#like they busted down the wrong peoples door and then shot at them when they rightfully armed themselves because people were breaking in

[killuazedykeremade]

not only are they not being charged for a murder but her boyfriend who had every right to defend the both of them is blamed.ok.

[lyubovsdiary]

Hi, can u do Armando x Vampire Reader(Lucy). Where, Armando, Mike, and Marcus were on a mission and they got captured and held hostage. Around 30 minutes, Mike and Marcus were trying to figure out a plan while Armando was listening till they heard screaming outside and then more screaming inside. The shots fired down and then the door was busted with great strength. Few men were guarding Marcus, Mike, and Armando. Then Lucy killed the first two by biting and breaking till the last one got his heart ripped out. Marcus and Mike were screaming but Armando was smiling little bit till it revealed Lucy. She said hey guys. Her mouth was all bloody and she got them out. In the end, Armando kissed her like crazy.

yeah ofc!!

Monster

a.aretas x vampire!reader

summary: due to a mission gone wrong, armando’s girlfriend has to come rescue her lover, his father and his father’s partner. what better time to meet his family?

warnings: violence, blood, graphic killing

a/n: i hope i could do your request justice!! i had some issues capturing mike and marcus’ humour and the way they talk, so i hope it resembles them at least somewhat. the smell problem marcus has with dead bodies is actually canon!! it’s mentioned in the first movie. also it’s my first time writing a supernatural reader, but i tried my best. the 5 eps i watched of the vampire diaries really paid off

“I thought when I joined las fuerzas del orden, shit like this wouldn’t happen no more,” Armando said while looking pointedly at Mike.

Said man just looked at him incredulously. “That’s too damn bad then. I’m gon’ call the guys over real quick and tell them to let us go because my bitchass son didn’t think policemen ever got kidnapped. Don’t piss me off,” Mike replied. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go and Armando knew that damn well. He didn’t need to rub it in.

“Nah Mike, you can’t talk to yo son like that. What kinda role model are you gon’ be for him?” Marcus decided to pitch in.

“Now I know you ain’t tryna give me tips on raising my son, Marcus. Besides, what bullshit advice is that? He’s a grown ass man now, he has no role models,” Mike complained.

While the two continued to argue, Armando inspected his surroundings. The chair he was tied to was made of metal, so he couldn’t break it and have his hands and feet free. The room they were in was dimly lit and the walls were bare, if not for the grime and dirt sticking to them and the floor. In the nearest angle there seemed to be badly cleaned up blood and a fingernail. This really wasn’t what Armando expected would happen.

When he was briefed earlier today about the mission’s details together with the rest of the AMMO team, it had seemed simple enough. Infiltrate this new gang’s base, collect as much information as possible and then knock out and arrest everyone they could find. They were supposed to be quiet and sneaky to not alarm the gang’s members and make them run.

But things had not gone to plan. As soon as Armando, Mike and Marcus entered the bulding, they had been drugged with some kind of substance which made them pass out. Next thing Armando knew, he was tied to a chair next to the two idiots who were still talking next to him. He knew that every connection he had to the AMMO team had been ripped out and taken by their captors. But they hadn’t accounted for one thing: You.

Now it was just a matter of time before you got him out of here. Armando would just have to be patient and trust you.

In this moment he decided to listen in on the conversation currently held between the other two men in the room.

“I’m telling you Mike, if you make yourself sweat enough, you’ll be out of these ropes in no time,” Marcus insisted.

“Let’s see it then. C’mon, show me how the hell that’s supposed to work. And even if you did somehow succeed, what would you do after that? You ain’t got weapons, or a plan of what the building looks like. How many people are even in here?” Mike ridiculed. He knew damn well Marcus had no idea, ‘cause he never listened when team meetings were had. 25 years with his partner had given him enough experience to be sure of that.

“We can figure that out later, man. The first step is to get out of these ropes. See how my hand is moving already? I’m almost free Mike, you just wait and see how my genius gets us out of this place,” Marcus assured, wrists barely moving an inch.

Armando then decided to stop listening to them to protect his common sense and his peace. Their plan certainly wasn’t the best he’d ever heard of, but he had done much stupider and more reckless things, so he didn’t judge too much.

Suddenly the conversation between the two men was interrupted by loud screaming far away. Though that was cut off by a sickening ‘crack’. Someone started to yell something about “Shoot her! Shoot her now, you idiot!” but more screaming picked up and even more nauseating sounds of bones breaking, flesh tearing and knives meeting flesh could be heard.

Soon one couldn’t distinguish between the different sounds and they were combined to a vile symphony of chaos.

“What the fuck is happening out there?” Mike questioned, looking at the door like it might explode at any given moment. Marcus wasn’t looking too well either, fearing this may be the day a mission proved too much for him and his partner to handle.

Meanwhile, a small smile had formed on Armando’s lips. His saviour was coming.

You didn’t often kill people, moreover choosing to steal blood bags from the hospital you worked at and rarely harming a human. When Armando was in danger though, it was a completely different story. No one who dared lay a finger on him stayed alive long enough to regret ever touching the one person you loved more than anything.

Armando rarely used that to his advantage, usually using his own skills to defend himself if needed, but in situations like these, it was very useful to have a girlfriend who could hear your heartbeat a hundred miles away. You also tended to stay in the area of their mission, just as an extra precaution.

The sounds of destruction were coming closer and closer and Mike was slowly starting to panick too. Whatever was coming wasn’t anything good, and it seemed like it was coming for them next. He didn’t want to die here. He also didn’t want Marcus and his son to die here next to him due to some kind of psychopath targeting the wrong gang at the wrong time.

But he guessed wishes didn’t always come true.

The door was busted down, revealing a person biting into the neck of what seemed to be a gangster guarding the three men. Another gangster tried to punch the figure in the face, but his shoulder was quickly dislocated and his neck was bitten into as well. Dropping to the floor next to his companion shortly after, the men’s attention now focused solely on the figure they couldn’t see properly before.

You lifted your head and gave them perfect view of your fangs glistening with blood in the light streaming in from the outside. The red liquid was dripping down your chin, staining your clothes and the ground beneath you. Your pupils were dilated, high off the rush fresh blood granted you. A knife was sitting in your hand, stained in the crimson colour you loved so much. You looked like the monsters mothers warned their young children about and fathers looked under beds and in closets for.

Marcus couldn’t contain a terrified shriek, when out of nowhere another gangster threw herself at you, trying to stab you with a dagger she had hidden in her shoe. Deciding you had had enough, your hand reached inside her chest, and returned with her still beating heart sitting perfectly on it.

The girl looked at her heart and the hole in her chest with big, terror-filled eyes. She couldn’t even whimper before slumping down the nearest wall and losing her life.

Throwing her heart next to her lifeless body, you stepped over her, turning to look at the three men held captive.

“Hey guys. Need some help?” you asked evenly, scanning the faces until you found who you were looking for. Crouching down next to him, you inspected his face, arms, and any visible part of him to see if you could make out any injuries.

“Are you okay? Did those bastards hurt you? I swear I��ll find a way to bring them back to life just to kill them more painfully this time around,” you muttered with a tight voice while undoing the ropes wrapped around Armando’s wrists and ankles.

“No, mama, estoy bien. They didn’t get a chance to, because mi hermosa novia was too quick for them to even think about it,” the smooth man praised you, knowing it always made you feel better. Praise was something you loved to hear, especially coming from him.

While the two of you were having your sweet moment, Marcus and Mike were having trouble comprehending what exactly had just happened. In all the years they had worked together they had never been quiet for as long as they were now. Their speechlessnes was partly due to the fact that Armando seemed to know you very well and partly due to the mess you had left behind.

The brutality of the deaths of the gangsters shocked the two detectives. They had seen a lot in their careers, but this was a whole new level of freak that they didn’t know how to deal with. Especially Marcus had to breathe through his mouth, because the stench was deadly. The smell of corpses wasn’t something that ever got easier to smell, even after more than 25 years on the force.

After finally freeing Armando, the two of you went over to his two teammates to free them from their ropes too. Armando went to his father and you went to Marcus.

“Nah, don’t you touch me! I have a wife and kids! If you drink my blood or whatever you and your father Dracula do, she’s gonna kill you, I swear!” Marcus shouted, trying to lean away as far as possible from you.

“Relax, I won’t hurt you,” you promised, having to suppress your laughter at his comment. You had to admit it wasn’t as bad as what others have said when they found out what you were. Granted, they usually didn’t have time to say anything much, because the next thing they saw after your fangs was either heaven or hell, but still.

Freeing the detectives as well, the four of you started to make your way out of the bulding, with Mike leading the way, Marcus watching his six and Armando and you following behind them.

Before stepping into the hallway though, Armando grabbed your arm and spun you around to face him. After looking in your eyes for one magnetic moment, he leaned down and kissed you passionately. Borderline making out with you next to the people you had killed for him. The two of you were certainly meant to find each other, since neither of you minded.

Translations:

las fuerzas del orden - the law enforcement

estoy bien - I’m fine

mi hermosa novia - my beautiful girlfriend

[bluginkgo]

Another Nuzi rant. Don't mind me

Spoilers, duh

Since I've already done a quick character study/nuzi rant from N's side. Here's one from Uzi's side!

This is probably gonna be just me repeating things people have already said... again. But I love Uzi. (Just like every other character in Murder Drones, honestly.) But Liam did a wonderful job of making an angsty, emo girl, borderline maniac that we know as Uzi. Her character, to me at least, never became the annoying overdramatized and overused stereotype that follows her style. She has real reasons for being the way she is.

A loner, whose dad loves nothing but doors. School is not different, as her classmates pretty much forget about her existence on a day to day basis. No one to talk to, no one to connect with, gives her the angsty side that I absolutely adore. Because underneath all of that toughness is just a lonely little drone who was left by herself since early age. But guess who comes in and busts down those walls (literally and figuratively)?

Our good boi N! Despite their rough start, N never really gave Uzi a reason not to trust him. Their chance encounter, and a broken sensor, allowed them to have the talk that might have never happened. Their beginning might have been a lucky accident, but for the rest of the season, we can see how both sides had to work to make well... Nuzi work!

For Uzi, asking for help is like asking for a death sentence probably. After being on her own for so long, she doesn't expect anyone to help. With that information in mind, the first time she let's that wall crumble was episode 2, Heartbeat.

"Uzi, shoot! Or give it to me!"

Granted, we all know that was not our N. But in that moment, when Uzi was in an enough distressed state, she sought help in N. We all know how that ended, though. Absolute Solver took advantage of that and almost killed her, before N once again sweeped in to save her. The one and only notorious Nuzi misunderstanding was, for better or for worse, cleared up pretty quickly. Seeing as glitchproduction only has so much money at their disposal, they can't really drag this ordeal out. Personally, I'm glad that it didn't. The long drama that is just a misunderstanding after misunderstanding gets quite tedious to follow.

So, moving forward in The Promening, Uzi once again seeks out N when she's in distress. When she sees and hears about what Doll and Lizzy were gonna do, she books it to the only person she knows can help her.

N! Now don't get me wrong. Uzi, by herself is plenty strong. She's shown off her fighting and capabilities, and would have probably been able to take V on. She's taken J down before, aaaand Uzi does technically also take V down in Cabin Fever. But she still went out of her way to go find N. So they could work together and get this mess sorted out.

And then there's this. God I love Cabin Fever, and surprisingly no, not for the Falling.... for you? scene. No, I loved the entire Uzi going on murder spree because she can! The music was such a banger too. But back to Uzi. She recognizes V and briefly snaps back to her usual self. Curious isn't it? N and Uzi both tried reaching out to V, but because V is so untrusting (and we all understand why from ep 5, Home). Here Uzi tried to ask V for help... in form of N.

I find it interesting how ever since Uzi met N and V, she's been getting better at asking for help. Sure, V shot her down because, once again, V was scared. Uzi was turning into the monster that only Cyn has been capable of creating. This soon leads to N yeeting Uzi into the f*cking stratosphere and the two have a chat.

I love how the animators included Uzi hiding behind her bat wings.

Her metaphorical walls were back up. And guess who broke them yet again.

The bestest boi N! And ever since this moment, N and Uzi are way more open.

Episode 5 was taking place in N's memories. But episode 6 is where their trust and care shines. Yeah, sure, there was the hand holding. And it was a big moment! But I enjoyed the little things more. Uzi checking in on N, nodding at his little comments and jokes.

Summary: I love Nuzi. Send help they're on my mind 24/7.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Yes.” | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse | Cupcake | Foggy | Cracking | Just Breathe | Urge | Trim | Stupid | Upkeep | Old Defeat | Watching | Simple Loyalty | Overreaction | Set Up for Failure | Burning | Healed Wrong | Haunted | Boxes Buried | Heavy Blow | Loneliness

“...Wow,” Mutters Simon reverently, finger tracing lightly over the black and purple bruising. Over squishy stomach that hides rigid muscles, sweat-slicked and hitching with pained breaths.

Cupcake sucks in a gasp when the lightest touch feathers over his stomach. Whether it tickles, or feels intimate, or hurts over the bruising, Simon isn’t sure.

“You’ve been recovering pretty well, from the break-in.” His hands are still shaking from the adrenaline of the beating. Simon tries to let them fall still. Sprawled on the floor and letting himself be touched by the guy who just beat him into a bloody pulp, Cupcake has his full, curious attention. “From getting shot for trying to escape. From all of this, really. Do you like it here, Cupcake?”

Tear-clouded eyes blink blearily up at the ceiling. His crying is a byproduct of the session so it is not judged or even particularly watched. Reflexive tears, not sadness. No answer falls muttered from that split lip.

Simon hums at the non-answer and trails fingertips up the side of Major’s ribcage. He gets a thrill deep in his stomach at each stifled whimper as broken ribs are irritated by the passing pressure. “I think the beers, the food, TV, a bed… they’re all generous. You won’t talk to me, Cupcake, and it’s starting to feel less worth it.”

His breathing was picking up, faster and faster, as Simon’s touch wandered toward his broken arm. He was terrified of it being touched - terrified of lashing out and then being punished - but now his breathing has stopped for a second, at the vague threat of privileges being revoked.

“C’n talk,” He rasps. Simon’s hand warps tenderly around the throbbing forearm, and Major resolutely holds still, tears streaming down his face in a renewed cascade.

“Really? Where did you live, what kind of place?”

An apathetic shrug would be nice to have, but he’s not going to try moving a muscle. Major grunts instead. “Uh… wherever. Anyplace with a busted door, open window, I guess.”

That sounds fitting. No house. No stability. Simon nods his approval of the answer. Cupcake using his words is a special occasion. “Alone?”

Silence. His jaw sets with visible tension, and in those brown eyes, Simon sees a vulnerable glint. Don’t make him talk about whoever he cares about, please, those eyes say.

Simon allows it. He sighs calmly, dedicating a second hand to cupping the broken arm and tracing touch over it for the thrill of hearing sharp little gasps. “Okay. Well, whoever it was, it wasn’t your family, right? You don’t act like you have a family to try to get back to.”

That startles a snort out of the man lying on his back and submitting to having his beaten body messed with. “What, like. Sisters or something? A fuckin’ mom and - sorry, sorry.” He can’t curse. Major’s briefly casual expression goes blank with panic. He waits, he watches.

Rewarding the fact that he was talking at all, Simon shakes his head in a dismissal of the fear. “You’re fine.” Cupcake relaxes, and Simon smiles. “A mom and dad, yeah. None of that?” It would be an odd question to ask, maybe, except Major acts so juvenile. Even being a few years from thirty, it’s not hard to imagine him having parents that he still rebels against.

Major tries to snort, but some blood seems to get in the way, and he ends up gagging on a cough. When his chest rises with sharp, startled breaths, his bruised skin shifts so slightly over his ribs. Simon’s hands buzz.

“Nah. Never had ‘em.”

Simon’s head tips with skepticism. “Someone made you.”

A derisive huff. “Yeah, I guess. Then dumped me someplace. I dunno. Grew up with these… assholes, just pushed me around and - oh fu-, I - my bad. Uh. These… stupid jerk people. Just - they sucked, okay?”

The fumble with cursing is silently forgiven again. The broken arm is deposited kindly enough against the floor, and Simon busies his hands with pressing the sides of his thumbs into Cupcake’s face, searching for broken bone that might need to be healed soon. Cupcake closes his eyes, always shy about close eye contact.

“Right from the start? As a baby?”

The rugged face scrunches under Simon’s hands, disgusted by that tender word. He doesn’t like being seen as something soft. “Yeah, ‘s what I said.”

No breaks. Some sore bruising coming to life all along the side of his face, though. Simon checks for blood in his hair next. “School must’ve been nice, then. Getting out, making some friends.”

It is a leading question. Cupcake is oblivious. He scoffs, eyes scrunching shut tighter as the blood in his hair is found, along with a painful knot. “School. Yeah right.”

It is simultaneously satisfying and unsettling to have his suspicions confirmed. Simon sits with that for a moment. “If not school, then… when did you leave?” He must have left, he seemed like he cares about whoever he’s been living with recently.

This must be a painful memory. Cupcake tries to shrug up a shoulder to look nonchalant, and keeps his eyes closed tightly. “When I got too old.” For what, Simon doesn’t want to ask. Cupcake croaks out a little laugh that hangs hollow in the air between them. “Got pissed at me for something, locked me up to a rad-, a - the metal thing, hot, in a house? It’s like, pipes?”

“A radiator?”

“Yeah. That. One of those, and - and uh - yeah.”

Simon shakes his head, invested now. “No, and then what? Did you break free?”

His body is too battered to be willing to move, but Cupcake is feeling restless. His hands twitch with the need to bolt. “Uh. Nah, got found.”

“Oh, good.” Simon laughs. “I was going to say, if you were stuck there for ages, and…” Cupcake is shaking his head. Simon’s words die out, his smile fading. “No? It wasn’t good?”

“Wasn’t good,” Is all Major says, head tipped away now. The clear shame that tells Simon all he needs to know. They’ve both gotten good at communicating without words, lately.

“...Ah.” Sitting up and no longer looming so closely, Simon looks up toward the ceiling and breathes. It’s not upsetting, exactly, to hear about his Cupcake’s old suffering. Or to infer all the things that might have been done to him. It’s just… Simon respects him, in a way. Major is strong. He’s been through a lot. It doesn’t feel right to taunt him about it, or to drag out too many details. This is probably more than he’s said to anyone in the world, about it. “...No family, no school, no home… it makes sense, with how you are.”

