeared out the door, her whistle for the animals reaching their ears soon after. Hunter watched her small beam of light dancing into the distance as the sound of hooves faded into silence. Omega stood slowly and stretched. 

“Same for me,” she announced, offering a bleary wave as she ambled off to her room. 

“Bed sounds heavenly,” Lyra agreed, turning slightly to nestle into Hunter’s side. “You always make me want to quit my job and just eat and sleep all day.”

“Don’t put that on me,” he smiled, resting his cheek on her hair. “You’d want that anyway.” 

“You’re right!” she laughed. “Oh! I almost forgot… I brought you a little somethin.” She tore herself away from the unparalleled comfort of the sofa and fetched her package from the entryway. Hunter sat himself up a bit more, setting it on his knees after she handed it to him sheepishly. As he began to unwrap it, she started to fidget. “Okay… So I know this is something that a kid would make… but stuff like this makes me happy when I see it hanging on the wall… Like, it’s a fun little reminder… of good times…”

Finally free of the paper, Hunter lifted out a gently curving piece of driftwood with a handful of strings dangling from it, each one boasting a motley array of shells, sea glass, and other bits of beach. He recognized a few of them from their walks, having poked fun at her scavenging more than once, and a rush of memories accompanied each one. Tranquility and delight, curiosity and wonder… The simple collection evoked all kinds of warmth and nostalgia as he studied it in the firelight. 

“I know it’s silly…” Lyra began, but he set it down on his knees and fixed her with a look that stopped her mid-sentence. 

“Now listen,” he said, eyes playful beneath hawkish brows. “None of that. It’s amazing and it makes me happy.” She smiled, bashful and relieved all at once. “Actually…” he continued, thoughtful all of a sudden. “I’ve got something for you too.” Now it was he who tediously extracted himself from the plush cushions and carefully set her beach creation onto a side table, then disappeared to his room for a minute before returning with a closed hand. He sat beside her, on the edge of the couch this time, holding his loosely-clenched fist between the two of them, and she mirrored his position. 

“Please don’t throw a handful of sand in my face or anything like that,” she chuckled nervously, and the unexpectedly preposterous idea made him laugh. 

“That’s probably more Crosshair’s style,” he grinned. “Or used to be… But no, I’m just… I don’t know how to introduce it.”

“Does it have a name?” Lyra whispered, met with a snort from him. 

“I’ll leave that up to you…” He hesitated, then took a deep breath and lifted his eyes from his hand to her face. “I’ve had this for a while… Well, pieces of it. And I never really knew what to do with it… It just kinda took shape….” His face softened, eyes dropping again as his fist slowly opened, revealing an intricately-woven silver chain that led to a smooth, round piece of sea glass. He held it up to the light, where its frosted lavender hue was barely discernible in the glow from the hearth, but it was visible enough to evoke a gasp of awe from Lyra. 

“Wow,” she breathed, touching it with a single admiring finger. “That’s stunning.”

“I was waiting for a special occasion to give it to you,” he continued haltingly, second-guessing every word but gaining momentum as the sentiment fully took shape. “But… I realized… It’s this stuff that I love most. The food, the walks, the simple enjoyment of home and nature and all of it.”

His fingers found the clasp, and with tentative hands he placed it around her neck, fastening it beneath her hair and laying the sea glass gently just below her collarbone where it nestled gracefully on its chain. A smile ghosted his lips as he traced one side of it before pulling back to admire it. 

“I wasn’t created to enjoy life,” he said quietly, looking at his now-empty hands as he held them palms-up in his lap. “Didn’t think I could, really… We’d always get glimpses of it here and there… But it just wasn’t for us…” Her soft hands, with some bony knuckles and well-worn paths of veins across the back, slipped into his. “Anyway…” he sniffed, “Enjoying the ‘little things’ with you has been…” He drifted off, unable to think of the best word that most encompassed the depth of his sentiment.

“I’ve loved it,” she whispered, leaning against him to rest her head on his shoulder, with him in spirit where words failed. 

“Me too,” he smiled. 

.

