#like hello yes I want to report a crime

[eureka-its-zico]

I GOT A NOSEBLEED TF

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny runs for Mayor

Simple Prompt: Danny runs for the Gotham Mayor position

Extended Prompt: Danny is an absolute little shit throughout his entire campaign but still manages to win because he is legitimately one of the best candidates around

Just imagine the crack that could come from this!

Reporter: What is your stance on Vigilantism? Danny: Well I agree that Vigilantes are helpful for the communities that need them, and they should work with the police at every opportunity, I feel like the idea will always be a city where Vigilantes are not needed. Also I fail to see the relevancy of the question, there are no vigilantes in Gotham Reporter: What do you mean? What about the Bat-Family? Danny: No, Batman isn’t a Vigilante. Batman is a Crime Lord.

Or

Danny: As mayor, I promise that I will not be infected by corruption. Not because of my moral standings, but because I absolutely fucking hate clowns and I will never accept a bribe as long as that guy is still alive. Yes this is me putting a hit out on the Joker. Crime Bosses, if you want to try and bribe me, you gotta kill him first or I won’t even consider it!

Or

Batman: Why is a Meta-Human running for Gotham Office? You know this city doesn’t have a very good track record with people like you. Even the Signal had a rough start. Danny: Well, I just had a strong compulsion to help this city reach the peak of it’s potential *looks over Batman’s shoulder to see Lady Gotham holding up Cue Cards telling him what to say. She promised to help with his paperwork for the next 50 years if he became Mayor and helped fix her city* Danny: Such a strong compulsion...

Or

Penguin: Look kid, I don’t care if you have enough power to destroy me at the subatomic level, I have enough money to ruin you, your sister, your parents, even your uncle! Danny: Oh really? I could get the souls of every person you have ever killed to get confessions out of them. Or I could give them the power to rip you apart. Or I could even just possess you and donate all your money to charity.

Or

Danny: Oh god dammit! Vlad: Hello Badger! Glad to see you followed in my footsteps instead of your fathers! Danny: This wasn’t because of you! Lady Gotham asked for help! Vlad: A WIN IS A WIN!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Celebrity Crush

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You have what some might consider to be an odd celebrity crush. Until you meet him in real life, that is. | 1.1k+ words of fluff!

Part 2: Celebrity Crush, Table for Two >

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

As you twirl your straw in your drink, you tune out the conversation of your friends. The message to get ready had come last minute, with only a few minutes to prepare for an outing before your best friend arrived to pick you up. You had been watching a true-crime documentary when the message came through, and rather than listen to your friends discuss their weekend plans, you think about the case in the show. Or, more specifically, one of the officers who worked the case.

“Hello,” one of your friends calls.

She draws the word out and waves a hand in front of your face, which you bat away when your attention returns to the restaurant and the people around you.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “What are we talking about?”

“Celebrity crushes!” she cheers. “Mine is Tom Cruise.”

“Gross! He’s old enough to be your dad,” another girl comments.

“And he can pay for everything like my dad, too.”

“Can we move on?” someone interrupts. “Who’s yours?”

“Mine?” you clarify, pointing at yourself. “Oh, uh, you probably haven’t heard of him.”

“C’mon, spill!” they encourage.

You shake your head, and the friend closest to you repeats, “Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Tim Bradford,” you answer softly.

“Who?”

“He’s a cop, and he’s been in some documentaries. Like the ones with Corey Harris and Aaron Thorsen. Plus, a new one with doppelgangers,” you explain.

“So, he’s a cop, not a celebrity,” your best friend argues.

“He’s been on TV! More than once,” you point out.

“Girl, you know I love you, but that’s more of a ‘hear me out’ than a celebrity crush.”

You shake your head and sit back in your seat. The sooner you get home to finish the documentary, the better.

The next day, after you’ve finished the newest documentary and your crush on Tim Bradford has strengthened, you find yourself out shopping with your friends. Thankfully, they’ve moved on from the celebrity crush comment. While you’re in the third store of the day, you wait in the dressing rooms to rate your best friends’ choices while the other girls shop.

An employee approaches you with a nervous smile and asks if anyone else is in the fitting area.

“Yes, one of my friends is trying something on. Is everything okay?” you answer.

“Oh, of course. I don’t want to alarm you, but we’ve locked the doors because there are some suspicious characters in the area. The police are on the way, so everything will be under control soon.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you say.

She sighs in relief that you were kind about the ordeal, then walks away to alert other customers. You look toward the large windows on the storefront but don’t see anything happening in the parking lot.

A few minutes later, after your friends have purchased their items and are waiting to leave, two police officers walk to the locked door and knock on it. The employee you spoke to earlier rushes to let them in and obeys when the male officer instructs her to lock the door again.

“Ladies, we’re with the LAPD,” the shorter man says. “Our colleagues are outside handling the situation as we speak. However, we need your help; if you’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary today, please meet me at the counter and we’ll fill out a report.”

The employees follow him to the counter, and you realize that he is in the documentaries you’ve been watching. As you turn to look outside again, you see the other officer.

“Are you Sergeant Tim Bradford?” you ask.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, I just watched the documentaries you were in and thought it was you. Your insight was informative; I liked listening to your side of the case.”

He smiles kindly and says, “I’m glad.”

You nod, then step back and look around the store. Unsure how much longer you’ll have to wait, you take a moment to look at the merchandise. You usually tag along on shopping trips but don’t buy anything. Your friends have different tastes than you, and an easier time buying things for themselves. One item catches your eye, and you run your finger over it. They have your preferred size, and you tap it a few times before you look away again.

Unknown to you, Tim watches you. He’s seen people come up to Aaron, Lucy, and even Nolan, and claim to have seen them on television. Those encounters usually end with someone asking for a picture, an autograph, and, once, to get their cousin released early. This is the first time he’s heard a genuine compliment, and he’s happy to have been the one you chose to give it to.

“Officer Bradford?” his partner calls. “A word?”

You smile at Tim when you look toward him, and with his eyes already on you, he notices immediately. He dips his chin as he walks past you, and you walk across the room to your friends.

“Wait, is that your celebrity crush?” your best friend whispers. “You didn’t say he was like… Abercrombie model hot!”

You shrug, and she turns to your other friends to talk about how attractive the officers are. Your gaze wanders back to the only thing in the store you’d ever consider buying, but you shake your head and look at Tim Bradford instead.

“The situation has been handled and the area is safe now. You’re free to go,” he announces. “Thank you for your help.”

Your friends rush out, eager to get to another store, but you walk toward the door at a normal pace. Tim and his partner are walking out too, and you hold the door for them.

“Go ahead,” Tim tells his partner. “Thanks,” he says to you.

He stops beside you, and you let the door close. After a glance over his shoulder, Tim passes you a bag.

“What is this?” you inquire.

“A thank you.”

“For?”

“Being nice. Plus, you didn’t ogle me like your friends.”

You chuckle and smile as you argue, “You’ve got to be used to that.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

You peek in the bag and see the item you were looking at. “I can’t accept this.”

“The ladies inside told me I had to take something for keeping them safe.”

“And you got me something?” Tim smiles, and you shake your head. “Thank you.”

“If you’d really like to thank me or hear more about those cases you seem to like so much, maybe we could meet for dinner sometime.”

“I would love that.”

“Great. I have to go, but… give me a call.”

You watch him leave, then realize that he didn’t give you his number. As you walk away, you pull the receipt from the bag. But it isn’t a receipt. It’s a piece of paper with his name and number. Under that, he wrote, I never wanted to be a celebrity crush before today.

[httpvomitello]

can we have a similar one to „All for one we fight together“ in Bayverse but they find out with the NYPD after the second movie that Shredder has a wife who is pregnant meaning she may end up giving him a Shredder Part 2 and they meet her and she’s a really nice lady Shredders wife=Us

Hello, hello! I'm glad you liked that fic, and I hope you like this one too ~ ♡♡♡♡

Shadows of Redemption *⁠.⁠✧

It had been a few months since the city was saved from Krang’s alien invasion, and things had finally started to settle down. The turtles were back to their usual patrols, the NYPD was trying to rebuild trust after the chaos, and April and Casey were enjoying some much-needed normalcy.

The news came through a quiet tip to April from a contact in the NYPD. "You’re not gonna believe this," April had said when she told the turtles, her voice low and disbelieving. “Shredder has a wife. And she’s due in a couple of months.”

"You're kidding," Raphael said, incredulous, leaning back against the couch in their lair.

Leo frowned, his arms crossed. “If this is true, it could mean trouble. A child could become a legacy for him.”

“Hold up,” Mikey interrupted, waving his hands. “Are we saying Shredder had time for romance between being a crime lord and an alien’s sidekick?”

Donnie adjusted his glasses, ignoring Mikey’s comment. “If this is accurate, the NYPD probably considers her a potential threat.”

April nodded. “They’re keeping an eye on her but haven’t made a move yet. They don’t want to draw too much attention.”

“Sounds like we need to meet her ourselves,” Leo said firmly.

The meeting was carefully planned. Through April’s connections, they arranged to approach her in a not public, neutral location.

When you arrived, the turtles, hidden in shadows nearby, were surprised by how… ordinary you looked. There was nothing about you that screamed “villain’s spouse.” If anything, you looked nervous, glancing around as you waited for April to approach.

When April introduced herself, you smiled warmly, though there was a guardedness in your eyes. “I’ve heard of you,” you said softly. “You’re the reporter who’s always getting into trouble.”

April laughed nervously. “Guilty as charged.”

You looked down at your hands, resting protectively over your belly. “Let me guess. You’re here because of my husband.”

April hesitated before nodding. “The NYPD is… concerned. And so are my friends.”

At the word “friends,” you glanced toward the shadows, as if sensing the presence of others.

“I figured someone would come eventually,” you said quietly. “But I promise you, I’m not a threat. I just want to live in peace.”

When the turtles finally revealed themselves, stepping out of the shadows, your reaction wasn’t fear or anger. Instead, your eyes widened in recognition.

“So,” you said, your voice calm, “these are the famous mutants my husband was so obsessed with.”

Raph narrowed his eyes. “You say that like you’re not on his side.”

You sighed, your hand instinctively rubbing your belly. “I’m not on his side. I never was.”

Donnie tilted his head, clearly intrigued. “Then why marry him?”

You hesitated, looking down for a moment. “When I met him, he wasn’t… this. He was ambitious, yes, but not cruel. At least, not to me. By the time I realized what he was truly capable of, I was already trapped.”

Mikey frowned. “Trapped how?”

“Do you think someone like Shredder just lets people walk away?” you asked bitterly. “I wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t allow it. When I found out I was pregnant, he claimed it was ‘proof’ we were meant to be together.”

Leo’s expression softened, though his voice remained firm. “Why not go to the police?”

“I’ve tried,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But his reach is everywhere. Every time I tried to run, he found me. Now, all I can do is protect my baby and hope… hope that he doesn’t grow up to be like his father.”

The turtles exchanged glances. You didn’t seem like a threat—far from it. You were kind, intelligent, and clearly terrified of the man you’d married.

“I don’t want my child to inherit his legacy,” you said firmly, meeting Leo’s gaze. “I want him to have a chance at a normal life. To be good. But I can’t do it alone.”

Raph crossed his arms. “So, what? You want us to play babysitter?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I just need to know that, if something happens to me, my baby will be safe. I don’t trust the police. I don’t trust anyone. But you…” You paused, looking at them with something like hope. “You’re different. You fight to protect people.”

Leo stepped forward, his tone resolute. “We’ll help you. We won’t let Shredder use you—or your child—for his plans.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

In the weeks that followed, the turtles kept a close watch on you, often checking in to make sure you were safe. You and April became fast friends, and even Casey found himself warming up to yourl.

Donnie built a secure monitoring system for your apartment, ensuring no one couldn’t sneak up on you. Mikey brought you snacks and joked about teaching your baby how to skateboard someday. Raph remained gruff but secretly went on extra patrols near your neighborhood, just in case. And Leo, became your rock, always assuring you that you weren’t alone.

When the day finally came for you to give birth, the turtles were there—hidden in the hospital’s shadows but ready to protect you his remaining followers tried anything.

As you held your newborn son in your arms, tears streaming down your face, you whispered, “You’re going to have a better life than he ever wanted for you. I promise.”

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 3

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.3

RING 

RING

CLICK

“Hello, Fiddleford Hadron McGucket speaking-”

“Fiddleford you did your minor in Neuropsychology, didn't you? As in, the psychology branch that specializes in memory?”

"....Why hello to you too, Stanford Pines. How are you? Fine? I’m also doing fine. I’m pleased as punch that you finally learned some social etiquette in the two years since we've spoken to each other.”

“My apologies, Fiddleford. There’s an urgent matter at hand, and it’s out of my depth.”

“Well butter me up and call me a biscuit; you, admitting something is out of your depth? You’ve got my attention. Yes, I minor’d in Neuropsych, whatever would you need that for?”

“I need your help with a memory crisis in Gravity Falls... I can't explain it over the phone, I need to show this to you.”

“You're killing me Stanford... But I'll be down in a day or two.”

“I’m going to warn you in advance; this is going to be an... odd case I'm going to show you.”

“I may not be in the field of cryptozoology, but I’ve seen some things, Stanford. Whatever it is I'm sure I'll understand.

---

"There's nothing about this that I understand nor condone."

"Hey PhD, who's the white coat? Didn't think you could be friends with such a babe."

*Ford presses the mute button on the cell*

“Mighty forward, that one. Is this another shifter?”

"He isn't a shapeshifter or a clone; this is my twin brother, Stanley."

“You never mentioned-.”

“We had a falling out, but that's not important right now. What is important is that he doesn't remember his past- he doesn't remember me, our family, none of it. It's like his slate has been wiped clean, and all he knows is how to be a grifting malefactor.”

"So you... convinced him to go into a containment cell in your lab?"

“Convince is… certainly a word.”

“What did you do?”