“What - stupid?” Major scoffs, and it sounds fragile. Upset. Simon glances down to find more tears shining on his cheeks, and wonders if they’re still from the pain. “Loud? Mean, bad?”

Silence falls. The room is dark, with that busted lamp, its glass shattered and stuck in Cupcake’s back from the collision - oops… and in the stillness, the gentle hitching of Major’s chest lodges itself in the center of Simon’s focus.

“Stupid isn’t the word I’d use,” Answers the man on his knees, hands no longer exploring. It’s not fair to call someone stupid if they never got the chance to really learn how to speak when it was important, never got shown how to read or add. “Loud - not here, not that I’ve seen. Mean?” His hand moves again, finally, to slip fingers into that soft hair. It’s grown down to Cupcake’s shoulders by now. The aching man leans into the contact, and Simon makes sure not to look amused by it. “Bad?” His tone alone expresses his disbelief. “You’re not bad.”

The chest hitches sharply. Major’s lips part to suck in a tremulous breath. He’s trying to make it inaudible, so Simon won’t comment on it.

“You’re not bad. You just never had a chance, before. But listen… you’re good, here. I like watching TV with you. Deciding what to eat. You’re the best at sessions, better than anyone who’s been here before. And… Cupcake, listen…” If he was ever going to use Major’s name, for it to really mean something, it would be now. If that was an option. “...Cupcake, what you did the other night… stopping them, killing them, and then backing off until I got myself untied, and… you could’ve done other things.”

The crying is more like sobbing, now, and Cupcake isn’t being quiet anymore. Croaking out sad sounds, coughing, humming in vague agreement. Simon lays a hand on his chest.

“You could’ve done other things,” He repeats, quieter. “I never really thanked you.”

The blood dripping down his throat from his nose chokes him up again, and out comes a messy, awkward cough-laugh. Major tries to grin cockily, but it shifts into a frown, and he shakes his head, weeping.

“You were good, you survived it, you… protected me. Cupcake, thank you. You did good.”

Simon isn’t sure how, because it doesn’t make sense, but Major curls up, and ends up somehow with his head in Simon’s lap. Those sobs must be agony against battered ribs, and the broken arm is being jolted, and the battered head must be throbbing… but the sobs won’t stop now, and Cupcake seems to want to be held until they pass. Wants to be held in one piece, it seems, from how he presses his head against Simon’s stomach and wedges his shoulder into that lap, all but clambering to get as close as possible. This feels right, feels like Simon can protect him.

taglist: @morning-star-whump , @lthrboy, @apokolyps, @paperprinxe , @vampiresprite,

@wollemi-whump, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees , @whumps-and-bumps , @defire, @notactuallyluska

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

When You're Locked in a Hatch

Paring: Sawyer x F!Reader Word Count: 1.8k

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For some reason, there was alcohol in the hatch. It was odd, considering you would think this Dharma thing would want you to stay vigilant at all times so that whoever was in this horrible place could push the button once it began to scream at you during the ungodly hours of the night. Nevertheless, you took it, feeling much like Sawyer, whom you had gotten close to since the stupid hatch was busted open. He often elected to go down and push the button with you, which you thought was odd, considering he previously ranted about how cramped it was in there. Still, he begrudgingly joined you once you started regularly “signing up” for the shifts.

You were easy friends, considering you were the only one who could tolerate him, and out of everyone on the Island, he seemed to trust you the most. Getting comfortable with someone like that often leads to softer feelings, which you very often push away because it seems like a dumb, girlish crush that would most definitely get you hurt in the end. You bantered with each other often and sometimes thought the teasing fell into flirting, at least on his end. You didn’t want to push it too far just in case, for whatever reason, Sawyer found you to be too much and just push you away. Except that never happened. The more time Sawyer seemed to stick to your side or hole up with you in an overnight shift at the hatch, the more you felt whatever was between you take root into the definitely-more-than-just-friends category. 

Naturally, Jack and eventually Kate began grilling you to ensure Sawyer wasn’t being weird, as they put it. To be honest, it was getting pretty annoying, and you told them time and time again that absolutely nothing was wrong. Sawyer was oddly respectful of you and your privacy if the situation warranted it. It made you feel safer than you had with anyone before the crash happened, and you pretty much just barely knew Sawyer. You would hope ignoring them would get either of them off your back, which only turned into Jack in particular, verbally attacking Sawyer any time he got, making sure you were safe. Eventually, you got so fed up you locked yourself in the hatch, which is how you found the alcohol and got yourself in this situation in the first place. 

It’s not like you hadn’t had it before, being of age before the crash. It just wasn’t your preferred method of partying. A couple of swigs in after checking the time on the button at least five times, a hard pounding came from somewhere outside the hatch. Thinking it was either Jack or Kate, you shouted for them to “go the fuck away,” which the person responded with:

“Well damn, sweetheart, didn’t know you felt about me that way.”

Then you felt bad because you recognized the southern drawl of the voice, seemingly yelling at you to get the message to you. You set the bottle of nondescript alcohol down and scrambled to unlock the door. 

There was another loud knock, to which you responded, “Relax, cowboy. Don’t let your horse get spooked.”

When you opened the door, you were unsurprisingly met with Sawyer’s smug expression and, thankfully, no one else. Not that your little act would have been foiled by Sawyer working with anyone else.

“Is the princess done being locked in her tower?” Sawyer asked, and you rolled your eyes. 

“I’m not being locked in a tower if I did it voluntarily,” you shot back, and Sawyer stepped past you and walked into the hatch. Double-checking that no one else had followed him, you closed the door and debated about locking it again for a second. It would be stupid if your strike was suddenly broken into by the very people you were trying to prove a point to, so you locked it again.

You found Sawyer eyeing up the open bottle you had left on the counter. When your footsteps approached, he picked it up and gave it a little shake.

“What’s this?” Sawyer asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Dunno, I found it and figured I needed some way to pass the time,” you shrugged in response.

“You ever drink before this?” He countered.

“What, do you really think I’m that young?” 

“Nah, but I reckon you were a good girl before this place.”

“That would make you 0 out of 2, cowboy.” You snatched the bottle out of his hand and took a larger sip than you would have liked. You choked momentarily, not really proving your point. You grimaced, and Sawyer chuckled.

“Yeah, a real natural, I see,” he slipped the bottle from your fingers and tasted it but made a face as the liquid slipped down his throat.

“What? Not your usual?” You said it with a smirk, and Sawyer side-eyed you before taking another.

“You push that button recently, princess?” he said instead of answering your obvious bait to get under his skin.

“Like half an hour or so,” you shrugged again, “I really wasn’t too concerned about it until you got here.”

“You think I’ll distract you or something? Because I think this,” he held up the bottle and waved it around again, “Just might be a bigger distraction. ‘Specially if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“You underestimate me, Sawyer; I’m hurt,” you said, clutching your heart dramatically.

“If I ever underestimate you, sister, I’m in for a world of trouble,” he responds, holding the bottle back to you.

You take it back and motion for him to follow you to the sorry excuse for a living room in this place. As you settled into the living area of the hatch, Sawyer plopped down on a rickety chair, and you found a spot on a worn-out couch. The dim light from the overhead bulb flickered, casting shadows that danced across the walls. You took another swig from the bottle, feeling a slight warmth spreading through your veins.

Sawyer observed you for a moment before speaking up. "You know, princess, locking yourself in here ain't gonna solve your problems."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "And what would you suggest, oh wise one? Last I heard, they were getting on your nerves too. It’s not like you to go around and give out advice."

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, for starters, you could stop pretending like you got it all figured out. Ain't no shame in admitting you're struggling."

You scoffed, but a small part of you acknowledged the truth in his words. "Struggling to keep them off my back, that’s for sure. Otherwise, I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, despite what others seem to think."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I've just been around the block a few more times than you, that's all."

“You’re not seriously trying to tell me to play nice with Jack of all people,” you laughed shortly, “I was thinking you were joining me for my little stakeout.”

Sawyer motioned for the bottle, and you handed it to him. He decisively took a sip, seemingly ignoring what you said. You studied him for a moment, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the stubble peppering his jawline. Despite the gruff exterior, there was a vulnerability lurking beneath the surface. 

As you sat in the dimly lit living area, Sawyer cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence between you. He shifted in his chair, his expression taking on a more serious tone.

"You know, princess," he began, his voice softer than usual, "I ain't always been the most stand-up guy. Done my fair share of dirt in my time."

You looked at him, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his confession. "I think we've all got a few skeletons in our closets," you replied, offering him a smallish, understanding smile.

Sawyer nodded, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Yeah, but some of mine... they weigh heavier than others. Things I ain't proud of, things I wish I could take back." There was a rawness to his words, a sincerity that made your heart ache for him. Despite his tough exterior, it was clear that Sawyer carried his own burdens and demons that haunted him in the darkness. "I guess what I'm trying to say is," he continued, his gaze meeting yours, "I ain't always been the best at opening up to people. But with you, it's different. I trust you, princess. And that ain't something I say lightly."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, touched by the depth of his confession. In that moment, you realized just how much Sawyer had come to mean to you, how his presence had become a source of strength and comfort in the midst of chaos.

"Thank you for trusting me, Sawyer," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad we found each other in this mess." As Sawyer finished his heartfelt confession, a moment of hesitation lingered. Then, with a subtle shift in his expression, he seemed to gather his courage, his gaze meeting yours with a newfound intensity.

"And there's something else, princess," he began, his voice softer now, almost tentative. "Something I ain't sure how to say." Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a flicker of anticipation coursing through you. You held your breath, waiting for him to continue.

"Screw it," Sawyer muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I reckon you oughta know... I like you. More than I probably should.” The confession hung in the air, its weight settling between you like a heavy fog. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth, your pulse quickening as you realized what Sawyer was saying.

"You do?" you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid to believe it was true. Sawyer nodded, his expression vulnerable yet determined. "Yeah. And I know it's probably crazy with everything happening around here. But damn it, I can't seem to shake the feeling."

A rush of emotion flooded through you, mingling with the warmth of the alcohol in your veins. Despite the chaos and uncertainty of your surroundings, there was a sense of clarity. With a seemingly new threat every single day and a jungle that was pretty much completely unexplored, this rocked your core deeper.

"I... I don't know what to say," you stammered, your heart pounding. Sawyer reached out, his hand finding yours. "You don't have to say anything, princess. I just needed you to know."

You felt a surge of emotion welling inside you, a mixture of fear and excitement, uncertainty and longing. But beneath it all was a flicker of hope, a spark of something new and unexpected blossoming between you and Sawyer. At that moment, as you sat together in the dimly lit living area of the hatch, surrounded by shadows and secrets, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again. And somehow, that thought didn't scare you as much as it should have. Because in Sawyer's eyes, you saw the reflection of your feelings mirrored back to you with a depth and intensity that took your breath away. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for oneshots!

[that-fangirl-1106]

Hi, love it’s Tab!

I’m sending in my request now! If you write for Gaz would you write a fluffy a bit angsty piece for him coming home injured and exhausted from a mission and reader takes care of him? My boy needs some fluff 🥰

Thank you! I <3 you!

-Waiting-so-long

Gaz One Shot

Thank you so much @waiting-so-long for this request! I was super nervous to write this one but I’m so happy to write something for our underrated king! As always, requests are open and feedback is appreciated!

Warning: mentions of injury, probably so many medical inaccuracies I’m sorry, slight angst

Fem! reader

****************************************************

It was days like this that made you miss him the most. When the snow is piled high outside and everything is silent — not even the sound of children playing outside or people going to and from town.

It’s empty.

And you miss him.

You miss his warmth, the way he’d bundle you up in blankets and hold you on the couch, the way he’d whisper a joke and chuckle against your skin, the way he’d keep you in bed as long as he could.

“Where you off to, love? It’s freezin out. C’mon, you know the best way to stay warm is body heat, right?”

You pictured him here with you, you mind starting to wander as you imagined him in the kitchen with those grey sweatpants he knew you loved. He’d have them hanging low on his hips, his v-line starting to show. He’d be putting on a show for you, trying to rile you up, but insisting he has no idea what you’re on about when you playfully scold him for teasing you.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a key turning the lock on your front door; the key that only one other person in the world has.

Before the door is even fully open you’re up from the couch and rushing to greet him at the door. When you see him the wind is knocked out of you; maybe it’s the cold air trying to fight it’s way in your home, or maybe it’s the black eye and busted lip he’s sporting.

“Kyle,” you whisper, and he can hear the worry dripping from your voice. You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands, needing to confirm that he’s actually here. He made it back home to you.

“Hey, lovie,” he grins at you, feeling warmth spread across his chest as he takes in the sight of you. You look cozy and warm, soft and gentle, everything he hasn’t had over the past few weeks being on a mission. He ignores the pounding in his head and the aches in his bones and leans down to give you a soft peck on your lips.

“You miss me?” You can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks, but you don’t miss the way his hand hasn’t left his lower ribcage. Or the way he isn’t standing completely upright, as his shoulders curve slightly downward.

“Of course I did, baby.” Your eyes scan his face, looking for any other signs of injury. “Are you okay? What happened?” You move your thumb towards the cut on his lip, but he gently grabs your hand to stop you.

“I’m fine, love, I promise. Just a little banged up. Nothin’ new.” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it.

He shuffles himself inside and gently kicks the door shut. As he moves to take off his coat he lets out a soft groan and his hand immediately goes back to it’s place on his lower ribcage.

“Kyle, honey, let me help,” you say softly as you gently remove his jacket. Him being cut up and sore after a mission was routine at this point but this seemed different.

Normally when he came home he had that light in his eyes. He’d pick you up and hug you tighter than ever; but this time you don’t know if he’d even be able to pick you up. You felt anxiety settle deep in your stomach - something was wrong.

You place his jacket on the rack next to the door and the moment he hits the couch a long exhale leaves his lips. He takes a minute to sit with his eyes closed, his face scrunched up in pain while he thinks you’re not looking. He never wants you to see him like this. He never tells you the details of missions because he doesn’t want you to know just how dangerous his job actually is. He never wants his girl to worry more than she has to.

You sit down on the couch next to him and gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to lean back. He’s been dreading this part. It’s sort of a ritual you two have: you look him over for any bruises or scrapes and give them soft kisses. Sometimes he’ll even tell you the story of how he got them. This also normally leads to some really good sex.

But tonight he wants to skip this part. He doesn’t want you to see.

You slowly lift ups his shirt and let out a soft gasp when you see the deep purple and blue bruises that cover the right side of his ribcage.

“Just a little banged up? Kyle, this looks awful! What happened? How did-“

“Love, really, it’s nothing, I promise.”

You take in the sight of him and are struck with a reality that is always looming over your head no matter how much you try to will it away: you could lose him on any mission. He could leave and one day it would be Price returning home to you with a somber look and Kyle’s dog tags in his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. He didn’t…I did everything I could…”

You fell silent as you gently stroked his skin. The sound of Kyle speaking faintly registered in your brain with things like “three broken ribs” “said I could heal at home” and “not that bad, really” popping into focus every now and then. You feel the hot tears burning in your eyes and you try to will them away. You’re supposed to be comforting him. Not the other way around.

“Hey,” his tender voice called out as he cupped your face in his hand, wiping your tears away with his thumb. His hand felt like a small heater against your cheek and you tightly grasped it, grounding yourself in his touch.

“I made it back, darling. You know I always will, right?”

His eyes shone with the small smile on his face. He was always trying to charm you; to make you laugh and distract you from how bad a situation might actually be.

Your voice shook as you responded.

“But what if you don’t? What if one day you leave me and I can’t…I haven’t told you I love you enough and we have lived enough or done enough or-“

“Shh, lovie, breathe. You’re gonna make yourself sick worrying like that.”

He props himself up on his elbow in an effort to get closer to you and you can see how he bites back the urge to wince at the pain in his ribs.

“You’re the thing that keeps me goin, love. You’re my reason to keep fighting. As long as I can, I’m gonna fight like hell to get back to you. I promise you that. As long as you’re here waiting for me, then I’ll come back for you.”

He was the most honest man you’d ever met and you loved him so much it make your chest ache. You didn’t care of you’d resent yourself later on, wishing you had picked someone who hadn’t given their life for his team on a mission, you wanted to be with him - now and forever.

“I’ll always wait, Kyle.”

[mischiefnevermanaged89-blog]

Gotta Be Somebody Part 9

Angel Reyes X Reader

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Angel

Bishop had us all ready to go when (Y/N) showed up. Padrino made sure every charter was here to end this. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I was terrified this would go wrong and I’d lose the one person I loved more than anything is this world.

“Hey. Don’t worry. Everything is going to turn out okay.” Gilly clapped me on the shoulder and brought me from my thoughts.

“Man I hope so.”

“Yo, Angel. Don’t worry ‘bout our girl. Me and Gilly made sure to teach her a thing or two about protectin’ herself.” Coco said.

“Everybody listen up!” Padrino yelled out. “Prima is headed this way with the one who is trying to end everything for us. She infiltrated months ago to get us to this point. We’re helping her out just as much as she is us. Yes, this is a fight for Galindo, but without Galindo, none of us would eat or pay our bills or take care of our families. (Y/N) took a hell of a chance when she went across the border into Los Olvidados. We owe it to her to take this bitch down and everyone with her. We owe her our lives. Let’s not let her down tonight.”

Cheers went up all around. Not long after the speech, a whistle was heard. That was our cue to watch the exits for the men. Coco, Gilly, Manny and Hank took out the each of them as they ran in. The rest of us took our positions. We left a handful of us in the main area and the rest in the catwalks above and in the hidden walls.

Suddenly the front door was busted open and in came a woman followed by a dozen men and (Y/N) taking up the rear. I almost ran for her, but I remembered what we were doing here. She found me and her eyes softened at the sight of me.

“Everyone put your weapons on the ground. Now!” The woman yelled.

We did as she said. She nodded for her men to take each one of us and put us in the center of the room.

“Who’s the leader here?” She asked.

“I am.” Alvarez said.

“Good. You go first as a message to Galindo that his mules won’t be running anything for him anymore. He won’t ruin anymore families.”

Suddenly, (Y/N) whistled and made the woman turn to her. “How about you tell him that yourself, Adelita.”

Miguel and his men come walking in, along with his wife Emily.

“(Y/N)! What is this?”