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[notquiteahitman]

[ Almost Kiss ] (Shay to Breslin.. oh god, what have I done?)

@ofwondersandhares sent 🐝  *  ―  𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

[  ALMOST KISS  ]  *  my muse leans closer to your muse almost like they’re trying to initiate a kiss, only to pull away in the last second.

When would she listen? When would she learn? He had told her, time and time again, how purely uninterested he was in hearing about her son. Her son, because he refused to believe (or, rather, to accept), that that boy could be any offspring of his. And yet, here she was, yet again, spouting some nonsense he didn't want to hear.

Had it been another day, he might have tried to have more patience with her. He might have tried to listen, because it was her, after all. And yet, today, even his usually low level of patience had vanished.

As she reminded him, yet again, that that cowardly rat of a boy was his son, his temper snapped. He slammed his hands on his desk, which he had been leaning against, so hard that his pens and neat pile of paperwork fell to the floor, and the sound echoed in the room. He spun where he stood, crossing the room in a few short strides.

She could have moved away from him. He knew that much. No matter how much he trained, he knew his reflexes could never match her innate ones - and yet, there she stayed, even as he placed his hands on her shoulders and shoved her against the wall, hoping it would knock the breath out of her enough to get her to stop talking.

His heavy breathing mingled with hers as he boxed her against the wall with his arms, his face only inches from her nose as he hissed: "How many fucking times do I have to tell you? I don't want to fucking hear it." He paused for breath, dark eyes flickering down to her lips, and in that moment there was something within him, something that only she could trigger, some sort of carnal, yearning need for her.

He had actually leaned in, her lips so close to his he could almost taste her, when he remembered the promise he had made to himself. Never again. So he pulled away. It was over in mere seconds; he was back across the room, his back to her once again, breathing so hard he was almost panting.

"I don't want to hear about that fucking kid. Do you understand me?"

[dear-indies]

hello, hope you're doing well!

so ... i was hoping if you could help me suggest some female face claims ( can pass for twenties to thirties ) who have campy villainess / serial killer gif content? in terms of their physical appearance or nationality, i have no preference. i just wanna write a fun silly unpredictable unhinged girlboss who should be in jail (/lh) ❤️

additional context: halloween is nearing, and i want to bring back an oc of mine who is based on taylor swift's blank space. her fc was taylor herself, but since i'm rewriting this oc, i want to restart everything and that includes her face claim!

if you need any further details please let me know and i'll send you a follow-up ask with all the info you need. thank you very much again ❤️

Natasia Demetriou (1983/4) - What We Do in the Shadows.

Jessica Rothe (1987) Ashkenazi Jewish / German, Scottish, English - Happy Death Day.

Samara Weaving (1992) - Ready or Not.

Cassandra Naud (1992) - The Influencer.

Billie Lourd (1992) Ashkenazi Jewish (maternal grandfather), English, Scottish, Scots-Irish/Northern Irish, Welsh, German, Cajun/French - Scream Queens.

Hari Nef (1992) Ashkenazi Jewish - is trans - Assassination Nation.

Pınar Deniz (1993) Turkish [Lebanese] - Aktris.

Mia Goth (1993) Ashkenazi Jewish (grandfather) Brazilian [Portuguese, including Azorean, small amount of African, possibly other], English, Irish, Scottish, French-Canadian - X, Infinity Pool, Pearl.

Jodie Comer (1993) - Killing Eve.

Aisha Dee (1993) African Australian / White - Sissy.

Natasha Liu Bordizzo (1994) Chinese / Italian - Day Shift.

Taylor Russell (1994) Black Canadian / European - Bones and All.

Rachel Sennott (1995) - Bodies Bodies Bodies.

Adeline Rudolph (1995) Korean / German - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Resident Evil.

Abigail Breslin (1996) Irish, as well as English, German, one quarter Ashkenazi Jewish - Scream Queens.

Chase Sui Wonders (1996) Chinese, some Japanese and Tahitian / European - Bodies Bodies Bodies.

Tati Gabrielle (1996) Korean / African-American - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Uncharted.