"He needed treatment and evaluation, but he was being difficult; I did what I had to do."

"Stanford, brother or not you are holding this man here against his will. This is illegal and unethical. What if he reports you to the authorities for kidnapping?"

"My brother would sooner chew up and swallow a gold chain before he went to the authorities for anything. Once I find a way to jog his memory, he won't have a reason to report me."

“And you want me to be an accessory to your crimes?”

“Think of it as a project. You can study the psyche of someone with amnesia in real time.”

“Stanford. I majored in engineering.”

“Don’t you want your Neuropsychology minor to become another major? It’s about time you got your double-doctorate.”

“...I will help you.”

“Than-.”

“On the condition that you treat your… brother, as humanely as possible given the circumstances” 

“Fiddleford, what do you take me for? Some kind of monster?”

“You are holding someone captive in your basement.”

To be continued...

[imagine-lcorp]

Having Arachnid Powers and Dating Lena Luthor Would Include...

Request

@sandwichitodemilanesa could you please write what would include dating lena, being a kind of spider woman? probably have gotten your power because of Lena's dad or brother experiments to make a superhuman but now you're trying to be a super friend and save the world . thanks  you so much <3

A/N: Hello y'all, sorry for being MIA, honestly adulthood is kinda sucking my soul, but as I've said before I'm still around. This time doing this little piece that was such fun honestly, also I love sandiwichitos de milanesa so I just couldn't ignore it. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy it! <3

Lena Luthor x Superhero Fem!R/Arachnid Powers/Word Count: 1,388

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

Your story starting the first time Lena ever saw you, you were on the news, stopping a bank robbery.

You were using nothing but a black hoodie, grey pants, a ski mask, and a pair of worn out shoes, and had disappeared before Supergirl could arrive.

The cameras spotted you swinging your way out through the building of National City, using what at first she imagined were hook-shots.

Like the rest of the city, she started seeing you more often on the news with growing curiosity as you helped all citizens.

The news outlets trying to come up with names for you; "The Human Spider", "The Web Slinger", "The Wall Crawler", "Arachnid Woman".

Your first close encounter with Lena was during a supervillian attack on L-Corp. The top floors were crumbling while Supergirl was fighting and you appeared, saving all the people from the falling debris, including her.

You carried her in your arms as you used your webs to pull you down to the ground, keeping her safe but leaving before she could say anything.

She and the whole DEO searching for you after that, wanting to know who you were and where you came from.

Lena investigating you but coming to dead ends, trying to understand you and your powers from what she sees in the news and DEO reports.

Losing hope after many months only for you to swing to her office balcony one night as she looked down the city.

"I believe you and your friends have been looking for me."

"Mostly me, but yes."

"What for?"

"I wanted to thank you, for saving my life."

Distrusting Lena initially due to personal reasons and avoiding further contact but slowly getting used to her as you came to her aid several more times.

"We should stop meeting in life threatening situations, Miss Luthor."

"We certainly should, and I still don't know your name."

"I guess you can call me (Y/N), for now."

Warming up to her and even visiting her a few times at her office. Always reaching her floor by crawling on the side of her building or swinging with your webs to avoid being spotted.

You always work this late, Miss Luthor?

I could ask the same.

You know what they say, crime never sleeps.

Lena noticing more and more of how your powers work, even making you a suit to help you out, leaving it on her balcony with a little note after leaving early from work one day.

Smiling at the gesture and the news making noise about your new look the next day, giving you new superhero names and such.

Going to her office more often and starting to enjoy your small conversations with her and the balcony kind of becoming your meeting place.

Finally building enough trust to tell her who you were and explain how you got your powers.

Telling her you had been very sick, almost too far gone a few years back, when her brother offered you some sort of experimental treatment for your illness. You accepted and Lex brought you to Luthorcorp.

Little did you know, her brother had been running illegal and dangerous human experiments in there.

You had woken up in a cryosleep chamber years later in a secret facility, as you had been the only survivor of his experiments and the only one who seemed to assimilate your new given powers correctly.

"I had nothing and nowhere to go but I didn't want to use my powers to take advantage of people."

Lena offering you a place to stay and helping you go back on track with your life.

Supergirl and Alex also offering you a place in the DEO but refusing as places like that bring you bad memories but offering your help back in case they need it.

Having a bit of trouble adapting your new life with the superhero gig going on but Lena helping you as best as she can with everything you need.

"What if I say I need a million dollars?"

Lena discovering your funny dorky side.

Your relationship with Lena growing over time as she helps you settle as the newest heroine of National City.

Lena helping you design your supersuit and inventing new devices for you.

"I think I need to come up with a superhero name. People are starting to call me 'The Tarantula' and 'Black Widow'."

"Mmh, maybe you would like something more classic?"

"Like what?"

"How about… 'Arachne'?"

Her choosing your new name and going along with it.

Visiting her regularly when the city seems calmer and conversing for hours in her balcony.

Developing a soft spot for her and finally inviting her to move with you through the city.

"You know I have a driver and a car, right?"

"Swinging is faster, you can avoid a lot of traffic."

Lena actually enjoying the rides with you, although only the short ones.

Lena introducing you to the Superfriends.

"So, spider powers, uh? What's that exactly? Extra eyes? Extra legs? Can you stick to any surface?"

"No extra limbs as far as I'm aware…and I suppose I can stick to anything, uh, so far?"

"Cool. And the web, does it come from-?"

"Alex, stop."

"I'm just asking. What? As if you aren't curious too."

Lena helping you train and taking the chance to analyze and help you with your own powers.

She realizing she worries about you the more you get involved in fights to protect National City, particularly when Kara isn't in town.

She being the one to patch you up at your place when you don't want to stay at the DEO.

"You should see the other guy. The other guy, in this instance, being a killer croc."

Lena visiting your place and spending more time with you outside her office and the DEO.

Putting more attention to her and her safety when a fight or battle breaks lose.

Realizing after many of those you like her more than you think and going to her balcony one night to confess your feelings.

Lena admitting the same and being happy about it as you ask her to go on a date with you.

Spending your first date with Lena watching the sunset from the highest place of the city after a rooftop picnic.

Lena making sure to leave L-Corp early to spend more time with you.

Helping each other when there are criminals on the loose and being very protective of Lena if there's any after her.

Upside down kisses.

Taking her to dates by swinging around the city and her offering her limousine from time to time as a way to spoil you.

Making it official and the Superfriends being really supportive and happy for you.

Being awkward and nerdy around each other.

Very interesting moments in bed.

Grabbing food or coffee for her any chance you can so you can visit her at her office.

Dates on her office balcony also becoming a regular thing.

Sticking upside down out of her window and knocking at it at the end of her office hours to take her home.

Enjoying swinging around the city just to keep her clinging to you.

"You better hold on tight, spider-monkey."

"Is that a Twilight reference? I shouldn't have let Kara convince us to watch those."

Lots of game nights with the Superfriends and always teaming up with Lena.

Lena being your unofficial handler and she always being on your side whatever happens on your fights and missions.

You always supporting Lena and her ideas, but knowing when to call her out when things feel out of hand.

She doing the same with you, particularly when you feel responsible for everyone.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), sometimes the hardest thing about this is you can't always save everybody."

Hugs so tight and long they feel like home.

Leaving Lena huge messages around different spaces of the city written with your web. Mostly hearts with her initial in the middle.

Being really close and intimate on your alone moments.

Always coming to aid the Superfriends when they need you or teaming up with Alex and the DEO.

Lena spoiling you with new gadgets and even making you a new suit with nano-tech.

"Like Kara's, but way cooler."

"Oh yes, but don't let her hear you say that."

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 31

Part 31: Girl on Fire

Series Masterlist

Words: 6.7k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language, dismemberment, and physical violence. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bucky’s phone rang, it didn’t surprise him. When he saw Kat’s number… They didn’t have plans tonight. Why the hell was she calling?

“Hello,” Bucky said, pausing the cage match he’d been watching.

“Bucky?” Kat sniffled, tears in her voice.

“Yes?”

“I’m at the hospital,” she said, clearing trying not to sob.

“Have you been hurt?” he asked, pulling the lever to sit up in his recliner. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s my sister, Paulina.”

Ah. “What happened?”

“She’s unconscious,” Kat managed. “I don’t know what happened. But neither of us have insurance…”

Neither of them was legal residents of the US either. Bucky sighed.

“I’ll send someone down there,” he told her, ready to get back to his fight. Before his hand reached the lever on his chair, she started sobbing in earnest.

“Please,” Kat begged him. “Will you come down here?”

Kat wasn’t usually so needy. Usually, she stuck to their agreement. Something had her shaken up.

“Give me a few minutes,” he said before hanging up. Shaking his head, he shot a text to his men telling them he needed the car ASAP.

Erik Killmonger was there in less than five minutes. He’d been a soldier for the Barnes family for the last five years. The entire time, he’d handled the tasks that he was given. He never failed, followed orders to a fault, and was always quiet and respectful, Bucky’s three favorite qualities in a soldier.

Erik’s ambition had been obvious from the beginning. It was in the confident way he walked, the efficient way he took care of business. It was there when he asked Bucky if he could serve him personally. Since then, he had Erik reporting directly to Hansen, and he showed the same respect to him.

The two men were comparable in their abilities, evenly matched when it came to killing a man. But where Hansen liked to put on a show and preen around, psychologically breaking down his prey, Erik was silently lethal. Bucky had to wonder if half of the men he’d sent him to kill even saw him coming.

Now that Hansen was wherever the fuck Hansen was, Bucky didn’t believe for a fucking minute the bastard was dead, Erik was his top lieutenant. Maybe he should have been all along.

He’d put the man in charge of finding Hansen. Erik knew him better than he did. Bucky’s only request was that Hansen be brought in alive. Bucky wanted to kill the fucker himself. The betrayal signed his death warrant. The fact that Hansen thought he was going to just make off with the woman Bucky coveted, the bright jewel in the crown he'd soon wear... Bucky was just sorry he could only kill him once.

“Where we off to?” Erik asked, ready to go.

“The hospital,” Bucky said, following him out to the garage. “Kat’s sister is there. I don’t know what happened yet.”

Erik held the door open for Bucky to climb in the back of the huge SUV. Walking around, Erik took a seat in the front next to the driver.

Bucky caught Zemo’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to the hospital. St. Agnes," he told him.

When they reached the hospital, pulling up to the door at the ER, Zemo again met his gaze in the mirror. “Should you be going in there, boss?” he asked respectfully.

“He can go wherever he wants,” Erik said, opening his door. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

Damn right. Very soon, Bucky would be the goddamn king of Boston.

He waited while Erik inquired about Paulina, speaking to the older woman at the emergency room desk. His man led him past the desk, swiftly through a maze of corridors until they found Paulina’s room. Kat looked grateful when they arrived, her dark eyes still shiny with tears when she opened the door.

Paulina lay in the hospital bed, curled in on her side. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head and her face was streaked with makeup and tears.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, moving to stand at the foot of the hospital bed. Erik closed the door, staying close to it.

“We went shopping,” Kat explained in her tear-filled voice. “Our car dropped her off first at her apartment building. And then… I w-went home.”

“So she was attacked in her apartment?” Bucky asked.

“I didn’t see it happen,” Kat went on. “But she didn’t make it into her apartment. Someone found her in the hallway… One of her neighbors called an a-ambulance.”

Great. More people in his business.

“My number was the emergency contact on her phone,” Kat went on. “They called me.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Kat,” Bucky said, his patience slipping. “But you didn’t need me to come down here to pay the bill.”

“What if this wasn’t random?” Kat asked.

“What else would it be?” he countered.

“Steve,” she said. “I think Steve is behind this.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why would you think Steve had anything to do with this?”’

“Why?” Kat threw her hands up. “Isn’t it obvious? With everything you’ve done to him? With you taking me away from him? He’s hitting back.”

That had Bucky chuckling. Yeah, he’d put Rogers through some things. And it wouldn’t be long until he finished Rogers, put him and his fucking family down and took the lead that should have been his when the old boss died.

“Yeah, he’ll try.” Bucky stared her down. “But what does that have to do with you and your sister? I didn’t take you away from him. You were all over me when he threw you off to get married if I remember correctly.”

Kat looked affronted. “You took me away from him. Paulina? She was seeing his consigliere.”

“Still not seeing a connection,” Bucky told her, ready to end the conversation.

Ready to end things with her period. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t need Kat.

“Banner betrayed him,” she said. “Maybe that’s why they went after Paulina.”

It was plausible. But why hit his family there? As Kat pointed out, Paulina had been Banner’s side piece. Banner was out of the Rogers’ family and no longer any use to the Barnes family. Honestly, Banner was lucky Rogers let him live. But messing with Banner’s mistress after the fact? It didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t Rogers’ style.

That reminded him. Banner had been laying low on Stark’s turf after Rogers ousted him. Then he’d disappeared. Bucky made a mental note to follow up on that.

“Did anyone see who did it?” Erik asked. “Did the neighbor see anything?”

“No,” Kat told them. “They just found her. Beaten… Don’t you understand? She wasn’t robbed or violated or anything else. Just beaten. To hurt her was the point. What else could it be? Am I next?”

Bucky moved closer to Kat, taking her chin in his fingers. She trembled in his grasp, and he knew she was scared. He wanted her to be.

“Pain and death are always the point,” Bucky whispered, gazing into her eyes. “But Steve’s not after you, Katerina. He’s not after you sister.”

Releasing her, he watched indignation and hurt bleed into her expression.

“When Rogers strikes at me,” he explained, “he’ll make it hurt. He’ll make it personal.”

“This is personal,” her voice was rising. “This does hurt.”

“You and your sister maybe,” Bucky told her. “It’s not personal for me. It doesn’t hurt. I’d have to care about you and your sister for this to hurt me and I don’t.”

Tears slid from her eyes now. “You’re wrong.”