“You put down your weapons. Or the rest of your men die.” She looked to Alvarez who signaled for the rest of our men to come out.

Adelita looked around in shock then back at (Y/N). “You? You’ve been the rat the whole time? You’ve been the one to stop every plan I set in motion and blamed it on others?”

“Yeah, that was me. You see, when you threaten my family, you threaten me.” She walked over to us and stood by Bishop. “And when you threaten the life of an innocent newborn child, well, that is a death penalty in my eyes.”

Adelita screamed out and raised her gun. (Y/N) took one shot before the other woman could and shot the gun out of her hand. She screamed in pain and dropped the gun and held her hand to her chest.

“You’re outnumbered, Adelita! Give up! You’ve lost this one. Face it. The Galindo cartel was here before you and will be here long after you’re gone. Sorry your family was killed by one of their men, but you can’t go around and kill other families to get that revenge. Especially mine. That’s a no no for me.”

“Maldita perra! (Fucking bitch) I trusted you!”

(Y/N) laughed. “That was the point. To get you here. So we could end this. You have nobody left for you on either side. All of your men, your women and children spies have been eradicated. I’ve had people all over watching me to make sure I was safe. One stipulation I made when I made the deal to infiltrate Los Olvidados.”

Suddenly Adelita charged at (Y/N), a knife in her uninjured hand. (Y/N) threw down her gun and charged her right back. Some of us tried to go in to help, but Bishop yelled at us.

“No! This is her fight. She wanted this. We will not step in unless we need to.”

I looked at him like he was crazy then to (Y/N). She was going up against Adelita bare handed. I knew she could fight but it was an unfair one when she had no weapon.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N)

Adelita kept trying to swing at me with the knife in her uninjured hand. I kept moving around so she couldn’t touch me. I knew her kind of fighting; angered frenzy. I could easily overpower her, I just wanted to have some fun first.

“Face it, Adelita. You’ve lost. Give up now and maybe your life will be spared.”

“Never! They killed my family. They must die.”

“Then why go after other people? Huh?” I kicked at her and caught her in the ribs. She hunched over. ”Why go after innocent people?” Another kick to her knee.

She went down and was trying to catch her breath. I stood in front of her and grabbed her by the hair to make her look at me.

“You want to know why I wanted Miguel’s wife here?” I pointed at Emily. “It’s because you tried to take her innocent baby from her in your sick and twisted game.” I got closer to her face “A child that is my blood.”

Her eyes went wide and I could hear murmuring all around me.

“Yeah, I said it. As it turns out, after I took this job from Miguel, I had some people do some digging for me. Come to find out, Emily, his wife, is my half sister. Her mother is my mother, or lack there of.” I looked to Emily. “No offense.”

“None taken.” She replied back, quietly.

“So, again. You fucked with the wrong family. My familia is everything to me. Blood and non alike; and I have blood on both sides of this. So, I’ll ask you one more time. Will. You. Give. Up?” I asked slowly.

Adelita flared her nostrils and grit her teeth. “Go to hell.” She then swung her fist up, still holding the knife.

In one swift motion I let her hair go and caught her hand and swung it back into her chest. “Not before you, perra malvada.” (Evil bitch)

I let her go and she fell backwards onto the ground. I looked up to Miguel and Emily. They looked at each other and walked towards me.

“One good push and she’ll stop suffering if you want to do it. She did try to take your child to use against your husband.” I said to Emily.

Emily looked at her and, without hesitation, stomped her heeled foot onto the knife, shoving it further into Adelita’s chest, ending her life.

“What about these ones?” Manny asked, pointing his gun at one of the Los Olvidados men.

“That would be up to Miguel.” I replied.

Miguel turned to look at them. He straightened his jacket. “Nestor.”

At that, Nestor nodded and his men took the remaining rebels outside. Gunshots rang into the night.

“Hija. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Dad took ahold of me and held me to him.

“Me, too, Papa. Me, too.” I kissed his cheek and smiled.

“So, what’s this about my wife being your half sister?” Miguel asked from behind me.

“Ah, yes, that. Give me a sec.” I went to my bag I threw on the ground by the door and pulled out a folder. “I was able to do some digging before I went to Los Olvidados. I wanted to know more about your family. Turns out, upon that digging, my contact found out an interesting fact. Emily’s mother was hospitalized twenty two years ago and released two days later with an extra person. As it happened, almost a year later I was dropped off with dad.”

I looked at Emily. “My mother, well, I guess our mother, didn’t want me because your father told her after I was born that if she didn’t give me up the life she had, with you and him, would be over. So she did. I tracked down all the records and there it is. My original birth certificate with her name listed as the mother, and Obispo Losa as my father. She tried to hide the fact that she had me from an affair by forging a fake birth certificate with your father’s name.”

Emily took the papers and looked at them. Her brows scrunched in confusion then realization as she looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I was only four when you were born. One day you didn’t come home with her and she said you were sick and had to stay at the hospital. Then you just never come home. I was too young to know at the time what any of that meant. I never forgot you. Any time I’d ask she would tell me she didn’t know who you were, that I was making another little girl up in my head.” She handed the folder back to Miguel.

She stood directly in front of me. Her eyes shining with tears, hands clenching at her sides. “It’s really you? My sister?”

“Yeah. There’s paperwork with DNA bloodwork that says it.”

She took me by surprise when she grabbed me into a tight hug. I held her back as we both cried. After a few minutes we broke apart. I turned to my dad .

“Papa, this is Emily. Miguel’s wife and my half sister. I’m sorry I never told you any of this before I left. I had to be sure.”

He let out a sigh and smiled. “It’s okay, querida. I guess this just means I have two daughters now, huh?”

We laughed. “I guess it does. You know as well as I do. My mother’s a bitch. An even bigger once now that I know the truth. I guess we have some catching up to do.” Emily said, looking to me at the last part.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Angel

I was relieved my girl was okay. I watched the interactions of her and Emily. I knew Emily from back in the day when her and EZ were a thing. I was just happy this was all over.

I walked closer to where everyone was so I could get my chance to hug her again. When she turned around and spotted me, she smiled. Damn did I miss that beautiful fucking smile.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d come back the badass I was meant to be?” She said as she walked up to me.

“Oh yeah. You’re so fucking badass Chuck Norris is scared of you.” I chuckled.

She laughed. “I also remember there was something else I told you you could tell me when I got back.” She come closer and put her hands on my chest.

“And what would that be, Mi Corazón?” I wrapped my arms around her back.

“You know what, but let me go first.” She suddenly fisted the front of my kutte and pulled me to her. Her lips crashed with mine and my world exploded. For the last few months all I’ve wanted to do was taste her lips on mine. I pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her while one hand held the back of her head.

When we pulled apart, yells and whistles could be heard all around. That didn’t matter to me because I had my girl in my arms again.

“Te amo mi hermoso idiota.” She said to me.

(I love you my beautiful idiot.)

“Te amo mi corazón, mi amor, mi vida.” I replied back.

(I love you my heart, my love, my life.)

“Alright you two. Break it up. Save it for later.” Bishop said.

We couldn’t help but smile. We walked to the rest of the group. (Y/N) went to introduce me to Emily, but I told her I already knew her because of EZ.

“Well, it’s been an eventful night. (Y/N), as promised, here is the information on your account with your payments. Every intel given that come to fruition, the final payment for this,” he waved his hand at the spot where Adelita’s body once laid, “and an extra thank you for saving my son.” He handed her a folder that contained a few papers with his signature.

“Please, now that you’re family, don’t hesitate to come by. Get to know your nephew and sister. We’d love to have you.” He then gave her a hug and turned to Emily with a smile.

They said their goodbyes and Galindo and his men left. The rest of us were gathering up around (Y/N) to find out what Miguel gave her.

“So what kind of payments you get?” Coco asked. Gilly slapped him in the back of the head. “What?” Coco asked.

“Payments for intel on where the group would be. A final payment for kicking her ass. The other one was news to me when he said it.” She opened the folder. She chuckled. “Maybe I should save kids of the wealthy more often.”

“How much?” Bishop asked. (Y/N) gave him a look. “What? I want to know how much you risked your ass for and if it was worth it.”

“Let’s just say I’m the second wealthiest person in Santo Padre. 10K for every intel that became something, that equaled to at least 4, so that’s 40K. 2 Million for finishing the job. And then there’s an extra 2 million for saving Cristobal’s life. So I’d say I’m a very wealthy woman, Papa. It was totally worth it.”

“Holy shit.” He whispered.

“And before any of you ingrates can come begging me for money, just remember, I’ve already got you assholes paid when I gave him back his product. That $50,000 each was my stipulation to him for the shit you went through that night.” She smiled at us.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I wondered where that came from.” Bishop wrapped his arm around (Y/N). “Alright boys. Let’s go home.”

We all loaded up, (Y/N) climbing onto my bike with me and we headed for home. Finally able to have my girl back with me, and I didn’t plan on letting her go any time soon.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Don’t worry my beauties!!! This isn’t the last part!!! I got at least 1 possibly 2 more to add!!! I hope you liked that little twisty I threw in there 😉

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ravennaortiz

@spnaquakindgdom

@meera10

[kukurykunapatyku]

Sometimes what you were looking for was in your pocket all along

After coming back to work after Unwound Future, Hershel discovers someone broke into his office. Together with Flora, they set on a journey to uncover this new mystery! On the way, he might just discover how strained their relationship really grew. Also on Ao3

Chapter 1

Notes:

This work is part of Layton Big Bang, so here's wonderful co-creators! The artworks were made by: Polysaurus: twitter, tumblr Angie_creations: carrd, intagram, bsky, twitter The puzzles were designed by Louise: tumblr

Flora would never not be amazed at how quickly people could shake off and rebuild after disasters. It wasn't even a week after Fake London rose from underground and brought destruction to the neighborhood. She saw the rubble, the fire, she heard the screams... And yet, it seemed the city already moved forward, leaving the tragedy in the past.

Moments like this were when she felt the most like a village girl.

Following the city's example, she cast her eyes down and tried to block it out of her mind.

She found professor Layton in front of his closed office doors, furiously searching through his suitcase. He lifted his head at the sound of her footsteps.

"Ah, Flora, is there any chance you have seen-"

She reached her hand forward, the tinkling of two metal keys hopefully hiding the snort she let out at his expression.

"You left them on the desk, professor."

He chuckled good-naturedly and took the keys.

"Thank you dear. I will left my head there one day."

Inside, the office was as clean as it was on a normal day. It still meant 'pretty messy' but it was like recent events had no affect on the University. Flora supposed that was good. It meant classes would start soon.

Absorbed in looking around the room, it took her a moment to notice that Layton stopped, his eyes fixated near the desk. With furrowed forehead he put the bag away on the floor and knelt near it.

"Is there something wrong?"

He shook his head.

"Not really. It's just... Yes, it's probably nothing."

"What?" She ventured closer and craned her neck over the spot professor was so focused on. "It looks like just some dirt."

"Yes, as I said, it's probably nothing."

"There''s more over there. And here!" She followed the trail. "There's something on the windowsill too."

Behind her Layton tensed.

"Oh. is there a lot of it?"

"Hm? Not really, I think we can clean it up in a blink of an eye."

"Ah. Could you open the widow please? The room seems a bit stuffy."

Flora reached for the bolt. Her hand hovered over the lock for a few seconds before opening. Then she turned to the professor with a concerned look.

"Professor, shouldn't it be locked before? The bolt was busted."

"Indeed it should." Layton closed the gap between them and looked down at the drying mud two stories below. "It seems an unexpected guest visited the office in my absence."

"No!" Flora gasped. She turned around and started pacing around the room, eyeing the furniture. "Did something got stolen? Maybe they were looking for something." She slapped her hands on the desk and shot scattered papers suspicious look. "Does anything seem out of place or moved, professor?"

Layton played with the trim of his hat, looking embarrassed. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know."

"Oh. Right," Flora deflated. "So, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Well, it can't hurt to ask around. Maybe somebody saw something." He stepped back and closed the window. "You can come home dear, thank you for the keys."

Flora furiously shook her head.

"It will be rather boring. Really, I insist-"

"Please professor, I can help!"

Layton scratched his neck.

"Well... If you're sure. Let's go then."

An hour of going around the campus later, Flora had to admit that it was, indeed, pretty boring. The only thing they managed to discover was that yesterday someone was asking about Professor Layton, but any triumph she felt when they first learned that disappeared when it turned out no one bothered to ask stranger for name or even remembered what they looked like.

"Really unassuming, I must say," one of the doctors answered. "He wouldn't look out of place in a lecture hall."

She let out the sigh as they approached the janitor working near main hall. After exchanging pleasantries, professor asked the question they were there for.

"No, I don't think anyone was looking for you sir, at least not when I was working."

Flora tried to look not too disappointed. A dead end again, what a bad luck!

To her surprise, professor just nodded, like it was exactly what he was expecting.

"I see. Well, I've got another question, if you don't mind. In the past few days, did you notice anyone passing by that you didn't recognize?"

Janitor scratched his beard in thought.

"My my, was there?" Then he hit his fist on the open palm. "Oh right, there was someone! He looked like an academics so I figured out he was just new. He left in the hurry but dropped this." He showed professor folded piece of paper. "It seemed important so I didn't threw it away. I would have returned it but he already disappeared by the time I noticed."

Professor took it from his hand, opened and looked it over. Flora could see the moment his eyes shined at what he saw inside. Could it actually help them?

"Ah, thank you. Would it bother you if I took it? I'll make sure to return it next time I see him."

"Bother? Not at all, you'll be making me favor!" The bearded man smiled and weaved his hand.

Satisfied, Layton tipped his hat and turned back to his office.

Flora followed him. I wonder when he would even notice I'm not there if I didn't. She quickly shut down this train of thought. It wasn't fair, she knew it; they were at the tip of the mystery, it's no wonder he got distracted by new clue.

Still, the thought remained, fermenting at the back of her head.

"Professor, what's that? Is it important?"

Hershel startled, suddenly reminded he wasn't alone and looked up from the paper. A weave of embarrassment washed over him at the sight of Flora's expectant face.

"I don't know yet; it does seem like it could be useful." He cleared his throat and started reading the handwritten poem:

Two days before the next Moon Four days before the Sun When under the morning sky The tall sibling stares down to Earth And the small one up at the western star Remember these words, you can count on them during Your journey: {Courage Will Be All} There one remains In the third Rainstorm of the first Chapter

"Unless our stranger fancies himself a poet, there is a possibility he wrote this for a reason, and that could help us discover why he was here. However, I'm at loss at to what it could be about."

"Maybe he wrote this as a reminder which train he was supposed to catch?"

Hershel glanced at Flora. "Oh? And what makes you think that, dear?"

She giggled and pointed at the side of the note visible to her. He furrowed his brow and flipped the paper. Then he let out small puff of laughter as well. The poem was written at the back of a train schedule from nearby station. He was so engrossed in trying to make sense of the strange words, that he didn't even looked it over properly. Maybe recent events affected him more than he'd like to admit.

"Well done, Flora; that should make solving our mystery a lot easier. Actually," he leaned forward and handed her the note, "since you discovered arguably the most important part of the puzzle, would you like to give it a try?"

With a bit of hesitation Hershel couldn't guess the source of, Flora took the paper and read it herself.

"I think we can look at it like an elaborate train ticket. What information should be there then, dear?"

Flora put one finger on her chin and started listing.

"Well, it needs to say when the train leaves, like day and hour." She turned the page. "There are a lot of trains that leave at the same time, so also the number?"

She looked up and saw Layton nodding at her approvingly. She returned to the puzzle. Recognizing what she needed was all well and good, but what's next? Maybe she should focus on the numbers first.

Two days before the next Moon, Four days before the Sun. That seemed to be the best place to look for a date. Moon and Sun are the point of reference, so they must point at some days. Moon and Sun... Days... Moon day... Sun day...

Flora almost jumped. Of course! She quickly counted. Two days from Monday, four days from Sunday, it must be Wednesday. She puffed with pride. One thing done!

The girl grabbed the next part with renewed energy. Under morning sky meant it's before 12 am, that much was clear. So the next paragraphs should show exact hour. On the Wednesday schedule the only morning trains were leaving at 3:45, 6:00, 8:15 and 10:30. The tall sibling stares down to Earth, and the small one up at the western star; how does it connect? Two siblings, one tall and one small, pointing the time. Flora furrowed her brows; it felt as if the answer was just around the corner...

Sudden melodic clang broke her out of her thoughts. Flora glanced where the sound came from and saw the clock on the academy tower. Was it 2pm already? The clock face showed... It showed... It showed!

Two siblings, there were right there! Long arrow pointing to the Earth, short arrow at the west - she threw away most trains, leaving only those leaving on 8:15 and 10:30. Out of the two of them 10:30 seemed better, but Flora didn't count out 8:15 just yet; the looks could be deceiving after all.

There were two trains on 10:30 and two more on 8:15. She looked at the examples; what made them different from each other? The train numbers: YJ7423, BB2011 and NP9694, SD2005.

Remember these words, you can count on them during Your journey: {Courage Will Be All}.

"Courage will be all," she murmured. "How's that a clue?"

"Well, one could say we can't count on our friend to be clear, can we?"

She startled, almost forgetting why she was solving the puzzle in the first place. Layton smiled at her and Flora realized he tried to make a joke, so she snickered.

Count... Maybe that's what those words meant? C-o-u-r-a-g-e  w-i-l-l  b-e  a-l-l; 7423, it fitted perfectly with only one train, that couldn't be a coincidence. She looked at the paper again and felt her eyes sparkle. Your journey: {Courage Will Be All}. YJ7423. The whole name was there, in one verse! Clever!

With a warm smile she wondered if Layton noticed it before her and was trying to give her a clue as a pun.

"I think I got it," she said instead. "He left on Wednesday, at 10:30am, on a train with YJ7423 as a number. That's what we need, right?"

"I think that's correct my dear! But say, what the last line could be referring to?

Any doubt that he already knew the answer evaporated. Third rainstorm in first chapter... What was missing?

"Could it be his seat? That's something he would need to know too, right?"

Layton smiled and patted her shoulder. "I think so too. Great job, dear."

Flora puffed with pride.

"It's great we followed the same train of thought then, professor."

She watched with delight as he slowly blinked and then brought hand to his face, muffling a snort. He reached his hand forward, wordlessly asking for the note.

