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sondepoch · 3 years

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One Night (Marius x Reader)

Teaching a Billionaire to Touch Grass (And a Minimum Wage Worker to Treat Herself)

Marius clicks his tongue in annoyance, both at you and the cars around him. Why are there so many people on the road at 2:38 in the morning? Why did the GPS's projected time to get to your home just double? Why is the universe out to get him today, on the one night Marius thought he could catch a break?

“Okay,” he seethes, drumming his fingers on the wheel as the traffic around him grows impossible slower. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “We’re going to talk about how inappropriate this was.”

“I—I’m really sorry, Sir, I—”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Maybe he is, actually. Marius is too pissed to be sure. “What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to call me, of all people.”

MASTERLIST

The car is silent.

As Marius gets inside, he thinks that this might be the first time he’s not opening the passenger door seat for a lady partner, the first time he’s allowed himself to stalk straight into the driver's seat and angrily wait for his passenger to enter on their own.

Actually, he thinks, this is also the first time in years that he's actually driving. The first time someone managed to call for him so late that even his chauffeur was off-duty.

“I’m really sorry about this, Sir,” you mumble as you climb into the seat next to him, apologies never halting as you ramble on and on and on like an idiot who can't read a room. “I, ah, didn’t think this would happen, I'm so…”

Marius ignores you.

He glances out the passenger window and catches Darius Morgan’s equally-annoyed gaze. Seriously? the man seems to be asking, an unimpressed look crossed over his face as he eyes you through the car window. I don’t fucking know, Marius’s gaze says back, and he shakes his head the slightest as he starts the car.

“What’s your address?” he asks, interrupting your apologies. Propriety should make him feel somewhat embarrassed over the way he's acting, but he can’t bring himself to be even a little polite right now.

“It’s by the Harbor. Um, if you go straight on Main Street and turn right at the—”

“Forget it,” Marius interrupts you. He taps the small car screen on his right, opening up the GPS interface. “Just type it in. I’ll drop you off.”

Your face falls at his irate voice, but you wisely don't comment on it, instead typing in your address as he asked. He watches you cautiously the whole time, for once not caring about the performance anxiety his gaze naturally brings to everyone he looks at. To your merit, you don't mess up anymore than you already have, deft fingers moving with the preciseness he’s used to seeing from you, but the skill can hardly impress him after you called him to pick you up from here, of all places. As the GPS routing sequence activates, Marius lets out an annoyed huff. This is not where he wanted to be right now.

Then, the car hums to life as he presses down on the accelerator, and he’s speeding in the direction of your home, trying to abandon his anger with the jailhouse the two of you are leaving.

I should be at home right now, he thinks as he moves onto the highway. He thinks about how long it had taken for him to coordinate this night off from Vyn’s tutoring sessions, Pax’s board meetings, his schoolwork, and the NXX’s meetings. I should be sleeping, or painting, or calling Rosa, or—

“Fuck,” he mutters when traffic begins to slow down.

He’s in a traffic jam.

So much for sleeping. And painting. And calling Rosa.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, both at you and the cars around him. Why are there so many people on the road at—Marius glances at the car’s dashboard—2:38 in the morning? Why did the GPS's projected time to get to your home just double? Why is the universe out to get him today, on the one night Marius thought he could catch a break?

“I—I’m really sorry, Sir, I—”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Maybe he is, actually. Marius is too pissed to be sure. “What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to call me, of all people.”

He keeps his glare fixated on the road, knowing that if he shoots you with the same thunderous look he uses to fire people, you’ll probably be too terrified to speak. Still, when you finally start talking, he can sense the fear in your voice.

His grip on the steering wheel softens the slightest.

“I, ah, initially was planning on calling Mr. Vincent. But he—”

“Really?” Marius snaps. “You’re his assistant, right?” Marius thinks back to all the times he stalked into Pax Headquarters only to see Vincent there with his morning coffee in hand and you, always three feet behind, holding Vincent’s work files. The Board of Directors criticized Marius for allowing his assistant to have an assistant, but never did he imagine you to be so…

Incompetent, he wants to say. Foolish might be a better word for it, though.

“Ah, yes. His administrative assistant.”

“And you want me to believe,” Marius huffs, “That the first person you wanted to call to bail you out of jail was the man you’re an administrative assistant to?”

Traffic gets ever slower, and Marius’s car rolls to a complete stop.

“Yes,” you whisper, and you start wringing your fingers in a manner so sheepish that Marius almost wants to believe you. Almost. “I, ah, was going to call him first. But then I remembered that his vacation started last night and that he’s already left Stellis. So I figured that if I called him, he’d just call you, so I…”

He wouldn’t call me, Marius thinks. Vincent is smart enough to find someone else to pick you up from jail. Regular people don’t ask these kinds of favors from their boss. Especially not from their boss's boss.

“Do you know that people usually ask their friends for these things?” Marius asks. Some of his anger seeps away when he realizes how apologetic you actually are, and he moves forward in traffic the slightest. “Or family, perhaps. What you did was…” Marius tries to find a kinder word than completely inappropriate. “Was highly unusual.” He sighs. “Why didn’t you ask someone else?”

He stares at you through the corner of his eye. You’re pursing your lips, holding back tears. Again, his gaze softens.

“I don't have anyone else,” you whisper.

Marius thinks it’s strange for you to imply that you even have him, especially when he’s nothing more to you than a high-level corporate executive, one that you’ve never spoken directly to in your entire life, but he doesn’t press you any further.

Releasing the final remnants of his anger in a soft sigh, he switches lanes and decides to pull into the nearest exit.

“Darius said you were in that cell since yesterday afternoon. You haven’t had dinner yet, right?”

“No, but…”

“This traffic isn’t going anywhere. We may as well get you something to eat.”

He exits easily, pulling into a district of Stellis that he’s never been in before, and ignores your quiet sniffle.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Earlier, he was ignoring you out of spite. Now, he doesn’t respond because he wants to preserve your dignity.

As he focuses his attention on the district he's pulled to, ignoring the GPS which vehemently opposes everything he's doing, Marius realizes that he's pulled into a rather poor sector of Stellis. It’s filled with unhealthy fast food joints, late-night drunkards, and a bunch of loiterers who are eyeing his high-end car suspiciously.

After driving around and surveying the options, Marius sighs.

“The only places open are these fast-food restaurants,” he says, cleanly leaving out the option of getting food from a club or anywhere else a tabloid might be able to snap a picture. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah!” you chirp, and Marius finds that your smile is oddly sweet. “Ah, would you be okay with that one over there? I go there a lot, and their food is...better than other fast food places.”

Marius squints at you for a moment. He tries to recall your salary, and when he fails, he thinks of Vincent’s. Surely, you make a similar wage? You shouldn’t need to frequent fast-food restaurants like this, right?

Shaking his head, he decides not to ask about it. Things like where you eat are your business, not his, and it’s not his place to question you on your personal decisions.

He pulls up to the drive-through, somewhat relieved to find that the dine-in option isn’t even available at this hour, and lets you order whatever you want. You end up taking a meager meal, one that Marius doubts will actually fill your stomach when he can hear it growling so loudly, so when you turn to him and ask what he’ll get, he orders some fries in hopes that he can hand them off to you in case you’re still hungry.

Minutes later, the two of you are parked on the side of the road with your respective meals in your laps. Only once you’ve finished (and after Marius is starting to pawn his fries off to you, finding that they’re rather unappealing to his pallette) does he think it’s appropriate to actually breach the subject of why you were tossed in jail.

“So,” he drawls, listening to the cool hum of the air conditioner. “Drugs, huh?”

He hears you choke on a fry.

“Th-they weren’t mine!” you blurt. “Honest, Sir, they—”

“Relax,” he says, eyes flitting down. “I’m not going to have you fired over this. Vincent wouldn’t want that. If anything, the court will decide.”

You relax a little at that, but Marius can sense that you’re still on edge.

“I...appreciate that a lot, Sir. But, really, the drugs weren’t mine. I—I’m sure there’s video evidence to prove that. I was just coming home from work when a kid told me to hold onto this bag, and—”

Marius lifts an eyebrow. He may be out of touch with the realities of the common class, but even he knows how ridiculous your story is.

“I didn’t take it, though! He handed it to me and I put it on the ground! But...but an officer saw me put it on the ground and assumed it was mine...and then...you know what happened.”

Marius sighs. You've always been a good, low-profile worker. He has no reason to believe that you'd get involved with anything bad: but he can't help but doubt you. When he next speaks, his voice is laced with hesitance. “Is there anything to prove your innocence? Pax can help get you a good lawyer, but without evidence, it’ll—”

“There is!” Your eyes are too determined to be anything other than sincere. “Or, ah, there should be. It happened right outside my apartment. I’m sure someone there has surveillance footage of what happened.”

Marius ignores the quiet “hopefully” you add to the end of that.

“Alright,” he says, deciding that it’s not his place to decide whether or not he believes your story. “Tell me how you got my private number, then. Pax employees shouldn’t have access to that information.”

“Oh, ah…”

Your gaze turns sheepish. Marius grows even more interested in your response.

“Mr. Vincent had it written down a couple months ago. I accidentally saw it. I tried to forget, but…”

You seem to be kicking yourself over the blunder, but Marius is impressed. A mind that can remember something months after having seen it only once is a valuable thing, he thinks. It’s a waste for someone with your brain to be working as a mere assistant’s assistant.

“I’m really—”

“It’s okay,” Marius says. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m...not mad at you.”

And somehow, he really isn’t angry anymore.

The two of you finish your meal soon enough, Marius having successfully pressed his fries into your hands. It seems that you really are hungry because you down those in a manner of minutes, and the man almost regrets not having ordered more when he hears your stomach still grumbling beneath the hum of the car as he returns to the highway.

As Marius lets the GPS guide him back onto Stellis’s most frequented roads, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that all traffic is gone. He speeds down the road with a renewed vigor, somehow sidestepping the usual sleepiness that overcomes him during these kinds of drives with your idle commentary of the road, little mentions of “I once saw a turtle here” and “there used to be four lanes here, but they changed it to five” and “this mile-post had the wrong number on it for years before I reported it and highway patrol got it changed.”

If anything, there’s a faint smile on his face when he finally pulls off the freeway, almost amused by your quiet chit-chat.

“Is this the right neighborhood?” Marius asks as he pulls into one of Stellis’s residential districts.

“Yeah, it’s just a little further down.” You gather your purse in your lap and thank Marius for the umpteenth time.

“It's okay,” he says, slowing down. The apartments are looking poorer, now, dingier, but he tries not to let that show on his face. “Is it here?”

“Right at the end of the street,” you say, and with only a mildly concerned look on his face, Marius drives you further down the road.

His eyebrows furrow as he realizes what kind of neighborhood you live in, and he wonders if your wage truly is so poor that you have to live here, of all places. The apartment complexes here are unrenovated, a disappointing amount of them sporting broken glass or graffiti on them. Litter covers the grounds, and even in the thick, 3-AM darkness, Marius can make out hundreds of beer cans scattered across the lawns. Bushes are either dying or overgrown, and there are cigarette butts everywhere.

Marius realizes that between his suit, his car, and his three earrings, he might have more money on him than everyone who lives here combined.

“Which...which of these apartments is yours?”

He looks around warily, quietly hoping that you’ll say it’s none of them.

“Ah, it’s the first window on the second floor of that…” you trail off as your pointer finger lands on an apartment where all lights are lit—and three masked figures stand illuminated, clearly ransacking your house.

“Oh my god,” Marius blurts, already getting his phone out. “You’re getting robbed, what the—”

“No, no!” You’re quick to place a hand on Marius’s arm before he can dial Emergency Services. “Those are, ah, just the neighborhood boys. They...they do bad things, but they’re good kids. Don’t worry. I’ll chase them out in no time, you don’t have to—”

“Are you serious?” Marius asks, dumbfounded. “This—how can you go back to a home like that? You could die, or—or—”

“Sir,” you say, looking him in the eyes with more seriousness than he’s seen from you this entire night. “With all due respect, this is the best I can afford.”

Marius falls silent at that.

You open the door silently, casting your eyes down. “Thank you again for everything,�� you murmur. “I...I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to make sure it never happens again.”

But then, Marius thinks about the weak story you gave to him earlier, where you claimed that someone handed you drugs and then left you with them, and he wonders whether it might have actually been true. Whether this neighborhood, with its burglars and alcoholism and litter, could actually present you with that reality. Whether something like that may happen again to you, or, worse, Marius thinks as he glances back into your apartment at the three masked robbers, if you could actually get hurt.

Against all better judgment, his arm snaps out. He grips your wrist instantly, not thinking about propriety or class divisions or economic status or anything other than you, one of his company’s employees, and your safety.

“Don’t go there,” he blurts. When he realizes that you’re not tearing your arm free of him, he speaks again. “At least, not while they’re there. I’ll come back here with you tomorrow to make sure you can return in a safe environment, and—”

“Sir, I can’t just get a hotel or—”

“I have two guest bedrooms. You can take your pick. Just—ah—” Marius glances out the window at the poor neighborhood you live in, and he winces. “I can’t let you go home to this. Not...not while there are robbers in your house. Please understand.”

“This...this kind of problem doesn’t just go away,” you mumble, but Marius relaxes when he sees your grip on the door loosen. “And besides, it really wouldn’t be appropriate for me to stay in your apartment.”

“Most people wouldn’t call it appropriate to call your company’s CEO to bail you out of jail,” Marius jokes, but the humor of it is lost on you.

“I…”

Your face falls.

“A—that was a joke,” Marius stutters. “I was joking.”

“Right.”

The atmosphere of the car goes awkward, made even worse by the GPS’s automated reminder that your destination is on the left, but the more Marius looks out his window, the more he decides that he can’t possibly let you return to this apartment. He’ll give you a raise if he has to, but this is something no one should be subject to.

“Alright,” you finally relent after Marius makes it clear that he won’t speak unless it’s to plead with you more. “Just for one night.”

“Just for one night,” Marius agrees, already planning how he can make sure that you have a better home to return to than this one for all future nights to come.