Kathryn Newton (1997) - Freaky.

Daisy Edgar-Jones (1998) - Fresh.

Not all of these are campy but were worth a mention!

[adamwatchesmovies]

Escape Plan: The Extractors (2019)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

I must be completely fair in my review of Escape Plan: The Extractors by admitting I saw it by mistake. I thought I had selected the first movie on my player, not the third. If this picture redeems itself by completing nuanced character arcs or tying up previously-introduced loose ends in a way that pleases fans, I can’t say. What I can tell you is how forced a sequel this feels. Did this movie begin as something completely different? Was it tweaked in post-production to trick audiences into watching it? Sure feels that way.

Daya Zhang (Malese Jow) is kidnapped by mercenaries. Her bodyguard (Harry Shum, Jr.) seeks security expert Ray Breslin (Sylvester Stallone) for help. Daya is indirectly familiar to Breslin. He knows her lover and former bodyguard, Shen Lo (Max Zhang). The kidnapper is a familiar face from Breslin’s past as well: Lester Clark, Jr. (Devon Sawa) is the son of Breslin’s corrupt ex-business partner. He wants revenge for his daddy’s death and the captured heiress is just the thing to lure Breslin into a trap.

It takes a long time for what Escape Plan 3 is actually about to become clear. We have… how many heroes? There’s Daya’s current bodyguard and her former bodyguard. Why they want to save the woman is pretty straightforward. Breslin's name was on the flash drive left behind when Daya was kidnapped so obviously, he's invested too. As for the villain, Lester Jr. wants money. That's why you kidnap people - at least, most of the time. Eventually, it’s revealed Lester Jr. doesn’t actually care about any ransom. He just wants Ray to come and face him. See what I mean about two random plots stitched together? This is made more obvious when Lester Jr. kidnaps Abigail (Jaime King), Breslin’s girlfriend 37 years his junior. Breslin has never met Daya before. If he gets to her before the kung-fu bodyguards do, she’ll have no idea what’s going on.

While I haven't seen Escape Plan, I know the premise from the trailer. This is NOTHING like it. There’s no prison to escape from, unless you count Lester Jr.’s base of operations: a dank, rusty, run-down prison with no guards - but inmates in every cell. It’s hard to believe this place would have running water, much less an internet connection, which makes a scene in which the baddies take one of Daya’s employees, hand him a laptop and instruct him to hack into her family’s financial account particularly hilarious. And they just leave him in the room alone! He could be doing anything on that computer!

None of the film's problems feel as brutal as the camerawork and direction. Any potentially exciting scenes are transmogrified into eyeball garbage by the confusing camerawork. You can’t tell what’s going on half the time and the editing makes it unclear whose objectives are what. You’re bored, just hoping this catastrophe will end soon. Suddenly, there’s a big fight. You think the movie’s over. Escape Plan 3 has you fooled. That guy who just died? It wasn't the main boss. It was some henchman the camera made you think was important… by accident!

I once dated a woman whose father would watch any movie starring Steven Seagal. He didn't care that the former action star hasn’t had a movie worth mentioning since 1992. He was a fan and would make it a priority to watch any Steven Seagal movie. If you’re that sort of person, then Escape Plan: The Extractors practically has your name on it. Otherwise, this is a movie you’ll be unsure actually exists even after having finished it. (March 27, 2020)

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Taglist: @707otto @juxt4p0siti0n (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

Pairings:  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK) Ps. this chapter had Heavy Angst

Synopsis : The bombing incident at the police station triggered painful memories from the past for you, and you made the decision to let Walt know all about it.

AN : I drew inspiration for this chapter from my favorite movies, which are "The Kingdom" (2007) and "Zero Dark Thirty" (2012). This is why I chose the female lead to be a CIA agent. It's quite dramatic, but I hope you'll enjoy it.

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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[4]ᅳ 𝐎𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫 ✟

A torn page from a travel magazine has been pinned to the bulletin board inside the large conference room by your hand. It depicts an image of a beautiful island in the middle of the ocean, revealing crystal-clear waters with visible fish swimming beneath, the sunlight glistening above the palm tree tops, and beneath the palm trees, two or three people in bright swimsuits smiling and seemingly joyful. The caption reads, 'Aruba, paradise for peace and nature lovers.'