The laugh died in Hershel's throat when he glanced at the schedule again. His eyes slipped off the correct train and glued themselves to the name few rows below it: Froenborg.

Name less significant on its own than what it was connected to. With a wave of memories of frozen secrets, flying golems and slender hand reaching for a handshake in a ice-cold cave, suddenly Hershel knew where he saw that writing style before. And with that, the other puzzle pieces fell into place.

"Did yo hear me, professor? Are we going to look for them?"

He twitched, mentally chastising himself for losing focus.

"Ah. No, I don't... It's not necessary, really."

She frowned.

"Are we giving this to the police then?"

This time the answer came to him quicker. "No. There's no need to involve them."

"So how are we supposed to catch them? Who knows what they were doing in your office!"

"Don't worry. I'm sure he really just wanted to find me. The approach was not ideal, but I'm sure there was no ill will involved."

"How can you know that? There could- wait. Professor." She looked at him with wide eyes. "You know who it is already?"

"It's only a hunch, dear. But I think it could be-" he stopped. Who was it? Desmond Sycamore, Jean Descole? Hershel? "My brother. It could be my brother."

"You have a brother?"

"Yes, though we're not close."

He looked down. Flora was watching him with an expression that brought to mind hungry chicks demanding a meal. Only good manners were stopping her from bombarding him with questions. Hershel sighed.

"I'll make us some tea. It's a long story," he said, maybe trying to buy himself time. Flora patiently waited for the water to boil up, though Hershel could hear her thrumming fingers on her knees.

Two clean cups out of drawer, one spoon of his favourite blend in each and sugar cubes on the plate. Hot water slowly pouring, with more care than the task really required. There was something calming about the flow; clear line from the tip of the kettle to the cup. No place for uncertainty, for statements that contradict each other and yet are no less truthful.

He could just tell the story as it was. Descole's rampage in Clark's hometown, the kidnappings, the fights, the deceptions, but something stopped him.

She's still a child, she doesn't need to hear it. This isn't a tale appropriate for a young lady, he thought.

I don't want her to hate him, said more honest part of himself.

"We grew up separately, so I really met him only about two years ago."

Flora took the cup from him. "That's the same time you met Luke."

"...Yes. I got a letter from Luke's father asking me for help. As it turned out, he got tangled into conflict with a particular archaeologist about nearby Azran site. It turned quite heated and we bid him a bitter farewell. Luck has it, I run into the man a few times after that, though we were usually at odds. Then, one day, he send for me. To be honest, I didn't know it was the same person; he used an alias. Apparently going against each other gave him an appreciation for my knowledge in the field, and he wanted my help with his recent breakthrough.

"I accepted. It was truly a one-of-a-kind discovery and it garnered a lot of unwanted attention from less than savoury individuals. The research made us work together for some time, so we get to know each other better. You can imagine my surprise when it turned out that not only was he my nemesis of a sort, but also a brother I lost so far back I could barely remember it."

He stirred his drink, watching sugar dissolve. He never told Flora what happened inside the Azran sanctuary

"And after that... I would like to say that we ended our partnership on amicable terms, but that's not quite true. There was a lot going on around that time and we didn't get to have proper goodbyes before we parted ways. Until today, that was last I heard of him, to the point where I was wondering if he's even still alive. So this," he tapped the note on the table," comes as a surprise."

Hershel took a sip. "He probably was looking for me, and when he realized I wasn't at work, he broke into my office to search for clues."

"Is that why you don't want to report it? Because he was just worried about you?"

Hershel smiled. "I'm not sure of his motives but it's an option."

"And you don't want to talk to him?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's just." Flora fidgeted with cup's ear. "You just said you didn't get to have proper goodbyes, so I thought you wanted to, but you also said that we shouldn't be looking for him."

"It's not that I don't want to per se, but he clearly came in secret. And if he wanted to talk he would've left me a message. I'm respecting his wishes."

"But he did come here, so he must've want to meet you, right? Maybe that note was a message, and he just lost it before he could hide it in your office?"

"He would've just written new one."

"Maybe he got scared by the mess. I don't think you would have read this note if he left it there. But now you found it! Doesn't that mean something?"

Hershel didn't answer at first, turning the argument around in his head. The more he thought about, the more he found himself agreeing. With embarrassment, he had to admit that it was possible that he could miss any message left there.

Still, even thought it was sound idea, he couldn't help but feel it was more of a convenient excuse. It has been three years since the last time he saw Descole and the rugged edges of what more should be said stole a lot of sleep from him. He did want to see him. He wanted to talk. He wanted to know why. Why any of this? Why like that?

"Fine," he said. "Let's look for him. But, you have to listen to everything I say, dear."

Flora jumped up with stars in her eyes. "Really? Amazing! I'll start preparing right away!" she said, grabbed her bag and sprinted towards the door.

Hershel waited for her steps on the staircase to fade away before he plopped down on his chair and sighed.

He hoped he wasn't making a big mistake.

[plagues02]

Code Scarlet

Summary: It was a quick in and out mission. Get the information and leave, it would last less than a week. Nothing could go wrong, could it? Characters: Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, Kate Laswell, John Price Ship: SoapGhost (can be read as romantic or platonic) CW: Trans people getting periods Word Count: 1,249 Note: This was written back in 2022 and was originally posted on Ao3

“You’re quiet,” huffed Ghost as he glanced back; his lazy eyes staring straight at the sergeant.

The mission they were on wasn’t exactly an important one. No, it was just a quick in and out for information. They left knowing they would be back on base in the next day or two. It was the third day, and they had one more building to raid.

Raid wasn’t exactly the right word. Everyone had already cleared out, and the few stragglers were either quickly taken care of or ran away at the sight of the two men. If they were lucky, the laptop they were looking for was still here, and they could take it back to be hacked into.

Ghost originally thought it was overkill to have two of them to go on a mission like this, but as the mission went on, he was thankful to have the other. He filled a silence that otherwise would have been deafening. A silence that became deafening when Soap decided to not speak for almost thrifty minutes too long.

The Scot grinned. “Aw, you do like my voice,” he teased, but Ghost knew him too well by now. The grin, the tone of voice. It was forced.

The lieutenant scanned over the other, checking for any possible injury that would have led to the silence. None. He was just being quiet.

Silence fell over them again as Ghost turned ahead, opening the nearby door and looking around the room with his gun pointed ahead. No one. Or anything but a few pieces of furniture. Of fucking course. There were about five more rooms left to check, each equally silent as the next.

The brit paused at the desk before deciding to double check the draws. When he squatted down, he felt it. An uncomfortable wet, warmth in his privates. He was lucky he was wearing black pants for there was a good chance there would have been a red spot already starting to form.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, lightly banging his head against the desk in front of him.

As a grown man who happened to have typical woman parts, he should know when his period was coming, and normally, he did. He thought he had another week so a quick mission wouldn’t get in the way.

“LT?”

The masked man looked up at Soap, who was resting a hand on his shoulder to check on him. He waved the other man away as he stood up once again, forgetting to check the draw. Soap noticed but didn’t say anything.

“Five more rooms,” he noted. “It’ll be quicker if we split. You take the right; I’ll take the left. Meet up at the end of the hall and go into the last together.”

The Scot didn’t speak, only nodding. They left the room together and separated. Taking about five or so minutes to look over the two rooms, they came back empty handed and ready to face the final room. Ghost met the other’s eyes, and Soap nodded back. They busted in.

Three men, two armed, one not. It didn’t take long to finish them. Their reactions were slow, and their aim was terrible. Bullets went right by their bodies but didn’t hit. Unlike the military men’s bullets. Before they knew it, the two armed men were down; the unarmed man didn't last long after he dove for one of the guns on the ground.

In the middle of the room, there was a desk. The masked man stepped forward to get a better look. There on top of the desk sat an open laptop, and the screen showed information they were looking for. Mission success.

Ghost started to reach up to his communicator to confirm the success as he closed the laptop. He was stopped by the scotsman. “Oi, LT, are you hurt?” he asked.

“No, he replied after a second. “You saw their aim, bullets went right by us.” Plus he would have reacted to being shot. Whether a grunt or just a step back. He did neither. “Are you?”

Soap shook his head, “Me neither, but I smell blood-” He paused before adding, “Sounds silly since we did just take ‘em out, but it’s,,, different. I smelt it earlier too.”

Ghost tensed, shifting his standing position. He inwardly cringed at the feeling of squishing between his legs. Why? Why did his period have to start during a fucking mission. The light stabbing feeling in his gut definitely didn’t help. His lazy eyes watched the other man, who also shifted. It was almost like Soap was also trying to get into a more comfortable standing position. His legs were shaking too,,,

The Brit’s eyes widened as a thought came to his head. The silence that had fallen over Soap not too long before he realized,,, his situation to the Scot mentioning that he smelt blood, even before they ended the lives of the three men.

The masked man reached his communicator again and actually spoke this time. “Watcher, found the laptop in one piece and secured it.”

A few seconds of silence before Laswell’s voice came over their communicators. “Great work, boys-”

“How fast can we get a heli here and how close?” Ghost cut her off, clearly hearing a surprised noise from the other. He noticed Soap looked surprised too by his sudden interruption. “We have,,,” he paused, trying to figure out the right wording. “,,,a code scarlet… double scarlet.”

The Scotsman raised an eyebrow, processing the words. His cheeks started to warm as Laswell spoke again, “Double,,, scar- oh, oh! Let me check-” A few clicking sounds later. “-Twenty minutes at the field about five minutes away. Spending them now.”

Ghost murmured a thanks, grabbing the laptop. He made a head motion towards the door at Soap and started walking before the other reacted. The walk to the field was silent. Seven minutes later, they made it to the field and sat down to wait for the final minutes. Soap let out a sigh of relief.

“Johnny-” Soap jumped at Ghost’s sudden voice. “-I’m going to ask again. Are you hurt? Not wounded, hurt.”

The sergeant hesitated, staring at the Brit who refused to look at him. He was still processing the comment from before, but he found himself speaking before his brain caught up, “I am. I feel like I was stabbed in the stomach repeatedly and someone left me to bleed.”

Ghost finally looked at him again, their eyes meeting. “It appears I’m the one doing the bleeding.”

The two men stared at each other, the words finally sinking into Soap. The brit placed his hands on the ground and pushed himself off the ground a little; in response, the Scot looked down to see the small red spot on the green grass.

A gasping, laugh sound left Johnny’s lips before he winced. He laid back and stared up at the sky, hearing Ghost place himself back on the ground.

“So we’re both trans,” Soap finally spoke.

“And we’ve synced,” Ghost nodded.

Silence over fell them for the final minutes before the helicopter appeared into view. The Brit stood up, holding the laptop, before reaching down to help Soap stand. The man in pain leaned against the other as they walked to see Price was the driver of the vehicle.

“Mission well done, boys,” He said, handing them both notable items. A towel for Ghost, midol for Soap. “Now, let’s get you two to base.”

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

finale - sinner

tags: n/a // ten // epilogue // masterlist

Pairing: frank x livia, billy x livia

Word Count: 10,008

Summary: It all comes down to one final night, where it all began. One who thinks he’s a god versus the one who once scared the Devil and the Punisher. The Devil wasn’t wrong after all to fear the evil she delivers.

David helped you get Frank into Dinah’s car. You were so out of it by then that you didn’t even know when the gun at the back of your head disappeared or what Dinah told her team for them to leave you all alone.

You sat with him in the backseat, letting yourself absorb his pain to keep him calm and give him a better chance. The drive seemed to go by in a blur given the fact that your body was still reeling with the effects the adrenaline shot. You three managed to get Frank into Dinah’s parents’ apartment and her dad helped to take care of Frank.

Your head was still pounding even though the gash had long since stopped bleeding. Your chest ached and your hand was clutching that familiarly cracked rib while your heart pounded viciously. Every breath felt ragged and your balance was uneven. Before you could say anything or catch yourself, you collapsed to the floor.

You were unconscious for hours. You woke up with your mask and suit off. Your torso was wrapped tightly and your head was carefully bandaged. You sat up and felt the uncomfortable shift of your ribs, though the pain was significantly less. You looked around and saw your bloodied mask and Bites on the nightstand. Your suit was tossed over a nearby chair and you were wearing the hoodie and sweats you had been wearing before the meeting with Billy.

Billy…

You rubbed a hand across your eyes and when you pulled it back, you noticed there were thin red lines around your wrist. Looking at it fully, you noticed the other wrist had the same marks. From the zip ties, you figured.

Dinah came in soon after and was the first to notice you were awake. She gave a tight smile and placed a folded outfit at the edge of the bed before she turned to Frank.

“Hey, Princess.” Frank said softy, reaching over to take your hand.

“Hey.” You replied and your voice was raspier than you anticipated. “It done?”

“Not yet.” Dinah answered with a sigh. “You should take Lieberman’s little gift and disappear, fast.”

“Gift?” Your brows furrowed before an envelope landed beside you on the bed. You looked at the source and David gave you a small nod. You opened it carefully and saw it was packed with hundred dollar bills while Dinah kept talking.

“I’d say the same goes for you, Yersova, but given the fact that no one there knows it was you, your secret’s safe for now.”

“My secret…” You repeated. “Funny you say that when my mask is across the room.”

“The only people that have seen your face are the people in this room. And my parents but they don’t know your name.”

“If I ever see you again after you walk out of this door, then all bets are off.” Dinah warned as Frank stood to leave. “I will take you in or I will shoot you down.”

“Wait.” You threw the covers back and jumped to your feet. As soon as you landed, your knees buckled and you nearly collapsed. Pushing through it, you chased after Frank and ignored the voices calling you back. “You can’t leave me.”

“You’re gonna be alright.” He said gently. “You don’t need me around, Liv.”

“I don’t wanna be alone again.” Your eyes burned with the threatening tears. “I can’t take being alone again.”

“You’re not alone, okay? Call your friends, yeah? I’ll see you around.”

“Frank...”

“I know.” He practically whispered. “But you gotta trust me. Just… Please, trust me. I'm gonna take care of it.”

“I don’t need you to protect me from this.” You countered firmly.

“Alright.” He scoffed. “Look at yourself, Livia. That rib’s been busted almost as long as I’ve known you. Your head gets split open once a month. You’re probably living with a concussion, God knows what else. You keep going like this, this thing is gonna crush you.”

“I don’t care. I need to see this to the end.”

“It’s not your fight, Princess. You steer clear of this and I know that even if he kills me, he’ll leave you alone.”

“I can fight for myself. And you wanna talk about what’s happened to me, you’re no better off.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged.  “You’re one of the few things left worth fighting for, alright? So that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“And I’m not helpless. I can go through this and not die.”

“Yeah? I bet Red thought the same thing and look where he ended up.”

Without hesitation, you brought your hand up and slapped him across the face. You hadn’t even realized you had done it until the sound seemed to echo throughout the room. Your eyes went wide in mild shock at your own action, but at the same time, it didn’t surprise you to react that way.

No one got to talk about Matt and his death, especially someone who wasn’t there.

He pushed past you after that, upset that you had hit him but also relieved that you were passed at him. Using your powers for a brief moment, you understood he wanted you to be mad at him so you’d stay away. So you’d leave him to die if it came to it.

He didn’t seem to realize just how stubborn you could be.

You went back into the bedroom and collected your gear. You tucked it under your sweatshirt and thanked Dinah for her help again. You asked her to thank her dad and wished David best of luck with his family before you left. Dinah was saying something about her seeing it through and that you or Frank didn’t have a monopoly on payback. Truthfully, you let it go in one ear and out the other.

Billy Russo was going to pay. You spared him too many times. In turn, he spared you but the tit-for-tat system was getting you nothing. Nothing but physical pain and injury and for what? For him to win?

You got into your apartment and once again found Karen inside, the chest that hid Daredevil open at her feet. She apologized and said she tried to call. Her explanation shifted to questions when she saw the bandages on your forehead while you pulled your bloodied alias from under your hoodie. You simply threw the pile into the closet and kept moving past her, towards your bedroom. You paused at the small box you had kicked out of your way before so you picked it up and brought it with you.

You sat on the edge of your bed and unfolded the small piece of paper that was tucked under the edge of the lid.

-sorry about everything, billy-

You made a face to yourself before tossing the paper and opening the box.

It wasn’t until you heard your front door close did you pull your phone. You called the familiar number, knowing it’d be the last time. It had to be.

“And here I was thinking you didn’t want anything to do with me. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He said when he answered and to your surprise, there was no malice in his words.

“Can’t I just call to check in?” You answered.

“I didn’t think you’d want to, given the fact that you, yknow, shot me.”

“And you slammed my head into a pole till I went unconscious so I’d say it balances out.”

“Why are you calling, Livia?”

“Why’d you answer, Billy?”

“General curiosity.” He said simply. “Your turn.”

“The watch.” You spun it in your hand and your fingers felt a difference in texture. Glancing down, you almost laughed. “Was it one of yours?”

“No, picked it out just for you.”

“So what’s with the BR on the inside of the strap?”

He chuckled as if he was caught and the mundaneness of the conversation felt so out of place.

“I saw that ring your Matt got you, the one with his name in it. Thought if we could smooth things over, you’d have something with mine but…”

“At least it’ll get a good chunk from the pawn shop.” You shrugged.

“Ouch. I know it doesn’t match your little costume, which I gotta say, makes you look great.”

“C’mon, Billy. You’re gonna tell me you don’t understand that all this is on you? Your choices led us here.”

“You made a choice too. But you don’t see me throwing that back at you.”

“Difference is I made a good one. You’ve done yourself no favors.”

“I still don’t get what’s so special about Frank.”

“That man was damn near dead and he was worried about me. He’s always taken my side and looked out for me. You say that you’d never hurt me but I know he wouldn’t. He’s the closest to family that I have in New York. You don’t get to take that from me.”

“As much as I love our little chats, Beautiful, I’ve got things to take care of.”

“If you manage to get through Frank and it comes down to you and me, you’re dead.” You warned.

“Can’t wait.”

The line went dead and you dropped the phone in your lap. You rubbed your aching eyes and took a few deep breaths, as deep as the tight bandages would allow.

You were running through scenarios as to what Billy would be up to. Hiding at Anvil was an option, but unlikely. You figured Homeland would’ve raided the place by now, or at the very least be in the process of raiding. Same could be said about his place. His bridge with you and Dinah was burned so he wouldn’t be on his way to either place.

All that really could leave would be Curtis.

Curtis.