Bucky moved closer to the woman on the bed. Her makeup was a mess but on closer inspection, there were no cuts on her face. There could be bruises under the makeup, he supposed. Pulling back a tangled section of her hair revealed her throat. No bruises there or any injuries at all.

Kat said she was beaten. Were they fucking with him?

Grabbing the edge of the blanket covering the woman, he pulled it back to reveal her unconscious form covered by a thin hospital gown with shorter sleeves. He half-expected her arms and the rest of her to be unmarked as well. He was all ready to flip shit on Kat and her sister for wasting his time.

Paulina’s arm? That was a different story. The bruises were red and angry, lacing up from her forearm like macabre artwork. The gown opened at the back, and she lay on her side facing him. Throwing the blanket back, he leaned over to look at the woman’s back. A wild patch of pink and red marks covered most of it. The one contusion right where her kidney was? That had him wincing.

Tomorrow, her skin would be purple, black, and blue and she’d be feeling it. Shaking his head, he pulled the blanket away from the rest of her. More evidence of the beating she’d taken over thighs and upper shins. Nothing close to the ankle���

Kat, still lost in her indignation, glared at him as she grabbed the blanket to cover her sister up again.

“Still think this is random?” she asked, still swiping away tears.

Bucky shrugged as he headed for the door. “I’ll handle the billing,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out.

The entire situation should have left his mind never to return the minute he was back in his car and headed home. Bucky just couldn’t get his mind off it. It was just so off. Why was it done? What did it mean?

Was it a message for him?

***

After finishing his run, Bucky headed for his study to check messages before getting a shower.

“Bucky?”

He jumped at how off-guard she’d caught him. There Kat stood in the door of his study, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her big dark eyes were on him, a shiny red shopping bag dangling from her manicured fingers.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked irritably. He didn’t like her coming by his house uninvited. She knew that.

“I’m sorry.” She looked it.

As he stood watching her, a sweaty mess behind his desk, she meekly approached him. Stopping on the other side of his desk, she carefully placed the bag on the top of his desk between them.

“It’s for you,” she said forlornly. “Thank you for helping Paulina.”

Blowing out an exhale, he looked at the bag. “She out of the hospital yet?”

Kat nodded. “She’s home. Resting. I’m staying with her since we don’t know who did this… or why.”

Bucky hated wasting the manpower but in the off-chance Kat was right… “I’ll send someone to keep an eye on her place for the next couple of days, okay?”

“And mine?” she asked, flashing him a smile.

“You said you were staying with her,” he pointed out. “You stay with her, someone’s looking after you too.”

The smile faded and he couldn’t even feel badly about it. Kat was one of many. He’d had women who were more beautiful, better in bed. She wasn’t unique. She wouldn’t even be memorable.

And she’d served her purpose a long time ago. He took up with her to piss off Steve, to hurt his wife. While Rogers had been pissed and insulted that Bucky brought his former mistress to his wedding, he hadn’t succeeded in his second objective. The new Mrs. Rogers hadn’t been hurt.

No, the daughter of the old boss and the new bride of his enemy had turned out to be a lioness.

Think of that. The girl had been hidden away like Quasimodo in his bell tower, mutilated and not fit for society. That was what he’d always been told about the old boss’s surviving child. His bitch wife, who’d ripped Bucky’s family apart by having an affair with his father, died trying to get out and killed the man’s son. The daughter was never supposed to be anything for Bucky Barnes to be concerned with.

Even so, Bucky hated her. He’d been glad she was disfigured, glad she’d never be out in the world. He’d even toyed around with the idea of paying her a visit once her father died. Taking care of the disfigured little lamb once and for all.

Rogers had executed his plan well. That he was kissing ass to claim the crown, Bucky got that. He had no idea, however, that Rogers planned to marry the boss's daughter who was supposed to be horribly disfigured. Within a week of her father dying, Bucky gets word that she’s engaged to Rogers and the wedding Is being rushed.

When he went to confront Rogers about it, he was surprised to find her alone and barely dressed in the kitchen. She was uncovered enough for him to see there wasn’t likely a scar or blemish on her. She was amazingly beautiful wearing her whore mother’s face with innocent eyes. That first impression of her had him both hard as a rock and ready to commit murder, right there in Rogers’ kitchen.

Rogers knew what he was doing. He didn’t care who she was, that her mother destroyed the Barnes family. Rogers didn’t care about anything but the throne and it was then Bucky decided he’d do whatever it took to take Rogers’ crown, to take him and his bitch wife out.

But he couldn't get her out of his head. Not once he saw her.

Bucky had assumed for most of his life that Mrs. Rogers was his half-sister. The daughter of his father. After meeting her, he looked into it, knowing her father would have had a paternity test done under the circumstances. With a little patience and a lot of money, Bucky had an answer.

Mrs. Rogers was not related to him by blood. The old boss was her father after all.

By the time he figured this out, Bucky had found his attitude toward Mrs. Rogers shifting. Yeah, he could kill her when he destroyed her husband. No one would be surprised or even blame him.

But he’d never met a woman like her. There was a fire, an iron will, buried beneath the persona. Mrs. Rogers was stunning, beautiful. But according to Loguidice, Rogers’ bride wasn’t just a pretty face. There was a beast in her heart. The lioness could handle her husband, win his men’s loyalty, and even fucking shoot Lloyd Hansen which had been hilarious when his lieutenant had to explain it to him.

And she would be Bucky’s at the end of this. It was going to happen.

Glancing at his current mistress, he knew it was past time to end things. But he’d wait until Paulina had mended. Make sure nothing else was heard about that little incident. Then he’d drop the hammer.

“Do you really care so little about me?” Kat asked him, pulling him from his thoughts.

It wasn’t a bad acting job. Bucky smiled.

“Do we really care about each other?” he wanted to know. “Relationships aren’t based solely on love. That’s the movies. Relationships are based on mutual need. You need someone to give you money to maintain your lifestyle and I need sex and occasionally some arm candy. Don’t make this something more than it really is.”

Hooking a finger in the bag, he peeked into it to see a wad of tissue paper.

Kat watched him expectantly.

Grabbing the bag, he pulled out whatever she had wrapped in that tissue paper. It felt odd in his hand, more than one thing. The first thing he encountered was a small jewel box. Setting the rest down, he opened that to see a set of ruby cufflinks winking up at him from the black velvet.

He had to give her credit. She knew his tastes.

“These are nice,” he told her with a grin. “Thank you… What else do we have here?”

Kat’s brow creased as she watched him pick up the wad of tissue still in front of him.

“There was nothing else,” she said, looking confused.

But there was something else. Peeling away the tissue paper, Bucky stared at the fucking fingers – five human fingers – he held in his hands. In disgust, he dropped them onto the desk as Kat covered her mouth with her hand, backing away in horror.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, staring at those digits.

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t… I feel sick.”

Kat dashed from his study like the devil was chasing her as Bucky muscled his way past the revulsion to study those digits. The fingers of a white man, toughened from work. There was no blood. No rings. No scars or other identifying marks.

Grabbing the bag, Bucky looked to see if there was something else. There was. A business card for a donut shop on Rogers’ turf. He recognized the name of the shop.

Fuck.

Bucky hadn’t ordered a hit on that shop or the girl. No, that was all Hansen who took the girl that worked there. Bucky hadn’t known a thing about it until after Rogers’ faceoff against Hansen who had since disappeared.

Bucky studied the fingers again. Were they Hansen’s? He didn’t think so. Hansen had big hands, he didn’t remember the fingers being slender.

Well, they’d find out.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he shot a text to Erik to come right away.

Now he wondered if the attack on Paulina was related. Was it tied to this? Was there more to come?

It would make sense if it was Rogers. But Rogers wasn’t usually so theatrical. He’d hit hard, head on. Anyone who was at odds with him always saw him coming. In his defense, he always hit really fucking hard.

This? It was puzzling. And not Rogers’ style at all.

What game was he unwittingly playing? And with whom?

***

The tap at the door pulled Bucky away from trying to catch up on his investment portfolio, sheets scattered all over his normally immaculate desk. His mind wasn’t on it. He’d been pretending to look at the numbers for damn near an hour.

Erik looked as tired as Bucky felt. He was hoping his lieutenant had some news for him. The episode earlier with Kat and the dead man’s fingers still had him rattled.

“Found out who those fingers belonged to,” Erik got right into it. “Belonged to one of Hansen’s men. One of our guys found the rest of him in a dumpster on your turf. The prints matched.”

Bucky nodded. Hansen likely had the guy pick up the donut shop girl for him. And the ax fell on him because they didn’t get Hansen. Bucky nodded. It was something he’d do.

The donut shop girl. What did she know, if anything, about everything going on? Maybe he should chat with her.

“Hansen’s still alive,” Buck said flatly.

Erik nodded. “There’s no proof he’s not.”

“Anything else?”

His man’s dark-eyed gaze met his. “I sent men looking for Banner, but it looks like he skipped town.”

A wise move on the man’s part.

“You don’t think he targeted Paulina, do you?” Erik asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Not with that temper of his. If Banner decided to do that, she would know it was him. He’d make sure she knew it was him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Bucky leaned back in his office chair, tried to relax. To think. “Any word on Rogers?”

“You knew Hansen and Frankenstein grabbed Dyson to draw Rogers out,” Erik said.

“Frankenstein?” Bucky asked.

“Neal Logiudice,” Erik explained. “Pop some bolts on his neck and he looks like Frankenstein.”

Bucky snorted. He could see that.

“Then he was supposed to off Dyson and Logiudice,” Erik continued. “Grab Rogers if he could. Hansen changed the plan. He drew Mrs. Rogers out instead of her husband.”

Bucky was still furious about what happened. Dyson would never betray Rogers and Logiudice was collateral damage. The move was meant to break Rogers down. Dyson’s loss on top of Logiudice’s betrayal would demoralize him. Bucky thought it might just finally finish his rival off.

Instead, Mrs. Rogers showed up, playing right into Hansen’s hand. Then her husband showed up and he brought friends. A shootout ensued. Rogers, his wife, and Dyson made it out. So did Hansen and Logiudice, apparently. And Bucky was out several men. Several good men.

“Does anyone know?” Bucky pressed. “Was Rogers shot?”

“Most likely,” Erik told him. “There’s different versions of the story. Some say he got shot. Some say Dyson got shot. Other say Mrs. Rogers was shot to protect Dyson and Rogers got shot trying to shield her.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky blew out an exhale. Needless to say, whoever did or didn’t get shot in Hansen’s grand fuckup was a moot point. Rogers was fine. He’d apparently had enough of Bucky fucking him and now he was firing back at the Barnes’ family.

There was nothing altruistic about their chosen business. You were either a ruthless bastard or dead. Back when they were both younger and coming up under their fathers’ wings, Steve Rogers had been a cocky, dangerous bastard and Bucky always hated all the attention he got. How Rogers always got away with everything.

Bucky always knew that the minute his father was gone, the minute it was just him calling the shots, that Rogers would fail. Then he’d found another mentor in the former leader of the five families but that didn’t last, and he died too. Bucky just knew that without the mentorship of better men, Rogers wouldn’t make it on his own. He was one hell of a soldier, terrifying if he came after you. But a leader?

Still, something was different. So far Rogers had pulled himself out of the trap Bucky set for him with Hansen, sent him the fingers of one of Hansen’s men in Kat’s little gift bag, and maybe had someone beat the shit out of Paulina, Kat’s sister.

While Kat swore to him she had nothing to do with the fingers, Bucky wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He had her taken to her sister’s place and there she would stay under close watch. He didn’t think either woman had anything to do with whatever the fuck was going on. But he’d keep them under glass for now to make sure.

Rogers?

There was an underlying menace to sending Bucky the dead man’s fingers. It wasn’t just the barbarism of the act. It was multifaceted. It was Rogers letting Bucky know that he knew about the donut shop girl and exactly who abducted her. It was knowledge that she’d been taken under Bucky’s command even if it wasn’t his personal decision. It was accusatory and direct.

It left him feeling unsettled. Bucky had been so close to shutting Rogers down, to finally taking everything he wanted.

And now? Well, he sure as fuck couldn’t slow down now. He couldn’t let Rogers even the score.

“My Vinny’s gotten here yet?” Bucky asked. He’d sent out for food from his favorite restaurant. Vinny’s was the best Italian restaurant in all of Boston and the owner's brother was one of Bucky’s best soldiers.

“I’ll go check,” Erik said, heading off to do that.

It was only a few minutes later that Bucky had his takeout, enjoying it in his recliner while he took in an action movie he’d been wanting to watch. His meal didn’t disappoint. The veal was perfect, just what he’d wanted.

After he’d digested a few minutes, he took his dishes to the kitchen, ready for dessert. The tiramisu was in the fridge and Bucky grinned as he pulled it from its foam box to carefully place it on a plate. With a fresh glass of wine, he returned to his recliner and resumed the movie.

Bucky was two bites in when his fork hit something that felt unexpectedly solid in the layered dessert. Frowning, he worked at using his fork to grab the next bite. But something was wrong. Something was in there…

Taking a closer look, he found something solid in there. Plucking it at with his fingers, he found… meat?

He almost lost his meal to realize that something was the tip of a human ear.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said to himself, his heart starting to race in his chest.

Sitting up in the recliner, he kept digging through the dessert to find an earlobe, just as bloodless as the tip.

It was the dark eye staring up at him that from the bottom that had him screaming, fighting nausea as he slung it all away and sent it flying across the room.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” he was shouting as Erik and Zemo both raced into the room to see who was killing their boss.

Covering his mouth with a hand, Bucky fled to the bathroom…

***

“I am so sorry,” Erik said for the hundredth time. “I looked in there, but I should have looked a lot closer.”

Soldiers were crawling his house, crawling the grounds. Zemo was at Vinny’s, no doubt tearing the restaurant apart. And he’d specifically requested that Zemo take Vinny’s brother with him. If there was a rat in his ranks or at the restaurant, heads would roll.