"Planning a tropical vacation, are you?" A soft chuckle follows after Diego speaks up. You turn back with a hint of 'How funny!' written on your face before hesitating and hurriedly amending your tone upon seeing Julio enter as the last person. He glances at you for a moment before nodding slightly, a sign permitting the morning meeting to commence.

The atmosphere switches from informal to professional immediately as you begin recounting the details of your conversation with Amado from the previous day, which you had anticipated must occur.

Firstly, they have no idea that you have had secret contact with Amado.

Secondly, because what Amado wanted seemed deeply personal,

"I think he might be planning something or perhaps escaping the tense situation in Mexico temporarily. Either way, this is an opportune moment to keep an eye on him while he's away from the drug scene," you say.

"Aruba is under the jurisdiction of the Netherlands' autonomy; you know that, right?" Bill interjects with a scrutinizing frown. "And if I remember correctly, it's a tax haven[1] for the wealthy."

"I know," you reply, meeting his gaze. "Holland[2] has been politically neutral since World War II."

"And do you know what this means? Because the Netherlands, the ultimate middleman, won't do a thing, whether it's money laundering or drug lords vacationing there."

Bill isn't the only one concerned about this. Even Julio, who has been silent for a while, seems to agree with Bill. He takes a breath before adding, "Bill is right. Mexico and the United States can't just waltz into that territory, and the Netherlands won't extradite criminals."

"But we're not going to apprehend him at all; just keep an eye on him," you emphasize.

"That's not the point," someone interjects, pausing to glance at the familiar sound. You see Walt on the other side of the table, looking at you openly.

"You'll have to stay close to him, and we won't be able to reach you. If anything happens to you there, we won't know, and we won't be able to help you," Walt's words reasoned. To put it bluntly, this mission is more dangerous than any other the DEA has done before because no one can get as close as you can, and being close to a drug lord is like being in shark-infested water or a lion's den. It's no different from throwing away your life.

However, what seemed like a downside to this mission has turned into a strength. Even though they may try to argue, no one dares to stand against it. You notice that other agents are silently looking at each other, still conflicted and uncertain. So you decide not to push your proposal any further. The CIA stands up and stretches, glancing briefly at Walt before turning back to your superior.

"Whatever you say, boss,"

With that, you leave the conference room, cigarette in hand, feeling every nerve in your body tense and scream for nicotine. You have to step outside the police building to smoke since you've been reprimanded more than a hundred times for smoking indoors.

As you walk out of the police station, you hear footsteps following closely behind. You had a slight hope it might be Walt, but you're disappointed when you see Diego, your Mexican colleague, catching up to you. He already has a cigarette in his mouth, and he gives you a small greeting smile before flicking open his lighter.

"You leave a big bomb in the conference room. You Know that, Right?"

You chuckle dryly before handing him your cigarette for a light. "Well, you know how it is. Just a casual suggestion."

Diego shrugs, takes a drag, and exhales slowly. "Speaking as a cop, it's plausible. But as a friend, I'm concerned that you're going alone."

"Don’t worry, bro. I've taken plenty of risks before coming here, and I've been doing this every day until now."

"Are you talking about the war against terrorism with Bin Laden?" Diego's eyes immediately light up because it's rare for you to speak about your past missions. "Do you know how much your story is talked about among us? I heard you survived Al Qaeda's bomb."

Sometimes the past and the present are oddly connected.

As Diego mentions the bomb, you flashback to the time when you were still in Pakistan. You were standing by the roadside, looking at a red car that had exploded right in front of you.

you should have been in that car. That's a narrow escape.

And the memories from the past come flooding back once again. When you saw another car parked not far away, the same make but gray, something triggered in your mind. It was like a little superstition that usually happens when something bad is about to occur, like stumbling on your own feet or bumping into a door.

But what happened on that Monday morning in front of the National Police Headquarters was much worse than any of those.