You jumped up quickly and hurried to change. You dressed in a hurry before practically running to the closet. You shoved a gun into the waistband of your pants and snatched your bag before you left. You were nearly sprinting to your car to get to Curtis’ place.

You thought to call Frank but how could you? You doubted he had any sort of burner, not one you had the number of at least. Besides, he was more than willing to do it without you. Dinah wouldn’t be the help you needed. So you were on your own.

You banged on the door and waited for an answer, though you were met with silence. You banged on it again, harder than before, and still got no response. You muttered to yourself about Curtis sleeping like the dead before you knelt and reached under your shirt for one of the metal fasteners on the bandages. You bent it back and forth until it snapped into two pieces and you used the pieces to pick the lock.

You drew your gun and carefully opened the door, seeing a phone slide across the floor. You moved in slowly and saw Billy on the other end of the room, ducked below the windowsill. Your eyes scanned the room and it was easy to see the bullet holes. You nodded towards the window in question and Billy gave you a small nod before he lifted the phone to his ear.

You saw Curtis peak around from the floor of the kitchen and your focus immediately changed. You hurried over and dropped the gun at your side before examining the wound. You gently pulled the collar of his shirt aside to see the bloodied injury. You clicked your tongue, knowing there wasn’t much you could do at the moment, and applied pressure.

“Finish this where it all started.” You heard Billy say.

You gave no outward reaction but you knew what he meant.

Midnight at the carousel.

He left after that but you stayed at Curtis’ for a while longer. You two talked about what Billy was doing there while you waited for the ambulance. You were glad it was only the one gunshot and the shot itself wasn’t lethal. Whatever Billy’s plan there was, it wasn’t about killing Curtis, and you were thankful for that.

You went back home once the ambulance took him away. You had washed your hands at his place, but they still felt wet. Dripping with the blood of everyone you’d met. Everyone you’d hurt. Everyone you’d killed.

You had to shake the thought as you got to your apartment. You knew what you had to do, only it wasn’t a job for Livia. It was set up for Exodus to finish.

Kill Billy Russo. Save Frank, save yourself.

It seemed so simple when you thought of it that way and maybe it was that easy. You were in the closet under the stairs gathering your equipment in a duffel bag. A clean suit, your new vest, Bites, gloves, mask with intact lenses, staffs, and a fully loaded belt. You fit the retractable blade to your wrist and tossed two handguns on your couch before going to your bedroom to change.

Dark fitted pants, dark red fitted long sleeve, your usual vigilante boots. You fit your FBI issued vest over it for the time being and threw a loose zip up over it. You sent a quick text to Dex before you threw your phone to your bed.

central park carousel 1230

Your phone landed beside the watch and you found yourself wanting to break it, stomp your heel on it and hear the glass break. Pull the straps apart and drive a knife through the rest. But you didn’t. You’d bury it with him. Dead, just like your feelings for him.

You pulled your hair back and looked at the long gash on your forehead, opposite the side of your mask scars. It buried itself in your hairline and was nearly healed, the slightest discoloration in your skin. You blew out a sigh and stared at your face as a whole.

She looked like you, close enough at least. Half alive compared to what you looked like when you first came to town. Twice as weak. More vulnerable than you ever intended, more willing to let people in. For that, you blamed Matt. It was easier to decide it was his fault but you still looked for him in any other man.

But it seemed like every person you let in was another scar, another injury, more blood loss. You were always the loser, but as you stared into your ghosted eyes, you decided you’d get through the fight.

And if it killed you, then at least you tried. You had lived a life worth more than anything you would’ve had in the Red Room.

Despite all the sentiment, you couldn’t afford the vulnerability. The weakness. So you watched as the light Frank saw not too long ago fade from your eyes, locking away the weakness behind Exodus’ strength. What filled the light’s absence was almost as hollow, almost as empty. It was the look of a killer, of someone who has courted death.

It was the look of someone who truly was half alive. Someone that once brought out fear in the Devil of Hell’s kitchen, that decimated the Russians, uprooted Fisk’s empire, crushed the Yakuza. A trained killer, raised on the bitter taste of blood and changing the history of man. Someone who you tried to get away from but what’s good was that?

She was your shadow, and to be rid of that would be to lose a piece of yourself.

So be it.

You went back into your living room and placed your guns at your back, tucked into your belt. You stopped in at the closet one more time to add a knife inside your boot before you grabbed your bag. You slung it over your shoulder and bounded down the stairs to your car, throwing the bag into your backseat.

You drove over to the park, leaving your car a block away. You were going to survey the area and see if you could get a better vantage point, somewhere you could see it all but Billy wouldn’t see you. Before you left your car, you grabbed your Bites and shoved them in your jacket pockets.

You were wandering the emptying area, offering polite smiles to the kids who made eye contact with you while they laughed wildly. Their parents apologized but you assured them it was fine as you kept going. You had circled the small novelty feature and found nothing interesting until there was a small clatter inside the snack bar. You thought nothing of it at first but you moved closer to make sure.

Their voices were muffled, deeper into the room than you initially anticipated. You fitted your Bites into place and tugged your sleeve down to cover as you snuck into the room. You didn't need your mask to see that it was Billy, especially when their fear began to burn your tongue.

Your hand flexed and your Bite activated as you gave yourself a clear shot.

“Let them go, Bill.” You said flatly and you noticed your accent tinting your words. The girl yelped from the other room and Billy turned to face you calmly. You lifted your hand and aimed your weapon with the same sense of control. “They don’t have anything to do with this.”

“You wanna take their place?” His brows raised.

“Sure.” You shrugged. “If it’s to get to Frank, he’s gonna care more about me anyway.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgement before gesturing for the kids to leave. They squeezed past him and practically ran out, stammering a rushed ‘thank you’ as they passed, but you didn’t take your eyes off Billy.

“No suit this time?” He asked, leaning against the wall behind him. He crossed his arms and you noticed his gun was still in play, poking out from between his forearm and bicep. “But the accent’s kinda hot. Where’s that been this whole time?”

“Funny.” You rolled your eyes.

“Lighten up.” He tried with a smile but your expression didn’t change. “Jesus, Livia, will you put that down?”

“No.”

“Alright, well then.” He sighed and moved quickly.

He fired his gun, hardly even moving it. The bullet hit the inside of your raised wrist and you cried out, arm falling down almost immediately. You examined the joint and were thankful it didn’t get through the Bite. However, your relief was short lived when the sharp electricity shot through your arm. Looking closer, the bullet cracked your weapon and now it was shorting out, releasing unregulated bursts.

You were reaching to take the device off when Billy’s touch stole your attention. Your head snapped up and as soon as your eyes met, he backhanded you with his pistol and you fell to the floor.

The sudden lights and movement pulled you back. Your eyes fluttered open and your arm still twitched from the electricity. Your arms were above your head, bound to the pole of the carousel horse that you could feel along the length of your spine.

You blinked through the lights and pulled on your restraints, which only sent another shock through your arm and you felt the zipties dig deeper into the tender skin. Why he didn’t take the Bites off, you didn’t know. Maybe the faulty one shocked him when he touched it. You shifted your body and felt both guns still against your back and shaking your foot, you felt the knife handle in your boot. Yet your jacket was gone.

You figured he left them because if you were restrained, it didn’t matter what weapons you had on your person.

“Billy?” You tried but opening your mouth allowed for a new pain to begin thumping at your jaw.

You rolled your eyes to yourself when you realized it was from when he hit you. You were going to get him back for that.

You had a feeling you were alone, or at least that he wanted to feel that way. As you spun on the stupid horse, you scanned the area. You knew he had to be somewhere. You felt the pride bouncing off the mirrors around you but the source wasn’t visible.

“Billy!” You yelled and pulled the restraints again, this time breaking skin on one side. “Goddammit…”

Your implant pinged in your head so you adjusted your head to bump your shoulder until it answered.

“The hell you doing here, Princess?” Frank asked tightly. Anger was in his voice but it didn’t feel directed at you, not completely at least. The concern between the syllables was.

“Not much at the moment.” You answered, shifting in the horse to sit sideways and get a better view of the restraints. You winced loudly as another shock ran up your arm and it made you wonder how much more juice was in that damn thing. “Could use some help.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of it?” He argued instead and you had to roll your eyes.

“Sorry, I missed the part where I was supposed to listen to you.” You answered sarcastically. “Besides, it’s not like I planned to be stuck to a stupid horse.”

“You think you’ll be alright for a few minutes till I can get to you?”

“Sure.” You said before pulling on your wrists to get them further down the pole. “If my arm doesn’t lock up.. Dying would be one hell of an adventure, don’t you think?”

“What?”

“Nothing, nevermind.”

“You see him?”

“No.”

“Alright. I’m coming.”

You nudged your shoulder to shut it off and turned your focus back to your restraints. You tried twisting your wrists in opposite directions but it just dug the plastic deeper until the other side broke skin. Your next thought was the knife in your boot, but you’d fall off the horse trying to get it out. Next thought was the knife at your wrist. You were adjusting your hands to ensure the blade didn’t knick you when the explosions sounded.

Three loud, bright collisions that made you jump and nearly fall off the stupid animal. You craned your neck to look but that ridiculous spin put you on the other side while the gunfire sounded.

You slammed your foot against the closet horse in annoyance and Billy came into your field of vision, keeping low to likely keep visual on Frank.

“C’mon, Billy.” You commented, taking a deep breath and readjusting to sit back up on the horse. “Here I was thinking you were gonna play fair.”

“Shut up.” He sneered, still not looking at you.

“I’m just saying.” You shrugged, looking up at your hands again. You tried to flick the blade out but the tight constricts kept you from being able to fully move it. You groaned in annoyance and turned your attention back to Billy.

Manipulation it was.

“Billy, baby, c’mon.” You tried instead, drawing on that need he had to be wanted. “You don’t wanna do this. Not to me.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Let me outta these, yeah?” You kept pushing and found the slightest piece of admiration for you. He tried to hide it, to ignore it so killing you wouldn’t hurt him. But you found it. The slightest hint of an attachment. “We can… We can fix us. That’s what you want, right? You and me, clean slate.”

At that, he turned his head. The colored neon showed just enough of his expression that you saw the wide eyes he gave you. Disbelief, but want so clear on his face. If you had seen that expression hours before, maybe it would’ve changed your mind.

“C’mon, Bill. You don’t wanna hurt me, right?” You urged, nearing your own desperation as your arm was hit again and the jolt made your whole body react. “Please.”

The skin beneath the damaged Bite was burning, likely being worn through by the constant assault. The muscles in your arm were victim to constant spasms, soaked through with the remnants of electricity. It was almost enough to make you scream.

Billy drew closer but didn’t put his rifle down. He kept looking between you and the scene behind you, keeping an eye out for Frank no doubt. If Frank got close enough, you knew you could count on him to get you out, but at the time, that wasn’t an option.

So instead of screaming, you let yourself cry. You would’ve used some old pain or trauma of your own, but there was enough coming from Frank that you didn’t need to.

“Billy..” You said in a small voice, hoping to appear helpless and pathetic as the tears fell down your cheeks. “Please, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, just…”

He had just taken a hand of his gun to reach for a knife when he must’ve seen Frank. He was quick to raise his gun again as shots came in from the other side. You tried to duck and a bullet hit the center of the zipties wrapped around the pole. Your arms fell quickly and you reached to grab Billy’s rifle.

Once your hands were on it, you spun your legs and went off the opposite side of the house to force his gunfire towards the middle of the carousel. He released the trigger after a bullet bounced back and caught him in the cheek, causing him to fall to the ground yelling in pain.

You smiled slightly as he spit out the bullet. You knelt down, ensuring your foot was on the rifle, and grabbed Billy by his face. Your fingertip pressed on the new wound and fresh blood bubbled out and over your fingers. The sight drew another sadistic smile.

“What happens when you’re dead, hmm?” You asked, an innocent tone in your voice that didn’t match the scene at all. “Who’ll mourn you?… Look at you now, pretty boy. Какая пустая трата этого красивого лица.” (What a waste of this pretty face.)

He shoved your hand off and grabbed you by your throat. You let him back you against the center of the carousel and laughed to yourself when he pulled a handgun. You snuck your hand behind your back and grabbed one of your own, carefully wrapping your fingers around the cold metal as his came to your forehead.

“Count of three?” You asked with a smile.

He added more pressure to his grip and you coughed slightly at the restriction of air.

“You come out where I can see you, Frank, or I kill her right now!” Billy yelled, looking in either direction for Frank before looking back at you. “You beg.”

“No.” You said flatly.

“You beg Frank to come out and save your life, right now!”

“Fuck you!”

“Beg!”

“You know I’d never hurt you right?” You mocked him loudly, though it wasn’t much of a yell with his hand around your throat. “I never loved you, y’know.”

“What?”

“I was just passing the time.” You shrugged, a sadistically out of place smirk finding your lips. “I bet you loved me though. Cause I knew how to lie.”

“I’m gonna enjoy this.” He sneered but the venom in his tone did nothing to hide the blue fog that seemed to shape his words.

“I doubt it. And as far as Frankie’s concerned, yeah, he doesn’t care about me either.” You laughed. “Go ahead and pull the trigger. I dare you.”

“Let her go, Bill.” Frank said from a few feet away but your eyes didn’t leave Billy.

“Doesn’t care, huh?” Billy taunted before turning back to Frank, instructing him to ditch his gun.

You heard the clatter of his gun and soon after, his knife.

“Идиот.” You said to yourself, which caused Billy to pull you a few inches forward and slam you back. The impact triggered another shock from your busted device and you cried out sharply. (Idiot.)

“Shut up or I put a bullet in you right now!” He screamed in your face.

“Давай.” You sneered through gritted teeth. (Go ahead.)

“Bill, let her go.” Frank tried, desperation spewing from him like a busted pipe. “Let her go.”

“Attachments are a weakness, Frank.” Billy said, his voice dripping with condescension. He let you go to take a few steps closer to Frank and you collapsed, one side of your body still tingling with the electricity of your Bite. “I never had anybody.”

“Don’t.” You tried to get to your feet but Billy ignored you.

“You had us, Bill.” Frank answered and Billy shot him.

You flinched at the sound and looked up, surprised to see Dinah kneeling in front of you. Suddenly, you were the one starting to panic.

“What are you doing here?” You asked quietly as she helped you to your feet. “How did you know where we would be?”

“You okay?” She asked in the same hushed tone instead.

“I’ve got cuts around both wrists and I’m pretty sure I’ve burnt some of the nerves in my wrist and hand. What do you think?” You gave a sarcastic expression. “Listen, he’s lost it, alright? You need to-“

Before you could finish your sentence, a gunshot sounded and Dinah went down. Her finger on the trigger went off as she did and the bullet from her gun nicked the underside of your jaw, skirting along the bone. You teetered back against the mirrored center and the commotion started between the boys. You opened and closed your mouth to break up the burn from the bullet and peered down at the fallen agent, blood pooling from the new hole in her skull.

Your previous panic was burned out, replaced by a familiar heat of anger. A heat you used to curse but were thankful for. Your anger came with the red tint, the manic bloodlust that had come to worry you. Only now you reveled in it, welcomed it. You counted on it. You would thrive with it.

Billy was too focused on fighting Frank to realize you were coming up behind him. You ran up and used the pole closest to him as leverage. You gripped it with both hands and threw your feet forward to hit his back and send him to the floor.

He spun to his back as you were landing and he kicked one of your feet out, dropping you to your knees. You began to reach behind you when a bullet hit your wrist. It went in through the bottom and came out the other side. You cried out and clutched the bleeding joint. You yanked the broken Bite off and the shattered device left chunks of material behind in the opening. Blood bubbled and filled the now empty space and your hand trembled while a thick stream leaked down your arm.

You reached into your boot for your knife to cut your sleeve off. Using your teeth, you pulled some of the fabric away from your arm and pierced it with the knife. You yanked it down your arm before trying it haphazardly around your wrist. You tried to flex that hand, ensure there was enough blood getting to your digits, but the muscles were already tight from the electricity.

You had no idea if you’d bleed out by the time the night ended. It was a sharp slap in the face to realize that you really could die that night, to something as stupid as blood loss.

Matt’s voice came into your head at that point.

C’mon, Sweetheart. You’re not giving up yet.

You shook the thought and focused back on the scene in front of you. Billy had just thrown Frank to the ground so you grabbed your knife again and went after him.

You reached around from behind and out the blade to his neck. Before you could pull it and slice him open, he grabbed your arm and flipped you over his shoulder. Your back hit hard and he began turning the blade to point at you.

One of his hands wrapped around yours to keep the knife in your hand and the other pushed on your arm. You threw your free arm up to block it and flicked out the short blade at your wrist. You swung it quickly and blindly, but you felt it connect. Where it hit, you didn’t know but it was enough for him to let you go.

Frank got to your side and helped get you to your feet. You gripped your knife tighter and it shifted against your bloody palm before you put it away.

You wanted to do it with your bare hands.

Billy’s foot connected Frank’s chest and he fell back against one of the horses. 

You waited until you saw Frank up on his hands and knees before you moved. You vaulted over Frank, planting your hands on his back for stability as you kicked your feet forward. Your legs wrapped around Billy’s waist and you hauled yourself upright. The momentum of your upper body was enough to throw him into the nearest pole. One hand locked around the strap of his bulletproof vest from the underside while the other threw sharp punches.

You felt his hands on your waist and before you could react, he was driving forward with the intent of slamming you into something. You released his vest and pulled your hand back quickly, slicing a shallow gash from the middle of his jaw to his temple. You brought both arms up and slammed your elbows down against his spine, just as the middle of your back hit hard against the carriage-shaped seat and knocked the air out of you before you collapsed to your knees, wheezing in a poor effort to refill your lungs.

Again, Matt’s voice but this time he said a phrase you had never said around him. Something you learned from your aunt.

You can’t breathe, you can’t fight.

That was when you knew you were losing it. He shouldn’t have known that saying, yet you heard his voice as clear as the music around you. If you went down, you truly understood, you wouldn’t get back up. And for once in your life, that actually scared you.

You moved back at him quickly, swinging your blade at Billy. He ducked it easily and you wondered for a moment if it was due to the blood you lost. You buried the thought and moved in again, aiming a sharp jab at the bottom of his bulletproof. He jumped away from your attack and you dropped to your knees to knock his feet from under him.