Bucky shook his head, sitting in his recliner with his elbows on his knees. He felt like shit. More body parts sent to him set his nerves on edge.

Was it Rogers? If so, he didn’t like the fact that his enemy was running up the score. That really pissed him off. His mind was spinning with the theories forming in his head.

“We’ll try to figure out who those…” Erik shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Bucky asked, rising from the recliner to glare at Erik. “That’s all I’ve been fucking doing the last three days. You know?”

Erik didn’t drop his gaze, didn’t back down. Bucky admired his quiet accountability.

But it wasn’t exclusively Erik’s fault. It was on all of them. Even him. No one had ever been able to get him directly. People around him, yes. But never him. Taking another drink of his Scotch, his mind spun webs with his instincts. He was starting to form a few ideas on his current situation.

“Boss,” Zemo called, walking into his living room.

Bucky spotted his man, standing a few feet away with a white takeout carton in his hands. He wasn’t going to like whatever was in the box, he knew from the way Zemo shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, trying to be ready for anything.

“We went through Vinny’s, and we found this in Vinny’s office,” Zemo explained carefully. “It’s for you. Vinny swears he didn’t see who left it and he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“You believe him?” It was an honest question.

Zemo nodded.

Bucky motioned him forward, not looking forward to his latest surprise with the dark red stains at its bottom corners. He plucked the card off the top. It simply read, “Hint: It’s not Snow White’s.”

Bucky really shouldn’t have been surprised to find what appeared to be a human heart in that box. He really shouldn’t have. Once he started laughing, it was hard to quit. His laughter was manic, a stress response. Something he hadn’t done in years.

It’s not Snow White’s.

Erik looked concerned. “I’ll get on figuring out who that is,” he offered.

Laughing, Bucky sank back onto his recliner, still laughing as he set the carton on his end table like it didn’t have a human heart in it.

“I think… I might know who this is,” Bucky said when he caught his breath. “It’s not Snow White’s. What did the magic mirror tell the evil queen about the heart the huntsman delivered to her? The mirror said it was the heart of a pig.” Laughter threatened to halt his conversation as pieces of the puzzle started to slide together in his mind. “This is the heart of a pig.”

His men didn’t speak, looked like they had no idea what to say to that.

“This is making a little sense now,” Bucky told them. “Erik, you and Zemo stay. Everyone else, fuck off.”

The soldiers cleaning and checking everything cleared out fast while Erik and Zemo moved closer.

“Who do you think that is?” Erik asked.

“That?” Bucky pointed to the carton. “That’s the heart of a pig. I’ll be really fucking surprised if it’s not Bruce Banner.”

Zemo’s brows shot up. Neither man spoke.

“Kat was right,” Bucky said. “This is Rogers hitting back. But… it isn’t.”

Rising from the chair, Bucky started pacing. Both men watched him in silence.

“Think about each incident,” Bucky told them as he paced. “Paulina was attacked. Then the fingers, eyes and ears, now the heart. All of it’s personal. It’s very, very personal.”

“Personal?” Zemo asked.

That stopped Bucky. “Don’t you see? Paulina was Banner’s side piece. Someone did a number on her.”

“In a way that could be covered up,” Erik muttered.

“Yes!” Bucky pointed to him. “Exactly. Hold that thought… And now, here’s the cheating, deceitful pig’s heart.” He continued pacing. “The tiramisu? I think that must be Logiudice. He was my eyes and ears in the Rogers household.”

Understanding lit up Erik’s face. “What about the fingers? That guy?”

Bucky shook his head. “The guy Hansen sent to kidnap the donut shop girl isn’t the point.”

“What is the point, boss?” Zemo asked.

“Each of these messages were sent on Rogers’ behalf,” Bucky explained. “But I don’t think they are from the man himself. No, this is someone else… All three messages have one thing in common… A woman scorned.”

Erik nodded, listening. He was always quick on the take. Zemo still looked confused.

“Bruce Banner was married to Rogers’ sister, but she didn’t love him,” Bucky told them. “She loved her high school sweetheart, Clint Barton. Banner knew this. That's why he’d beat his wife where it didn’t show. It's why he shot Barton.”

“Then,” Bucky stopped in front of Zemo. “Hansen got away but I was sent the fingers of the man who took the girl from the donut shop by Hansen’s order. Hansen was my right-hand man. A reminder of the wrong done to that woman.”  

“Explain Logiudice,” Erik said.

Bucky smirked at him. “Oh, I can. He betrayed Mrs. Rogers herself right before we grabbed Dyson. Her husband had restricted her to their bedroom he was so pissed..” An idea with merit.

“You think a woman gave these orders?” Zemo looked puzzled.

“Maybe,” Bucky muttered, as something occurred to him. “I need to talk to one of these women first.”

“Who?” Erik asked.

“I need you to find the girl from the donut shop,” Bucky told them. “I need to see if she knows anything we don’t before I make any decisions.”

***

Bucky was both surprised and pleased to see the girl waiting for him. The park this time of day was quiet with only one man walking his dog, and she was sitting on the bench by the giant sandbox, just as he instructed her.

When he walked around, she didn’t look up. Hell, she probably had no idea who he even was. He didn’t mind keeping it that way. There was no reason she needed to know anything else about their world. All she had to do was be nice, be cooperative, and he’d help her find her way out of his world.

Carefully, like he was trying not to frighten a doe, he sat a couple of feet away from her on the bench, setting the bookbag he brought with him between his feet.

She didn’t look up until he called her name and then, her eyes were wide in alarm. The lower half of her face was covered by a medical mask, maybe because of the flu going around. She’d made herself small, slouching on the bench with her hands folded on her knees.

He introduced himself just as Bucky, that was all she needed to know. Her cold hand was trembling when she shook his. He knew she was scared, and he didn’t intend to keep her long.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

She nodded, her gaze on the floor in front of her.

“I want to apologize to you for what happened,” he said without preamble. “The man who… While he was a soldier of mine, taking you wasn’t an order I gave. I know that doesn’t change a lot for you. But you should know that.”

Again, she just nodded.

“And I do want to help you,” Bucky said slowly, leaning a little closer to her. “I’ve brought you a substantial gift. Enough to help you get back on your feet and back to school somewhere else.”

“What do you want?” she asked quietly.

Bucky grinned. It was a smart question.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “There is something I want. I want to ask you a few questions about your time with him. Will you answer?”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the mention and guilt pricked at him. Hansen was a fucking weirdo, and he could only imagine what he might have done to her. It had him wishing he’d framed the question in a different way. But it was out now so…

“Do you know his name?” Bucky asked her.

“Lloyd,” she said. “Sir.”

Oh, he did not want to know about any of Lloyd’s kinks or hangups.

“He didn’t give you any other names?”

“No,” she said.

“Another man brought you to Lloyd’s house,” Bucky said quietly. “Did you see anyone else. Besides him and Lloyd, in your time there?”

The young woman shook her head.

“Tell me about the day you got out,” Bucky said.

She shrugged nervously. “A man broke down the door and helped me out,” she said. “That’s all.”

Bucky frowned. That didn’t sound right. “You didn’t hear a fight elsewhere in the house? The sound of bullets?”

After a moment, she nodded, still staring hard at the ground before them on the bench. “It was the day before. There was shouting and a fight. Guns…”

So no one found her until the next day. Bucky wasn’t happy about that. None of his men swept the house?

“Where did the other man take you once he got you out?” Bucky asked.

The young woman blew out a long sigh. “To a friend’s,” she said slowly.

He nodded. “I don’t need specifics. I just need to know if you ran into anyone else since you were taken. Did you ever leave his house until the guy got you out?”

She shook her head.

He hated to ask. “Did he let anyone else…”

“No,” she said quickly.

���All right,” Bucky said in a kinder tone. “What can you tell me about the guy who got you out?”

She was still for a moment, before shrugging. “Not much. I wasn’t… trying to look at him.”

“Did you see any women?” Bucky asked. “Any other younger women like yourself, about your size?“ Did she see Mrs. Rogers there?

“No,” she said after a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?” Bucky asked, giving her one last chance to tell him something useful before he handed her the bag of money and told her to get lost.

“Ask about other women?” she asked.

“I was just wondering if you'd seen someone I’m interested in,” Bucky said simply.

“Why are you interested in her?” the young woman asked.

“For many reasons,” Bucky told her as he rose from the bench. “For our purposes here, I’m curious about the part she played in the last few days.”

She sighed again but didn’t move as he stood above her.

Hauling the bookbag off the ground, he held it up for her. It was filled with money, a lot of it, hers for the taking.

“Take this and make a fresh start,” he told her. “But this talk didn't take place. You understand?”

Slowly, she stood, her head ducked making her smaller than him. With a hand, she reached to take the bag from him. She froze. Her hand gripped one of the straps, but she’d stopped moving.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I can’t…”

She couldn't take the money?

“I’ve got it,” another female voice came from behind him, with a Russian accent. Before he could turn to see who it was, he felt the blade pierce his clothing, pierce his skin before sliding into his flesh at his side. The fuck?

The pain didn’t subside when the blade was pulled free as he expected. The pain grew in intensity, spreading out from the wound.

Was the blade coated in poison?

The woman in front of him now held the backpack in one hand, pulling the mask from her face with the other. Bucky's pain was breathtaking and had him gasping as he dropped to his knees, gripping his side with his hand and listening to shouts from his men drawing closer.

Bucky stared up in pain and rage at the woman he now recognized as Mrs. Steve Rogers.

“You!” he managed. “You fucking bitch! You’re… You did this?!”

Her eyes were fierce on him. “I did,” she said.

"Evil bitch," he hissed.

"When all of you commit violence, you're protecting your family," she explained angrily. "When I commit violence, I'm an evil bitch."

His gaze darted to the backpack and back.

“And you’re taking the fucking money… too?”

Yelena Belova was there, trying to pull her away.

“I’m giving it to her,” she said as Belova pulled her away. “Just like you wanted.”

Bucky's mind was a mad whirl of thoughts as pain strengthened its grip on him. It was her. Not her husband. Did that mean...?

"Is Steve even alive?" he managed.

She held his gaze. "He is."

"He's not in good shape," Bucky shot back, hating how the pain rendered him unable to wring her neck. "He wouldn't let you... He's bad off if you..."

"We have to go," Belova urged her, grabbing Mrs. Rogers' arm and pulling her behind her in earnest.

“I’m… I'll get you!” Bucky promised, his vision fading to black at the edges. "I'll survive this... and I'll get you!"

"If you survive this," she called back, "Steve will get you."

Then she was gone and his men were there, crowding around him, their shouts fading as he let the darkness claim him.

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[xclowniex]

Hi, I'm just struggling to understand your pov: from what I've gleaned of your blog, and people on social media who stand with Israel and also want safety for Palestinians (@rootsmetals on ig specifically), you guys don't believe any peace is possible with Hamas in power (which I can get behind, Hamas doesn't seem to be acting out of care for Palestinians). Hamas breaks ceasefire deals and refuses to release hostages, I get that. At the same time, Israel is holding so many Palestinians as hostages and in prisons. Israel has the backing of the US, and there are videos of their drone strikes against Palestinian kids playing football. All the terrible stuff. What do you think should be done with that? The atrocities and terrorism Israelis are going through is terrible and upsetting. At the same time, I feel like Israel has the upper hand here, and I worry a two-state solution (or whatever solution) won't treat Palestinians like equals (like, I'm worried anti-palestinian racism will systematized). I don't know what I'm trying to ask. Would asking, "Do you condemn the IDF," be antisemitic? I guess I'm just frustrated that from what yall are saying, the onus is on Hamas to relinquish power and end it all, and I don't see yall devoting the same energy to holding the Israeli military and the Israeli government accountable (maybe you think it goes without saying). Sorry if it's not coherent, it's late, and my brain is fried from reading.

Hello!

Thank you for taking the time to read and try to understand instead of leaping to conclusions, it is much appreciated.

You are right in your understanding of my views.

This post will be long but I do encourage you to read it all as it covers everything with nuance and math. The last bit of this post is the most important of it all too.

To answer your questions surronding the IDF

1. Your question surronding holding those in the IDF accountable:

The Israeli government has done bad things and does deserve to be held accountable. What I personally think is that individuals in the IDF responsible for war crimes need to be arrested and criminally tried in an international court of law.

2. Your statement about Israel holding Palestinian prisoners:

The majority of Palestinians prisoners are those who have committed crimes in Israel or have conspired to commit a crime.

There are Palestinians held who have not done anything to warrant being imprisoned, and obviously any number higher than 1 is bad, and there are far more than just 1.

Realistically because I am not Israeli so don't have any experience directly with Israeli politics on the ground, I cannot say realistically what should happen, however ideally what I would want to happen is for policies and guidelines to be updated, and for the updates to be enforced, ideally with, I'm not sure the right word specifically, but like an overseeing committee to give periodal reports to make sure everything is held to a high standard.

3. Your question of if asking "do you condemn the IDF" is antisemitic

It depends on the context. If you see a random jew or Israeli online and ask them, then yeah it is. This is because you don't really see people messaging Chinese people and asking if they support the CCP. If you see a blog engaging in discussions surrounding the conflict, then it's more of a gray territory. If the blog has said it before, then from the perspective of the blogger, you either didn't care to look through their blog or did and think they're lying, which can be interpreted as antisemitism if they assume your motivation for either of those is antisemitism, however it could very well be that you didn't look hard enough on their blog and didn't have any antisemitism in your intentions, but the blogger could still very well interpret it that way.

Do I myself condemn the idf? With certain actions yes and other actions no. I will not condemn the IDF for defending Israel after Oct 7th. From a logical standpoint, the Israeli government has a responsibility to keep its citizens safe, and a facet of doing so is the IDF doing things. It would be a deservice to Israeli civilians if nothing was done to prevent them being killed. From an emotional standpoint, I have family in Israel. I want them protected and safe. I cannot put into words how much I would mourn for them if they were killed.