#Word Count: 2.7k #female reader #tw: robbery #Tears of Themis #tot #tears of themis x reader #tears of themis marius #tears of themis lu jinghe #marius x reader #lu jinghe x reader #billionaire x poor girl #part of a series #i have extremely mixed feelings about this piece so eh #more to come in this hopefully

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it-fits-i-ships · 3 years

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Combing through every single episode of Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous for Yasammy moments to write meta analysis about part 2 (parts 1, 3, and 4)

After Yaz breaks her ankle we have this moment of Sammy expressing her gratitude and admiration, Sammy wants to let Yaz know she sees how strong, brave, and deeply caring Yaz is but, as Brooklyn points out, Yaz isn’t in a place to hear her and needs time and space to process her feelings about Sammy’s secret double life as a spy, she goes into self-defense mode and pushes Sammy away again Just as a side note, I find it really interesting how Brooklyn reaches out to Sammy to give her advice about Yaz, Brooklyn is the one who caught Sammy spying and it’s Brooklyn’s phone that Sammy stole and accidentally broke so I think it’s very cool of Brooklyn to step in because she can see that Sammy is hurting over her fallout with Yaz and is in desperate need of a supportive friend Sammy definitely backs off trying to talk to Yaz but continues to show her care and concern in little ways like asking the group if there is another way to get to the dock besides going on foot so Yaz doesn’t hurt herself more, on the monorail when Ben gets carried off by Pteranodons and they assume that he’s dead it hits all of them really hard, Sammy starts to panic and Yaz forgets for a moment that she’s supposed to be mad and instinctively comforts her before remembering all of their circumstances, Sammy can’t help herself when she sees Yaz fall as they’re running for the dock after the group has to abandon the monorail and rushes over to check on her, Yaz is clearly still angry and refuses Sammy’s help, but by the time they actually reach the dock we can see that Yaz has realized she really does need Sammy’s help and support (both physically and for emotionally) and that there are worse things that could happen than Sammy telling some lies for her family’s sake, at this point we can see that Yaz has decided to work on forgiving Sammy and trusting her again because she initiates contact with her by casually placing her elbow on Sammy’s shoulder at the dock This trend of re-establishing their bond continues as the show enters season 2, in which the group is still stuck on the island and has to find the emergency beacon, we can see Yaz and Sammy huddling together for comfort and to keep each other safe when they have to hide behind a fallen tree from some dinosaurs, we also see Yaz lean on Sammy and give a relieved sigh once Darius gives the all-clear and she stays there for a while, when Yaz accidentally brings up Ben we can see that she’s still processing how much his apparent death has affected her and the rest of the group, Yaz is now clinging to Sammy not because she is afraid Sammy will stop liking her or talking to her like she was in season 1 but because she needs the positivity, support, and encouragement that Sammy brings to her life in order to help her through all of the emotional turmoil that being on the island is putting her through Also, Sammy helping Yaz up, helping her walk, and otherwise supporting her in any way she can is just so sweet, I know Sammy is a very positive and helpful person and she does what she can for everyone in the group but she has always gone above and beyond when it comes to Yaz, she even convinces Yaz to stay at camp and rest while she, Brooklyn, and Darius go look for supplies (with such a gentle tone and soft expression that Yaz has no choice but to embrace the love and care that Sammy is putting out there), Yaz clearly wants Sammy to stay with her but I think Sammy realizes that it’s not good for Yaz to only depend on her so she gives Yaz a warm smile before she goes but she still leaves with the others so Yaz can grow and Sammy can contribute to the whole group, this sets up the beginnings of a much healthier dynamic between Yaz and Sammy in which they can have their own lives and friendships outside of each other Yaz has clearly forgiven Sammy at this point as we don’t see any kind of bitterness in their interactions at all and after the group makes their tree fort and they have some time to rest and relax away from the pressures of constantly running from dinosaurs I think Yaz really starts to

process her deeper feelings for Sammy, she wants to spend more time with Sammy and get even closer, we can see how eager she is to join Brooklyn and Sammy on their venture out into the jungle to locate the weird frozen flower patch that Brooklyn stumbled upon a while back, Yaz definitely strikes me as the type of person who has never been in love before so with everything else going on (and with her mind full of much stronger fears of losing the others in the group, especially Sammy, which I will talk about more later in this post series) her feelings are bound to manifest strongly We can see that Yaz is now actively playing that question game with Sammy, getting to know her better, and exchanging witty banter back and forth, obviously Yaz cares about all of the people in the group on some level or she wouldn’t have been so upset when they thought Ben died but notice how she is much more interested in talking to and learning about Sammy than she is in talking to and learning about Brooklyn, however she does try her best to loop Brooklyn into the conversation once Sammy cues her to Can we just take a second to appreciate the silent conversations that Yaz and Sammy have? I’m a sucker for some good non-verbal communication because it means that the characters are very close and feel connected with each other, there’s also the fact that since Yaz wants to be around her again Sammy spends so much time making physical contact with her, touch is clearly one of Sammy’s main love languages Yaz goes to help Sammy when the gun case falls on her only to be stopped by Tiff (who tries to prevent Yaz from running away to get help) and Sammy tackles Tiff to the ground to get her to let go of Yaz, honestly I know that Sammy realizes that Yaz getting free is their best chance of getting the help they need but I think it’s really telling that she went so hard, Yaz is clearly her favorite person on the island and Sammy isn’t about to let Tiff hurt her, I also find it really telling that when Yaz sees Sammy and Darius on the security camera monitors she looks relieved and excited and then we get a set of shots that imply she’s looking just at Sammy, this is followed by such a soft, warm, loving expression from Yaz that it melts my gay heart, and of course she’s incredibly concerned when she sees Tiff and Mitch approaching During their organized stampede, Yaz has to abandon the Jeep and, without hesitation, she leaps from the car into Sammy’s waiting arms, this is a mark of a great amount of character growth for Yaz because she not only trusts Sammy now but literally trusts her with her life, we also get an adorable moment when they are dismounting in which Sammy helps Yaz get down and holds both of her hands, when they all go in for a group hug we see Yaz place her hand on Sammy’s waist (as I mentioned in part 1 of this post series, that seems like an unusually place to put your hand on a friend and neither Sammy nor Yaz do that with anyone else in the group), when Sammy is listing her favorite people in the group as she and Kenji are hanging out in their gondola she mentions Yaz first while in Yaz's own gondola she is visibly longing to be over with Sammy (especially seeing how much fun Sammy and Kenji are having pushing on the sides of the gondola) instead of having to face Brooklyn and the fact that they are not close at all, just like when Sammy left Yaz with Kenji this feels almost like a deliberate move on Sammy’s part to get Yaz out of her comfort zone and forming closer bonds with the others (though I think it’s also an excuse for Sammy to spend some quality time with Kenji who definitely seems like he’s become a brother figure) We also get this moment a jealousy in which Yaz seems a little salty that Sammy is hanging out with Kenji (though on the surface it is about how they are messing around instead of helping, Yaz’s comment is definitely tinged with jealousy), this feels very much like the reaction of someone who has romantic feelings but doesn’t have the experience to properly interpret them and who has not been able to

talk about them or put a name to them, she clearly wants a closer relationship with Sammy but Yaz is unable to thoroughly define the relationship she wants which leaves her feeling like her needs aren’t being met in situations like this, in that sense she has fallen into a bit more of an insecure attachment again, she feels threatened by Sammy’s other friendships because she and Sammy haven’t differentiated their relationship from that of the friendships they have with the others I would just like to point out the lingering hug they share in which Yaz is clearly nuzzling Sammy’s neck and the fact that Yaz goes over to stand next to Sammy when she moves to hug Brooklyn, there’s no heterosexual explanation for that, or the way Yaz holds and comforts Sammy after pulling away from that dinosaur (if you look closely you can see Yaz rubbing Sammy’s arm with her thumb) And the scene where Yaz explains that Bumpy likes her so much because she keeps snacks in her pockets and then shares some of the snacks so Sammy can feed her too? Absolutely precious, we love to see Yaz being so soft with Sammy, like the way she calls out to her when part of the group goes to search Kenji’s dad’s penthouse for gas to put in the boat, or the way Yaz checks on Sammy while Ben’s siphoning gas from the limos in the penthouse’s garage, it’s clear here that Yaz also wants Sammy to be able to rely on her sometimes, to confide in her, Yaz doesn’t have time to respond in that moment because of yet another dinosaur attack (I also think that she was having a hard time responding because on some level Yaz is also afraid to go home) but the fact that she asked in the first place shows a lot of character and relationship growth, she even goes to check on Sammy later once they’re back on the boat, Sammy does the talking then and uses Yaz more as a sounding board but the gentle smile Yaz gives when Sammy walks away with the solution to her problem is absolutely priceless

#jwcc #yasammy #longpost

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

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【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 7-34 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 7 – Rains of Monte Cristo: 7-1 / 7-3 / 7-5 / 7-7 / 7-9 / 7-11 / 7-13 / 7-15 / 7-17 / 7-19 ♦️ ♦️ 7-20 / 7-22 / 7-24 / 7-26 / 7-28 / 7-30 / 7-32 / 7-34 / 7-35

Content Warning: This section contains topics that may be uncomfortable to some readers (mentions of abuse). Please proceed with discretion.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

After we left Hang Jiahe’s place, Xu Yin hastened off. No one knew what she was thinking, and all she left was a staggering silhouette.

When we returned to Marius’ car, we hadn’t recovered from the confrontation with Hang Jiahe either, so we sunk into silence. I subconsciously realized that Marius seemed… somewhat sad?

MC: Marius, are you okay?

Marius: … You noticed.

MC: If something’s troubling you, tell me. Don’t keep it pent up inside.

Marius: …

Marius: I keep thinking back these days on what Wang Chunchong said to me…

Marius: When I heard Hang Jiahe’s story, I suddenly… felt a little scared…

MC: Scared?

Marius: Yeah. I live in the same world as Xu Yin, Wang Chunchong, and Hang Jiahe.

Marius: But I’m luckier than them, as my brother and dad both love me – so I’ve got a happy family overall.

Marius: So I don’t have to climb up, step by step the way Xu Yin and Wang Chunchong have to, just to live.

Marius: And I definitely am not like Hang Jiahe, who couldn’t even choose her own life.

Marius: But all of what I have right now is built on the foundation of Pax and the von Hagen family.

Marius: As the von Hagen stands at the very summit, we have no problems whatsoever.

Marius: But if one day, all of this were gone, could I still be this happy?

Marius: Would my day still come?

MC: Of course it will.

Marius: Why?

MC: Because whether day comes or not isn’t determined solely by the outside world.

MC: Like this.

I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight.

Instantly, a thin white light cut through the air, lighting up the dark interior of the car.

MC: Even if one is in the middle of the darkness, if you can find a light, even if it’s the thinnest, weakest sliver…

MC: It can still light up the darkness.

MC: Hang Jiahe’s story is a tragedy from top to bottom. No one could find the light to save themselves in the darkness.

MC: But unlike them, you are a light yourself.

MC: Even if you discard the halo of Pax and the von Hagen family, your own light can illuminate darkness.

Marius: …

Marius looked at me quietly, his eyes glittering in the weak light.

Marius: Jiejie, you’re right, but… not completely right.

MC: What?

Marius: Not only can I emit light, but I’ve also found the light that can illuminate me.

MC: !!!

MC: …

Marius: …

MC: … A-anyways, Marius, about what Hang Jiahe said at the end…

Seeing the atmosphere in the car get stranger and stranger, I rushed to change the topic.

Marius: Though I don’t want to admit it, I do think she’s right.

Marius: It’s impossible for us to incriminate her with the evidence we have now.

MC: But the police haven’t found out anything, and Hang Jiahe wears gloves, so she wouldn’t have left fingerprints…

MC: There’s no way for us to prove that she was the one to use the hammer…

Marius: …

Marius: No, we might have a way.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

Waiting Room

Very appropriately, it was raining in Stellis on the day of the trial for Hang Fei and Qi Yu’s case. I arrived at the meeting room early, preparing to reread all my materials, so I could better face this trial where odds were winning were pretty low.

MC: (Only Marius would have come up with this method…)

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

[Flashback]

Darius Morgan: You want Hang Jiahe herself to admit everything she did in court?

Marius: Yes, that’s the most effective method I can think of right now.

MC: But… how does that work…

MC: …

MC: Are you thinking of imitating the psychological tactics I used against Fannie before in court?

Marius nodded.

MC: But Hang Jiahe’s not like Fannie, so how do we get at her?

Marius: About that… do you remember what we went to her house and you noticed that her glove had broken?

MC: “Looks like this glove design quality isn’t that great either, since it broke on me without me realizing…”

MC: “I’ll look for more durable designs.”

MC: You mean that Hang Jiahe might have accidentally left fingerprints or other clues?

Marius: Yes.

MC: That is possible, but this might not necessarily be of any use against her.

Marius: I got in touch with the production factory of that toolbox. Though the number’s carved on the hammer’s iron core…

Marius: The same number is also secretly carved on the handle, and only the factory itself can identify it.

Marius: They did this to prevent people from making fakes – kind of a trade secret.

Marius: I found out about it thanks to some connections.

MC: Thanks for your hard work.

Marius: No big deal – anyways, back on topic.

Marius: We can send the murder weapon to the factory for confirmation. If all goes as planned…

Marius: Assuming that the number on the core and the handle don’t match, Captain Morgan, we’ll have to trouble you to re-examine the murder weapon again.

Marius: Though this time, what we need to identify are any residues or biological indices on it.

MC: You suspect that there are Hang Jiahe’s fingerprints on the murder weapon?

Marius: Yes.

Darius Morgan: But, Marius, putting aside whether we can even get this examination in before trial…

Darius Morgan: With how much time has passed, it’s highly unlikely that any residues are left, even if they existed back then.

Marius: I know. It’s just…

MC: Captain Morgan… we can only stake our bets on this.

Darius Morgan: And what if we come up empty?

MC: Then I will still confront Hang Jiahe in court with all the truths I have until the final moment.

Darius Morgan: You probably understand that if you fail, we might never catch Hang Jiahe again.

MC: I understand, but I’m sure our effort will display results. I will not give up if we haven’t reached the end yet.

Marius: Captain Morgan, I’m also requesting this of you.

Darius Morgan: … I understand.

Darius Morgan: Within the scope of law, I will do my best to have Wang Chunchong stand in court as the suspect. As for the rest…

He smiled at me.

Darius Morgan: It’s all on you.

[Flashback end]

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

As he promised, Darius dealt with everything after.

MC: (My emotions are a mess… I don’t even know what to say right now…)

MC: (I’ll go through the files again.)

I sunk back into case-file reading. In the middle of that, Marius pushed open the door with a bag full of breakfast.

Marius: You arrived so early.

MC: Yeah, I wanted to go through the information once more before appearing in court, just to ensure that I’m fully prepared.

Marius: Don’t be so nervous, eat your breakfast first.

MC: Thanks.

Marius: No problem. Oh, right, Captain Morgan had me give you this.

Marius handed me a document.

Marius: This is the information Captain Morgan got when they were investigating Hang Jiahe’s alibi.

Marius: There are blind spots in the villa’s surveillance – Hang Jiahe probably used them to come and go from it.

Marius: The police are currently looking for any witnesses around that area.

Marius: Aside from that, the two identical toolboxes were ones that Hang Jiahe bought around January 25th.

Marius: Wang Chunchong was also in the apartment during then. She probably used the opportunity when she said she returned home to get clothes…

Marius: To get the hammer handle with Wang Chunchong’s fingerprints.

MC: Understood.

[Obtained Police’s Investigation Report]

Marius: Also, this is the examination report that the police currently have on the murder weapon.

Marius: The factory confirmed that the murder weapon’s handle is indeed from set No. 22, and the other thing we guessed…

Marius flipped to the second page of the report, where it was clearly written “No results currently regarding residues or biological indices.”

MC: (Looks like we can’t tell whether there are fingerprints on it for now…)

MC: …

Marius: Hold onto this report.

MC: Okay.

Marius: Alrighty, take your time eating, then. I won’t bug you anymore.

Marius: In court, just do what you want – don’t be too nervous.

Marius: Everything will go well.

MC: Yep.

Marius left with a smile. I looked at that examination report, making a silent decision.

MC: (I’ll proceed with all I have!)

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

CRIMINAL COURT

10:00 AM

Judge: Court is in session. The court calls the People of Stellis versus suspect Wang Chunchong for the homicide case of Hang Fei and Qi Yu.

Judge: First, may the prosecution give their opening statement.

Prosecutor: I represent the People of Stellis against Wang Chunchong.

Prosecutor: On the night of January 28th, Hang Fei and Qi Yu, residents of Yaofu Community, were murdered at home. Their corpses were found not long ago.

Prosecutor: Investigation revealed that Wang Chunchong had severe conflicts with the victims due to a betrothal gift issue.