As he fell, you pulled your blade back out. You flipped it over the back of your hand and tried to slam it down, aimed right at the soft spot at the base of his throat. His hand shot up and caught your hand, desperately trying to keep the tip of your knife away.

You threw your leg over him so you were straddling his chest with hopes of leaning enough of your weight forward to get the knife to pierce. After a few more seconds of no progress, you groaned loudly and pulled your hand back. You lifted the knife high and held it in both hands.

You screamed loudly in frustration as you drove it down again. Billy was quick to throw you off, your knife getting lost in the process. You two kept rolling until he was able to get on top of you and pinned your arms above your head.

You thrashed under his weight but to no avail. Every movement seemed to drain more strength than usual so out of desperation, you slammed your forehead against his. He fell off you and you were quick to shift and kick your feet hard, one heel catching him in the cheek in the same spot your knife slashed earlier.

You got to your feet and took a deep breath as Billy got up, only a few feet away from you. You two locked eyes a moment and from the taste in your mouth, you knew you weren’t the woman he was used to seeing. Now bloodied, chest heaving with heavy breaths, eyes empty save for the thought of murder. You were what the rumors said Exodus to be, especially when you smiled.

You rushed him again and threw an acrobatic kick that made him stagger backwards. When you landed, you swung the blade at your wrist. You made sure to keep your bloodied wrist out of the way for the most part, relying on the short knife on your wrist. You managed to catch him with small gashes, just able to slice his shoulder or his arm.

The tip of Billy’s wrist blade came at you and caused you to change your stance, resulting in a shallow stab to your stomach and exposure of your injury as you swung a heavy hook to counter. He caught your wrist and held tightly but you refused to make a sound. Instead, you used the other hand to grab his shirt and hooked a foot around his. You threw your body weight and flipped you two over again so you slammed into the ground. You landed on your side, aggravating your long standing rib injury, and you groaned to yourself as you uneasily got up to your feet.

Before you even register Billy’s location, he grabbed the back of your neck instead and you shot a foot out to keep him from slamming your head again. You added the other foot and kicked off, throwing your body against his.

He hit the horse behind him and you hit him, but both of you went down.

Frank took over at that point, pinning him down and beating on him while you used one of the horses to haul yourself up. Your hands slipped from the blood and your own legs threatened to go out from under you. You glanced down and saw the makeshift dressing was already soaked through and dripping. You groaned to yourself and wondered how much longer until it was half past midnight and Dex would show up.

Matt’s voice came again.

If you can’t stand, you can’t fight… Get up and fight. Back. Don’t let him win.

You wobbled on your feet and you were turning back at the fight when Frank slammed into your side. Your ribs knocked into the horse and felt the crack echo through. You groaned loudly before pushing yourself up, just in time for Billy to grab you by your hair.

Before he could do anything, you jumped over the horse and heard the thud of him hitting it behind you. You spun to face him before you pulled his arm over the top of the horse and you slammed your elbow down. The snap was loud and he cried out, signaling it broke. You smiled viciously before you fired from your Bite, a shot that caught him on the shoulder. He reeled away and you fired again, hitting almost the same spot. You followed after him and slammed the blade at your wrist into his shoulder before you grabbed his shirtfront. You yanked hard while throwing yourself back, pulling you both to the ground.

Your bloodied hand reached behind you and pulled one of the guns. You leaned back and the blade pulled back with you while you aimed. Before you could fire, he knocked the gun out of your hand. He changed your positions and you were on your back with his knee on your bulleted wrist.

As if on cue, Frank tackled Billy off.

“Никогда не заканчивается, не так ли…” You said to yourself, holding your fragile hand to your chest. (Never ends, does it…)

You had practically no feeling left in it and your fingertips were growing cold to the touch. You could move the digits but just barely. For a second, you thought they’d have to amputate your hand.

You forced the thought away and made your way back to Frank who had Billy against the mirrors. As you got closer, you saw the blood dripping from Billy’s stomach. You got there just in time for Frank to drag Billy’s face down the shattered mirror and you smiled genuinely. Frank backed off for a second to check on you and Billy tried to use the moment to his advantage.

You caught the punch he threw and shoved your short blade through his forearm, seeing the tip of the blade come out the other side. He screamed out and you forced him arm down, pressing your other at the base of his shoulder before you dragged him in a circle and shoved him face first into the jagged mirror. The action pulled the blade off your wrist but the blade was still lodged in his arm.

Frank held Billy by his hair and put a piece of the broken mirror against his throat. You stood beside your friend and pulled out your other gun, pressing it to Billy’s temple.

“Everyone I know will know your name.” You said lowly. “И все они будут презирать тебя за то, что ты сделал.” (And they’ll despise you for what you’ve done.)

You two met eyes in the shattered mirror while Billy mumbled something you weren’t listening to.

Your hearing had muffled itself by then. The edges of your vision were blurring and you felt unsteady on your feet but you pushed as the adrenaline faded from your blood. You persisted because you needed to see it through.

You came too far.

The two boys exchanged words before Frank put his weapon away. You hesitantly did the same but before you could attempt to speak, Frank kicked Billy into the glass again.

He slammed Billy into it a few more times while saying something you didn’t register. He offered you a turn and instead of slamming his head, you kicked your foot forward and your heel hit his face. You heard the crunch as the shards dug in deeper and while Frank finished his monologue, you remembered Dinah.

You made your way over and practically collapsed at her side. She was alive, at least. By the time Frank got to you, you were on the brink of passing out. Frank tried talking to you but you hardly processed any of it.  Instead, you forced the other Bite off and shoved it into his hand.

He practically threw the device before he sat beside you and carefully dragged you into his lap. One arm was behind you to keep you upright while the other reached for the bullet wound. You were fighting to keep your eyes open when you felt a sudden cold.

You weren’t sure if it was your own body temperature or Frank but when you got your eyes to focus, if only for a second, you couldn’t miss the blue haze across Frank’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You managed weakly. 

“You’re okay…” You couldn’t hear his words but you could read his lips. “It’s gonna be- gonna be okay. Just stay with me.”

Your head fell to the side and you saw a figure running up to you. He practically fell to his knees in front of you and his hands carefully cupped your cheeks.

————————————

You were no longer cold or in pain. You were no longer dripping blood and in agony. Everything was calm, quiet. Everything felt peaceful.

You felt at peace for the first time.

The scene around you had changed from the carousel to a vast, empty space. There seemed to be a spotlight on you and Matt, while everything else was drowned out in a heavy darkness.

“You’re safe, baby.” Matt promised. “You can stay here, with me.”

“I love you.” You said quietly.

“I love you, too.” He smiled.

—“C’mon, Princess. Not here.”—

“Did you hear that?” You asked, glancing around the shadows before Matt pulled you against him.

“Hear what?” His brows furrowed as he led you in a small box step. “It’s okay, Livvy. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

—“Yersova! Can you hear me?”—

“No, someone else is…” You shook your head as you understood something. Looking at Matt, you realized he was looking at you in return.

Looking at you, meaning he could see you.

—“I can’t find a pulse. We’re losing her!”

If Matt could see you, if Matt was there with you, then you weren’t at the carousel. Not consciously, at least. You were on the true brink of death.

“I’m dying.” You realized.

“Stay with me.” Matt tried, holding you a bit tighter as if he knew you had to choose.

“I can’t…” You whispered. “I can’t die like this, Matty.”

“Please.”

“My beautiful baby.” A female voice said.

Your attention turned quickly and you saw a woman standing a few feet away. She had tears in her eyes and her hands covered her mouth, but the crinkle at her eyes showed you she was smiling. You dared to take a step closer and you realized the woman had the same eyes you did.

“Mom?” You asked quietly, your stomach sinking.

“Hi, sweet girl.” She answered sweetly. “You grew up so beautiful.”

“Mom…”

���Hi, Livia”

Livia… No, that wasn’t right. Your mother should’ve used the name she had given you. The name Dreykov took away.

“This isn’t right.” You said to yourself.

—“Goddamit, Livia. You don’t get to die here, too… I told you to stay outta this.”—

“It’s okay.” Matt offered. “You don’t have to fight anymore. Isn’t that what you wanted? Peace.”

“Yeah… But not like this. Not if it hurts them.”

“It’s not about them.” Your mother’s voice - what you imagined her voice to be at least - came again. “It’s about you and your peace. Why should you go back for them?”

—“Dammit, Yersova, come on!”—

“I can’t leave them.” You understood. “Not like this.”

“Sweetheart?” Matt tried.

“I love you, Matt, so much. Every beat of my heart will be yours until it stops. I'm just not ready to die.”

“I love you too, Livvy.” He smiled softly, a sight that was nearly enough for you to stay with him.

“I will never love another, not like I loved you. I just don't have the love for it again… And I’m sorry I let you down.”

“You never let me down.” He gave you a small smile. “You’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

————————————

Your eyes opened to a hospital setting. You felt the throb of your pulse at your tightly wrapped wrists. Your entire body was stiff, taped and wrapped and bandaged in various places. You tried moving to adjust on the bed but the pain in your ribs reignited and you froze.

But the explosions were gone. The heat in your veins extinguished. The eternal hole swallowing whatever was left of your soul was erased. Being that close to death seemed to reset your emotional alignment.

“Just relax.” A familiar voice said from your side. Looking over, you saw Dex beside you and you felt some relief in the familiar face.

“How long has it been?” You asked, though you could barely hear your own voice.

“Four days.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yeah.” He breathed in relief. “Pretty much, yeah. I had to make sure you pulled through, y’know”

“Guess that’s why you look like shit.” You joked.

“You’re one to talk.” He laughed lightly.

“Four days…” You repeated thoughtfully. “Does that mean Russo’s dead?”

“Uh, no. No, he’s not. Eleven hours under the knife and they’re still not sure if he’ll regain any significant brain function. Some of the nurses were saying he may not even remember the name if he ever wakes up.”

“What about Castle? Madani?” The incessant beeping from the corner of the room, likely the machine tracking your vitals, began to sound quicker. “Dex, don’t tell me this was all for nothing.”

“They’re alright.” He spoke quickly but his eyes stayed on the beeping machine. “They’re fine. Madani woke up earlier from what I hear. Looks like you took the real brunt of it.”

“Okay, good.” You sighed in relief and you lifted your more heavily bandaged hand to examine the wrapping. “Speaking of, just how bad?”

As if on cue, the doctor came in and gave you a quick rundown. Burned nerves in your hand. Shattered bones in your wrist. Deep cuts around both wrists. Severely broken rib. Concussion. Various bruises and cuts, including a stab wound near your belly button and a bullet nick under your jaw.

She suggested pins to repair the rib and said you’d need some physical therapy for your hand, along with a brace to absorb impacts from work even though they weren’t sure if the pain would ever go away. Some dexterity would be lost but you had expected that. She also explained that they utilized the bullet’s entry and exit to do most of the bone repair so there wouldn’t be additional scarring, as if that small cosmetic detail would make you feel better.

It didn’t.

You denied the pins and before she could try to convince you, your SAC walked in.

“You’re insane, you know that?” She said flatly once the doctor left.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” You agreed. “I’m guessing I’m fired?”

“No… Agent Madani explained why Russo was such a target for you two and it’s enough to piss off and interest both bureaus. Together, the bureaus will provide you two with all the legal resources we can to get Russo behind bars.”

“Behind bars…” You repeated slowly. “Attempted murder on two feds and manslaughter of another?”

“It’s my understanding that he won’t stand trial for Agent Stein since the operation was falsified.”

“You’re kidding.” You groaned. “Alright, well what about Castle?”

“What about him?” She shrugged. “Officially, he was never there.”

“He saved my life.” You argued firmly.

“The narrative has been… redirected. Lewis Wilson and William Russo are the only suspects anyone needs. Your statement and Agent Madani’s statement will corroborate that. Homeland had worked very hard to give your ‘friend’ his life back. Do you really want to take that from him?”

“Did Madani agree to this?”

“She’s the one who wanted to help Castle.”

“I want to see him.”

“No, we need to take your statement first. Interactions outside of this may influence your memory.”

“Well as of now, my statement includes Frank Castle going toe to toe with Russo to give me every chance to go home.” You said sharply. “It includes every hit he took that was meant for me and how I was used as bait to lure him out while you are trying to influence my memory.”

“Traumatic events can impact your memory of the event in its entirety.” Your SAC countered calmly. “Frank Castle was never there.”

“Your statement needs to match the official report, Aly.” Dex tried, a more gentle tone than Hattley.

“Then maybe I should wait till it comes out for it to jog my memory.” You sneered.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, agent.” Hattley said instead. “Get some rest and we’ll try again later.”

Once she left, you turned to Dex.

“I wanna talk to Frank.” You said quietly.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.” He answered. There was an attempt at sincerity in his voice.

“If I don’t, then he’s gonna be sent away and he won’t know that I’m okay… Please, Dex. He’s my friend.”

“Alright.” He sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Once he left, the bedside phone rang.

“Hello?” You answered cautiously.

“Hey there, sugar cube.” A familiar voice said on the other side, one that drew an almost immediate smile.

“That’s a nickname from a children’s show.” You laughed.

“A fantastic children’s show that you just refuse to watch.”

“If you say so, Wade.” You shrugged with a laugh. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Oh, I know everything about you.” He reasoned. “But what I don’t know is what the hell are you out here dying for?”

“Nothing.” You said innocently.

“Right, and I’m a fluffy pink unicorn that can crap diamonds and barf glitter… Come on. Spill. What made you go rogue?”

“The guy lied and wanted to kill my friend.”

“And where was Ye Olde Devil Friend?”

“Dead.”

He gasped dramatically and you chuckled a bit. “I’m sososososo sorry! You okay?”

“I’m working through it.” You said honestly. “In between caring too much and not caring at all.”

“I’ve gotta run because your guy friend’s coming back - which you need to explain that. I can see what you’re into but he also seems like he’s a chicken nugget short of a happy meal if you know what I’m saying… But call me if you need anything, alright? To talk, to cry, to run around town and stab some sickos, make friendship bracelets, vandalize someone’s car. Whatever it is, I’m there for you. Okay, pookie bear?”

“Never call me that again.” You laughed. “Thanks, Wade.. Hang on. How do you knew Dex is-“

“Okay, byyyyeeee!!”

The phone call ended and you sat in quiet shock for a moment. You shrugged it off as part of Wade’s usual antics and replaced the phone. You shifted to get comfortable on the bed when your rib reignited, sending a fresh burn of pain through your side.

“Может быть, булавки были бы хорошей идеей.” You muttered to yourself. (Maybe the pins would’ve been a good idea.)

“Hey, Princess.” Frank’s voice stole your attention.

You smiled widely as he came and sat on the edge of the bed. The action pulled on your busted lip and scraped jaw but you ignored the openings. “Look like hell.”

“Yeah.” You agreed with a small laugh. “Yeah, he sure didn’t take it easy on me.”

“Bet you wish you had listened to me now, huh?” He gently lifted your shot wrist. “How bad’s this?”

“Permanent nerve damage and shattered small bones. Doctor says I’ll need a brace and it could hurt for the rest of my life.”

He set your hand down carefully and kept a gentle hold on your fingers instead. You returned the hold as best you could, despite the pain that shot ups from the small movement.

“Just like that rib, huh?” He tried to joke.

“Had to make it a pair, y’know?” You joked in return.

“They fill you in on Russo yet?”

“Yeah, that he’s basically a vegetable right now and may or may not be worth anything ever again... I want him to remember. I want him to see me and now that I helped do that to him. And I want him to know he deserved it.”

“You really do got a mean streak.” He chuckled.

“They also told me about your help being omitted from the final narrative.”

He hummed in agreement.

“You know where you’re gonna go?”

“Anywhere, I guess.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t wanna go anywhere till I knew you’d be alright.”

“Honestly, Frank, I don’t think I’ll ever really be alright again… Not even physically but mentally. Losing Matt messed with my head and when I was right on that cusp of dying, I saw him. He practically begged me to go with him.”

“Livia, you did die for about a minute.” Frank said gently.

“I did?”

“Yeah, your heart stopped. Blood loss, they said. Your partner was able to get you started again but it was one of the worst minutes of my life, y’know. You’re family, like a sister. And if I… If I had lost you at that carousel, Jesus, I would’ve…”

“I’m sorry.” You said honestly. “I didn’t think about it that way until it was almost too late.”

“Yeah, I could hear it in your voice that you weren’t thinking or caring.”

“I just couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to live with that anymore.”

“So why’d you decide you wanted to live?”

“I heard you.” You shrugged. “You and Dex, begging me to stay… Reminded me I’ve still got something here, I guess.”

“Good thing is that part of your heart that Murdock got to is still there.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You nodded. “Doesn’t make anything easier, though.”

“Nah. You and me don’t get easy. Easy gets boring.”

At that you laughed, which made your side hurt, but you didn’t quite care at the moment.

“I’ll get you when you’re released and take you home, alright? Get some rest. You need it.” Frank said kindly.

“Yeah, I feel like I got hit by a bus.” You agreed as he stood.

He reached forward and gently put a hand on top of your head. You smiled slightly as you understood what the gesture meant. He was grateful you were alive. He was grateful you were in his life to begin with, on his side and willing to fight right next to him. But there was also a hint of regret, like he wished you didn’t have to.

Three days later, you were able to go home. During those last few days, you gave your official statement to your bureau and your deposition regarding David’s involvement.

You went with Frank to bring David home. He asked you both to come in but you politely declined. Though as you two were pulling away, Leo came running out. She came straight to your window and knocked on it till you rolled it down. She put the familiar hourglass back in your hand, insisting you keep it for the next person you need to help. She then lifted the cuff of her sleeve to show the red drawing on the top of her wrist while she proudly said she had her own now.

You encouraged her strength and she smiled brightly, waving vigorously as you two left. It was a good thing you did, because you were tearing up at that point as you thought of how you had actually helped her.

Frank stuck around with you at Curtis’ meeting that night. He spoke about the uncertainty of what comes after war and how the silence after the gunfire was hard to live in. You understood that. Fighting beside Daredevil was your own war and once he was gone, it was quiet. Too quiet.

Frank drove you home that night and opened your car door. When you got out, you hugged him tightly. He returned the gesture, though he was more careful of your still lingering injuries.

“You’re gonna be alright, Liv.” He said gently.

“I know.” You sniffled. “I’m just not looking forward to doing it alone.”