Do I agree with every action the IDF has taken before Oct 7th and afterwards? Fuck no. The war has gone on too long. They are trying to get rid of hamas and whilst i do agree with that goal, too many civilian lives have been lost for me to want what they are doing to continue. I can understand logically why they are continuing. They have an obligation to Israel's safety, which includes wiping out Hamas. And obviously those in charge still think going ahead is worth it which I disagree with.

4. Your question of what do I consider it instead of genocide

I consider it at this stage the sad affects of regular war as well as war crimes. Not every action taken by the IDF is a war crime, hence the regular war, but they have committed a number of war crimes, hence that part inclined in my answer.

Whilst we will truly never know the full death toll until the war has ended and a secondary impartial group, so neither Israel nor hamas, have tallied the death toll, we will never know. Hamas includes combatant deaths in their death toll.

Because we do not have 100% accurate numbers to work with, i do not know which to go off of. To break down the various different numbers

Netanyahu says it is a 1:1 civilian to combatant death ratio, so for every combatant killed, one civilian has died which if true, is genuinely impressive in any war, and therefore doesn't doesn't constitute genocide. Like if this is true, militaries around the world need to be taking notes from Israel, that's how impressive it is.

To go with the top numbers from both sides from biased sources on both sides, al Jazeera says that as of 4:30pm gaza time Oct 25th, 42,847 Palestinians total have died. The most recent release from Israel of hamas fighters dead is 18,000.

Based on that, minuses Israel's numbers of hamas fighters killed from total death toll, that leaves us with 24,847 civilians killed.

If we round up to 25,000 civilians so the math is easier, that is a 25:18 civilians death toll roughly. Scaled down to compare with the 1:1 ratio Netanyahu states, that goes to 12.5:9 ratio then to a 6.25:4.5, then a 3.125:2.25 ratio. Further scaling down goes to (following the rules of rounding as it has too many decimals to work with)

1.56:1.125

To further round for nice measures, still following the rules of rounding

1.5:1.2

So slightly more civilians killed than hamas fighters per hamas fighter killed.

To put the numbers prior to ratios as a percentage,

Netanyahu says 50% of those killed are civilians

The biased numbers from both sides says a 57.99%, but we will round it to 58% of those killed are civilians.

According to a UN press release which i will link at the end, taking data from multiple wars, the average death percentage and ratio is 9:1 or 90%. That is 90% of deaths being civilians or 9 civilians killed for every one combatant.

According to the math, Israel's actions are still well under the average death ratio in a war.

Now, genocide does have more factors than just numbers. Intent has to be factored in.

Whilst there have been some israeli officials who have voiced their own personal opinions which are disgusting and say that they personally wish to kill all Palestinians, this has not been reflected in any official decisions released to the public.

If I say an opinion, it does not mean the company I work for also thinks that. To bring it close to home for me, a politician of the Act party, which make up 1/3 of the coalition government here in NZ, want to bring in a bill to overhaul our founding document which will harm Māori, our indigenous people. The two other parties in government have said they do not support it. Ergo, just because David smellmore and his punchable face want it, does not mean the NZ government shares his intent. To bring it back to Israel, just because some people, most who have no power in regards to the actions taken by the IDF made some disgusting social media posts, does not mean that intent is in the IDFs actions.

With all of that said, that is why I do not currently believe it is a genocide.

If evidence comes out in the future where it shows genocidal intent or the hamas fighter deaths being far far far lesser to the point where the ratio is more than 9:1, then I will 100% change my tune and call it a genocide.

The data currently does not show that it is one.

That being said, it not being a genocide doesn't mean that its not terrible or doesn't deserve attention, as it does, it very much does. I just believe in accurately labeling things. Something can be bad and not be the worst thing ever and also deserve attention and activism.

5: what should happen to the houses?

Realistically speaking, it is too complicated to force Israelis from homes one occupied by Palestinians. Some homes were taken by force, some were sold to Israelis (and jews prior to Israel's existence in the modern day). Records will have been lost and I think it's unfair, but not equally unfair, for an Israeli family to be kicked out of a house rightfully purchased as well as for an Israeli family to remain in a home wrongly occupied.

I think that the Israeli government should commit to helping to rebuild Gaza in general, and also to build new houses to house everyone. If it can be proved that a house was wrongfully taken from a Palestinian, they should get the option of their old house or a new house in a different location, and if they chose the old house, the Israeli family should get moved to a new house. Otherwise an issue of homelessness could occur.

Whilst it might not seem entirely focused on justice, as well it isn't, it is focused on the least harm for everyone. Because harm cauaea resentment and I want peace. Sometimes, things can't be idealistic.

6. Onto your last question about why zionists don't often talk about the Israeli government's wrongdoings

That is because there is not a safe space for us to do so. Literally.

I have tried before and I just got asks from antizionists saying that I actually didn't care and was lying to seem more "reasonable" or like a good person. I also got people assuming I was then an antizionist and got a few people who were quite surprised that I still want israel to exist who sent me nasty hate anons too.

If more people allowed for jews and Israelis to talk about the wrong doings of the Israeli government safely, more of us would do so.

But, we often opt out of doing so in public and instead only do so in more private spaces. I have spoken many times about things I dislike that the IDF and Israeli government have done off of tumblr and in a more private space, and I know so many other jews and Israelis who also have done the same.

It is much easier for me to cope mentally with antisemitism as I just brush 99% of it off as some fuckward online who has no real affect on my offline life than it is to cope with people sending mean comments to me because they don't believe I actually believe what I say I do or have these false preconceptions of my views because of a handful of posts.

I do want to again say that it is so refreshing and nice to have someone genuinely ask instead of sending hate. Because you genuinely asked, I gave you my thoughts on the wrong doings of the Israeli government. If you had instead sent hate, I would have given you a half arsed replied instead.

Source for the UN thing

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part Eleven of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock. Word Count: 3,996 Tags/Warnings: murder, murder/death/kill, police work, lots and lots of angst A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I couldn't resist--I gotta have me some Beau while writing Dean! This is a brand new story of Beau and female reader! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Eleven: Stress

It had been weeks since FBI Agent Rachel O’Hare arrived in Big Sky, and the body count had only grown. Each new murder added more weight to the already suffocating atmosphere of the town. Fear was palpable, spreading like wildfire as the community grappled with the reality of a killer living among them.

For Beau, the pressure was relentless. His days and nights blurred into one long stretch of work—crime scenes, interrogations, strategy meetings with Rachel and his team. He barely came home, and when he did, it was only to shower, change, and exchange a quick hello with Y/N and Eliza. He hated it. Every time he walked out the door, he felt like he was leaving pieces of himself behind.

Today, the stress was at a boiling point. The mayor had called a meeting with Beau earlier that morning, and it had been anything but pleasant.

“You need to reassure the public, Sheriff,” Mayor Tomlin had said, pacing the conference room with his hands clasped behind his back. “People are scared. They’re looking to you for answers.”

Beau stood with his arms crossed, his expression grim. “And what exactly do you want me to tell them? That we have no suspects? That we’re doing everything we can, but this guy’s still out there?”

“Yes,” the mayor snapped, spinning to face him. “Tell them exactly that. But tell them with confidence. Tell them you’re going to catch this killer, because if you don’t, this town is going to implode. Businesses are already losing customers, parents are pulling their kids out of school—hell, some families are talking about leaving altogether.”

Beau’s jaw tightened, and he glanced at Rachel, who sat silently at the table, her brown eyes steady. She gave him a slight nod, a wordless encouragement that did little to ease the frustration roiling in his chest.

“Fine,” Beau said curtly. “I’ll give your damn speech.”

Later that afternoon, Beau stood on the steps of the sheriff’s department, facing a crowd of reporters and residents. The air was tense, thick with the kind of unease that came from too many unanswered questions. Cameras flashed, microphones were pointed in his direction, and all eyes were on him.

He adjusted his hat, his green eyes scanning the crowd. He spotted familiar faces—business owners, parents holding their children close, elderly neighbors who’d lived in Big Sky their entire lives. These were his people, his community. He’d never felt the weight of his role as sheriff more acutely than he did now.

Beau stepped up to the microphone, clearing his throat. His voice, when he spoke, was steady but tinged with weariness. “Good afternoon,” he began. “I know you’re scared. I know you’re angry. And you have every right ta be. No one should have to live in fear in their own home.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. The crowd was silent, their attention fixed on him.

“These murders have shaken all of us,” Beau continued. “And I want you to know that my team, along with the FBI, is working tirelessly to find the person responsible. We’re followin’ every lead, turnin’ over every stone. I promise you, we won’t stop until this killer is caught.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd—some voices of approval, others of skepticism. Beau clenched his jaw, his hand gripping the edges of the podium.

“I also want to ask for your help,” he said, his voice firm. “If you see somethin’, say somethin’. Even the smallest detail could make a difference. Be vigilant. Look out for each other. We’re a community, and together, we’re stronger than any fear this killer is trying to spread.”

Beau’s green eyes scanned the crowd again, his gaze softer now. “I know this is hard. But we will get through it. And when we do, it’ll be because we stood together.”

He stepped back from the microphone, the applause scattered but genuine. The crowd began to disperse, conversations bubbling up as people debated his words. Beau turned to head back inside, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the day.

Rachel was waiting just inside the door, her arms crossed and her expression thoughtful. “You did good, Sheriff,” she said quietly.

Beau gave her a curt nod, his jaw still tight. “Let’s hope it makes a difference.”

“It will,” Rachel said, her tone confident. “People just need to feel like they’re part of the solution. You gave them that.”

Beau didn’t reply, his mind already spinning with the dozens of tasks still ahead of him. But as he walked past her, her words lingered, and for the first time in days, he felt a small flicker of hope.

The days stretched into weeks, and the murders continued to haunt the town of Big Sky. Beau threw himself deeper into the investigation, hardly stopping to eat or sleep. His office had become a second home, his once-warm moments with Y/N and Eliza reduced to fleeting hellos and tired goodbyes. And then, there was Rachel.

She had a way of making herself indispensable. Her insights were sharp, her dedication tireless, and her presence steady. She worked long hours alongside Beau, poring over files, chasing leads, and mapping patterns that seemed to shift and twist like smoke. And somewhere along the way, the professional barrier between them began to blur.

It wasn’t anything overt—at least, not at first. There were the lingering moments when their hands brushed as they passed papers back and forth. The way Rachel would lean in close to point something out on the murder board, her shoulder brushing his arm. The way her brown eyes would meet his across the room during a tense meeting, her expression softening for just a second. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but noticeable to the sharp eyes of Deputy Jenny Hoyt.

Jenny stood in the break room, her arms crossed tightly as she stared through the window into the conference room. Beau and Rachel were seated close together, their heads bent over a map sprawled across the table. Rachel’s auburn hair glinted under the harsh overhead light as she leaned in to say something, her hand briefly brushing Beau’s arm. He didn’t pull away, his green eyes fixed on her with an intensity Jenny didn’t like.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through that window, Jenny,” came Doris’s voice as she stepped into the room, a cup of coffee in hand. She followed Jenny’s line of sight and raised an eyebrow. “Ah. The Sheriff and the FBI lady.”

Jenny didn’t take her eyes off them. “You see it too.”

Doris sipped her coffee, studying the pair through the glass. Rachel was gesturing toward a point on the map, her body angled toward Beau in a way that felt more intimate than professional. Beau nodded, his posture relaxed—too relaxed. Doris frowned.

“Yeah, I see it,” Doris said finally. “There’s something there.”

Jenny turned to her, her expression taut with frustration. “It’s inappropriate, Doris. He’s got Y/N at home, pregnant with his kid. He’s got Eliza. And he’s spending more time in there with Rachel than he does with them.”

Doris sighed, setting her coffee on the counter. “I’m not gonna argue with you. It’s not a good look. But what do you expect us to do about it?”

Jenny’s hands tightened into fists at her sides. “I don’t know. Maybe remind him who he is. Who he has waiting for him at home.”

“And how do you think that’ll go?” Doris asked, her tone practical but not unkind. “You walk in there, tell him he’s too close to Rachel, and what happens? He shuts down, tells you it’s none of your business, and now you’re on his bad side. Meanwhile, the case stays unsolved, and this whole town keeps falling apart.”

Jenny’s jaw tightened, and she looked back at the conference room. Rachel was laughing softly at something Beau had said, her hand resting on the edge of the table, close enough to his to suggest familiarity. It made Jenny’s stomach twist.

“It’s not just about the case,” Jenny muttered. “It’s about him. He’s not like this, Doris. Not usually.”

Doris nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Stress does strange things to people, Jenny. And this case? It’s eating him alive. Rachel’s here, working right beside him, helping him put the pieces together. It’s easy to see how he might start leaning on her.”

Jenny’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “But Y/N…”

Doris sighed again, her gaze softening. “I know. It’s not fair to her. She’s at home, holding it all together, waiting for him to come back. But, Jenny, it’s not our place to interfere. The best we can do is hope Beau remembers who he is—and what he’s got.”

Jenny swallowed hard, her throat tight. “And if he doesn’t?”

Doris picked up her coffee, her expression grim. “Then it’ll be his mistake to live with. And believe me, he will.”

The two women stood in silence for a moment, watching as Rachel leaned in closer to Beau, her voice low and steady as she pointed to another spot on the map. Beau nodded, his focus entirely on her. The scene felt too intimate, too familiar, and Jenny couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in her chest.

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t cross that line,” Doris said quietly, breaking the silence.

Jenny nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. Let’s hope.”

As the night wore on, Beau and Rachel remained in the conference room, their focus unwavering. Beau pointed to a section of the map pinned to the wall, his voice low. “This area—he’s stickin’ to it. But why? What’s keepin’ him here?”

Rachel stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his as she followed his gaze. “Could be familiarity. If he’s local, he knows these neighborhoods, knows how to blend in.”

“Or,” Beau said, his voice trailing off as his thoughts churned, “he’s targetin’ something specific we haven’t figured out yet.”