Prosecutor: That night, Wang Chunchong took food items laced with special drug G24D into the victims’ house under the pretext of apologizing.

Prosecutor: After he led the victims to eat the food, Hang Fei and Qi Yu fell unconscious due to the drug.

Prosecutor: The suspect took this opportunity to move the victims to the floor and used a hammer in the room to deal lethal blows to their heads.

Prosecutor: After, the suspect brought the bodies to his home using the apartment’s special fire escape route and placed them inside suitcases.

Prosecutor: After the suspect went to the natural park’s back mountain, then buried the bodies and the murder weapon.

Prosecutor: Investigation revealed Wang Chunchong’s fingerprints on the murder weapon, as well as the DNA of the victims in the suitcases in his home.

Prosecutor: The surveillance cameras where the burial location was clearly recorded Wang Chunchong’s entrance and exit.

Prosecutor: Thus, the prosecution believes that Wang Chunchong had full motive for the crime and that the evidence is conclusive.

Judge: Does the defendant have any objections regarding the prosecution’s statement?

Wang Chunchong: I didn’t kill Hang Fei and Qi Yu! It wasn’t me!

MC: I believe that there are major flaws in the prosecution’s evidence chain. The true culprit of this case is Hang Jiahe, not Wang Chunchong!

MC: First, the natural park’s surveillance footage only recorded Wang Chunchong’s movements at the park’s front door.

MC: It is impossible to judge where he went after entering the park. Thus, this evidence is untenable.

PROSECUTION OBJECTION

Prosecutor: Objection! As the defense lawyer believes that it is impossible to determine that Wang Chunchong went to bury the bodies based on the natural park door’s surveillance…

Prosecutor: The prosecution also believes that it is impossible to determine that Wang Chunchong did not bury the bodies.

Prosecutor: Thus, the prosecution believes that Wang Chunchong is still highly suspect of performing post-murder corpse disposal.

OBJECTION

MC: Objection! The defense has evidence to prove that Wang Chunchong did not go to bury bodies that night.

Select: Recording of Simon’s murder

MC: That night, Wang Chunchong went to the natural park to meet Simon on the north mountain.

MC: This recording indicates when Wang Chunchong murdered Simon, which is the same time as what happened in the park.

MC: Thus, Wang Chunchong could not have been simultaneously discarding the corpses at the same time at the foot of the mountain.

MC: Simon’s murder case is an essential part of this case.

MC: Hang Jiahe knew of Wang Chunchong’s plan to murder Simon, and thus chose the same day to murder Hang Fei and Qi Yu.

MC: Only in this way could she successfully frame Wang Chunchong.

Prosecutor: Defense lawyer, what evidence do you have that proves that Hang Jiahe knew of Wang Chunchong’s plan?

Select: Wang Chunchong’s Recording Pen

MC: Wang Chunchong murdered Simon because Tyson requested it of him.

MC: And Hang Jiahe was the one who introduced Wang Chunchong to Tyson.

MC: Hang Jiahe, Tyson, and Wang Chunchong were all aware of when and where Simon was to be murdered.

PROSECUTION OBJECTION

Prosecutor: Objection! The defense lawyer claims that Hang Jiahe was the one who murdered Hang Fei and Qi Yu.

Prosecutor: But according to investigation, Hang Jiahe, Hang Fei, and Qi Yu were a happy family.

Prosecutor: And the relationships that Hang Jiahe had with her adoptive parents were excellent.

Prosecutor: She has no motive to commit the crime.

OBJECTION

MC: Objection! Hang Jiahe does have motive to commit the crime, and it is stronger than Wang Chunchong’s.

Select: Hang Jiahe’s Hidden Video Records

MC: During the ten-plus years Hang Jiahe was fostered in the Hang family, she suffered inhuman abuse at the hands of her foster father.

MC: This damaged her physiological health and ruined her life.

MC: Thus, Hang Jiahe hates all those who pushed her into the depths.

MC: This does not only include Hang Fei and Qi Yu, but it also includes her biological parents Xu Yin and Tyson, as well as her fiancé Wang Chunchong.

MC: Judge, I request Hang Jiahe’s appearance in court.

Judge: A reasonable request. Summon Hang Jiahe to court.

Hang Jiahe: I did hate those people who made living even worse than death for me, but I never murdered anyone.

Hang Jiahe: Also, when the murder occurred, I was not in the apartment. I have an alibi.

OBJECTION

MC: Objection! Within the time that the crime occurred, you did return to the apartment.

Hang Jiahe: Oh? Do you have proof?

Select: January 28 Apartment Full-Day Surveillance Footage

MC: This is the full-day surveillance footage the day the crime happened.

MC: Based on big data lab analysis, comparison, and person-eye identification, Hang Jiahe appeared for a total of 6 times in the footage.

MC: Individually, these times are: 12pm, 7pm, 8pm, 9pm, 9:45pm, and 10:15pm.

MC: The reason why she was repeatedly entering and exiting the apartment was to complete her alibi.

PROSECUTION OBJECTION

Prosecutor: Objection! According to the forensics identification results, Hang Fei and Qi Yu died on the 28th after 10pm.

Prosecutor: With Hang Jiahe’s physique and strength, it would be impossible to have moved and struck the bodies, then cleaned the scene, within 15 minutes.

OBJECTION

MC: Objection! Hang Fei and Qi Yu did not die on the 28th after 10pm.

MC: They died after 12:30pm that day.

PROSECUTION OBJECTION

Prosecutor: Objection! The victims’ surmised time of death was determined by forensics experts. Defense lawyer, do not speak without grounds.

OBJECTION

MC: Objection! The bodies of Hang Fei and Qi Yu had undergone severe decay. When forensics determined the time of death, aside from basing it on the corpses’ anatomical analysis…

MC: They also based it on the victims’ final movements and the surveillance footage of the apartment on the 28th.

MC: In the footage, Qi Yu last appeared at 9:45pm, but the Qi Yu that appeared was not the real Qi Yu.

MC: Instead, it was Hang Jiahe in disguise.

PROSECUTION OBJECTION

Prosecutor: Objection! A security guard saw Qi Yu who appeared in the grand lobby at 9:45pm, so she could not have been another person in disguise.

OBJECTION

MC: Objection! The Qi Yu that the security guard saw was wearing a face mask and hat, so he could not have seen her full face.

Prosecutor: Even so, the hammer responsible for the murder of Hang Fei and Qi Yu had Wang Chunchong’s fingerprints on them. Defense lawyer, how do you explain this?

MC: That was because Hang Jiahe had switched out a part of the murder weapon.

Prosecutor: Defense lawyer, what proof do you have?

Select: Hammer Photo

MC: The hammer that served as the murder weapon is a dual-purpose hammer.

MC: With similar models, one can switch out the handle while leaving the iron core.

MC: Hang Jiahe used this fact, switching the handle she owned with Wang Chunchong’s fingerprints on them onto the murder weapon.

PROSECUTION OBJECTION

Prosecution: Objection! All mentioned methods are merely the defense lawyer’s conjectures, with no evidence to support them.

OBJECTION

MC: Objection! I do have evidence!

Select: Police’s Examination Report

MC: According to investigation, the set No.22 toolbox in Hang Jiahe’s house and the set No.21 toolbox in Room 1001…

MC: Were both purchased by Hang Jiahe.

MC: Why else would she buy two of the same toolboxes, if not to switch the hammer handles?

Hang Jiahe: You’ve spoken so much, but do you have any evidence that directly proves that I killed them?

Hang Jiahe: If not, then everything you’ve said is just a made-up story.

MC: I do…

I looked at Hang Jiahe, sighing deeply. This moment had finally come.

MC: Just in case, we applied for another examination of the murder weapon, especially the handle portion.

MC: This is the examination report that the police gave.

I took out the last examination report that Marius gave me, showing it for all in court to see.

MC: In this report, we noticed a vital piece of evidence.

Hang Jiahe: What evidence?

MC: The production factory confirmed that the No.21 hammer, the murder weapon, had the forgery-preventing No.22 carved in its handle.

MC: Based on this, we requested that any residues and biological indices on the murder weapon to be examined, and…

I stopped speaking and looked towards Hang Jiahe.

Hang Jiahe: What are you looking at?

MC: Miss Hang, are your gloves alright today? They haven’t split again, have they?

Hang Jiahe: W-what are you saying this for?

MC: No major reason. It’s just that you seemed somewhat troubled about this when we met before.

Hang Jiahe: Of course I’d get angry over my gloves breaking. Can’t I?

MC: Of course you can. But, Miss Hang, have you experienced your gloves breaking on you before?

Hang Jiahe: W-what are you trying to say?

Hang Jiahe’s originally calm face grew agitated, and a bead of sweat slid down her neck.

MC: Nothing, I’m just asking a question. This shouldn’t be a hard-to-answer question.

Hang Jiahe: Whether it has or hasn’t, does this have anything to do with the case?

MC: Whether it has or hasn’t isn’t for you to decide.

MC: But since you’ve said this, I’ll ask you some questions that are more related to the case.

I grasped the file in my hand tight, looked straight at Hang Jiahe, and added some emphasis to my words.

MC: Miss Hang, why did you return so many times to the apartment on the night of the crime?

MC: Why did you buy toolboxes of the same model before the murder?

Hang Jiahe: I… I…

MC: Also, why did these toolboxes just happen to appear in yours and the victims’ homes?

MC: Why are so many coincidences tied to you?

MC: Hang Jiahe, how do you explain this?

Hang Jiahe: No… no way, my fingerprints couldn’t have been on the hammer!

Hang Jiahe looked at me, her eyes gradually growing fiercer.

Hang Jiahe: I clearly confirmed it so many times when I was switching the handle and killing those two beasts.

Hang Jiahe: I shouldn’t have gotten anything wrong, so why did something still slip through?

MC: So, Hang Jiahe, you admit that you did murder Hang Fei and Qi Yu?

Hang Jiahe: So what if I did? It’s Hang Fei’s fault for running into my room that night and raising a hand against me again!

Hang Jiahe: I’ve had enough! I won’t give him another chance to humiliate me as he pleases!

MC: Then why did you murder Qi Yu?

MC: She never stopped Hang Fei? Before, she clearly…

Hang Jiahe: Qi Yu… hah, she did try to stop him that night, but she should have tried long ago!

Hang Jiahe: She’s been a bystander for so many years!

Hang Jiahe: They should both go to hell together!

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

Judge: Per court trial, the prosecution’s accusations against Wang Chunchong lack evidence and are untenable.

Judge: Simultaneously, multiple pieces of evidence indicate high suspicion against Hang Jiahe in this case.

Judge: Defense lawyer, it seems that your guesses were all correct, and the risks you took this time were all quite interesting.

Judge: Leave the rest of the work to the criminal investigation department.

Judge: Court is adjourned!

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #tot translations #lu jinghe #marius von hagen #未定事件簿 #been a long time since i did a new court trial #got a lot of conflicting emotions about this one...

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anna-justice · 4 years

Text

too Close for Comfort - Upstead

Summary: Throwback to the aftermath of “Lines,” in season seven. This is the conversation between Jay, Voight and Hailey that we didn’t get to see.

Warnings: swearing, PTSD?, angst

Requested: Yes! #75, “What did you need to tell me?”

…

“Shut the door.”

Hailey slammed the door of her car shut, falling breathlessly into the driver's seat. It was freezing, the air inside being even colder than the frigid wind outside. Hailey threw her head back against the seat, numb to the frosty touch, she shook ever so slightly, having left her coat on her chair in the haste to get out of the district.

“So this is something we’re doing now?”

Soon, the temperature began to set in and Hailey broke her trance long enough to turn her keys in her ignition, suddenly being blasted with air as cold as Chicago winter wind. She didn’t bother to turn it down, it would warm up eventually and hopefully her with it. With no feeling in her ears or her hands, she hit the steering wheel, a single tear escaping her eye. She was surprised it didn’t freeze against her cheek. She had no idea what she was doing.

“Do you understand, you crossed the line?”

She did, she knew what she did was wrong, but she just wanted to feel something. The cold air circulated throughout her car, making it borderline inhabitable. If her fingers were moving against the dash, she didn’t know, she felt nothing. She wanted to feel something: guilt, fear, remorse, even. But she didn’t. All she knew is that she had crossed the threshold of something she couldn’t even see, and all she felt was void. Part of her thought she would be happy, or maybe prideful. She had helped put away a violent criminal and saved another man ten years of life wasted, but the Hailey that had done that wasn’t recognizable to her anymore.

“The lines, they are real clear.”

And she wished they were, in Chicago at least. She knew that at the FBI there was almost a marked path of steps on the floor to take, you couldn’t miss it. But she wished it were that easy at home. She wished that she was afraid of them, like she always was before. But everything seemed different now, ever since Jay was shot her world had been upside down. She watched him cross the line with Marcus, and then with Angela. He was just trying to do the right thing and it almost got him killed, it was so clear to Hailey. 100%, without a doubt, get Jay out of this. He was crazy, supporting the family of the man he got killed, he was too close. But then, she was too close to see that he was never going to move on, not without doing everything he possibly could to help them.

God, it was so normal. It felt like everyone around her got the benefit of the doubt but her. Letting Angela walk to keep Jay’s secret was wrong, an oversight that the old Hailey never would have made. But the old Hailey didn’t watch her partner bleed out on a basement floor, the old Hailey didn’t plant evidence in peoples cars, the old Hailey didn’t dare take a step out of line.

“I don’t want you to be me.”

She didn’t want to be him, but she didn’t see any other way. There was no going back now. Not after Cameron’s death, not after Darius. She wasn’t the same person who walked in and spilled coffee on Platt all those years ago. She felt like a fraud, and the only person that could really see her may never forgive her. Why would he? Hailey put on her seatbelt, willing herself to drive out of the parking lot, she had a lot of packing to do.

“Hailey, I’m starting to wonder if you can do it.”

She did too, she wondered what happened to her. Maybe it was the job: maybe she was hardening, losing her morality or just getting bored. But it felt like so much more than that. She had a family now, a real one, and she would do anything to protect them. She loved Vanessa, and she hated seeing her hurting. Of course she had to help Luis, she couldn’t watch Vanessa spiral. She was attached, something she had never let herself be before.

Hailey’s phone buzzed in her cup holder, bringing her back to reality. Her car had finally decided to warm up, and now she felt on the verge of overheating.

Jay Halstead: I’m at Backdoor, text me when you get here. I’ll wait to go in.

Hailey groaned, feeling her eyes well up again. She forgot that she had plans to meet Jay at their bar, it had been a rough case, a rough day. It was their thing. She was dreading it, but she had to tell him. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

…

Jay’s phone buzzed in his hand showing Hailey’s caller ID. He picked it up immediately. “Hey.” He said, a smile gracing his face.

“Hi.” She said, her voice coming through quiet and cut off.

Jay sat forward in his seat, “What’s wrong?” Worry laced thick.

“Jay,” She said, almost like she was bracing herself. “I’m going to New York.”

“What?” The words just kind of fell out of his mouth.

He heard Hailey take a deep breath on the line, “Voight is loaning me out to the FBI, the field office in New York. I leave tomorrow.”

“I don’t understand…” Jay trailed off, “Why?”

“I-I messed up Jay.” She said, her voice breaking. “I did something really stupid and I guess this is my punishment.”