You hastily pushed Diego far away with an instinctual shove, and in the blink of an eye, everything seemed to rip apart and scatter into chaos. Fire and hot air exploded from the car, dispersing in all directions. The deafening roar drowned out everything else, trembling so intensely that it almost felt like you couldn't hear anything else but the noise, like the annoying buzz in your ears.

Your body was flung several meters, rolling on the ground before finally coming to a stop. You weren't sure how long you lay there; it seemed like an hour in your mind, but in reality, it might have been just a few minutes. You felt nothing, and everything in your head was a whirlwind, muddled, and unclear, like a fogged-up glass smeared with something wet. You raised your hand to wipe it away from your face and realized it was blood from your head.

You struggled to get up again. The waves of pain crashed over you until you nearly vomited again, but you still had enough consciousness to hold yourself together. The annoying buzz remained in your ears. You looked up as someone held your cheek.

Diego, who was in a similar dazed state, was muttering something, but you didn't hear it. You didn't care about it either. You raised your face to the completely exploded and burned-out car without even knowing that you were crying out loud.

Everything remained the same and unchanged, whether it was past or present.

And you've never been able to escape these haunting memories at all.

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‘Car bomb outside the National Police Office and the United States Embassy in Mexico City, injuring more than twenty people,’ headlined today's newspapers. It has become a major news event that has shaken not only Mexico City but also Washington, D.C. Excluding the previous violent incidents from the ruthless terrorist, there has never been such a severe attack on American officials abroad. And, until now, no one knew for sure the extent of the cartel's involvement.

For the United States government, this is a serious affront to a major world power. They demand accountability from Mexico and won't just stand by without punishing those responsible for the violence.

These situations directly impact the Merida Initiative, especially the White Storm mission. Under pressure from higher-ups looking for results to ease the tension between the two nations, orders have been transmitted through the distributed embassy network to all DEA agents in Mexico. The lengthy documents can be summarized as, "Get it done now, or be prepared to shut down."

The atmosphere in the tense office was at its peak. For the overall mission to continue, it was necessary to do something quickly, at least in part. The proposal on the Aruba Island case, which you had suggested, had been reconsidered and was now fully approved without any objections.

"They've gone crazy, haven't they? You barely survived, and they're still sending you to die."

It's not often you see Walt squirm with your own eyes, but it made sense from his perspective. Assigning injured agents from the bombing to a high-risk mission immediately after just one week's recovery was a terrible option for dealing with these complicated problems. But it also made it clear that they had no other choice and couldn't avoid the worst-case scenario.

"I'm not seriously injured here,and nothing's broken. Nothing's missing. I can still work." You sipped your coffee and leaned back against your kitchen counter. Your demeanor was calm, without much distress, as if you already knew it had to be this way.

It's lucky that you weren't severely injured in the explosion, apart from a minor concussion and superficial wounds all over your body. There's almost nothing to worry about. Comparatively, with both of Diego's arms and legs broken, causing him to have a month-long break, your condition seemed almost miraculous.

Miraculous—something that's happened to you before, back in Saudi Arabia.

"Let's be honest here. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if you're insane." Walt stood and abandoned his now-cold cup of coffee, just like your untouched pancakes. The tension from the minor spat this morning had seemingly left breakfast tasteless.

"What choice do I have, Walt? This mission is critically important, and I have to do it no matter what."

"But your life is just as important," he says.

This time, you chose not to respond. You know that speaking your mind would only make him angrier than before.

During this uncomfortable silence, Walt continues to stare at you, as if he wants to delve deep into your thoughts and cross the walls you've built. But you're too afraid to let him get too close, so you intentionally avoid his gaze.

"Can't you tell me why?" The man's words are more than the typical expressions of concern.

You tend to push yourself too hard and take on too much risk, and at first he thought it might be an outsider's need to prove themselves to the team. But as time went on, Walt realized it was more than that. You seemed to be holding onto something, focusing solely on the missions you undertook as if they were the only thing that could provide solace. It's something he understood, as he felt much the same way after losing his brother, Martin, and his former partner, Tommy.