Rachel tilted her head, her auburn hair falling over one shoulder as she turned to him. “We’ll figure it out, Beau. You’re too good at this not to.”

There was something in the way she said his name—soft, almost intimate—that made Beau glance at her. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his green eyes meeting her warm brown ones. The air between them shifted, subtle but charged.

Rachel smiled faintly, stepping back. “I’ll grab the next batch of files,” she said, her tone lighter as she broke the moment.

“Yeah,” Beau said, clearing his throat. “Good idea.”

As Rachel left the room, Beau ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. The exhaustion of the case weighed heavily on him, but it wasn’t the only thing pulling at him now. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Get it together, Arlen.”

The flashing red and blue lights painted the quiet suburban street in harsh, alternating hues. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and the low hum of murmured conversations from officers and forensic techs only added to the oppressive atmosphere. Beau stepped out of his truck, his face set in a grim mask as he surveyed the familiar, horrifying scene ahead of him.

Another murder. Another young woman. The same chilling pattern—killed in her home, no sign of a struggle, no forced entry. Beau didn’t need to step inside to know exactly what he’d find, but he forced himself to anyway. He had to. It was his job.

Jenny was already there, her expression tight as she stood near the doorway. “Victim’s name is Alyssa Baker. Twenty-seven. Neighbor called it in after noticing her door was slightly open. Found her in the living room. Same as the others.”

Beau nodded curtly, stepping past her into the house. The living room was pristine, eerily undisturbed, save for the lifeless body of Alyssa Baker lying on the floor. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful in death, as though she’d simply fallen asleep. But the bruising around her neck told a different story.

“Dammit,” Beau muttered under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides.

Rachel’s voice came from behind him. “It’s the same, Beau. Everything about it matches the others. He’s taunting us.”

Beau turned to her, his green eyes flashing with frustration. “I know that,” he snapped, harsher than he intended. “What I don’t know is why we’re still chasin’ shadows while this bastard keeps addin’ bodies to the count.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond immediately, her calm demeanor only fueling his anger. “We’re doing everything we can—”

“Everythin’ we can?” Beau interrupted, his voice rising. “We’ve got fourteen—no, fifteen now—fifteen women dead, Rachel. Fifteen lives stolen. And you’re telling me we’re doing everythin’ we can? Then why the hell aren’t we closer to catchin’ him?”

The room went silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Officers and techs froze, their eyes flicking toward the sheriff, who rarely—if ever—lost his composure. Jenny stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm. “Beau, take a breath.”

“I don’t need a damn breath, Jenny!” he shot back, his frustration boiling over. “I need answers! I need this son of a bitch off the streets before another woman ends up like her!”

He gestured toward Alyssa’s body, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his anger and guilt. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence deafening as everyone avoided meeting his gaze.

Rachel stepped closer, her voice low but steady. “Beau, I get it. Believe me, I do. But losing your head here isn’t going to help us find him. We need to stay focused.”

Beau turned to her, his jaw tight. “You don’t get it, Rachel. This isn’t just another case to me. These women—they’re my people. This is my town. I’m the one who has to look their families in the eye and tell them we don’t have answers.”

“I understand that,” Rachel said softly. “But we’re all on the same side here. Let me help you carry this, Beau.”

Her words hung in the air, but Beau didn’t respond. Instead, he turned away, running a hand over his face as he tried to rein in his spiraling emotions. He stared at the floor for a moment before exhaling sharply. “Get the scene processed,” he said gruffly. “Every inch of it.”

Jenny watched him closely, her concern etched into her features. “Beau…”

“I’ll be outside,” he muttered, brushing past her and stepping out into the cool night air.

The crime scene was buzzing with activity as officers and forensic techs worked methodically, the flashing lights of patrol cars illuminating the grim tableau. Beau had stepped outside, his chest tight, his hands clenched into fists as he leaned against the hood of his truck. The cool night air did little to ease the storm of emotions swirling inside him—anger, frustration, guilt, and the suffocating pressure of responsibility.

He stared out into the dark, the weight of the day pressing down on him. Another body, another family he’d have to face with no answers. The murderer was still out there, and with every second that passed, he felt the killer slipping further through his grasp.

“Beau,” Rachel’s voice cut through the quiet night, pulling him from his thoughts. She approached cautiously, her auburn hair catching the faint light from the streetlamp. Her tone was calm, steady, but there was a softness to it that made it feel personal. “You all right?”

“No, Rachel,” he muttered, not looking at her. “I’m not all right. There’s a killer out there, and we’re no closer to findin’ him than we were weeks ago. And now there’s another woman dead. Another family I have to face.”

She stopped a few feet away, her hands resting lightly on her hips. “I know this is eating at you,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “And I get it. You care about this town, these people. That’s what makes you a good sheriff. But you can’t let this consume you.”

Beau scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t understand, Rachel. These people—they’re my responsibility. It’s my job to protect them, and I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing,” Rachel said, stepping closer. Her brown eyes were warm, her gaze unwavering. “You’re doing everything you can. More than most people would.”

He finally turned to look at her, his green eyes dark with frustration and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite name. “It’s not enough.”

Rachel held his gaze, her expression softening. “You’re not alone in this, Beau. You’ve got a team, people who want to help you. Let us carry some of this with you.”

For a moment, the tension between them hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. She stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her, close enough to see the way her chest rose and fell with steady breaths. Her voice softened, her tone almost tender. “You’re not in this alone.”

Beau’s jaw tightened, his breath catching as her hand reached out to rest lightly on his arm. It wasn’t an overly intimate gesture, but it sent a jolt through him all the same. The world around them seemed to fade, the noise of the crime scene muffled as their eyes locked.

“Rachel…” he started, his voice low and strained, but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t step back. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her eyes searching his face. The space between them felt charged, a pull that neither of them seemed able—or willing—to resist. For a fleeting moment, Beau felt himself leaning toward her, his resolve weakening under the weight of everything he was carrying.

But just as her breath brushed against his cheek, he froze, reality crashing back in. He straightened abruptly, pulling back and breaking the moment. His jaw set, his green eyes hardening as he took a step away.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice rough. “I can’t.”

Rachel blinked, her hand dropping back to her side as her expression shifted. There was no anger or offense in her gaze—just understanding. She nodded slowly, stepping back to give him space. “I get it,” she said softly.

Beau ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “I need to get back to work,” he said, his tone clipped as he turned toward the house.

“Beau,” Rachel called after him. He stopped, glancing over his shoulder. Her expression was calm, but her voice carried a quiet sincerity. “Whatever you’re feeling—it’s okay. You don’t have to carry it all alone.”

He didn’t respond, simply nodding once before heading back inside, his shoulders squared, his focus resolute. The moment lingered in his mind, a knot of tension that he couldn’t quite untangle. But he pushed it aside, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. There was no room for anything else—not now.

The house felt too quiet, even with Eliza’s occasional giggles as she played with her toys on the living room rug. Y/N sat on the couch, one hand resting on the gentle curve of her six-month pregnant belly, her thoughts heavy. It had been weeks since Beau had spent more than a few fleeting moments at home. She understood the demands of his job, especially now, but the loneliness was becoming harder to ignore.

She glanced over at Eliza, who was stacking her blocks with careful concentration. The toddler’s curls framed her face, and her small hands moved with determination as she carefully balanced one block on top of another. Y/N smiled faintly, but the ache in her chest didn’t lessen.

Finally, she stood, smoothing her hands over her belly as she made a decision. She wasn’t going to sit here and wait for him to come home—not tonight. If he couldn’t come to them, then she and Eliza would go to him.

“Eliza,” Y/N said gently, crouching down to her daughter’s level. “How about we go see Bo-Bo?”

Eliza’s face lit up, her wide eyes sparkling. “Bo-Bo!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Y/N smiled, brushing a curl away from her daughter’s face. “That’s right, sweetheart. Let’s get our coats.”

A short while later, Y/N parked the car outside the sheriff’s department. The building was dimly lit, the occasional shadow moving past the windows as deputies went about their work. She hesitated for a moment, her hand lingering on the steering wheel. Beau hadn’t been home much, and she knew he was under enormous pressure. Was this the right thing to do?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Eliza’s excited voice from the back seat. “Bo-Bo?”

Y/N turned to see her daughter craning her neck to look at the building, her little face pressed against the car window. Y/N smiled, her decision made. “Let’s go see him,” she said softly, unbuckling Eliza from her car seat.

With Eliza on her hip, Y/N walked into the station, the weight of the past weeks easing slightly as the warmth of the building surrounded them. Several deputies glanced up from their desks, their expressions softening as they recognized her.

“Y/N,” Jenny said, standing from her desk. Her gaze flicked to Eliza, who was already waving enthusiastically. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d surprise Beau,” Y/N said, shifting Eliza slightly. “He’s been… busy.”

Jenny’s smile was faint but genuine. “That’s one way to put it. He’s in his office.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, heading toward the familiar door.

Beau was seated at his desk, a stack of files spread out before him, his shoulders tense as he flipped through pages of crime scene photos and reports. His hat sat on the corner of the desk, forgotten, and the faint lines on his forehead betrayed his exhaustion.

“Knock, knock,” Y/N said softly, stepping into the office.

Beau’s head snapped up, his green eyes widening in surprise as he took in the sight of her standing there, Eliza perched on her hip. For a moment, he simply stared, as though trying to make sure they were real.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough with emotion as he stood. “What are you doin’ here?”

Eliza squealed in delight, holding out her arms. “Bo-Bo!”

Beau crossed the room in a few long strides, scooping Eliza from Y/N’s arms with a soft chuckle. “Hey there, wolf-child,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You miss me?”

Eliza nodded emphatically, her little hands patting his face. “Miss Bo-Bo.”

Beau’s chest tightened, and he looked up at Y/N, his green eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and guilt. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he said quietly. “I’ve been…”

“Busy,” Y/N finished gently, stepping closer. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, her eyes soft. “I know, Beau. But we miss you. And I thought maybe you could use a break.”

He sighed, his free hand running through his hair as he shifted Eliza on his hip. “You don’t know how much I needed this,” he admitted, his voice low. “How much I needed to see you.”

Y/N smiled faintly, her hand sliding down to lace with his. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. You’ve got us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “And I’m sorry for bein’ so distant. I just—this case, it’s…”

“I know,” Y/N said again, her voice gentle. “But don’t forget who’s waiting for you when it’s over.”

Beau looked down at Eliza, who was now playing with his badge, her little fingers tracing the edges. He smiled, leaning down to kiss Y/N softly. “I won’t,” he promised. “I swear, I won’t.”

For a moment, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter, the warmth of his family grounding him in a way nothing else could. And as he held Eliza close and pressed another kiss to Y/N’s temple, he allowed himself a small sliver of peace in the chaos.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirk

Want to be a part of this tag list or others? Come check out my master Tag List and sign up! And check out my other stories that are currently being written!

[justcallmesakira]

Bsd men with a childish s/o part 2!

Sypnosis: Bsd men with a very silly and goofy s/o with ranpo, akutagawa and nikolai! Genre: Lowkey fluff, crack

Warnings: poisoning with peanuts, sliding down a metal Rollercoaster railing, implied doxxing a Mexican kid, blasting, teeth 😇

A/N: Okay so my last post got loads of likes so I decided to do a part 2 because why not? I don't think I will do part 3 but you can request if you want..?

Ranpo-

Wow... look two autistic lovers challenging each other who can eat the most sweets without getting cavity!

You one time tried stealing his candies,, so he kept you in those childrens tents filled with colorful balls😧😧😧 yk those silly cages made for children so they think they are meant to have fun?

Nahh fukuzawa gunna call the CPS

If you think he will be all sweet with you.... No shit bro your in for a ride, AND I MEAN A LITTERAL RIDE-

"uhh ranpo I don't think we should use a Rollercoaster as a slide" "shut up you kid! Sliding not a crime xD"

Two grown up adults found sliding down a roller coasters rail

BRO let the news reporter have a break 😭

He's kinda like dazai but a bit more childish with you (awh how cute...)

One time he tried to play with a kid on the sandbox but he refused so you came and gaslighted the kid to eat a peanut butter lollipop 🍭🥜

Turns out the kid had allergy to nuts

Kid: AUGHHH AGUH AGHGh AEEEEUGHH you: :3 Ranpo: god must be happy

FAMILY GUY Reference??? YES

And so two totally romantic lovers go on a journey to poison little kids!

Hohoho if aomeone bullies you he's gonna go "Hello (first name) (middle name) (last name) who lives in (full address) and was born in (birth hospital)" on that Mexican kid who tried to bully you

That's hot😋😳🤭

One time you lost your left glove in the winter so he took your left hand and slid it in his gloved hand

YES THAT'S POSSIBLE I DID THAT TO MY hopeless romantic ass Self!!!!

Akutagawa-

....

How did you get him to date you bro 😀

He does not even understand what wrong with you so he always has be the one saving your ass during a mission just in cas3

OH it's not for your protection.... It's him protecting the building so you don't blow it up

😁😁😁

You know how he goes ◉ - ◉ sometimes? That's exactly how he questions your silly antics

"I can't wait for the tooth fairy to come for the teeth under my bed!" "◉-◉" higuchi: you are too old for fallen tooth what are you sa-- Y/N WHO'S TOOTH IS THA--"

He only glared at higuchi telling her to not question it with you behind him ":3"

Sometimes you play with his rashoumon by putting make up on it

Idkdontaskmehowyoudidthat-

"sir we bombed up the plac-" "good" 💁‍♀️💄👹---🧑

GUYS THE DEMON IS THE RASOUMON AND DON'T QUESTION IT

If anything akutagawa is questioning why he has to keep you in a children's daycare

BRO give him a break-

When dazai met you and you two had matching energy he was just staring at you two with respect... He felt a bit felt out though

HUG HIM RIGHT NOW👿

Other then that he tries to understand you and protect you from danger because of your goof :)

Nikolai-

This is gonna get messy.... 😨

Honestly you have matching energy butttttt- BONUS POINTS IF YOU ARE A TERRORIST WHO Goes >:3 WHILE BLOWING UP A BUILDING-

Fyodor is questioning his life choices because you two acCidENtaLly burned his kitchen

"Damn.... It's 7 am..." Fyodor said calmly as he saw his only house burn down

Your gonna become his pretty assistant in his circus or sth🤡

Anyways you know those bumper cars? You two ride those and bump each other with it causing a friction and blasting the whole place

He will let you lay on his thi- I mean lap if you are too tired but don't be surprised to wake up with pigtails and heavy makeup :>

NIKO I love you but if you do that... Things are gonna get way messier😊😊😊

If

If you want anything he Wil just open up his portal and bring

"oioioioi koala (the name you gave him because of kolya) I want to drink shrimp and lollipop soda" *opens up portal and takes out a golden can* "here you go! :3" "Oh tank yew :3"

Totally sane and normal!!