Jay was seething and he wasn’t exactly sure why, “He can’t do this, he can’t just ship you off-”

“He can and he did.” Hailey cut him off. They were quiet for a moment. “I should go, I need to pack and my flight is early. I just wanted to tell you.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Jay stumbled over his words. “Thank you, for letting me know.”

Hailey breathed out a little laugh, “You think I would just disappear in the middle of the night?”

Jay froze for a second, she didn’t understand the weight of her own words. “You? No. Just, still, I appreciate it.” He had a million questions, but it seemed like she wasn’t really up for answers.

“You’re my partner,” She said without hesitation, “And you will still be my partner when I’m there and you will still be my partner when I get back.”

Those words were his anchor, she was coming back. “Damn right.” He paused, “Get some sleep and text me before you take off, so I know you got through security okay.”

“Of course. Goodnight Jay.”

“Goodnight Hailey, have a safe trip.” And with that the line went dead.

Jay could feel his blood boiling, he smoothly threw the truck back into gear and high tailed it out of the parking lot. There was someone he needed to talk to.

…

10 minutes later Jay burst into Voight’s office. “You’re sending Hailey to New York?”

Voight put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, he should have seen this coming. “The FBI needs a loan out officer, I thought it would be a good opportunity.” He said, calmly.

Jay paced around the small office, his hands resting on his hips. He was so mad he couldn’t form a sentence. “How could you do this to me? Again?”

“This isn’t about you Jay…” Voight said, his voice getting a little louder.

Jay scoffed, “Like hell it is.” They stared each other down for a moment. “Kevin would have loved this chance, Adam too, and you’re telling me that Kim didn’t need an escape right now?” He didn’t understand why it had to be Hailey, punishment or not. “Why Hailey?”

“Upton knows why.” Voight said shortly.

“Then tell me!” Jay exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m her partner.”

Voight stood, throwing the file he was reading down on his desk. “She needs this.”

“Well, I need her.” Jay snapped, gripping the back of the chair in front of him.

Voight scoffed, “Jay, I told you a long time ago that if you want to be in my unit, you keep it in your pants.”

“Oh, believe me,” Jay spat. “It’s in.” He sighed. “Hank, I can’t lose another partner to the feds. I can’t start over again.”

Voight took a breath, looking at the hurting young man in front of him. “Erin leaving was hard on me too, but ultimately it was her choice. She chose to leave and not come back. I gave Upton a temporary assignment, she is welcome back wherever she is ready.”

She is coming back, she is coming back, she is coming back. He almost felt like he was manifesting it. “What is she doesn’t?”

“Then that’s her choice.” Hank said, “Either way, you are yelling at the wrong person right now. Go home Jay.”

Jay nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Jay gave him a short nod before quickly leaving the office. He was feeling so many things he could barely stand it. He was embarrassed for blowing up on Voight and basically admitting his feelings for his partner to his boss. He was dreading the next few weeks without Hailey, he was dreading the constant stress of her deciding to stay. He was sad, all this New York talk was dredging up old memories, ones he wished he could just erase. He was angry, but he wasn’t sure who he was even mad at. And now he was scared, because somehow his truck ended up outside of Hailey’s house.

He wasn’t sure why he was there or what he was going to say, but he just needed to see her. Jay made his way to the front door, knocking. The door swung open to reveal Vanessa, looking a bit more disheveled than normal. “Hey.” Jay said, he had forgotten about the roommate situation.

“She’s upstairs.” The young officer said, skipping all niceties.

Jay nodded, “Thanks.” He looked up the staircase, debating just calling her downstairs. This felt like a line they have never crossed, one he wasn’t sure either of them were ready for, but tonight wasn’t the night for playing it safe. He made his way up the carpeted stairs, the pictures hanging along the wall catching his eye. He was surprised to see that he was in most of them.

There was on at the very top of just the two of them, he remembered the day it was taken like it was yesterday. They had just made a big bust, Voight and Antonio had taken the suspect in while the rest of the unit stayed behind to work with patrol. They were all so excited to finally get the guy off the street, it was one of those really good days on the job. He was pretty sure Kim took the picture, but they were both leaning against a squad car. You can’t see it, but Jay had his arm resting on Hailey’s back while hers and his other one held their vests. She was leaning against his, grinning like she normally was.

When he willed himself to leave memory lane, he made his way to the top of the stairs, wandering for a moment down the hall to what he assumed was Hailey’s room. He met the threshold and was taken aback. Hailey had his back to him, an open suitcase on her bed. There were clothes everywhere in different folded piles and strewn across the floor. He knocked on the door frame and Hailey turned around immediately. “Hey,” He said quietly.

“Uh, hi.” She said, running a hand through her hair. She had on leggings and an oversized t-shirt, something that Jay had never seen her in. “What are you doing here?”

Jay shrugged, “I just wanted to see you before you left. Make sure you were okay.”

Hailey shook her head, going back to throwing things in the suitcase. “I’m fine, Jay.”

Jay took a step into the room and then a few more, crossing yet another line. He made his way to Hailey, trying not to get distracted by the fact that he was standing less than two feet from her bed. “Hailey, talk to me.”

Hailey sighed, “This is a really good opportunity, but I’m not sure I’m ready, and I don’t think I even want it. Is that ungrateful? This whole thing just feels tainted.”

“Hailey you are a good cop, if anyone deserves this, it’s you.” Jay said softly.

“Jay, you don’t know what I did-”

“It doesn’t matter Hailey.” Jay said, cutting her off. “No matter what you did, you are going to kick ass in New York.” He was being completely serious, even if it was the last thing he wanted, he knew she was going to thrive there. “You’ve got this.” He stood up to leave, he couldn’t lay all his fears and worry on her now, he had to be supportive.

“Jay-”

“Have a good trip Hailey, call or text whenever you want.” His chest felt tight as he reached the doorway, debating not looking back at her. Every part of him knows he needs to walk out that door, but he can’t forget all the times this has happened before. “What were you going to tell me?”

“Jay, I don’t want to leave.” Hailey calls across the room.

There are a million things he wants to say, but not now. Not right before she flies 800 miles away. “I don’t want you to leave either.”

Hailey gives him a soft smile, it’s enough confirmation for them both. She’s leaving, but she will be back. And for then,that was enough.

…

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this fic, I haven’t done one like it in a long time. I got the inspiration for this while listening to Meet us at Molly’s @meetusatmollys (check out this podcast on Podbean, you won’t regret it!). Thank you for reading! <3

P.S. comment/reblog to be added to my one-shot tag list

#jay halstead #hailey upton #upstead #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead imagines #hank voight #chicago pd #one chicago #chicago pd imagines

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airis-paris14 · 3 years

Text

Starlight Chapter 13

Summary: Amani is an orphaned heiress who's spent most of her life raising her younger sister. T'Challa is a widowed King and Father. Neither of them is expecting much from their night at the Lotus. But the coming months have many milestones in store for these young adults. Will becoming a family be one of them?

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

2 months later

“Amani, I’m about to head out,” Amare called, grabbing her house keys off of the hook. “Okay, hold on, I'll be right back Baby.” T’Challa nodded into the phone and muted himself to speak to someone off screen. Amani hurried down the stairs and smiled at her little sister. “Okay, passport, keys, tickets, wallet, and medicine in carryon?”

“Yes mother,” Amare smirked.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe kid,” the older Okeke smiled and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re 18, not 21, so please, no sneaking off without telling Shuri’s guards where you all are going. Limit your alcohol intake, I know it’s legal over there but the last thing I need is a call from a German hospital saying you have alcohol poisoning.”

“I promise I will limit the drinking, and the sneaking out.”

“Good. Have fun, be safe. I love you.” Amani smiled and pulled her sister in for another hug. “Love you too sis. I’ll only be gone for a week.”

“I know, but you know I hate saying goodbye. You’re all I have left kid. But I want to let you live, so go before you miss your flight. Hug Shuri for me.

“I’ll call you when I land.” Amare bounded down the front steps and into her already packed car. Amani sighed watching her wave one last time before pulling off down the street. She waved at the patrol car as it drove by on its hourly surveillance drive by, before locking her door and heading up the stairs into her office. “And I’m back,” she plopped into her seat, reopening her MacBook.

“Personally I don’t think it’s fair that our sisters see each other more than we do,” the king teased. Amani rolled her eyes, “This is their first time seeing each other since we came home, it’s only been two months,” Amani laughed. “Yes, and after having you here for three months, I’ve decided that 61 days is too long to be out of your presence.”

“Well you know I’m working to get the venue started up, I just can’t travel as much as usual. You know I would be there if I could,” Her voice began to tremble.

“I know my love,” T’Challa reassured, “I am just teasing,” he frowned, noticing her eyes tearing up. “I know but lately I’ve just been feeling like such a bad girlfriend,” she began to sob and the king panicked. “Hey no, you’re perfect. Nothing's wrong. It’s on both of us and I was gonna tell you that I was planning to surprise you with a visit.”

“Really?” Amani sniffled.

“Yes so please stop crying entle.” The heiress grabbed a tissue from the box she had begun to keep on her desk after noticing that even the little things made her tear up. “I’m sorry. I ruined the surprise again,” she chuckled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It is fine, now you have something to look forward to. You hate them anyway,” the king teased.

“Are you sure you’re alright though my love? You have been extra-sensitive lately.”

“In more ways than one,” the heiress murmured. “Have you been to the new doctor, did she run the tests the doctor here ordered?” The king grabbed a stack of papers and began signing them. “Yep,” Amani read over and responded to an email her contractor sent before turning her attention back to T’Challa. “I have an appointment with her tomorrow. She and Dr. Zabulie both sounded very excited so I’m hoping it's a positive result.”

The king smiled at the news, “Well then I’ll be expecting a full report as soon as you know.”

“Of course. I’ll call your mother as well, I wouldn’t even be in this position if you all hadn’t encouraged me to go see another doctor.”

“We both just want what is best for you,” the king smiled, “but unfortunately I have a meeting to attend to my love. I will call you later tonight, okay?”

“Of course, I’ll see you later.” She blew a kiss through the phone before the king had to hang up. After responding to more emails, she scheduled some property manager interviews for later in the week and a building walk through. Her phone caught her attention as it began to ring, “Hello?” She answered. “Hey, Kura and I finished those designs for different set ups and interiors, are you free to go over them?”

“Yeah,” Amani smiled. While in Wakanda she and her friends decided to go into the event business together. They’d bought an old hotel downtown in Atlanta and decided to turn it into a sleepover venue. With suites and rooms designed for different party sizes and moveable features to make the room age appropriate. A spa, boutique, and restaurant, would be located on the grounds as well. There was also a separate grand ballroom and garden that allowed them to market the place as an all in one wedding venue. They’d started work while in Wakanda and now two months later they were weeks away from opening the ballroom, gardens, and other non overnight amenities for event bookings. They would use the money from the rentals to help recover the costs of renovating the hotel rooms.

“Bet. We’ll be over in 30. Sakura has to pick up the pizza first.”

“Cool, don’t forget extra garlic butter sauce. Imma hop in the shower. Y’all can just use your keys to let yourselves in.”

After hanging up the phone Amani hopped in the shower and let the water soothe her muscles. She’d been working so hard to make sure everything came together and it finally was. She was more in love with T’Challa each day, she was starting a business with her friends, and Darius had been spotted in New York living with some family he had there. She still had nightly surveillance, but knowing that he’d move out of the state definitely calmed her nerves.

“Madiyson?” The heiress called as the sound of the front door caught her attention. When she didn’t receive a response she shrugged and figured she had her beats on. She quickly motioned with her coconut oil,slipped into some sweatpants, and pulled a sports bra over her head before a voice sent a chill down her spine. “You’ve been holding out on me Amani.”

Darius got up from his seat behind her on the bed and revealed the kitchen knife he was holding. “If I had known you could look like that, I would’ve made you work out more.”

“How the hell did you get in my house?”

“No Thank you? Darius frowned.

“What do I have to thank you for?”

“Giving you a second chance,” Darius smirked before lunging at the Okeke heiress. Amani, dodged his lunge as he ran into the dresser she was standing in front of. “ A second chance for what you bastard!” The heiress resisted the urge to search for her phone, she knew Darius, he watched her eyes always to anticipate her next move. “You ruined my life. You were supposed to be my wife, look pretty, give me kids. Instead your ass got me locked up for damn near life. Now my dad is all on my ass because he had to call in a favor with the DA and the governor in one sitting-”

“Well maybe your ass should’ve just stayed in jail then!” Amani ducked, expecting the lamp on the nightstand to fly towards her head. She took the moment she dodged the light fixture to locate her phone. It was too far and she knew that she’d never be able to reach it before Darius finished his spiel. She’d have to leave her friends a clue that something had gone wrong.

“Now,” Darius eyed Amani as she backed up against the wall, “as I was saying. Everyone is counting on me to not fuck up! Which means I need to get my old life back, starting with you Ms. Okeke, now heiress of the Okeke Industries Tech Conglomerate.”

“No one will ever believe that we are a happy couple once again Darius, they found me, clinging to life, hypothermic, and bleeding because you literally beat our child out of me. It was on the five o'clock news for weeks straight.” Amani risked eyeing her keys once more, hoping that the plan she was hatching would work.

“What better way to show them that I am a changed man, than by having you forgive me. A redeemed love, a true love,” Darius stepped up to Amani and caressed her cheeks and lips. The woman felt like crawling out of her skin but she held it together. “Why don’t you just find another woman?” Not that Amani wished Darius on any other woman, she’d prefer he’d be locked up in a cell, but she needed to get him to back up. “Does it really matter? I want you, and I’ve already invested a lot in you Amani. You got a little break to have fun and spend time with other men, but you are mine. You always were and you always will be, it’s time I got a return on my investment. “ Darius took a seat on Amani’s bed and she silently rejoiced.

“Okay, then what’s your plan?”

“You don’t need to know all of that. Just know that I’m not leaving you behind Amani.” Darius pointed the knife and Amani nodded, “I’m just gonna grab my keys,” she gestured. “If I go missing, the police will look at all of your father’s and friend’s properties, no one will think I was stupid enought to take you to one of our vacation homes.” At least the waitress hoped this wasn’t the stupidest idea she’d ever had.

“Nah, cause I’m sure your friends and man know all about those places. Not to mention your little sister.”

“Amare is out of the country at a science conference, won’t be home for two weeks, you’ll have time to move me before she can get back. As for the others, they don’t even know we own vacation properties.” Amani scoured through her keys and grabbed the one she knew her sister would recognize as missing first. “Here, we can go to the chateau in the mountains in North Carolina. It’s secluded. No one for miles around.”

Darius stood up, “Nah, there’s a reason you’re helping me. What is it?”

“You’re never gonna leave me alone otherwise. I don’t wanna die, and this is most likely the last time I’ll ever get a decision about something that happens to me. Think of it as my final words.” As soon as the excuse left her mouth Amani felt her mouth go dry and heavy, for some reason, it did feel like she’d sealed her own fate.

“Amani!” Madiyson called as she entered the apartment. Sakura followed in hot on her heels to place the heavy pizzas in the kitchen. “I still don’t know why you ordered four pizzas for 3 people,” Madiyson laughed, dropping all of her interior design sketches and renderings on the table. “As much of a perfectionist each of us is… We're gonna be here all night and y’all are gonna be glad I bought enough pizza.”

“Well if AMANI would BRING. HER. ASS. DOWN. THE. STAIRS we could get started and be done at a godly hour.” Madison yelled up the stairs into the continued silence. “You told her we were coming, right?”Sakura joined her friend at the base of Amani’s stairs and frowned. “Yeah, she said just let ourselves in.”