“You’re not alone. You got Karen, Nelson, Curtis, that church Murdock went to. People out here, they care about you, right? And you still got me. Anytime you need me, you call me, okay? And I will get my ass over here. I don’t give a damn what Madani or Homeland have to say about it. You got it?”

“Yeah.” You smiled slightly and stepped back. “Thanks, Frank. I know we probably won’t talk much while you’re gone but if you get yourself in trouble, you can call me, too.”

“I know.” He returned the smile. “And here.”

He handed you an envelope.

“You’re giving me money, too?” You joked and he scoffed slightly.

“Cause you need it, right?”

“I do. Rent’s not cheap, even with the billboard… Really, what is it?”

“It’s a letter, smartass. I know it’s hard, losing that one person who meant everything. And it’s not the same but for when you’re down in the dumps and are gonna go off the rails again, read it first.”

“Aw.” You gave a teasing pout. “Punisher’s gone soft.” You poked his stomach a few times while he chuckled.

“Yeah, run of the mill teddy bear over here.” He snorted a laugh. “Take care of yourself, alright? You promise me that?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 32: Hellfire Hangout

After everyone finished their drinks after last call Eddie had an idea to hold a hellfire sleepover beings most of the guys are off to college after the summer. You know he’s been wanting to try & spend time with them & you love them all anyway & agree. On the way back to you & Eddie’s place everyone is hungry so you all stop at the diner for a late night bite to eat before your movie marathon. As soon as you unlock the front door Gareth comes barreling past you & Eddie “sorry gotta use the bathroom!!” You both chuckle “At the end of the hall door on the left Gareth!!” You hear it slam & shake your head. “Okay gentlemen I’m gonna get changed hit the bathroom & I’ll be right back to make some snacks & babe pull out the movies please” he winks at you “you got it beautiful” you whisk away upstairs. Jeff nudges Eddie “soo… when are you gonna ask her?” “Dude shut up what if she hears you” Eddie whisper yells “we’ll talk about this when she’s not in ear shot” the both nod in agreement. Meanwhile you change into a pair of your favorite pajama pants and a janis Joplin t shirt & goto see if the bathroom is free. The door is cracked meaning gareth is finished in there you goto brush your teeth when it happens.. you’re smacked in the face with the smell of death he didn’t crack a window or even try and spray your perfume to mask what he had just done you come barreling down the stairs nostrils flared fists at your sides and eyes wide “woah babe what’s wrong?!” You whip your head at Eddie “oh what’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” You whip your head to gareth “YOU NASTY BASTARD YOU COULDNT HAVE CRACKED THE WINDOW?! YOU CROP DUSTED THE ENTIRE UPSTAIRS I ALMOST DIED!!” The entire room erupts into a fit of laughter you’re still pissed gareth looks at you “it’s not my fault I swear I told Eddie those nachos are for people with iron stomachs!!” You throw a can of air freshener at him “Here Señior Caca go take care of that I can’t be brushing my teeth & breathing in the mustard gas that’s come out of your ass!” Jeff shoots cola through his nose laughing all the boys are holding their stomachs like girls at a slumber party giggling “hey munson how come you never told us she was so funny?” Eddie just shakes his head “she’s a natural comedian but we all know gareth smells like a corpse when he farts so I can only imagine how horrible it smells after he drops trail” “ew ed stop I’m gonna puke” you giggle “I have a sensitive nose as it is I just can’t”. You head into the kitchen as the guys decide on a movie you come back with 2 trays of snacks “okay guys there’s popcorn chips red vines & I made some white chocolate raspberry cookies this morning too” Eddie’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas “babe you made my favorite cookies & are just telling me now?!” “Yes Ed’s if I told you this morning they’d be gone already” you laugh & head back to grab drinks “here ya go boys there’s some beers & sodas I got Mountain Dew & Dr Pepper did you decide what we’re watching?” They all get comfy around the living room “yeah babe poltergeist your favorite” yay it really was your favorite. Everyone got comfortable around the living room gareth Jeff & freak sprawled on the floor on sleeping bags & you & Eddie on the sofa hun sitting as you lay with your head on his lap while he plays with your hair. It gets to the part when the tree busts through the window snatching carol Anne’s brother you all jolt & giggle knowing you all just almost pissed yourselves. It’s times like these you’re so thankful that you decided to move here & find your own happiness & not just a real home but people surrounding you that feel like home. Eddie sees you deep in thought. “Hey love you okay?” You hum “mhmm just thinking” “about?..” you look up at him & smile “about how lucky I feel to have you with me & such amazing friends & a life I wouldn’t have if not for you & your beautiful heart.. thank you Ed’s for everything i love you”.

[griffinxgallo]

Taken || Griffin Gallo Self Para

Griffin goes searching for Ella after she misses a pick up for the kids tw: home invasion, blood, wrongful arrest, menty b, kidnapping

Griffin had tried to call her the night before to see if she could take the twins early. He understood that her sister was one of the many people in the hospital so in the voicemail he even offered to keep one of the twins. Mina was not having any of this. She was starting to settle in but he could tell the little girl was scared. But Ella never answered or called him back. He understood. It was her night off from parenting and she was probably enjoying herself, something she hadn't been able to in years.

That did not make this morning any easier. Three toddlers, one of him and one nanny. Griffin took Mina with him to work. He had to spend the day at the distillery doing the usual bullshit paperwork. Besides that, the business ran itself so that was a plus. That plus being in the army reserves gave him enough to do.

It wasn't until 15 past eleven that Aspen had informed him Ella was late for pick up. She had never been late before. Granted, this was a new thing for them. He gave her the benefit of the doubt and when 30 minutes rolled around, he started to text and call.

He started off with Dante who didn't know anything and then went to Ludovica next. Nothing. He told himself not to panic and her siblings were doing a good job of writing it off as nothing so he decided to give it another hour and pick the kids up. It was Aspen's day off so he felt bad she was stuck with them for longer. Once he had all three kids he headed out to Long Island. Grandma Gallo will have to entertain them for a bit.

The whole drive his thoughts began to fester. "She's gone. She left you again. She's in a ditch. She's been attacked. She hates you and your mini devils. You've ruined her life. She left you again. She's never coming back." Itchy, that's what he was feeling. By the time he got out of the car at his mother's estate the first thing she asked was "Griffy baby, did you eat a mango? Look at your poor neck!" He had scratched himself raw in anxiety.

The drive back to the city took twice as long in the traffic, as it had now hit 5pm. He was still desperately contacting whoever he could for answers before putting it in the group chat. That's when he learned she never visited her sister. Ella was not like him. She was kind and caring. She would have been outside that door each moment she could. She was too, but Ludy wasn't awake yet. He figured she would have been the first person in the door when she woke up.

Thats when he decided to floor it. He was a mad man on the road as he made it to her place. He threw the car in park and rushed up to her place. Walking up, he saw something that sank his gut. The door was busted in. He shot off a quick text to the group before he pocked his phone in exchange for a gun.

Resorting back to army mode, Griffin turned the corner, scanning the room. The place was TRASHED. furniture flipped, glass broken, shit everywhere. But he needed to stay on task. He cleared the first room before continuing to the next. That's where he found a puddle of blood and a trail that led to the back door. He refused to panic. Now is not the time. She is smart. She knows how to hide. She knows how to defend herself. It could be someone else's blood. With deep breaths, he cleared the kitchen and went on to the bedrooms. He checked Torin's first, it was left mostly untouched. That evil thought crossed his head, What if she had the kids then. What if they were taken too. He knows they are safe, but if she had happened to have them, he would be nuclear right now.

Moving back down the hall he cleared the bathroom quick before going to Ella's room. This site was much harder to look at. The way the sheets pulled from one corner suggested she was dragged out of bed. This could have been last night. She was sleeping. Her phone is still plugged in on the nightstand. Things from the dresser were knocked off. There was a hole through the drywall. She fought. Good Girl.

"911, what's your emergency" "My ex is missing. She missed pick up, I came to check in.. her house has been broken into." After they traded more information he knew he didn't have much longer to act.

Griffin finished his search as he forced himself not to break. There is no room for emotions. Not in war. He went out to his car and opened his trunk, pulling back the hatch he opened a built-in safe in which he traded his handgun for his pistol. This was a registered army gun in which he had a permit. The police are already on their way.

His mind was slipping to that dark place, the one he avoided, the one that people ran from, even his own family. Griffin was dark most of the time but many didn't realize there was a switch, a place in his mind where his worst had been locked away.

"I'll ask again, Mr. Gallo, where were you last night." He sat with his hands cuffed behind him in a cold metal room. Interrogation. Signs of foul play, being an ex with suspected kidnapping charges on him did not go over well, even if Roselia De La Cruz was walking freely in New York City. "At St. John's hospital," He repeats again, getting tired of this. "What did you do with Gabriella Moretti?" The detective asked him again and he snapped. "I didn't fucking do anything to her! You fucks are sitting here bothering with me? I called it in! Me! I have an alibi. Let. Me. Go."

A woman bursts into the room and lays into the two detectives sitting there. "Are you insane? Why is he still chained up? What probably cause do you have for having him here?" Everything about Griffin's detainment was dirty. He hadn't gotten a phone call, they said he wasn't under arrest but cuffed him, smart, and no rights were read to him. Within the next twenty minutes, he had been released and on his way back to his car. Everything was a blur, he couldn't tell if he was blacked out or not, operating on autopilot. He had no idea how, but he ended up back at his penthouse, pushing through the front door. He couldn't keep it in any longer. He was going to snap. Needed to snap.

The first thing he could find was a dumb coffee table centerpiece and it was going through his try wall. All humanity was lost. He didn;t understand what he was feeling, what that sinking at the bottom of his stomach was. Why his chest felt tight and his head was spilling. He felt warm, like he was burning from the inside out and he needed it to stop, needed everything to stop. She is gone. Ella is Gone. Someone has her. Someone took her and wrecked her place. But he just got her back. Raelynn just got her back. She is all Torin knew. How would he explain that. How would he help them cope when he was falling apart himself.

And before he knew it, his great room was destroyed. The glass of the coffee table shattered, the tv cracked. The chairs around the dining room table were broken into pieces scattered around the room. The drywall was barely left standing with all the holes from the chairs that he repeatedly threw at it. Some holes in his fists. Blood on the walls. His knuckles busted open and there was only destruction left. And then he dropped to his knees. Silently. Because the screaming was already happening in his head. He hadn't even realized the reason he stopped was because of the arms wrapping around him and taking him to the floor. He let his head drop back on Dante's shoulder. "She's gone."

And then he felt his heart crack

[logankisseswade]

Logan and Wade AU Fanfic(My fanfiction)08-09-2024

1989, Miami, Florida

Logan is a Slayer/Hunter, killer of all things evil, Wade is a rookie cop for the Miami Police Department, 2 months on the job, the two of them will bump into each other

Rating: PG-13

+ Chapter One: What Happens In Miami, Stays In Miami +

Friday Night, 11pm, Miami, Florida, the streets are already filled with criminals and low lives and troubled souls, a cute off duty cop for the Miami PD is walking around listening to his walkman, he's listening to Cutting Crew's "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight", there used to be a wedding ring on his finger, now it's just naked and waiting for another lover to claim it for their own, Wade Wilson, 2 months on the job, he took the job in hopes of being like Sonny Crocket, he used to be a waiter but hated how cheaply he was paid and he also hated how rude the customers got to be, he hates living here in Miami, being a Vice Cop gives him an excuse to stay in town, this way he can tell people what to do and it makes him feel like he's in control, he hears a weird fluttering behind him, he stops his walkman, slowly takes his ear phones out, he sees people walking around him like usual but he senses something weird, he puts his walkman away and can feel something, a slight change in the air, he tries to ignore it and then continues to walk away*

*a night club called The Neon Angel, Wade goes into it, he goes to this place to distract himself from time to time, especially on Friday and Saturday nights, "Every Breath You Take" by The Police plays in the club, Wade finds a table and sits down, even something feels off about the club tonight, it's almost like he's trying to energetically guess what's going on, a very attractive and flashy woman joins Wade at the table, Wade notices*

mysterious woman: hey there handsome, you alone?

Wade: I am...but maybe I like it this way...

mysterious woman: what's wrong handsome? never had a lady hit on you before?

Wade: oh no I've been hit on by ladies hundreds of times...

mysterious woman: you wanna get out of here?

Wade: I'm not interested...please go away

mysterious woman: what's wrong handsome?

Wade: *feels slightly triggered, reminded of his bitch of an ex wife* get lost lady, if you keep it up, I will charge and arrest you with harassing a police officer

mysterious woman: oh God are you undercover?

Wade: I'm only gonna say this one more time, go fuck yourself lady because nobody else will

mysterious woman: you jerk! *the bitch walks away*

Wade: *talking to himself out loud* she's not even that hot

*time passes, Wade's still sitting at the table by himself, he decides to get up and go to the bathroom, when he heads over there, 8 guys are doing all kinds of drugs in the mens' room*

Wade: *gasps* oh my God, perfect timing, finally some excitement

man: what the fuck?

Wade: *takes his badge and gun out* you see these right here boys? I own all your asses! come on, we're going downtown, right now

*one of the big guys puts Wade into a headlock*

Wade: oh fuck

*the bathroom door busts open, Wade screams like a girl, a very hunky man shows up(it's Logan lol), he beats the shit out of all 8 bozos in the bathroom, Wade screams*

Logan: I'm here to help you Wade, stay back!

Wade: what the...what the fuck?!

*one of the bozo's gets up, his eyes are glowing red, huge fangs, Wade screams, all 8 bozos are vampires, really ugly vampires, Logan takes out what looks like a shotgun, he starts blasting at all of them, the bullets contain holy water and explode when they're fired, Wade's in shock and just watches Logan kick ass, one of the vampires fights back and tackles Logan to the bathroom floor, the bitch tries to bite Logan, Wade points his gun at the vampire's head and shoots, the vampire's head explodes, Wade screams, his gun hits the floor, to Wade it feels like time has stopped, he just shot an ugly vampire's head off and it exploded, Logan gets up and grabs Wade to check on him*

Wade: *gasps lightly*

Logan: Wade, are you alright?

Wade: how...how do you know my name?

Logan: it's a long story bub...come on, we need to get out of here

Wade: aren't you gonna ask me to come with you if I want to live? *giggles* .....*clears throat* that was a Terminator reference...Kyle Reese said it to Sarah Connor

Logan: *smirks* I knew what you were referencing

Wade: oh good, so you do have a sense of humor

Logan: it's not safe here Wade...you need to come with me right now

Wade: oh God...so Miami's filled with vampires now?

Logan: vampires, demons, the whole nine yards

Wade: *stares at the dead ugly vampires* oh God that's disgusting

how do you deal with this?

Logan: I kill demons for a living

Wade: I arrest criminals for a living *giggles lightly* so uh...you got a name, Mr Mel Gibson 2.0?

Logan: *smirks* it's Logan...

Wade: Wade...but you somehow already knew that didn't you?

Logan: come on, we gotta go

*Wade follows Logan out of the club, Logan grabs Wade's arm*

Logan: right here

Wade: whoa...nice wheels

Logan: get in

*Wade and Logan go inside of the black convertible, Logan drives away*

Wade: ...so bullets can kill vampires?

Logan: a straight shot to the head can kill anything

Wade: I'll keep that in mind then for future reference...oh God...some poor bastard is gonna find those bodies-

Logan: that's not important, your safety is

Wade: you're not a Terminator are you?

Logan: *giggles lightly* not as far as I know

Wade: so you're human? and you're not from the future?

Logan: I'm like you Wade...a Mutant...but I am from the future...

Wade: whoa...whoa...whoa...so you're actually from the future? like Kyle Reese in The Terminator?

Logan: it's very similar actually

Wade: oh God...oh fucking fuck...look, Mad Max, I'm just a cop for the Miami police...and did you just call me a Mutant?

Logan: you and I are both Mutants Wade...

Wade: ....look, don't get me wrong, you're like a total bad-ass...but, seriously, me?...the future? how far back did you travel from Logan?...tell me, please....

Logan: 44 years from now...2033

Wade: holy shit are you serious?

Logan: I'm always serious

Wade: yeah, I can see that...so what happens to me, 44 years from now?

Logan: you died tonight and everything went to hell, the fact that I'm here means you'll stay alive and God knows we all need you to stay alive...

Wade: ....what? ...and who are you to protect me? who sent you?

Logan: a good friend of ours named Charles

Wade: stop, stop the car, please, you need to explain everything to me, don't leave any detail out, Logan, please stop the car

*Logan stops the car, he and Wade stare at each other*

Wade: *sniffles* is this all tied to the weird dreams I've been having? the nightmares?

Logan: tonight isn't the only night you died Wade...several timelines have been broken, several demons have been sent to kill you through time

Wade: oh God...why am I stuck in some Terminator like nightmare? I was normal before...what happened?

Logan: you were never normal Wade...you and I never were

Wade: who are you to me in the future Logan? my partner in fighting demons?

Logan: I'm your husband...

Wade...my husband?...you? you're my husband?

Logan: ....the future is in our hands Wade...*sighs deeply, sniffles* I lost you several times in the past and future Wade...I can't lose you again...

Wade: *sniffles* gay marriage is legal in the future? *giggles slightly*

Logan: it is...

Wade: oh God...so you're my husband from the future? and we do what? kill demons together? and we're mutants?

Logan: yeah...

Wade: *smiles* I have a husband? *giggles* you're my husband?

Logan: in the future you and I are head over heels in love

Wade: oh wow...

*a loud rustling noise, Logan notices, sniffs*

Logan: wait here Wade...don't get out of the car, please?

Wade: okay...

*Logan gets out of the car, Wade just stares at him, Logan looks around trying to identify the source, it's all quiet, then abruptly a jump scare, Victor/Sabertooth jumps from out of nowhere and tackles Logan, Wade screams, Logan and Victor are fighting each other in the middle of the street*

Wade: oh my God...what the fuck is that thing?!

*Logan's Claws come out and he stabs Victor, Wade gasps and covers his mouth, Logan gets back into the car, his claws go back into his hands*

Wade: what the fuck?!

Logan: I need to find us a hotel

Wade: oh my God this is such a trope

*Logan drives away*

+ to be continued in chapter 2 +

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 11 - Peru

I’m going to Peru in about four days time, will be gone for two weeks. – BW

It had been nearly a month since Mycroft had called her, he hadn’t contacted her since then to arrange dinner, mostly because he’d been keeping an eye on the situation with Sherlock and A.G.R.A. He was aware that one of the members was currently tracking Mary but had both limited time and resources to devote to it. People like Mary tended not to last too long, but also if Sherlock was tracking down the Thatcher busts, it probably wasn’t a good thing.