Yes you call him koala instead of kolya but he always goes 😳🤭

I would too bbg wann-

Overall I think it's sort of good to be cheerful I mean at least you get too get away with his pranks (slightly)

Just make sure he doesnt sigma 3 breakdown hair you

A/N: I know this wasn't good but I am not in the mood to write yk--so sorry it's not funny or anything anyways I am not sure whether I WI will write part 3 or not

Tag: @silverbladexyz

Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated!

[what-if-i-like-my-mechs-older]

(I'm not great at describing scenery, so just some conference like room with different tables and large switched off screens and lamp like lighting is what it looks like for them.)

(Also TC talks somewhat about a kink of his, but it's not the main focus of this ramble.)

"You know I've thought about putting a human in my mouth."

Thundercracker laughed awkwardly as he leaned on the table next to Orion, even his laugh was nervous.

Megatron who was in the corner checking over the reports from Soundwave cast him a look and then one over to Orion, but didn't say anything.

In some of these cases he was just curious as to how Orion would react to such things.

Optimus had his feet up on the desk and kept reading the non classified documents he'd been given, simply checking for mistakes in spelling, he however did not look up as he swiped to the next page, wishing he was repairing space bridges instead of this. Desk duty at least in the Elite guard had been the absolute worst.

But then again he'd been fixing Sentinels problems at the time and of course that mech always took the credit for literally everything.

"Uhhh you mean you want to eat...humans, Thundercracker? Is it?"

Orion's ear fins twitched nervously.

"Oh Primus no! What in the ...no I mean like um...uhhh..."

Both mechs looked at him this time , fingers hovering over their data pads.

"So hum anyway how do you know my name exactly?"

Megatron , placed his glasses on the desk he wasn't going to let his seeker get out of that so easily.

"No, Thundercracker you had something to say, by all means continue, it is not as if Orion isn't being grounded right now as it is, have a conservation , let the whole 'class' hear."

"Megatron, don't torment him , he-"

"Orion, this is my soldier and if he's just going to come up to you with out so much as a hello how do you do before starting with his fantasies he doesn't get to just change the subject."

Megatron stopped him from defending Thundercracker with a firm tone and looked back at his soldier.

"Well, I um...over time...on this mudball, I've seen things, people and...have become a little...fascinated by them....and size difference."

Orion really did feel for the seeker, he was absolutely floundering.

Thundercracker's fists clenched as he stared up at the ceiling making a frustrated noise.

"I saw your sand guardian video , your human form, and it was hot okay, I want to rip of your humanoid versions layerings from it's body, put you in my mouth and use my tongue in ways until you're squirming and overloading repeatedly in my mouth!"

He glared at Megatron as if to say 'there , you happy!'

Megatron's smile had a sadistic twist that said

'Extremely so.'

Orion however was unfazed and had returned to his documentation.

"Wait you're not bothered by that?"

"Compared to the fan mail I received after helping to defeat Megatron and the other Decepticons, that was was tame, I've read things that make me wish I could unread them."

Thundercracker took a seat and both Decepticons pulled in closer. Even though no one had really said it, they wanted to know more about his world.

"Your Megatron must have been a weak fool, to be defeated by such an agile frame such as yourself."

Megatron chuckled.

"Like him you underestimate me, but maybe that is a Universal trait. If Optimus has not stopped you in this world , perhaps you simply have not pissed him off enough to try?"

Thundercracker sucked in his lips after that comment, desperately trying not to laugh, especially at the expense of his Leader.

Megatron looked unimpressed and even less so at Thundercracker.

"So, did you kill him?"

"No, he told me to end it, I didn't. He needed to pay for his crimes, go on a fair trial...funny enough he's now turned Autobot and on a Ship with Rodimus Prime."

(I just made a mtmte reference there , yes I did , fite me...but not really ....cause I am writing this for me so shush)

"I see, and you and him, do you enjoy my company because of him?"

Orion knew what Megatron was referring to and swiped to the next page after clearing that one.

"You two hardly look alike, but no, we grew to have a begruding respect for one another, his sites were set on Rodimus. Rodimus will be fine he has enough attitude for the Universe."

Thundercracker blinked, that was certainly interesting

"So you wasn't disappointed that you and he never."

"Not one bit-"

He turned back to Megatron , cooing over him but his voice was patronising as he patted his face

"So you don't have to worry your little self about me comparing the two of you at all."

"Little! I'm not-"

Orion pressed one of the yellow marks on the back of his hand that opened up a panel in his palm as he showed him the size difference of himself next to his version of Megatron.

"What am I looking at here?"

He leaned in closer to the image as it slowly rotated , as did Thundercracker.

"You must be exaggerating, that's...he's roughly the size of Devastator..."

Megatron looked at the image and then up at Optimus and then at the image again.

"Of course I had help from my team mates, one whom died putting the Allspark together."

The Decepticon leader poked at the image, which distorted at the interference.

"If he was in this room, could he even stand?"

Orion looked around the room.

"At best, he could stand while being partially bent over."

Closing off the image Orion then turned the next page as if he hadn't just blown their minds with size differences and tidbit information.

"I am supposed to be doing tedious work here, I missed our time this morning sir, how else am I to learn discipline and take you seriously if we sit around talking like protoforms behind the academy gossiping."

Orion huffed , a finger tapping impatiently on the back of his data pad.

"Alright, alright, just please , what was my counter part like?"

Orion turned his head slowly to Thundercracker and forced a smile

"You were a piece of Starscream, he made clones, all that took on a piece of his personality, your counter part didn't exist until he built you and placed a fragment of the all spark inside your chest."

"Oh...uh which trait did he have?"

It was obvious that Thundercracker was disappointed at this information.

"Ego, he had Starscream’s ego."

He placed his Datapad down and held out a hand for him....no wait , that custom might not even exist for Cybertronians.

He took an unexpectant Thundercrackers hand and shook it

"But it's nice to meet you, you and Skywarps are firsts for me."

"You have odd hand gestures Orion, first you make a promise by curling your little finger with the Casseticons and now this handshake?"

Megatron grumbled , taking Orion's hand away from Thundercrackers and looking over it as if it would explain some mystery.

"There's nothing secret about it, it's just a formal greeting."

"I see, and me, do you have any special greeting for me?"

"I uh..."

Orion was trying to go through his Data banks, thinking of all the films he'd seen on movie nights with Sari and even Issac.

"Well I never researched exactly where this one came from , but if I show you, it is platonically done as family members and friends also greet each other like this."

"If I find it agreeable, it must only be for me then."

Megatron stated waiting to see what this oh, so 'special' greeting was.

Orion went to his feet and motioned for him to do so aswell, he did and then Orion kissed each of his cheeks and hugged him.

"And then I think I say something of affection, however the affection type depends on the relationship between the two parties I believe."

Orion had been about to pull away only for Megatron to instinctually put his arms around him.

Hugs were rare amongst the Decepticons...it wasn't exactly common practice, but ...apparently he wasn't ready to let go of this one.

Next

Previous

First piece

[koremakaria]

My Lady ... Your Every Wish is My Command

Yu Qi / Yu Jin is a classic ride or die husband who is currently without a wife. Not that he's not trying but Jiang Si is ... how shall we say it nicely? ... ah yes traumatized. My girl believes that her OG husband (ML) killed her in her OG life before the time travel so she still loves him, she's just doesn't want to risk repeating the past.

Yu Jin is all about Jiang Si. She's basically all he's ever wanted in life. She could do no wrong. Because when she did commit a crime ... Yu Jin simply ignored it and chose to protect her instead. I'm still not sure what brought on this level of ride or die dedication, but I'm seated. I'm feasting. AND I'm ready for more!!!

The Fire Incident

Yu Jin suspects that Jiang Si started the fire that resulted in multiple deaths. A sane person would, at the very least, ask for an explanation for such a destructive act. But not Yu Jin. No siree! He just said if anyone asked, you were with me the entire time. No question. No accusation. Only blind trust in Jiang Si's decision. He basically went. "My girl wants to burn some buildings to punish some people, so I guess some buildings WILL burn and some people WILL die. So sad. Not really. End of story. MOVE ON people."

The Financial Support

Yu Jin got news that Jiang Si's business is in trouble due to recent downturn in revenue via the Princess' meddling and he basically gave her a load of money just because. Like all he knew was that she needed cash and he had cash and soooo .... hello sugar daddy. I mean ... um .... new business partner. Haha.

The Dream (missing brother)

In the OG life, Jiang Si's brother died a tragic death and so with this knowledge she's trying to keep her brother safe aka involuntary house arrest and my girl got so restless everytime she can't locate her brother and when she reported a grown man as a missing person after not seeing him for half a day ... Yu Jin was like ... yeah cool I'll help you look because I want to put your mind at ease. You saw that your very grown older brother's life is in danger in your dream? Okay. That's super not crazy and I will turn over heaven and earth to find your older brother. Man. The dedication is unparalleled. Jiang Si's wish is Yu Jin's command.

Touch Her and Die

I am bias because this is one of my favorite tropes. Yu Jin is all about protecting Jiang Si and he's ready to throw down anyone. Like he doesn't care how powerful the person might be. If you dare to harm his love then well you have no choice but to die. County Princess? So what? Yu Jin basically told the princess, "I'm warning you to stay far away from my woman but if you continue on this path to harm her then FAFO." The find out phase is basically "YOU DIE" Like ... I love this so much.

Clandestine/Spy Treatment

Jiang Si has a apecial mark on her neck and it's suppose to be a mark of the enemy clan. Yu Jin knows this and yet he did nothing of substance with this knowledge. Like when he captured the scorpion guy who was selling stuff at the black/night market he interrogated the man and calmly tortured him. But with Jiang Si, he chose to ignore her potential association with this clandestine group. Yu Jin is so in love that Jiang Si could do anything and he'd just let her do them if they make her happy.

Arson ... sure .... why not?

Enemy spy ... doesn't matter

dream danger ... super normal

[leiflitter]

More

Hello from Blighty thoughts about Saltburn

As a continuation from my reply to @armands-eyefuckery because BRAIN

Aight gang let's have a lil sit down because there is a big ol angle to the film that I think is getting missed by a lot of folks who aren't from the UK because it's a very uh...

British Thing.

IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT OLIVER IS FROM THE NORTH.

Cut because Length.

Now look. I am not going to go into Thatcher and Her Crimes, but it's worth a google. I do bring it up in You're Almost Home because...

Lots of people are saying Oliver is upper middle class, and honestly? That doesn't track for me. At all. Yes, his parents have a detached house in a nice suburb and they went on holidays, but there's a lot of Very British Context to them that I really want to point out. Also remember, it's 2006/2007. That is also important.

First of all- Oliver's parents probably never went to University.

Really listen to them. How gullible they are- they believe that Oliver can study at Oxford, and be on the rowing team, and be in plays, and be top scholar. He's always been so clever. If Oliver was anything near upper middle class, his parents would be educated professionals. Oliver probably has dockworkers not even three generations back- his dad has management vibes, but he probably worked his way up in the 70s when all you needed was a good attitude and not to be an obvious murderer.

Secondly- let's talk about the house.

As someone from Down South who has also lived Up North, Oliver's Parent's house would not have been as expensive as people think. Let's assume they bought it in the 1980s- we ALL know that house prices are through the roof NOW, but even today there is a huge gap between house prices in the south and the north. 200k down South might get you a one bedroom flat, if you're lucky. 200k in Prescot can get you a 4-bed, semi-detached HOUSE. Check rightmove.

It is also important that the house is relatively new-looking, because over here Upper Middle Class people aren't really into new build houses- if Oliver was upper middle class, he'd be living in something Victorian or Edwardian. Probably somewhere with a good link to London, especially in 2007. It also means that Oliver's parents may not have even bought it outright- my parents got on the housing ladder via a shared ownership scheme. Oliver's parents aren't rich.

Now, the holidays. Mykonos. Another fun Brit thing is the package holiday. Here's a pretty interesting article about them;

Two adults and three kids could absolutely have gone to Mykonos every year in the late 80s/90s for far less than you'd expect, especially if they paid in installments each month.

I also mentioned about Ollie being from Merseyside specifically, but again. CONTEXT. Although Oliver isn't Liverpudlian (it's important, he's from NEAR Liverpool but not Liverpool itself) the North of England as a whole has routinely been fucked over by those in power. The government AND the royals and the very wealthy. It's still ongoing today- again, another fun source.

Remember when Mr Eats-Crunchies-Sideways called him a Bootlicker? That's fucking IMPORTANT. To many folks he IS a bootlicker. He is highly unlikely to have been raised to grovel at the feet of those with hereditary titles and wealth, and honestly he doesn't. I've written before about how Oliver Denies Felix Things and how that dynamic is important. Oliver likely hasn't been raised with any real deference to The Rich (except Princess Diana).