“Maybe she’s taking a nap, she’s been doing that more often than usual.”

“Oh god, if she’s taking a nap then she’ll be dead to the world right now. You wanna wake her up while I set up?” Madiyson shook her head and walked back over to the couch in the living room. “Sure, just throw me into the lion’s den. You know she hates being woken up by anyone but Amare and Ada.” Sakura whined. “You’ll be fine, she would never hate you. Just make it seem like she woke herself up. Throw a pillow or something.” Madiyson shrugged and opened her laptop.

“Always the sacrifice, never the beneficiary,” Sakura mumbled as she jogged up the stairs into Amani’s room. “Mani,” the afro-asian woman sang as she burst into the room, only to be greeted by a perfectly made bed. “Amani?'' She tried to calm her heartbeat as she checked her friend’s closet and bathroom. “Okay focus, details details,” Sakura chanted to herself. “7:47, no phone in the room, nothing messed up, somebody sat on the bed,” the waitress took note of the room as she backed her way out, down the stairs, and towards the garage. “Hey, did you- what’s wrong,” Madiyson frowned as her best friend opened the garage door and looked out. “Did she say she was gonna leave?” Sakura ignored Madiyson’s original question, feeling her stomach drop at the presence of Amani’s car, and the empty house. “No, she said she was gonna take a shower-”

“Madiyson, She’s not here.”

“Look, I already told you what happened. Madiyson called Amani at 6:30, she picked me up, we picked up the pizzas, let ourselves in, but she wasn’t here when i went to check on her. I went into the room at 7:47. The shower had been turned on and the room was steamy, and someone had sat on her bed but Amani hates that unless she’s about to go to sleep. Except she isn’t in her room sleeping!”

“Why are you all not taking this seriously! Her abusive ex is a known kidnapping threat. For God’s sake she’s had a 24/7 patrol for months because there was fear he would try to retaliate! Now that she’s missing, y’all aren’t doing a damn thing.” Madiyson butted in frustrated at the officers staring at them like they were aliens from outer space.

“Ma’am, we are just trying to get all the facts first-”

I’ve given them to you three times, if you can’t comprehend then we’ve got a bigger problem!” Sakura fumed and the officers stood. “We’ll call headquarters and see what we can do. Technically it has to be 48 hours before we can report and adult as missing-”

“Just get out please,” Madiyson sighed. She held open the door for the officers who hesitated, their feathers obviously ruffled.

“I’ll try calling Amare again.” Sakura stood and walked out after the officers left. Madiyson locked the door and stared up at the clock, realizing she should probably call T’Challa.

“Hello?” Madiyson breathed deeply as the call finally connected to the king, “T, she’s gone,” the woman’s voice warbled but her words shook the king all the same. “What do you mean she is gone?” He stood, immediately stumbling to slip on some shoes and race through the halls to his mother’s room. “Sakura and I came for a meeting, and she wasn’t here. Her car is here but she isn't and she assured us she’d be here taking a shower. Someone else was here because someone was sitting on her bed, at the bottom. You know she hates people ruffling her sheets.”

“Have you talked to Amare? Are you sure she didn’t take her to the airport?”

“We’ve been trying to reach her but she's still on the plane. She would have been back by now if she just went to the airport. She knew we were coming.” Madiyson broke, sobbing into the phone.

T’Challa’s heart dropped, his mind racing back to how he’d begged his lover not to go back until the rumors that her abuser had officially moved were confirmed. Now she was gone and the king felt he had failed to protect her. “Madiyson, Madiyson, I need you to breathe and keep breathing. Did you call the police?”

“Yes, but-“ Madiyson stumbled trying to regain her composure, “they said since it hasn’t been 48 hours it’s not technically a missing persons case.”

The king felt anger rush through his veins, “So they aren’t doing anything?”

“Not really,” Madiyson moved to grab tissue from Amani’s bathroom. “Have her call the detectives over these two imbeciles. She was on 24 hour surveillance due to risk of revenge from her abuser. Them sitting around doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, I know, I’m heading downstairs right now-” Madison paused as she noticed Amani’s keys on her vanity. “Wait, one of her keys-” Madison trailed off flipping through the keys. “One of her keys is what?” T’Challa knocked on his mother’s door. “It’s missing. When her parents died, she kept keys to all of their properties. With them all labeled with numbers but I don’t know which one is which. Just number three is missing,” Madison ran a hand over her braids and huffed. T’Challa banged on his mother’s door again before taking a step back and pacing the hall. “Okay, You and Sakura just stay there, keep trying to reach Amare. I’m on my way and I’ll try to reach Shuri. See if you can figure out what key is missing.”

“Okay, call us when you land.”

T’Challa hung up the phone, “Umama!” He banged on the door before Ramonda yanked it open. “T’Challa, what in Bast’s name-”

“It’s Amani, she’s missing. We have to go now, can you try to reach Shuri? Her friends think they have a lead but we need to reach Amare.”

“How long has she been missing?” The queen mother rushed back in her room and started to get dressed and pack a bag. “We don’t know, I just got off the phone with Madiyson. They went to the house and she was missing.”

“Did they call the police?”

“They say they can’t report her absence until 48 hours has passed,” T’Challa opened his beads and messaged Okoye. I need you, Ayo, a plane, and five of your best warriors. Meet me on the tarmac in 30.”

“When do we leave?”

“In 30 minutes, I have to pack a bag. Ayo and Okoye will meet us at the tarmac with some back up, can you please try to reach Shuri while I get ready?”

“Yes, I will try calling her.”

The king nodded and turned to rush back to his room. “T’Challa,” Ramonda called out,”We will find her. She will be alright.” He offered his mother a sad smile before continuing down the hall.

“It’s the North Carolina key?”

“Yes. Number 3 it's her favorite number for her favorite house.” Amare insisted as Sakura flipped through the keys again.

“Do you know the address?” Madison interrupted.upiui

“Uh, number 3 Lodge Street Asheville, North Carolina.”

“And you’re sure that is the key that is missing?” T’Challa interrupted Madiyson and Amare. The teen looked at the king through the camera, the lights of the quinjet humming behind her as Shuri watched on. “Yes, I’m positive. Amani is heading to the North Carolina house.”

The king hit the table and turned to his guard, “We are heading to North Carolina. Now.”

“We’ll meet you there-”

“No,” T’Challa and his mother answered at the same time.``You two stay exactly where you are,'' Ramonda demanded. “All due respect, I am not staying over here in Germany when my sister has been kidnapped by her abuser!” Amare rebutted. “Yes, but for all we know he has men looking for you too. As well as Madiyson and Sakura. So until then, at least we know where you are. We are sending Dora Milaje to your hotel.” T’Challa finalized.

“No, I am not standing back when my sister is in danger. I wasn’t there the first time she was saved and opened her eyes, I want to be there this time.” Amare demanded while she teared up and T’Challa sighed. He walked around the desk to look at Okoye and his mother. “You all can head back to Wakanda, once the extra Dora arrive. Once we have her, we’ll bring her back to Shuri’s lab, there you guys can see her.” The king looked at everyone in the room, “Besides, I don’t think it is safe for any of you to be in the US alone right now.”

“So what are you saying?” Sakura sat up from her place on the couch. T’Challa nodded at the general of the Dora Milaje. Okoye tapped her staff and escorted the rest of the warriors out of the home. Once the door had shut the room turned to face T’Challa again. “I have been thinking, especially in light of what has happened to Amani, that you all should move to Wakanda. Stay in the palace of course. I know you two would have to travel for business and Amare we’d have to figure out your schooling, but it is obvious that this government has no vestment in keeping you all safe. I can do something about it and I will, if you all will let me.”

“I don’t know T-” Madiyson started.

“I had been thinking about transferring to study with Shuri, but I don’t know how Amani would take it.” Amare added. “She’s not just gonna give up her independence. She just got it back from Darius,” Sakura added. “I know but it is not safe here, at least for now. As well connected as that fugitive is, who knows what will happen to you all if he goes back to jail. I let Amani convince me she would be safe, and now two months later we are searching for her praying to Bast that she isn’t dead.”

“T’Challa this is not your fault,” Sakura interjected. “I know, but if I can keep you all safe, I have a responsibility to do so. You will have free will and autonomy, but at least inside Wakanda’s borders, I can guarantee your safety.

“I think this is a lovely conversation, but might I remind you all that this is a time sensitive case. Let’s table this discussion until we all make it back to Wakanda” Shuri interrupted the discussion that seemed to be heading towards an endless round table. “Shuri is right, time is of the essence.” Ramonda spoke standing, “everyone comes back to wakanda for the time being. Once we rescue Amani, we send our war dogs to clear any suspicions and make sure it is safe for you all to return. Then we make a decision. Until then-“

“We focus on the task at hand.” Madiyson finished and Ramonda agreed. “Shuri and Amare head back home once the Dora arrive. When we have Amani we’ll let you know.”

“Keep my sister safe T’Challa,” Amare asserted before hanging up. “She’s just nervous,” Sakura reassured. “We are all glad we have someone here to help us this time. But we should get on the road. Darius works fast.” The Afro-Asian waitress added solemnly. The king nodded, “Phambile,” he called and the guards opened the doors escorting everyone to the cars waiting to race to the airport.”

Fourteen Hours Ago

“Amani.” The heiress fumbled to wrap the stick back it s package and hide it on the sink before running out of her bathroom. “Hey,” she offered her younger sister a smile but only received a confused face in return. “Hey, you’re up early, I thought you’d be sleep,” Amare took a seat in one of the overstuffed arm chairs in her sisters bedroom. “I wasn’t feeling well. I got up to take some medicine no biggie,”Amani shrugged. “You go to the doctor again soon right? You should have her check it out.”

“She’s an OBGYN, but I’ll see what she might be able to recommend.”

“Cool, well I’d been thinking-“

“Oh that’s never good,” the heiress laughed as her sister shot daggers her way. “As I was saying. I’ve been thinking about transferring to study in Wakanda with Shuri. It’d make it easier for you to come see Tchalla and I could get accustomed to the culture before we move there-“

“Hey hey, who said we we’re moving to Wakanda?”

“Amani. I’m not dumb or a little girl anymore. I know how marriages and relationships work. I know you live tchalla. I know he loves you. And I know how monarchies work. I also know that T’Challa has asked you to move in or visit more often and that I’m probably the reason you’re hesitant about doing either.”

“You’re right, but I didn’t say anything cause I don’t want you thinking you have to move because of me and T’Challa. I want you to follow your dreams, and dtudying at MIT was one of those dreams.”

“And dreams change, Amare reminded. I used to any to be a ballerina, astronaut, actress, and hear I am studying at MIT. And now, I know that the university of Wakanda can offer me so much more. Plus I’ll get to spend more time with my best friend and take advantage of her lab. It’s a win win!” The young genius insisted. Amani sighed and settled on the chair next to her.

“How about we finish out this fall semester and pick up the conversation over Christmas break. I just don’t want you to regret anything.” The older sister explained.

“That’s fair.” Amare nodded and stood. “Back to you though, are you sure you’re feeling well enough for me to leave?”

“Now you sound like the older sister. I’ll be fine kid, you go have fun at your conference thing in Germany. Have you finished packing?”

“Nope, I wanted to get and early start at the stores so I can pack before my flight.”

“Okay, I’m headed back to sleep. But don’t crash the car and fill up the tank before you come back please.”

“I always do,” Amare smiled before kissing her sister's cheek and slipping out of the room. Once Amani heard the front door shut. She locked herself in the bathroom and unwrapped the third and final test. She sat them all in a row before flopping down on the toilet.

“Shit.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

#tchalla fanfiction #tchalla #tchalla imagine #tchalla x reader #blackpantherimagines #apbpfics #tchalla x black! reader #tchalla x black!oc #tchalla x oc #tchalla x you #starlightfic #shuri black panther #tchalla black panther #t’challa x oc #t’challa x reader #t’challa udaku

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mysticonsheadcanons · 2 years

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Mysticons Fan Season 4 Episode 6: Out Of Control

Arkayna, Queen Goodfey, and Zarya are on a diplomatic mission. Queen Goodfey is giving Zarya a talk about how to behave in the meeting, and Zarya is pretending to listen. Just then, the flying car they are using suddenly crashes to the ground after an energy beam hits it.

On the ground, Queen Goodfey asks if everyone is O.K, which they are. The driver of the car apoligizes, saying that the energy beam came from nowhere. He calls for help, but it will be a while before anyone gets there. Queen Goodfey suggests that they wait in the car, as they don't know where they are, and Arkayna points out how it doesn't look like anyone's there. Zarya looks out the window, and something catches her eye. After looking at something on her phone, she runs off, with Arkayna following closely behind. Queen Goodfey follows as well, but eventually loses sight of her daughters. None of them notice a wolf/bear like creature watching. Queen Goodfey is attacked by it.

As Arkayna is following Zarya, she gets a call from Em asking about the accident, as the royal guard is getting ready to move, and Piper said she heard about an accident. Arkayna explains everything, including about Zarya running off. They promise to come and help find Zarya. After the phone call, Arkayna catches up to Zarya, who is staring at an old building. Zarya reveals that she realized that they were in her old village, and that the building she's looking at is her home. She wants to go in and take a look inside, but Arkayna warns her that the building may not be safe, and suggests that they go back to the car.

Meanwhile, Sharise, Em, and Piper are flying to the coordinates Em got from the call. Sharise guesses that they're in the middle of nowhere, but Piper isn't so sure, as there would be no reason for Zarya to run off. Em says that they will talk to Zarya about it once they find her. Just then, a skeleton attacks. The trio manages to fight the skeleton off, but not before the skeleton says something about people disturbing his home.

Arkayna and Zarya get to the car, where the royal guard is. They say that they haven't seen Queen Goodfey, and Arkayna remembers that their mom was following them. Just as Arkayna and Zarya are about to look for Queen Goodfey, the other Mysticons come. Arkayna explains what happened, and the other Mysticons agree to help. One of the guards says that they should hurry, as if they don't find Queen Goodfey within the hour, an approaching storm would come, making it too dangerous to continue. They also say that they will repair the car.

As they search for Queen Goodfey, Piper asks Zarya why she ran off in the first place. Zarya reaveals that it was her home before Captain Kaos raided it. The others comfort her. The skeleton creature that Em, Sharise, and Piper fought earlier comes back, and a fight ensues. The skeleton tells the Mysticons to leave his home alone, as people are always trying to ruin it. Zarya says that she didn't even want to come back there, and the fight stops. The skeleton introduces himself as Ender, and reveals that people are trying to use his and his friends' powers for evil purposes, threatening to reveal their city if they do. Piper asks why it's bad, and Ender says that they're not originally from this reality, and they don't know how others will react. Em asks what she means by other people forcing them, and Ender says a vampire and a mage came, as well as a woman who was captured by them, but certainly had her own motivations. After hearing a description of the woman, Zarya reveals that's her mom, who crashed there as well.

Ender leads the Mysticons to a cave, where Queen Goodfey is being held captive by Tazma and a wolf/bear creature. The wolf/bear creature asks if Ender brought them as captives, and Ender agrees, calling the wolf/bear Attila. Attila smiles, saying how now Mallock will give them a dimension to rule, as they helped capture the Royal Family, and the other two members (Darius and Gawayne) will be easy. A fight ensues, and the Mysticons manage to free Queen Goodfey and escape.