Hiking in the Andes? Or visiting Machu Picchu? – MH

Maybe both. I’ve got two weeks to fill with adventures. Do you have any suggestions? – BW

As previously stated, travelling is not my area of expertise. I’m sure I will be asking you for recommended destinations on your return. – MH

I’m sure you will. – BW

Mycroft frowned at his phone, did he say something wrong?

I’ll not be doing anything too pressing over the next few weeks, nothing that requires my full attention anyway. – MH

If that’s your way of saying “send pics” then I will try to send some when I can. I’ll be visiting my parents, so I will try to be subtle, but they find out everything. You sure you still want photos? – BW

Mycroft smiled down at his phone. Sherlock was due to arrive any minute, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care for a moment.

On second thoughts, I may have one or two things that require my attention. – MH

Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of “what are your intentions with our daughter?” either. Though I imagine you’d be able to come up with some reasonable answer that would satisfy them. – BW

Possibly. Though I’ll admit, it’s not a conversation I’ve had to worry about having with anyone before now. – MH

Really? Now that does surprise me. – BW

Does it? – MH

Bethany didn’t respond immediately and Sherlock had walked through the door of his office, taken a seat and started asking him about A.G.R.A.

I’ll keep it subtle and sneak a couple of cheeky shots when I can. I’ll text you before I leave. – BW

Mycroft smiled again, before putting his feet up and devoting his attention to Sherlock again.

‘She’s going to Peru, isn’t she?’ He asked, Mycroft just took a deep breath and chose not to engage. ‘Visiting her parents for two weeks. Lovely people.’

‘You’ve met them?’ Mycroft frowned.

‘Briefly.’ Sherlock nodded. ‘A few days before I met Beth, they’re good people.’

‘Indeed.’

‘You?’

Mycroft nodded. ‘Yes, her father and I met while he was at Cambridge, he built an aircraft that we now use for sending medical supplies to Africa. And her mother I met when she worked briefly with the World Health Organisation. They are indeed good people.’

‘And do they know about your association with their daughter?’

Mycroft chose not to answer that. He got back to the point of Sherlock’s visit.

‘AGRA, a city on the banks of the river Yamuna in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, India. It is three hundred and seventy- eight kilometres west of the state capitol Lucknow-‘

‘What are you, Wikipedia?’

‘Yes.’ Mycroft smiled, a private joke with himself.

‘AGRA’s an acronym.’

‘Oh good, I love an acronym. All the best secret societies have them.’

‘Team of agents, the best, but you know all that.’

‘Of course, I do, go on.’ Mycroft was enjoying the façade of Sherlock telling him something he thought he might not know, but he really needed him to get to the point and soon.

‘One of them Ajay is looking for Mary, also one of the team.’

Mycroft took a small breath. ‘Indeed. Well, that’s news to me.’

‘Is it?’ Sherlock frowned and Mycroft just gave him a look as if to say of course he knew. ‘He’s already killed looking for that memory stick. AGRA always worked for the highest bidder, I thought that might include you.’

‘Me?’

‘Oh, I mean the British Government, or whatever government you’re currently propping up.’

‘AGRA were very reliable,’ Mycroft said. ‘Then came the Tbilisi incident. They were sent in to free the hostages, but it all went terribly wrong. And that was that, we stopped using freelancers.’

‘You’re initiative.’

‘My initiative.’ Mycroft nodded. ‘Freelancers are too woolly, too messy. I don’t like loose ends. Not on my watch.’

Sherlock leaned forward and grabbed one of the files Mycroft had on his desk. ‘There was something else. A detail. A codeword.’ He scribbled on the edge of the file.

‘Ammo?’

‘It’s all I’ve got.’

‘Little enough.’

‘Could you do some digging as a favour?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘You don’t have many favours left.’

‘Then I’m calling them all in.’

‘And if you can find who’s after her and neutralise them, what then? You think you can go on saving her forever?’

‘Of course.’

‘Is that sentiment talking?’

‘No. It’s me.’

‘Difficult to tell the difference these days.’

‘I told you, I made a promise. A vow.’

Mycroft smiled, he didn’t need to wonder how far Sherlock would go to protect Mary. He’d seen it first hand with Magnusson. ‘Alright, I’ll see what I can do. But remember this, brother mine. Agents like Mary tend not to reach retirement age, they get retired, in a pretty permanent sort of way.’

‘Not on my watch.’ Sherlock was determined and left Mycroft to do the digging he required.

He spent the next few days trying to subtly dig up what he could, all the while keeping an eye on where Sherlock was going.

That’s me off! Machu Picchu here I come! – BW

Beth had sent through a selfie of her sitting on the plane, waiting to take off. She was smiling with her headphones around her neck and her dark eyes were illuminated by the morning light streaking through them. Beautiful.

Hope it’s all you expect it to be, and I hope your parents are well. Stay safe and don’t be afraid to call if any of you run into trouble, I do have some pull with the Peruvian government. – MH

Back to flirting? I’ll keep it in mind. See you when I get back! – BW

Mycroft smiled as he finished getting dressed for the day, unconsciously putting on his navy suit. He wasn’t stupid, his thoughts were firmly on Bethany and that was why he opted to wear it. It was ridiculous, she wasn’t even his, she wasn’t his girlfriend or labelled as anyone significant in his life, she was a woman who he had kissed twice and had a vague association with over the last year and a half. That was all.

Over the two weeks that Bethany was gone, Mycroft was dealing with several things that he wished he wasn’t, Lady Smallwood was in meetings that she needed him to be a part of and most of it was tedious. The only thing that got him through was the occasional message from Bethany, accompanied by a picture of her on her adventures.

Machu Picchu! I reached the summit! Bow before your queen! – BW

Bethany stood at the very top of the citadel with her arms spread out and the sun shining on her tanned features. She just wore her shorts and strapped crop top, why would she have worn anything else? But it had Mycroft quickly putting the phone away to avoid smiling too much at how much fun she was having.

Parents always said I could have a pet, I chose a cat... of sorts. – BW

She was holding a baby jaguar by the looks of things, one that barely looked six months old. Bethany was laughing and Mycroft could see her mother in the background handling a woolly monkey and talking with one of the staff. She looked so similar to her daughter and it was clear where her frizzy hair had come from and her kindness towards all creatures. He wanted to respond and joke about her parents allowing her to have such dangerous animals, but in the interest of subtlety he decided against it.

Peaceful night camping under the stars tonight. – BW

It was by far the most beautiful photo he’d seen of her on her adventures. She wore her cream cable knit jumper, thick black leggings with a camping mug close to her chest. Bethany’s gaze was focused on the setting sun and once again the light streaked through her dark eyes, making them almost look a golden colour under the rays. Stunning.

The last photo he’d received from her was during a meeting with Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin, Mycroft lost focus of what they had been talking about, he didn’t think it mattered so much as they had been disagreeing for the last half hour.

Bailando con mi papa. Homeward bound tomorrow. – BW

Dancing with my dad. She wore a beautiful red dress and sandals and danced with her father who wore a linen white shirt and cargo shorts. Mycroft could see where Bethany got her dark eyes from, her father’s were almost black. They had the same smile as well, but to him, there was more beauty and radiance in hers. They seemed to be in some kind of restaurant with locals and everyone was dancing and having a good time. Mycroft felt his heart swell, to see her so carefree and happy, made him extraordinarily happy as well.

She was coming home the next day. Sherlock was somewhere in Morocco as far as he could tell and everything was starting to slot into place nicely.

‘Sir?’ Anthea interrupted the meeting, not that Mycroft minded, but it seemed to irritate Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin. Mycroft motioned for her to come in anyway, quickly putting away his phone. She handed him a file he recognised and he gave her a fleeting frown in questioning, but she remained silent. When he opened the file, he realised why.

‘Ah.’ He said. ‘Apologies, we’ll have to cut this meeting short. I have an urgent call to make.’

‘Mycroft, you can’t just-‘

‘We can pick this up later, Lady Smallwood.’ Mycroft gestured for Anthea to head out of the meeting room first. ‘Has anyone else seen this?’

‘No, sir, I brought it straight to you.’ Anthea said, quietly.

‘Good.’ He nodded closing the file. ‘Miss Wheeler will be back in the country tomorrow evening, please see to it that she is in my office at seven o’clock sharp.’

‘Yes sir.’ Anthea went to make a phone call.

Mycroft ran his hand over his face, holding the bridge of his nose, she promised him she would stay out of trouble and this did not fall under that brief. How did this not come up in her background check? How did he miss such a fine and damaging detail?

Mycroft prepared himself for the next day, knowing she would probably be annoyed and probably be upset with the situation, he needed to read through everything and try to make sense of the paper in front of him.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

[bengiyo]

Unintentional Love Story Eps 7 & 8 Stray Thoughts

Last time, everyone finally expressed their feelings in the open, and Hotae rose in the rankings. We had some incredible hands content thanks to a pottery wheel. We left at the beach trip, and I'm waiting for the company issue to come for the fore. I continue to struggle at recalling the previous events of this show each week with any specificity.

Episode 7

Oh right. Wonyoung thought he was maybe alone in his attraction.

I really like the way Taejoon talks to Wonyoung. He's a considerate and gentle man.

Why are they hiding from Hotae??

Donghee is so valid for being annoyed that his party is a bust.

It really is a relief to have a character like Wonyoung that can explain his own feelings when asked.

Holy shit Taejoon is cheesy and I love it.

I'm kinda over the manager's calls.

Flirting when both people have admitted they like each other is just so much more fun to watch.

I've admittedly been struggling to stay invested in this show, but seeing a lonely character come out of his shell for the man he likes is something I very much enjoy.

I feel like I recognize the Yeonghee actress.

This man gets so jealous. I'll accept it for BL, but y'all need to trust people if you want things to last.

Of course Wonyoung can't just come clean without additional mess stumbling through the door. I hate this dude. I don't remember his name, but he's slimy.

"We dated for five years. I can't say it was a good relationship, but it was a steady one," may be one of the most jaded lines I've ever heard in a BL. We need so many more older characters in the genre.

Oh, Wonyoung. I know the timing seems wrong, but I really want you to tell him the truth.

I gotta be honest, the heavy drinking in K-BL really bothers me.

He really put this man to bed under blankets with a whole cardigan on, only to be like, "Endure it."

I feel like Taejoon is right to be so bothered by the sudden disappearance.

This whole process to tell Taejoon the truth is taking too long for my nerves.

Mhmm, and he didn't tell him before the manager showed up. Tedious.

Episode 8

I don't even feel sorry for Wonyoung about how any of this is going to go down. I only feel for Taejoon, who feels betrayed and used once again.

The disappointment on Taejoon is palpable.

Oh shit, the storming back in was so intense that I started holding my breath. Taejoon has been so gentle this whole time, so the loss of composure hits hard.

Oh, Wonyoung, "you can't fool me with those crocodile tears."

I'm excited to see how these two reconcile, because finding the lamp he made for him left outside was devastating.

I love Taejoon. He is bitter and hurt, and this is going to be Wonyoung's problem too. Still, it hurts that he has to accept that he can't avoid the art world. I appreciate the poetry of giving someone who betrayed you what they thought they wanted.

Watching Hotae and Donghee interact in all this green has me thinking about @respectthepetty describing Green Boys during Our Dating Sim. I feel like this is an untapped space I'd like to see from Thailand and Japan as well.

I'm certain some viewers will struggle with Taejoon's behavior, but I get him completely and will defend all of his responses to this situation.

Oh what's this weird green spec on the screen around 22:20? Was there a problem with the lens and they missed it?

I love Donghee as well for continuing to push both of them.

I don't like Wonyoung returning to a company that thought he was part of a corruption scandal under circumstances like this.

The shot of the two of them looking at each other with other blurred people walking past is one of my favorites in romantic cinema.

I love when sad characters retreat into a tough persona and lie about not having anymore feelings for their person anymore.

Oh, Ji Wonyoung, I like the way you fight. I'm glad we had an old friend who had a crush on him return just to remind us that he's sincere.

Cha Seo Won is pretty good. I'm enjoying him a lot.

It's interesting how this is one of the longer shows we've had in a bit. We're getting towards what I think folks want from a full length K-BL. I like a lot of the ideas here, even if I think the show is a bit slow in a way that doesn't always feel contemplative.

[wordborne]

All for Us

Jerome Valeska finds someone new to torment.

That someone is, unfortunately, you.

TAGS: Jerome Valeska/Reader, alternate universe, unhealthy relationships, bad decisions, canon-typical violence, major character death, eventual smut, Jerome can only be classified as nuisance to lover. CHAPTER: 1, 2, 3, 4, ?

This was a mistake.

A stupid fucking mistake.

But there you were, getting a new lock and plucking out a spare key to your apartment because you were tired of having to replace the blown lock every other day. The cost was adding up and, so far, Jerome had refused to leave a single penny to cover the repairs, claiming it was your fault for leaving the door locked in the first place. As if he was the only maniac running rampant around Gotham. 

What about the serial killers? The thieves? The cold-eyed murderers? Jerome was all of that, but the J keychain told another story. The voice that belonged in Arkham told you to give him a spare key to your apartment because he was right in the wrong kind of ways. Oh, but not just that. Jerome needed a keychain. A purple J with golden edges that had been too fucking expensive for what it was because it needed to be gold, not yellow. How else would he know it belonged to your apartment? And, now, it was in your hands, dangling off a lone silver key that held pretty much your whole life in it.

He was there more often than not, helping himself to whatever he could find. He ate your food. Took hour-long showers. Washed his clothes and left yours with white subs of soap still in them because his were more important. Switched channels all night. Laughed so hard you swore tears would form in his eyes- but maybe they couldn’t, at least not anymore.  And it was strange to say you felt safe around him. He’d saved your life after all. But he was so… volatile. A bomb ready to go off at the slightest inconvenience. The slightest change of tone. And you didn’t understand why he’d gone out of the way that night. Why you had gone out of the way to get him the stupid fucking key. Except you did.   You weren’t ready to accept it just yet. A sigh escaped your lips when you realized the lock was busted again. What a surprise. A push with your shoe was enough to get it to creak open, and you were greeted by the sight of Jerome in only a towel around his waist, eyes locked on the TV with a toothbrush in his mouth.  He grinned, teeth coated white and blue and, while still brushing, said: “Like what you see?” He was pale, the autopsy scars still reddened from when he’d gone under the knife. His skin was dotted with more wounds, gunshots, maybe. Stabs. Freckles. So many of them, like little constellations lost in the milky way. Jerome rolled his eyes at your frown, taking the toothbrush off his mouth with a pop. “You ruined it, doll.” And, just like that, he was back in the bathroom, the sound of running tap water in the background as you watched his latest mishaps on TV, kicking the door closed and throwing your bag on the couch before sitting down in front of it with a sigh.  Jerome was so vain. Looking at himself over and over again. Listening intently to the wording of what was said about him. About what him and his cult did around the city. Graffiti littered the walls. A car or two were set on fire. A bank, robbed. And there he was, overly-big gun in his hand, firing shots at the ceiling as the tellers hurriedly passed money down to his people for them to burn it all. “What’s the point of robbing a bank if you don’t care about the money?” “The point is making a point.” He replied, and from the corner of your eye, you could see the towel dropping and him changing. Milky white. Red. You looked the other way, pretending the window was the most interesting thing in the world until he sat next to you, smelling like sunshine and whatever bullshit was on the yellow shampoo he liked. “You could make a point by paying rent.” You said, and offered the key after fishing it out of your pocket. You’ve been toying with it absentmindedly, as if that would make it easier to sell your soul to the devil. He snatched it out of your hands. “Aw, for me? You shouldn’t have.” He said, and then his face dropped. “You seriously shouldn’t.” “I know.” “Why are you doing it, then?” Jerome was good at getting under your skin. Picking and prodding until he seemed satisfied by whatever answer you were willing to give him. And nothing ever seemed good enough for him. He was like a child, in a way. Wondering why until you were tired and screamed the truth in his face. “I’m tired of changing the locks.” 

“Keychain says you don’t.” Jerome said, and leaned back on the couch, thighs spread, looking at the J with a sparkle in his eyes that could only mean danger. “I think you like me.” “I like when you are not a fucking nuisance.” “You love it.” He leaned towards you, eyes going over your face. Looking at all the details. The little twitches and the color darkening here and there. And it was so… disheartening to see you’d stooped so low to care for someone like him.  You knew what he’d done. What he was capable of. How he’d wormed his way into your life and refused to leave, planting the seeds of a weed that grew between the mismatched tiles of the floor, breaking them in tiny pieces that cut your feet every time you stepped into the apartment.  It hurt to have him there. He was chipping away at your sanity one word, one look at a time. And the worst part was that you kinda liked it.  Jerome was everything the news said and then some because violence was the only language he understood. The only one he was truly capable of speaking. He’d dealt with pain his entire life, probably since birth judging by some of the late-night stories he shared as you stared at the dull ceiling, wondering how things could get so dark. How they could hit you so hard when they came out of Jerome’s mouth. How some of them seemed to get stuck in his throat like pieces of glass that cut his insides as they came out.  A foolish part of you wanted to fix the unfixable. Cover him in gold until it made him whole again.  But you couldn’t. He didn’t need gold. He needed tar. Black and sticky. Coating everything around him. Bringing it in like an orbit. And oh, you’d fallen for all the damn tricks. Why else would you look at him like that? Why else did he look so smug, knowing he’d hit a spot? Knowing he had you wrapped around his finger with a thread made out of unbreakable steel? You were no better than his cult. Only you had half the mind not to rush in blind. To try to keep part of your sanity intact. The one that seemed so far away the closer you leaned into him. The more you looked into his eyes, the dullness of the green never looking so alive as he glanced between your eyes and down into your lips. 

His lips were chapped. He tasted like metal. And it wasn’t pretty. It was all teeth and tongues, and he didn’t stop until your lip was split and you tasted blood as he smiled against your skin.  “Got you.” He was so self-aware sometimes it was a damn curse, and all you could do was grab him by the collar and tell him to shut up. Repeating those two little words like a mantra as you kissed him over and over again. Swallowing his smile and your pride and the sirens going off in the distance because this was wrong. Oh so fucking wrong. And that’s what made it feel so right.