It also effects Oliver's response to Felix, because goddamn it THATCHER again- it is HIGHLY likely that Oliver has lived through a lot of homophobia. Internalised a lot of it. Felix's parents do not give a shit, but that was not the norm. Again, tried to hit on it in YAH, because times have changed since the 90s/2000s and people change with them, but no fuckin wonder Oliver never responded to Felix chirpsing him like a maniac. He's fucking REPRESSED when he's in Oxford, pals. It also makes sense with that weird Tumblr Dom shit he pulls; he's still fuckin weird about it, he's just being In Charge so he doesn't need to be vulnerable in any way. He is only vulnerable for Felix, and even then he can't SHOW felix that, that would be gay.

Leiflitter over'n'out

[save-the-villainous-cat]

spicy flirty hero that is shorter then a taller more touch starved villain ? love your work btw , say hello to the husband for me

Their fingertips brushed against the villain’s naked forearm coincidentally. It wasn’t much but the villain’s reaction was pathetic. Their heart raced in their chest and, stupidly, their brain lost focus on everything else.

“So, on Sunday, you were alone in your apartment?” The hero looked at the report, read a few sentences, got bored and ultimately, their eyes found the villain again. It took them a second to realise they actually had to answer.

“Yes.”

“No partner?” The hero drummed with the pen against the table of steel. Apparently, questioning the villain made them just as nervous as it made the villain. At least that made the villain feel a little better about their current situation.

“In crime?”

“In general.” The villain stared at the hero’s fingertips, thinking about how soft they’d been. After all, the hero was the one who had taken them in for questioning. They had been soft with the handcuffs, had been soft when they’d grabbed the muscles of their arm. If the villain had known that getting arrested would be this gentle, they would’ve turned themselves in months ago.

“…no. No partner,” the villain answered.

“Good.” The hero smiled and wrote something down onto their paper. “So, you work alone?”

“Uhm…yes.” The hero stood up, still looking at their work, walked around the table and pulled the chair with them. Once they were right in front of the villain, they sat down again, tilting their head.

“Are you lonely?”

“Uhh—” Suddenly, the villain’s cheeks burnt. The hero was close enough to breathe their air, close enough to touch them again. For the most part, the villain had tried to ignore them the last month. It hadn’t really worked, though. The hero always found an excuse to find them.

“Someone as pretty as you doesn’t deserve to be lonely, don’t you think?” The hero’s voice dropped a little and their eyes, did the same.

“I don’t know. No? I, yeah, I don’t know.” Embarrassed, the villain chuckled.

“What do you do in your freetime? I mean, except for stealing and testing weapons,” the hero asked.

“I cook sometimes—”

“You should totally invite me over for dinner, then,” the hero said. “I’ve been chasing you for too long now. You have to make up for that.”

The villain thought about that. Having the hero in their home, eating dinner, talking…doing other stuff…It did make them blush again and the idea was tempting. They had never flirted back but they were desperate for touch, desperate for the hero to hold them. Even if it would end in pain, temporary affection was worth more than that.

“Not my fault your legs are too short for you to catch up with me.”

“That’s a ‘no’ to dinner?” the hero asked, raising their eyebrows. They leaned forward and stared at the villain with half-lidded eyes. One hand was dangerously close to the villain’s thigh and they knew that if they got touched, they wouldn’t be able to speak.

“No…”

“Look at me.” The villain did, studying their nemesis. Sometimes they wondered what they would look like without the suit on but they knew it was wrong to think like that. “Is that a ‘yes’ to dinner?”

“If you learn how to use your legs.” The villain’s eyes dropped to the hero’s knee which was almost touching theirs. God, they wanted the hero.

“Oh, I know how to use my legs,” the hero said.

“Good for you,” the villain said.

And suddenly, the hero’s hand was on their thigh, gentle grip digging into their flesh.

“No,” the hero said, strangely competitive. “Good for you.”

With that, they sat down on the villain’s lap.

[paradoxmimzy]

Shapeshifter HRT

Day -394

I go in to the doctor. Doctor T.H. Arian. The name is a little suspicious but his treatment of my wife has been favorable.

"I thought about this for a long time doctor. I want to be a shapeshifter."

His face gets serious. "Do you know how many people that come in here and ask for that? What do you really want to be? We do offer polytherian treatments if you just can't decide between a few."

So I list them. Every single one. Cat, dog, fox, mouse, snake, bird, hermit crab, angel, devil, elf, vampire, unicorn, hamster, ferret… and others… forms that don't have names but I describe their anatomy in great, sickening, detail.

"If I tried to go through all of them one at a time it would be too complicated. Too much for me to keep track of and what happens if I want to change into something I haven't listed yet? Please doc, if I had to be one thing it would be a shapeshifter."

He removes his glasses and sighs.

"There is a treatment for it." He says.

I can't contain my squeaks of excitement.

"But." He cuts me off. "The substance I'm using is a lot more controlled. I can guarantee the things that it will do to your body will be worse than what your wife went through."

"I still want it… If you got anything that basically makes me like Venom that would be ideal."

"Will you be changing into anything mechanical or robotic?"

"Probably not."

"Okay. I will put in the request now, but do not hold your breath. A government agent will eventually contact you and mail you the paperwork that you need to fill out."

- Day -96

6:21 in the morning. My phone was ringing and with my wife still asleep I answered it.

"Hello this is Officer Mitchell. I am here with Agent Duress. We're here to ask you some questions about this… medication you are requesting?"

My local sheriff, with some guy from the government. Great.

"Yeah I made a request sometime last year and hadn't heard anything."

"Yes, well. There had been some policy changes 150 days ago about the substance you're requesting. Everyone who filed a report had to do so again."

"And I'm just hearing about this now??"

"Your doctor had been informed about it two weeks ago and resubmitted all files that needed to be submitted. He requested we handle this urgently so that is what we're doing, ma'am."

"I'm not a ma'am. Please use Sir if you can."

"With all due respect, ma'am. You take this medicine it's going to turn you into something that I don't even want to think about. Gender ain't gonna mean much to a freak like you."

"I can still use whatever damn pronouns I want."

"Okay, okay. No need to be so sensitive about it. I just gotta sign this thing that says I'll keep an extra eye out for you if you decide to start doing crimes."

"Oh my god."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to be everything all these stupid fucking things. Ferret, angel, hermit crab? Really? If any crimes are done from species in any of these lists you're gonna be on the suspect board by default."

"Fine. I'll consent to it."

"Alright, good. Next is understanding the exact risk of this substance. Has your next of kin been notified?"

"My wife is fully aware yes."

"Your parents, darling. I'm asking about your parents."

"Dad died 3 years ago and mom's never had custody of me. I am nearly 30 fucking years old, why are you asking about my fucking parents?"

"Standard procedure. Normally we have underage people asking for this stuff. So what age would you say you were dysphoric as a… 'Mono-formic being.'" He sounded out each word bitterly.

And so the questions went on and on and on and on and on. Until finally a voice different from the sheriff's came in.

"Thank you for your time. It will be under consideration."

And then it hung up.

"Ugggghhhh." I groan to myself.

"If you wanna go to the diner I could search for a shirt that fits me now." My cow wife says.

"It's fine. I'll just hang out on the internet. All I can do is fucking wait after all. From email or carrier pigeon I guess!!"

"Too loud."

"Sorry. I'm just mad."

"Do you think they hire pigeon therians into the government to carry messages?" She asks,

"Derpy Hooves is definitely a pigeon therian." I reply back,

"So true OP…" She yawns and slips back into sleep.

- Day 0

It was a text message. It was ready at the pharmacy and all I needed to do was go pick it up like any other medicine.

Doctor T.H. Arian gave me information on how to apply it and what to expect for the low dose they start me on.

He was very insistent I record my emotional state through this and that he would be prepared to stop the treatment if it made me 'worse.' Though he refused to define what worse was.

The medicine itself was just a little black goo in a bottle. I had been informed that it could be applied just on my skin, but that carried a risk to my partner and her own HRT procedures. So I opted for injection instead.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Smutty enemies to lovers jethro gibbs mini-series? Maybe the reader is a bit hot-headed herself? :)

Hi hello YES I love this! The fire in this man’s eyes when he gets pissed off gives me chills 🤤 I'm sorry this took me so long to respond to, but I hope you like it!!

I really like the idea of a mini-series, so please let me know what you want to see next 🤩

“We don’t need your interference- sorry, assistance on this case, Tobias.” Gibbs snaps the case file on the desk before him closed and tosses his reading glasses on top before fixing his friend with a sharp look.

“That’s quite the Freudian slip, Jethro,” Fornell grins, approaching Gibbs’ desk with a freshly brewed peace offering. “You know as well as I do that it’s not our decision. Agent Y/L/N will be joining you until this case is closed. Play nice.”

“Y/N? Hell, Tobias, marrying and then divorcing my ex-wife wasn’t cruel enough?”

“Hilarious,” the FBI agent deadpans. “Never gets old, truly.”

“We’ll take literally anyone else from your team.”

“What’s the matter, Gibbs?” Oh, that voice. “Scared you’ll fall head over heels for me? I know you have a thing for redheads.”

He notes your voice growing louder as you near his desk and buries his head back into the case file before retorting, “Weren’t you blonde last time?”

“It’s called hair dye,” you fire back. “Your observational skills are lacking. Getting old will do that to you, huh?”

“No, I just try to avoid looking at you. Can’t do my job if I turn to stone.”

Leaning close to him, you whisper, “So looking at me gets you-”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought,” he snaps, and you grin at having won this round. “Here.” Without looking up, he thrusts the case file into your waiting hands. “Get up to speed on the case and make yourself useful.”

“Like I said,” Fornell groans, “play nice. We don't need extra paperwork because you two can't share a sandbox.”

You dutifully mutter a, “Yes, Boss,” as Gibbs grumbles, “Get the hell outta my building, Tobias.”

“So, old man,” you start with a sigh, perching on the end of his desk. “Where can I sit?”

Gibbs looks up at you, incredulous, and snarks, “Not on my desk.” He nods his head over to the corner spot by McGee and returns to his case file, the conversation seemingly over. You make your way over to the bare bones work station and drop your bag on the seat. Standing on your tiptoes, you lean your chin against your crossed arms on top of the divider and smile at the brunette on the other side of the cubicle. “Hiya, Tim.”

“Hi, Y/N,” he answers as he looks up at you, the faintest hint of pink tinging his cheeks. “It’s nice to have you working a case with us again.”

“You guys just like that Gibbs focuses all of his anger on me, admit it.”

“No, no, we genuinely like- I mean, yes, it’s nice to-”

“Y/L/N!”

Turning your head, you replace your chin with your cheek against your arm and raise an eyebrow. “Gibbs?”

“Stop harassing my agents and do your damn job.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you respond coyly with a grin, moving your bag aside and dropping into the chair to get to work.

The morning passes in a blur, spent reading through the case file and analyzing the several boxes of itemized evidence from the victim’s apartment. After collecting your third cup of coffee in as many hours, you settle down with the dozens of crime scene photos spread out on the desk before you. “Something isn’t right here,” you mumble to yourself, shuffling through the lengthy report to find the sole witness’s statement. You reread the escort's recounting of events, then pick up the photograph mapping out the shooter’s position in relation to the victim. “Son of a bitch,” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your face.

You make your way over to Gibbs’ desk and triumphantly drop the report and picture in front of him. He looks up at you with one eyebrow raised in question, clearly unamused. Planting your hands on your hips, you demand, “How many people did your witness say were in the room?”

“Three. Herself, Lance Corporal Collins, and our perp.”

“And did she have blood on her?”

Gibbs sighs and steeples his fingers together. “What is this, Y/L/N, twenty questions? You read the report.”

“Humor me, old man.”

He glares at you for the moniker, then answers, “No, she didn’t. Claims she was in the bathroom when the shooting occurred, which you already know.”

“So,” you direct his attention to the photograph, tapping on the far wall speckled with blood spatter with one red nail, “who was standing here?”

“Son of a bitch,” Jethro echoes your previous excitement, standing to grab his badge and gun from the top drawer of his desk. Tossing a set of keys to DiNozzo, he calls, “Pull the car around.” The NCIS agent is halfway to the elevator before you catch on to his intentions, and you run after him, slipping your hand between the closing elevator doors at the last second. “And just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re going to question the witness again, right? Well, I made the connection,” you point out confidently, “so I’m going with you.”

“Let me explain something to you, Y/L/N,” he says softly, flipping the emergency stop switch to enter his personal conference room. He takes measured steps toward you in the eerie lighting, crowding into your space as he rests his hands on either side of the railing effectively caging you in. “When you set foot in this building, you’re in my house. You report to me. You follow my rules. You do what I say, when I say it. Am I making myself clear?”

Using the railing as leverage, you push yourself closer to reach his ear and murmur, “Crystal,” reveling in his sharp intake of breath. Raising your leg, you toe the switch back into operational mode before leaning back with a smirk. Fire crackles to life in his gorgeous icy blue eyes at your blatant show of defiance, and you meet his gaze with equal ferocity. “So what would you have me do, sir?”

The elevator reaches the ground floor, and the doors open and then close once more. Gibbs has yet to pull away from you, and his gaze keeps darting down to your crimson-stained lips. “Go back upstairs and help Ziva contact the Lance Corporal’s fellow servicemen on shore leave.”

You feel almost delirious from his sheer proximity, and the way he’s invading your space has your knees nearly buckling beneath you. Rather than admitting to the power he holds over you, you whisper, “What will you do if I don’t listen?”

One hand curls around the back of your neck, the callouses on the pads of his fingers gently pressing into your skin, and you gasp reflexively. “Why do you insist on defying me?”

“Because I like-”

The elevator dings and the two of you hurriedly jump apart, the trance effectively broken. Tony’s smiling face appears on the other side of the doors, car keys in hand. “Is Y/L/N going with us, Boss?”

“No,” Gibbs answers gruffly, jabbing the button for their floor before stepping out of the elevator. You make the journey back upstairs alone with more questions than answers, and more determined than ever to break the resolve of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

—————

Part II