They reach the car just before they'd need to leave to beat the storm. Queen Goodfey asks the royal guard's help to take the Mysticons and their griffins with them, as it will be a long ride, and the storm is close to Gemina, making it dangerous for Em, Piper, and Sharise to go. Zarya apoligizes for what happened, and Queen Goodfey accepts it, and promises to find a way to help restore the village. She also says that it's possible that villagers escaped, meaning they may be alive and will return to a rebuilt village. Meanwhile, Mallock scolds Tazma for losing the Royal Family, and suggests she focuses on something different, like the Mysticons. She asks who's training the Mysticons, and Tazma is about to say Malvaron, but hesitates. Mallock threatens Tazma, saying that she can easily become an enemy, and Tazma says that it's Malvaron. After the talk, Tazma leaves. She tells herself that she doesn't care about her brother, but a guilty look forms on her face.

#mysticons #fan season 4 #fanwork #out of control

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jordanstrophe · 4 years

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A Change of Heart part 3

CW: Whumper turning caretaker, Injured whumpee, whumpee afraid of caretaker, whumpee being considered merchandise, recovering from a cauterizing, broken ribs, mild stripping, rough caretaker, some medical whump

((Prompt tags! Idk if you still want to be tagged here, as it started as a prompt, so if you no longer want to be tagged here, let me know))

part 1 and 2

Darius sat on the metal rail on the side of the road. He held Felix in his arms, holding him close to his chest, a hand holding a cloth to the wound on his side. Felix laid his head limply against his shoulder, tilting it to the side. He was breathing heavily, face sweating, eyes half closed.

He couldn’t move.

He let out a tiny whimper, almost inaudible. Darius tucked his hair out of his face, dabbing his forehead off with his sleeve. “Just hold on, they're almost here...” Darius whispered. He kept glancing back and forth down the empty road, then down at the phone he was struggling to grasp, wedged in his elbow so he could hold Felix.

Finally, a car pulled up, slamming on the brakes with a screech in front of them.

“It’s about time!” Darius yelled, sliding an arm under his legs to pick him up.

“Ehh, you’re welcome?” A woman hissed, slamming the side door open. Darius laid Felix in the back of the van, he winced in pain as he was set down.

“My goodness Darius, he needs to go to a hospital!” The woman scolded.

“No, we can’t Janis, I shouldn’t even have him. We’ll both get taken, probably killed if we go to a hospital.”

“So what are you going to do, huh? Take him home? Stich him up yourself?” She threw her hands in the air.

“Yep!” He said, cracking open a water bottle, pulling Felix up enough to tilt it to his lips. Felix choked down a couple of gulps before he was out of breath, wrenching his head away. Darius soaked up a cloth in his hands with the remaining water and cleaned up as much blood from his side as he could. Felix let out a whine, his whole body flinching, instinctively grabbing Darius’s wrists to pull him away.

“Sssh, no no, you gotta hang on son, be tough...” Darius tried to soothe, prying his fingers off his wrist and laying his hand back down. Felix twisted his head to the side to hide his face in the seat, eyes squeezed shut, his body visibly cringing with each stroke of the cloth.

Janis shook her head as she climbed into the drivers seat, stepping on the gas. “Janis! Easy! Try and not jostle the car please.” Darius complained. “Yeah yeah.” She waved, easing down on the gas.

“What even happened, Darius? One day you’re calling me up about this nice paying job you got, and you’re soooo happy with, and now you’re running off with this half dead kid and you're drenched in blood. Who is he, what happened?” She snapped.

“I’ll explain later...” He muttered, pulling out a fresh bandage from a first aid kit.

“Jeez, you’re both a mess.” She shook her head. She drove them to a well kept home, mowed lawn, a fresh garden with a swing on the porch.

“Clear?” He asked. “Clear enough.” She shrugged glancing around the road.

“Alright kid, up we go.” Darius grunted, hoisting him up in his arms.

Felix tried to lean out of his grasp, but he was quickly lifted anyway, letting out a small cry. “Please.. Please don’t hurt me...” Felix pleaded with a weak voice, forcefully being held against Darius’s chest.

Darius wanted to assure him he was only trying to help him and promise he wouldn’t hurt him, but he knew the night would still be a painful process. His wound was horrific, burned and infected. He couldn’t answer his question, he only let out a guilty sigh. The silence only made Felix more uncomfortable, as he slightly squirmed around in his arms, regretting it immediately as he cringed, curling in on himself from the pain shooting through his side.

"Easy. Just lie still." Darius instructed.

The inside was just as clean and delightful as it was on the outside. Light colored furniture, plush carpets, the pleasant tick tick tick from a grandfather clock. Darius wasted no time climbing the stairs into the bathroom, using his foot to uncurl a folding chair tucked against a shelf. He gently sat him down, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Stay here for a minute please.” He instructed, turning the bath on full blast, and closing the door behind. The cool air slowly turned warm from the steaming bath behind him. The running water felt loud, ringing in his ears. Felix struggled to look around, trying to find someplace to slip out. The window was much too high, he could try and stand to slip out the door, but walking would be painful.

He stood up anyway, his legs trembling beneath him, his side screaming at him to just stop and rest. He gasped when he fell forwards, slamming onto the door, gripping the handle for support. His wrist instinctively turned the knob, as his weight resting against the door pushed it open, as he hit the ground. He cried out, biting his sleeve in an effort to numb the pain, as pain pulsed through his body. He whimpered into the floor as he blinked his eyes open, his vision swaying like he was strung upside-down, tears started trickling down his face.

Darius climbed the stairs, hands full of medical supplies. His face froze when he saw the bathroom door was open. He dropped everything in his hands that clattered to the floor in a heap, as he sprinted to the door, wrenching it open. It swung open to reveal Felix laying on the floor in the doorway even not moving.

Darius pulled him up into his arm, hoisting him over his shoulder, and bending down to put him back in the seat. He took his face in both his hands, using his thumb to force one eye open to check his pupils. He gently leaned his head back against the chair, he was barely conscious, being silent and still. He collected the pile of supplies back into his arms, slipping into the room, as he used scissors to cut his shirt off. It was shredded and soaked in blood anyway...

He took an arm around his waist, arching his back off the chair enough to wrap a Vaseline soaked cloth winding it tightly around his ribs. He could feel a rib was crooked, most likely broken. Great... What else could possibly be broken in this mess. Felix still didn’t stir, head tilted back against the chair. He didn’t stir when Darius lifted him in his arms, laying him in the warm tub. He kept the water shallow enough it didn’t reach his wound, as he pulled out the detachable showerhead to rinse him off.

He kept the water at a comfortable cool temperature, often spraying it on his own forearm to make sure it wasn't too cold or hot. He kept one hand on Felix’s chin to keep his head straight as he rinsed his hair out of all the dirt and blood, dark bloody water fell around him off to mix into the rest of the bath. Darius wanted a shower himself after spending a night in the hot forest, but he had priorities first.

“Hey.” He heard a voice behind him. “Mmm?” He twisted his head. “How’s he doing?” Janis asked. “Might have some broken ribs.” He sighed. “Sure you can’t take him in?” She asked. “Positive. He’s merchandise... Damaged goods in the eyes of the state. He has to stay here for now, until I figure out what to do with him.” Darius sighed. “What about family? Doesn’t he have a home we can just drop him off at?” She asked. “No. He shouldn’t. People who get shipped there don’t have any family. They're the last of their kin, that way no one looks or fights for em when they get taken away.” He sighed.

“That’s messed up. Why did you work there again?” She shook her head. Darius let out a sigh, popping the drain in the tub with a swishing sound. “I had the skills and the pay was good.” He shrugged. “If they call, say nothing. Say you haven’t heard from me at all in the past three days. Okay?” He asked. “Okay...” Janis sighed. “I’ll make you two something to eat, you must be starved.” She muttered, wandering off. “Thanks.” He nodded, looking back at Felix, who was unconscious now, head tilted to the side.

“We’ve got one big ride ahead of us kid. Closest thing I’ll get to riding a roller coaster.” He chuckled.

((Prompt tags! Idk if you still want to be tagged here, as it started as a prompt, so if you no longer want to be tagged here, let me know))

Tag list: @grizzlie70 @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @pyromilka @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper turned caretaker #rough caretaking #rescued whumpee #whumpee afraid of caretaker #recovering whumpee #creepy caretaker

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 4 years

Text

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 8

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

A/N: I really wanted to write Sonny and conflict with his family in Transgender Bridge so this chapter includes transphobia via his mom and then talk about past homo- and transphobia in Sonny. I think Sonny’s acceptance of things is really interesting, especially given he seems like he’s from a traditional/conservative family.

June 2015

“Hey, doll. Can we wait and do dinner? I know it’s an anniversary dinner, but this was a bad one.” She didn’t like how his voice sounded. He’d been keeping her in the loop, and there’d been a spirited, to say the least, discussion at the Carisi family dinner that Sunday. His mom had fought him regarding Avery, a transgender teenager, over the phone. The case had been everywhere it felt like, and the traditional Carisis felt that Avery wanted attention. Sonny, for his part, was confused, but between Amanda and Victoria’s reminders he didn’t know a single guy who would wear a dress for no reason, he’d come to realize it wasn’t a choice, just like being gay, straight, or bi.

It was hard for him sometimes. Despite the fact Victoria had always been open and accepting, a result of her mother’s influence and LGBT family members, Sonny was raised that all of it was wrong in the eyes of God. That said, as he grew, he saw how much harder it was for Victoria’s aunts. It started to dawn on him that he didn’t choose to want to be in his body or be attracted to women. Why would he assume someone woke up and chose something that didn’t make their lives easier? He also came to believe that God did make them exactly as they were, and human influence had bastardized the love everyone part of His message. When he stood up to his mother, Victoria was pleased to see the growth in him; usually, he’d have let it lie.

“Of course it can wait. What happened?”

“She died,” he said, voice tight. “The boy that pushed her is being tried as an adult, but Tor, her parents don’t want it. He’s just a kid. He even drew her this comic apologizing. He got scared because she was different.”

She knew what he wasn’t saying. As good as Sonny was, as much as he’d grown, they’d both been easily influenced at one point. When they grew up, it was easy to get swept into easy homophobia and transphobia. Sonny had said things she knew he regretted as he learned more, and they both knew how easy it would’ve been for him to get swept up in the crowd at that age, trying to prove he was tough and manly and straight.

“How about I pick up the pizza ya like? We can stay in? I’ll tell ma I don’t feel good. I don’t think that visit is what you need right now.”

“Thank you.” They said their I love yous, and she quickly scheduled pick up for the pizza and tucked his favorite treats from the cooler into a box. When she got home, she straightened up the apartment and threw his favorite pajamas in the dryer so they’d be warm when he got home. One pizza and beer run later, Sonny came through the door, and he was visibly exhausted. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, taking his coat.

“You pajamas are in the dryer.” He let out a grateful groan, changing into them before coming back and dropping onto the couch, arms out over the back. She sat beside him, handing him a beer and opting to sit in silence as he nursed it. Her Sonny was a big softy, but she also knew he’d talk about things when he was ready; that was a change she could rely on. He wrapped his arm around her, caging her against his chest as he laid back. His eyes were closed, but his brow was heavy and his mouth set in a frown. Carefully, she smoothed his hair, and he pressed into her hand.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“Any time. Thank you for telling me what you needed.” He nodded, rubbing her back.

“I saw a pink box.”

“It’s an assortment. I got all your favorites. And the pizzas.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I’ll call ma tomorrow to get us out of going there. It’s just you and me all weekend, okay?”

He nodded gently, cheek pressed against her forehead. This case didn’t sit well, and in this moment he was deeply grateful not to be the ADA for this case. He understood logically where they were coming from, but he was also acutely aware of how little Avery’s parents agreed with trying Darius as an adult. Their daughter believed in forgiveness, and he was a kid. His colleagues liked to pretend they’d always been the cops they are now, but Sonny remembered being sheltered and ignorant. If Victoria hadn’t been there to tear him a new asshole when he was 13 and started using slurs he didn’t fully understand, he could have gotten swept up in this type of accident. Lord knew his mother didn’t think this case was anything but bad luck for the boy. She thought Avery had finally gotten the attention she wanted. That had set him off at dinner, and he swore Mia was proud of him, sitting by Victoria as he defended where this may have been coming from.

Sonny, God made him a him. He doesn’t make mistakes.

Or, ma, maybe all those things you like to call trials? Maybe transitioning and dealing with this kind of ignorance is a part of her trial. No teenage boy would wear a dress if it weren’t real. Avery is a girl, and if you can remember Aunt Rhonda’s new name every year when she gets married again, you can at least call Avery she.

I’m just saying, any of my grandkids pull that, we’ll be taking them somewhere. That’s attention seeking behavior, and needs to be taken care of.

If Victoria and I’s child ever comes out and you are anything but supportive, you will not be a part of their life.

You can’t do that. I’m your mother.

I don’t know ma. Making your own blood feel less than? Sounds like real attention seekin’ behavior to me. Needs to be taken care of.

He let Victoria guide him to the car afterwards, but he hadn’t cancelled the next family dinner. Knowing Avery had died? He couldn’t do it. Meeting her had taken a logical belief that trans people were the gender they identified as and made it more serious. He’d known his mother felt that way, but he’d never heard her articulate it like this. Before the separation and therapy, he’d have bottled up how wrong she was, tucked it away to keep the peace. Now? He couldn’t do it.

“Thank you, Tor. For all of this. And for calling her. I’m still so angry.”

“I know, Dom. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I meant what I told her. If our kid is gay or trans or something else that exists that I’m sure I don’t know about, I don’t care. They’re our baby and I’ll love them and I’ll take them to whatever store to get whatever they need or whatever doctor. I’ll beat the ever living shit out of anyone who makes them feel like they're wrong for how God made them.”

“You’re going to be an amazing father.”

“That should be the bare minimum though, shouldn’t it? Loving your kids no matter what?”

“It should. But that can be hard, you know? Like your mom. She exists in that really conservative vacuum. I’m proud of you for changing when you learn about things, not ignoring it and doubling down.”

“That means a lot, doll. People act like I’m supposed to have been born knowing. Our priest was open minded, and I met you. Otherwise, I may not have turned out like this. And that was scary to realize?”

“Bella, Theresa, and Gina all did it too. You’d all have grown.”

“What if our kid is gay or somethin?”

“We’ll love them. If your mom can’t handle it, we’ll keep them from her.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah. we’ll get close to my family or something. Or have holidays with Amanda and Liv.”

“Good,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t want to, but I won’t subject them to their grandma actin’ like that. The world is so shitty. I want family to be supportive.”

“I know. We’ll be okay. And who knows? Maybe you snapping makes her reevaluate. I had to yell at you to make you start reevaluating things. We didn’t talk for awhile month. That’s years in thirteen year old time.”

“True,” he chuckled, rubbing her back. “One can only hope. You’d have liked Avery. Into photography and comics.”

“She sounds awful cool.”

“She was. And she was so kind. Like she was hurt, but the last thing she did was forgive him, Tor. Can you imagine? He drew her a comic, and she forgave him. Then she died.” He was facing the ceiling with his eyes closed as he talked.

“Do you want me to be there?”

“Maybe come by at lunch?”

“I’ll be there, okay?”

“Thank you, Doll.”

“Thank you for sharing how you’re feeling.”

@cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x oc

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seagreen-meets-grey · 3 years

Text

The Last Slide: Ch. 2

@feeisamarshmallow here is the second chapter ♥

Read on ao3

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Chapters: 1 2 3 4

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The smell of chlorine hit Jake’s nose as soon as he stepped through the front door of the Tropic Thunder Aqua Park. Following Amy to the information desk, he envied the little groups of people striding past him to the ticket window, bags slung over their shoulders, inflatable crocodiles and donuts and flamingos under their arms. Once this case was closed, he needed to find a free day for Amy, Mac and him to come back here. Or maybe to a different water park, one with less murder history.

Amy greeted the teenager behind the desk, flashing her badge and ID. The boy’s brows scrunched in momentary confusion, then he paled a few subtle shades. But when Amy mentioned his boss calling because of the case, his shoulders relaxed. Jake wondered if the boy had done something to assume they were here because of him, or if he was just nervous. The name tag on his orange t-shirt read Julius.

He picked up a desk phone and pressed a few buttons, relaying the information of their arrival. Then he fumbled with his hands and bounced on his heels. “Can I get you anything? A water? Dolphin-shaped cookies?”

Jake opened his mouth to ask for those, but Amy spoke before he could.

“No, thank you, Julius.” She offered him a sympathetic smile. “It must feel awful to be working right now.” The boy nodded, relaxing further and dropping down into his chair.

“It’s weird,” he admitted. “When I came to start my shift, there were crime techs everywhere. And they wheeled out a gurney with a black body bag. I thought this only happened on TV.” He shuddered, glancing off into his memories.

“Did you notice anything unusual lately, Julius?” While still smiling motherly, her tone was ever-professional. The kid was easy to trust her. A wave of pride welled up inside Jake. This was his wife.

Julius shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, Francesca said she saw the dead guy argue with Darius last week, but she also believes in yetis, so.”

“Who’s Francesca and Darius?” Jake asked.

“Francesca Roberts and Darius are lifeguards; they work here as pool attendants. I don’t know Darius’ last name, I’m sorry.”

“Did Francesca hear what the argument was about?”

Julius shook his head as behind him, a door opened and a tall middle-aged man with sandy hair and the body of a swimmer stepped through. He wore the same white shorts as Julius but his shirt was baby-blue, without a name tag.

With a polite smile, he reached out his hand over the desk. “Sam Kirkwell, I’m the head of Tropic Thunder. I spoke to your colleague on the phone this morning.”

Amy shook his hand. “Lieutenant Santiago of the 99th precinct, this is Detective Peralta. Is there anywhere we can talk more privately?”

“Of course.” Kirkwell waved them behind the desk and through the door he had just entered through. They walked through a small break room, then down a narrow, cream-painted hallway and into an office. Kirkwell sat behind the desk and gestured at the chairs on the other side, waiting for them to sit before leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk.

“Now how can I help you?”

They went over the details of the case, Amy taking notes rigorously while Jake painted a picture in his imagination, forming the scene, adding everything he’d already read in the file and everything Kirkwell told them. So far, the details added up.

The water park had opened at 9 in the morning. At 9:53, a man – Lars Pearson, 43 years old, Caucasian, warehouse worker – came out of the Disco, a popular water slide, with a poisoned dart in his neck. The first cops on the scene assumed he was hit before going down the slide, but security footage showed him happy, healthy, alive at the top. In the middle of the ride, he came through the funnel, but with the disco lights dancing around and no extra light source, the camera in there didn’t show enough to see the dart. No one followed him down in immediate succession, the next person started the ride once the victim had already been at the end.

Everyone leaving the water park since then had left their contact information. Witnesses could only describe that nothing had been out of the ordinary when Pearson had waited in line for the slide. Nobody had seen anyone with a blowpipe or dart gun. Pool attendants as well as camera footage didn’t deliver them any more information, either.

The victim had no family except for a bedridden father and a brother. Had come to the water park with two co-workers who could also not report anything unusual. No fingerprints had been found on the dart.

“I reopened the park, including the slide, about an hour ago,” Kirkwell continued. “Your people were already gone and the officers said there was no more evidence that had to be saved.”

Jake and Amy both huffed in annoyance. It was one thing to move the body if it otherwise floated around the pool. Any possible evidence left in the water slide, however, they could forget. Kirkwell didn’t seem to have thought that far ahead and whoever had given him clearance to reopen hadn’t either. But they would go and see what they could make of it.

“One more thing,” Jake said when Kirkwell was about to show them the slide, “Julius mentioned two pool attendants we’d like to talk to. Francesca Roberts and another one named Darius.”

“Darius Erickson, yes.” Kirkwell looked at his watch. “Francesca should still be around here somewhere and Darius is about to end his shift in a few minutes. I’ll have them wait in here.”

“Actually,” Amy held up a hand, “we’d like to see them before we inspect the slide.”

That didn’t seem to fit into Kirkwell’s plans, but he schooled his expression into a polite smile and nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Amy groaned. “How careless can you be?!” she grumbled. “Now we’ll have to investigate in-between a horde of civilians!”

Jake smirked. “You mean we’ll have to ride the slide to search for clues?”

“Seems like it.” She sighed in defeat but Jake was having none of it.

“Admit it, you want to. Otherwise, you’d just order Kirkwell to close the place until we’re done with the investigation.”

“We don’t even have our swimming gear and– You packed it, didn’t you.” He didn’t have to say anything, the grin on his face confirmed her assumption.

The door opened again a few minutes later and Kirkwell pushed a man and a woman inside. Before he could close the door behind himself, Amy turned to him. “We’d like to speak to them alone, please. Mr. Erickson, if you could also please wait outside while we talk to Ms. Roberts.”

“This is stupid, I already talked to the cops this morning, my shift is over! I want to leave, right now,” Erickson ranted but Jake just sternly gestured at the door. It was something he’d practiced a lot on Mac whenever he’d come out of his room before his tantrum-induced time-out had ended. Erickson reacted similarly while leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Ms. Roberts, please sit,” Amy told the woman. She looked in her mid-fifties, had bleached hair with a gray hairline and her orange t-shirt looked a size too small. “We’ve been told you witnessed an argument between Mr. Erickson and Mr. Pearson last week. Can you tell us more about that?”

Roberts shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. When I left the building last Thursday after my shift, I saw Darius in a heated conversation with someone. I didn’t care because he’s been moody ever since his wife left him a few months ago. I only remembered about it when I saw the body…” She gulped. “It was the guy Darius argued with, I’m sure.”

Darius Erickson confirmed that not much later. “Fine, yes. I knew Lars. That son of a bitch is the reason my wife left me.” He was sitting on the edge of his seat, arms crossed in front of him. The light from the ceiling was shining on his balding head and the crease between his brows was thicker than Terry’s biceps. (So to speak. Jake wouldn’t want anyone to actually hold him to that.)

“I know what you’re thinking,” Erickson continued, “but I already told your colleagues this morning, I didn’t do it! I was late to work, my car’s in the shop, my brother drove me. When I arrived, cops were already here.”

Amy neatly wrote everything down on her notepad. “We’ll need your brother’s contact information, Mr. Erickson.” The man threw his arms up in the air with a huff. “We need to check your alibi in order to drop you as a suspect. We ask you to not leave the city and to be ready for more questions.”

For now, they couldn’t actually bring him in for anything yet. Jake hoped they didn’t need to. Not just because that would solve and end the case way too soon, but also because Erickson would be out and about as long as they didn’t have actual evidence to link him to anything.

After the pool attendant had left, Jake relayed the information to Charles, and by the time they were following Kirkwell through the water park, barefoot and pant legs rolled up, Erickson’s alibi had checked out.

The air inside was warm and humid, tropical, with no breeze to provide a little cooling. Kirkwell showed them where the body was found. The Disco slide ended into a small pool area which in turn was connected to a large non-swimmer’s pool. If the body had been left in here, it really would have been floating around the park by now.

People were coming out of the tube and splashing into the tiny pool every thirty seconds or so. The chlorine in the water should have tainted every bit of evidence so far. And since the murder must have happened somewhere between Pearson’s start and end of the slide ride, Jake absolutely saw no other way than to don swim trunks and bikini and start the investigation. For the sake of work.

Amy grumbled a bit about feeling unprofessional in her own bikini while at a crime scene, but Jake could tell she was looking forward to this. She’d been way too overworked lately. And even though they were basically going to enjoy themselves at the water park, they were still going to do their jobs. It was a win-win situation.

The first three rides, though, brought no new revelations.

(That’s probably because Jake didn’t exactly go to great effort. Amy said she wanted to first get a feel for the slide so she could concentrate on the important things. So same thing, basically.)

(She couldn’t fool him.)

The slide wasn’t bustling with people anymore, so a race up the stairs to the top – so they wouldn’t lose precious investigating time, of course – made absolute sense.

“Ha!” Amy exclaimed as she hit the wall first. Jake made sure not to slip on the tiles as he came around the corner not a second later, out of breath and beaming. “I get to ride first this time.”

She got ready in front of the slide, the water gurgling down the dark tube. The light was green, so she put her hands on the pole over the entrance, leaned back for momentum, and flung herself down the tube. She disappeared behind the first turn, her adorable cry of “wheee” echoing back up to Jake.

He positioned himself, head turned to the side to get a good look at the light. As soon as the red would turn green, he’d use all his strength to propel himself down the slide. But the light didn’t change.

A handful of people gathered behind him during the next minutes, waiting in line and growing increasingly impatient. Was the signal broken? Was Amy stuck somewhere down the slide? Did she somehow manage to hit her head in the funnel and now she was lying there, unconscious, and whatever motion sensor was waiting for her at the end of the slide was going to leave the light red for all eternity?

Okay, maybe he was being a tad bit dramatic. But when it came to his wife, he wouldn’t take any chances. (Plus, he was so eager to go again, and he would be careful not to crash into her and everything, right?) She was probably waiting for him downstairs and he was still up here, contemplating ignoring a red light.

He had to admit, it felt slightly weird to do just that, but then he was already gone. Gravity took him down the black tube, around several corners, water splashing in his face constantly. He wasn’t able to see much until he took a sharp turn and found himself in the funnel. Strobe lights and LED cones in plenty of different colors were dancing across the walls, highlighting the path to where the slide continued.

As Jake let the centrifugal force carry him through the funnel, he almost bumped into a pair of legs.

“Ames!” he called out in surprise, his voice carrying around the funnel. “There you are!” With his feet, he decelerated, coming to a stop. It was harder than he’d imagined to climb to Amy at the side of the funnel, the stream of water constantly tugging at his feet. Not to mention the slippery ground in general. “I thought you broke the slide when the light didn’t turn green.”

“I just don’t understand,” she mumbled, narrowed eyes inspecting every inch of the funnel. “How could Pearson get hit with a dart in here? The whole slide is a closed space.”

Jake had an idea. “Maybe the killer waited for him in here. And when Pearson thought he’d waited for the green light long enough, he went in, and when he came here, all the killer had to do was shoot the dart, wait a bit and follow him out at a safe distance.”

Amy shook her head. “That’s what I thought as well, but remember what Kirkwell said? The cameras didn’t show any unusual patterns right before and after Pearson came out. The intervals in which people went on the slide and came out on the other side were all on par with the usual 30 seconds, give or take. And anyone waiting in here would have been filmed, anyway.”

“When did you even have time to look at the camera feed?”

“While you took forever to change into your trunks.”

“There was a long line by the changing rooms!” he exclaimed and gesticulated, which was a mistake. He almost lost his balance, teetering on the spot, one hand against the wall, the other hovering near Amy to use her as a support pillar if necessary.

“Careful, babe.” She took a step, one foot slipping, but she caught herself.

“Let’s try this,” he said, grabbing her hand and bracing himself against the wall with the other. She did the same and, using the wall and each other for balance, they walked through the funnel to wherever Amy wanted to go.

When she reached her destination, she pointed upwards, to one of the light machines. “This one’s not visible from any angle the camera can take. Do you see a dart pistol attached or is the light playing tricks on my eyes?”

Jake carefully stood on his tiptoes, narrowing his eyes at the small black device above. It wasn’t easy seeing clearly with the multi-colored strobes darting around. “Nah, there’s nothing. And I squinted pretty hard.”

Amy let her arms fall against her sides. “Then I don’t get it.”

“He could have brought the dart himself. Maybe he rode the slide one too many times and went crazy from the strobe lights.”

“Then he went home to prepare a poisoned dart arrow, returned, rode the slide, and impaled himself while the lights were watching.”

“Exactly– no, wait, you’re mocking me.”

She nodded with a glint in her eyes. “I am. I am mocking you.”

“Well, I feel very insulted, now I have to go to the wave pool to treat myself. Maybe some fries after?”

And there was the eye-roll he’d been waiting for. “Jake, we’re still working – okay, now you’re mocking me.”

He grinned and leaned over to kiss her, staggering a little but catching himself in time.

“Very professional, Peralta.”

“Hmm, I don’t hear you complaining when–”

Suddenly, a torrent of water flushed into the funnel, followed by a pair of feet, then legs, then the rest of a young teenage girl with dark pigtails and a red-and-black swimsuit. She eyed the pair confused while the pair stared at her, until she disappeared in the tube again, one single eyebrow raised at them.

Jake realized they made quite the sight, poising on the high side of the funnel in the middle of a dark water slide, one arm each around the other’s back while standing half a foot apart for balance, faces close, eyes wide, and Jake was sure his swim trunks were hanging a little low on his butt. He reached down to pull them up.

“Maybe we should–” Amy started, but that was when he lost his footing, and the fall was inevitable. They went down together, the water carrying them out of the funnel, Jake with his head first. The tube was too narrow, the ride too fast for him to change his position as he and Amy were flushed down the drain. All he could do was splutter and turn his face so that less water got into his nose and mouth and eyes, the tunnel’s change of lighting all but a blur of colors, like a disco lightning storm.

What could only have been about ten seconds until they landed in the pool felt more like a small eternity spent preparing for the end. Shaking his head like a dog, he wiped his hands over his face and accepted Amy’s hand helping him up.

“That was an unexpected ride,” she commented.

“Title of your sex tape.”

“Again, very professional.” But she was grinning, half the hair from her bun hanging into her face, tousled from the sudden wild journey.

He was about to retort with another “Title of your sex tape!” when he spotted something. “What if he wasn’t dead yet when he came out here?”

Amy followed his eyes, latching onto the same thing. “Oh my god!”

Simultaneously, they turned to each other and exclaimed, “The vents!”

They went to find Kirkwell who confirmed that, indeed, the vents were big enough for a person to fit into. Someone could have fired the deadly poisoned dart from up there as soon as Pearson exited the slide. Kirkwell promised to have every employee who had access to the vents at the precinct by the next day.

Jake tried to convince Amy to stay at Tropic Thunder a little longer, but she threw one look at him and he knew he didn’t stand a chance against the Amy Santiago Stern Mommy Look. It always worked on Mac, and it never failed to make Jake at least a little bit horny.

That night, Amy left a little late to Rosa’s as Jake hurried to meet the landlord.

He can’t remember if he ever arrived.

#b99fandomevents #b99 summer 2021 fic exchange #b99 #the last ride #b99 fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #sleuth sisters #jake peralta #amy santiago #rosa diaz #maja writes

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday, princessoftheworld85!

Happy Birthday, @princessoftheworld85! We hope you’re having a wonderful day so far, being pampered in all the best ways! To keep your birthday celebration going strong, the wonderful @mega-aulover has written a story just for you!