But who is that person for you?, Walt couldn't say. Your identity as a CIA agent has always been shrouded in mystery.

"Do you want to know about my past missions before I came to work here?" It comes out as an unexpectedly straightforward question. However, when you lift your head to meet his gaze, Walt notices the faint vulnerability hidden behind your dark, somber eyes. It's not something he's seen from this woman since they started working together.

This is the revelation of your significant secret, one that no one has ever uncovered before.

You took a deep breath and placed the coffee on the counter. There was no reason to keep these things from him any longer.

"I spent over a decade in Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, dedicating my life to hunting down Bin Laden. But it's not just my life that was lost; it's the lives of everyone I loved." Your hand tapped on the necklace You wore unconsciously, beyond the Dog Tag. There was also a plain silver ring that hung from a chain. The cold touch of metal felt colder than ever.

"His name was Faris Qazi, the head of Saudi Arabia's commando unit, and he was my fiancé. We planned to get married after all this madness ended. I was willing to convert to Islam, and he Al-Yamin[3] to have me as his only wife. But just three days after we had agreed to marry, he was attacked and killed because of me. I sent him to die based on information I was so sure was correct. That day, I should've been the one to go on the mission, not him. I was the one who should've died from the beginning."

You watch everything through tracking cameras and listen through communication radios. You heard the screams, the explosions, the gunfire, and his last words, assuring you that it was okay and that he would make it back.

Faris eventually came back to you, but not in the way you expected. It wasn't in a living form. What was returned were pieces of his body, separated and sent directly to the American embassy in a large box. His left finger from the remaining corpse still wears the silver ring, soaked in blood—the engagement ring between you and him.

And that was not the only loss that C.I.A. agents had to face.

"And Janet Carter, my colleague. She was the one who supported me when I lost Faris. She swore with me that we would seek revenge for what happened. She helped me investigate and connect with a man who had access to Bin Laden. We arranged to meet him in Pakistan. He drove up in a red car. Janet told me to wait because she would be the one to talk. It was a disastrous decision. Al-Qaida deceived us and sent a car bomb to kill me. Their target was me, the one leading the main mission. But the one who had to face the consequences was Janet. I saw the explosion. I saw my friend lying on the road, still breathing. She screamed, tortured beyond endurance. She begged me to shoot her, and I did."

There isn't a single tear when you recount the tragedy to Walt. But the man knows that beneath that composed facade and the chillingly calm voice, you are no different from a fragile glass filled with countless fractures, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

"Y/N, it's not your fault."

"But it was my duty. If I had chosen to follow my initial duty, no one would have to die in my place." You lock eyes with him, deadly serious. "We've all come too far to turn back now. Both you and I know that better than anyone."

For a moment, your gaze made him shudder. Walt knows well enough that you meant something more, for it's not just you who has gone through loss. He himself has experienced it, and no one can understand each other's pain better than those who have gone through the same kind of hell.

You smiled ever so slightly at the person in front of you. "I just don't want you to blame yourself if something happens to me, because it's not your fault the same way it's not mine."

As you finish speaking, Walt hugs you before you can react. It was a tight, intimate hug that allowed you to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat on the left side of his chest and a trembling force that seems to almost give in to tears, but Walt doesn't cry or say anything except for hugging you tightly in silence.

You took a slow breath before closing your eyes, and you chose to hug him back just as tightly. It wasn't easy for both Walt and yourself, whether it was this mission or the complex relationship you shared with him.

It could end in a beautiful success or in mistakes and losses like before. Everything was possible

But whatever happened, you were ready to let it unfold.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------   [1] A tax haven is a group of Caribbean islands that have tax policies with low tax rates or tax exemptions, making them a significant hub for the movement of a large amount of money, both legally and illegally. and also crucial in the money laundering process, especially for drug traffickers.

[2]Netherlands declared neutrality during World War I between the years 1914 to 1918 and declared neutrality once again during World War II before being invaded by Nazi forces between the years 1940 to 1945.

[3] yamin يمين, It is emphasizing the swear by mentioning the names of Allah or from His other titles