FOR: princessoftheworld85

PROMPT: My prompt request is for fanfic, Katniss/Peeta AU something in the vein of meet cute in a coffee shop or Bakery? Get creative, just let it be sweet and I’d love it if they kissed by the end.

RATED G

A/N: Happy birthday I hope you have a pleasant one, for give my errors its un beta’d so all mistakes are mine.

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

Katniss wiped down the counter.

Darius the Sheriff’s Deputy always stayed with her to make sure no one bothered her at closing time, though it wasn’t necessary. Katniss could handle herself.

“Can I have another cup?” Darius asked from his booth.

Katniss nodded, as she poured him more coffee.

“Thanks Katniss.”

Katniss gave him a forced smile. She couldn’t understand why people liked coffee. Coffee was an intense dark jittery adrenaline in a cup. Katniss preferred the soothing, aromatic herbal notes in a cup of tea. Sighing she cleaned the coffee container.

She was counting the minutes until the coffee shop closed down. The sign outside was illuminated by a single lightbulb. Sae’s Coffee shop served stew, simple sandwiches, coffee, and pies. Greasy always let her take home leftovers in exchange for game meat. Meat was still rationed even though the war had been over for six months.

The coffee shop was located at the edge of the Seam, by the dusty road that led out of town, and was affectionately known as District Twelve to the locals. The town was founded by Capitol Mining Company. The mining company owned District Twelve until WW2 broke out.

The lack of miners and the opening up of the factory in the nearby Merchantville forced the mines to close. Those who were lucky to secure a job at the factory moved from the Seam to Merchantville. Kantiss’s family wasn’t as fortunate. During the war she was too young to work in the factory. Her father died in a mining accident, right before the war started. Her family lived in the mountains and at the age of eleven she took to hunting as a way to survive. When the war began she was thirteen and like everyone scared. But the ability to hunt provided her with an opportunity to trade with the richer merchants in Merchantville.

Katniss glanced down at the clock beneath the counter, there were fifteen more minutes before closing time.

The door opened, the bell above the door tinkled. Katniss scowled at the sound of the bell. A new patron meant she was going to get home later. She looked up and was surprised to see Peeta Mellark walk in, he was drenched.

“Peeta?” Darius stood up unsure what to do.

Peeta Mellark was from Merchantville. He was the youngest son of the baker. The Mellarks never crossed into the Seam at night. Peeta didn’t look like himself. Katniss had gone to school with him, and he was a jovial person. There was always light and happiness that projected from within Peeta, it was that same goodness her baby sister Prim had.

“Sorry, my car lost control and-” His voice trembled slightly. Lightning flashed behind him as the door closed.

“Is the bridge out?” Darius asked, popping his head out. Thunder clapped and the downpour began.

“Yeah,” Peeta said.

“Damn,” Darius put his hat on. “Katniss you going to be okay here?”

“Yeah,” Katniss nodded.

“Great, close up tight, don’t leave tonight. I’ve got to make sure no one gets hurt.” Darius opened the door and made a dash in the rain to the patrol car.

Katniss closed the door, flipped the sign to the closed side, and then turned to face Peeta. He sat on a chair rubbing his face. A pool of water was forming underneath him. His hands trembled as he moved them.

Katniss reacted. She grabbed, towles from the back living space. There was a house that contained all of the necessities including a bathroom with a shower. The Sae’s lived here at one point.

“Here,” Katniss said, giving Peeta the towels.

“Thank you.” His body was now shaking.

Katniss recognized the first symptoms of shock, her mother was a nurse and she’d seen shock on the miners when something traumatic happened in the mines. Without thought she wrapped her arms around him. Sometimes the feel of another body helped the person become calm.

He felt wonderful in her arms. Katniss was someone who hated embraces and affection. But through the smell of the rain she could smell the sweet scent of warm bread, vanilla, dill and cinnamon. For a moment she forgot she was holding Peeta for purely medical reasons. Katniss admired Peeta from afar but he was from Merchantville, and she was from the lowly Seam.

The only reason she’d gotten this job was because Greasy wanted meat to be able to make her stews. No one wanted to hire her because of her hunting. They saw her as one of those hill people who ate squirrel, got married at fourteen, had multiple children, and ran around barefoot. What people often forgot, her mother came from a wealthy merchant family, and Katniss knew how to read and write before she turned six years of age. She was quite intelligent.

His trembling stopped and Katniss stepped away. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Thank you,” Peeta nodded.

Katniss nodded. She took her bag and pulled out some homemade chamomile tea. When the tea was ready she asked, “Sugar?”

“No, can’t stand sugar.” Peeta took a sip of the tea and the steam made his cheeks rosy.

She could feel her own cheeks warming up. Katniss wondered why she couldn’t school her face arond Peeta. Those brief times when they interacted in the one room schoolhouse always had Katniss reeling. Her face burned, she became tongue-tide, and her stomach fluttered like spring leaves in a gentle breeze.

Katniss told herself that she wasn’t a school girl anymore she was now considered an adult woman. She took a sip of her tea and said over the rim, “You wouldn’t happen to have some of that famous Mellark cheese buns?”

Peeta laughed. “I don’t think your beau would like to hear you talk like that.”

“Beau,” Katniss frowned.

“Darius,” Peeta said.

Katniss stood there mouth agape, before her words returned to her. “You think Darius and I are together?”

“Why else would he stay here night after night, to escort you home?”

“First off he doesn’t escort me home. Secondly I do not need a man to protect me, not when I have my bow and arrows.” Katniss grabbed her weapons from the back and showed them to him.

He whistled. “Okay I stand corrected.”

“Good.”

He looked down at his cup, then gave her a quick look before saying, “So does that mean you don’t need a man.”

She bristled before she saw how red he looked. Then all of the fight went out of her. Her eyes widened momentarily as she caught what he said. “Wait what?”

“Would you consider letting me court you?” He looked up and his blue gaze was like twin beams staring straight into the center of her heart. The place where she kept all of her secrets, like the hidden fact that she liked him.

Peeta put the cup down and shyly reached out and carefully removed a tendril of hair from her face. She felt the heat of the blush rushing to her cheeks, before she turned her face bashfully. His finger was calloused and warm and her toes wriggled in her shoes. She gave a slight jerk of her nose before she daringly placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

Just then the door opened, the jingling bell was jarring. Katniss was caught and yet couldn’t pull away.

“Peeta your car is pretty banged-” Darius stopped speaking. “Oh I’m sorry, I will be right back.”

Peeta chuckled, “Well I guess we’re a couple now.”

Katniss grinned, she couldn’t agree more.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by mega-aulover

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jarofrebuke-transcripts · 4 years

Text

Jar of Rebuke Episode 3 Unofficial Transcript

Season 1 Episode 3: Cherry Tobacco

INTRO

The following audio recording is classified documentation for Case [audio distortion] with the Enclosure. Unauthorized access to this information will lead to immediate intervention. Progress further if proper clearance has been given.

JARED

I really need to get into the habit of doing this more often. Dr. Daman keeps asking how this is going, but I rarely have anything to tell her that she seems to want to hear. She really wants me to do this regularly, but sitting at my desk with a sore back didn't sound too appealing, especially if I didn't have to. Even though my back is feeling a bit better after the snipe hunt tournament incident, I'm actually recording this from a bed and breakfast. And I'm tired. Not even a vacation, it's more of a work trip. Not terribly much has happened since my last update. Darius's birthday was recently. He had a little get-together with some friends and he even invited me along, which was really nice. I made sure to get there a little early especially since it was a day off of work for me. We met up at Waytooth, a restaurant that his dads and him frequent often. I got there and just sat outside for a bit fiddling on my phone, then Darius showed up. He was so excited for the party, I could tell. He smiled the second we made eye contact. He jogged over to me and we talked for a bit. The weather is still pretty nice, it's finally starting to get chillier, which is actually nicer, I prefer the layers. So we sat outside and enjoyed the weather as we talked until his other friends showed up. They were all nice, but I kind of stuck by Darius most of the day since he was the only one that I really knew.

After lunch, we all went to a drive-in theater that they've got set up here in town, which is mostly just a projector and a large painted brick wall, but it was still a nice time. His friends all sat in different cars as we watched the movie, but Darius and I sat in the bed of his truck and ate snacks that he had packed. Darius is a really good cook. He's learning a lot of cool stuff from that class he's taking. I gave him a little gift, of course. Well, two things. I got him a new wrench set since he'd been saying that he needed a new one, his old one's been a bit worn down for a while. Uh, gifts to give him in front of his friends, since he really plays up the whole inheriting the family farm shtick around them. But we, when we were in his truck, just the two of us, I gave him his second gift. He said he had really gotten into cross stitching recently and he seemed a little embarrassed about it. But I wanted him to know that I thought that was interesting, so I got him a little pack of stitching patterns and some thread organizers. I wasn't sure what kind of patterns he'd like, so I just got him a couple of different kinds. He was quiet for a few moments after he opened that gift and I kind of panicked for a moment honestly. But he then gave me a really big smile and put his hand on my shoulder. He gave me a really soft thank you and I told him it was my pleasure, as long as he made me something. It was an obvious joke, at least I hoped it was obvious. But he asked what I'd want. I told him I like birds. Birds have so much freedom to just fly around and always sing such pretty songs. Besides geese, I don't like geese. He asked me if I had any favorites. I said I like blue jays. Major assholes, but beautiful. He laughed and he said he'd give it his best shot, but I told him that I’d hang up anything he made me. And that was about it. We barely watched the movie, we spent most of the time quietly talking actually.

What else have I done? Well, Dr. Castillo and I went and investigated the energy signatures from the cornfields after Todd told us to do so and you know what we found? Corn. That's it. Oh, and more corn! No energy spikes, no signs of tomfoolery of the natural or supernatural kind, nothing. It was almost strange how untouched by supernatural energies it seemed. We investigated during the day and at night. No changes. So we've been keeping tabs on the fields but nothing that's been too notable has happened when we're out there. We've been passing a lot of our time in the labs reorganizing files going over the energy spikes that have been recorded and theorizing what we could possibly be dealing with there. But until we can further examine it, there is not much we can do. Ever since they replaced my old lab partner my workload has been much lighter. I actually prefer to be busy than bored, and I think Dr. Castillo isn't used to having idle hands either. They only ever give me small menial tasks and it's becoming more annoying than anything else. But I did recently see my old lab partner, Dr. Lomax in the hall this morning. I've seen them in passing a few times but we haven't been able to catch up much since the sudden change. Dr. Lomax also has no idea why they got suddenly switched to a different lab. Seems that none of us know why the change was made. All Todd said was “just had to rearrange some staff, don't worry about it!”

Speaking of, before I left work today, I got another email from Todd. Typically his emails are him asking us to do something and then him talking himself up for multiple paragraphs and making it seem like it should be a privilege to do what he's asking you to do. But this email was him actually giving me lodging information for the local inn, and explaining that I had to pack up a bag and go. They apparently planned to do renovations or something on my house due to a concern of faulty plumbing. I'd mentioned to Dr. Daman about the less-than-stellar heating system when I wanted to take a bath or do dishes, but I didn't expect anyone to actually do anything about it. But a night without weird tapping on my door sounded nice, and even though I replied to the email basically saying “oh no, you really don't have to, I can live with it”, Todd insisted. I could just see his smug smile on the other side of the screen. He'll subtly hold it over my head for later, but the rule of one denial for good polite measure then acceptance of an offer had been met and I was off home to pack a bag. And here I am now.

The Chronicle Inn bed and breakfast is run by an older married couple, Ester and Laura. I'd met them a few times before my stay here but I hadn't spent much time with them. This place is mostly a restaurant and homemade goods store rather than an inn, considering we don't get many outsiders who stay here any longer than to grab a bite to eat and get gas. But for times like these it's nice to have an inn available. Even if it's only a few rooms, it's much better than staying at the facilities that the enclosure has on site. Work would have likely put me into a temporary on-site lodging space if the inn wasn't available. To be honest I'm surprised they actually put me in the end instead of just tossing me into some temp lodging room for a night. Maybe they remembered how much I hate that place. It's nearly impossible to sleep with the buzzing lights and the beds really aren't made for comfort and the bathrooms are all so claustrophobic. I swear, they make that place as uncomfortable as possible so people want to leave. That, or they just skimped on the prices for a comfortable setup to focus the money elsewhere at the Enclosure. I'd believe that. Though maybe they booked me at this place to have me investigate something while I'm here. Can't even enjoy this nice little one-night getaway, huh? They expect me to work? Do they plan to pay me for looking into things overnight? Probably not, not like they ever pay me for the full work I do anyways.

The room I’m in is kinda known for weird happenings. The whole town knows but there's not a huge fuss over it. No one's died from it, so why be too concerned? Ester warned me about these weird happenings while I was checking in. There's word of a spirit that haunts the upper floor of the building. Been here for as long as anyone can recall. She explained it all to me with a smile and a jovial tone, so she doesn't seem concerned. After the literal run-in with the deer a few weeks ago, I really just wanted some rest. Her wife Laura told me that they serve breakfast at 7 am but they'll be at the desk to take my key as early as 6. Thankfully tomorrow my shift starts at 8 instead of the usual 6 so I might be able to actually get some real food in me before work.

Didn't take me too long to get up here and settled in. I decided to just relax today instead of going out into town. So I did some reading in bed. Not that I could really focus much, the bed here is nice and cozy, but there's definitely a vibe about it. The room, not the bed. The rest of the inn is very homey, lived in, but in a good way. But the second I got to the top of the stairs it was like the air got barely but still noticeably cooler. When I came into the room I saw a little baggie of homemade beef jerky that Ester made and gave me. She's known around town for her jerkies and her woodwork. She's always so hands-on with everything she makes, whether it's snacks or a new set of chairs. She may have actually made the chair I'm sitting in right now, actually. I sat outside for a bit. There's a nice balcony that looks over some gardens and in the far distance I can see the vast fields. The evening felt so nice and I could see the little lightning bugs flying around as I got darker. I've always liked watching their dances. I often watch kids running around catching them in jars and then letting them all go just minutes later, but I prefer to watch them do their own thing out in nature. I watched the stars and the flicking lights of the lightning bugs for a bit, sipped on some sweet tea that Laura had brewed and offered me, ate some of the jerky that Ester made, and relaxed. I let my mind wander to wherever it went off to which as usual was all over the place. But no tapping on the doors, no weird deer staring at me, it was nice. But I keep feeling like something, or someone, is watching me. I feel that pretty often but this is different. It feels closer, if that makes sense. Like right now I'm sitting in a plush chair by the window in the room looking over the nice herb garden out back. The stars are still twinkling, the wind is just slightly blowing, and I've been able to crack the window open for some breeze. But I feel like something is watching me from the doorway. I swear to gods if I turn around and someone is standing there... (deep inhale) nope, nothing.

When Ester was telling me about what I could possibly expect, she said that a spirit had been wandering around in the room I'm staying in. Sometimes the spirit watches people. Sometimes the spirit just walks around and ignores the tenants. Must depend on her mood. But apparently something about the blue lamp by the bedside table really draws her out. Considering my line of work, and that my boss sent me here, I'm obviously going to turn on the light. Even if she's not rumored to be particularly dangerous, if they're just wanting to keep me busy then I could see Todd throwing me here to look into it a bit more. Okay. Hold on, give me a sec, let me see what happens. [lamp clicks on] It's a pretty light. I don't think I've seen a light this shade of blue outside of some of the lights they put up around town in the winter. It's nice. Oh, uh... hello? I don't know if she can hear me but I do see someone standing by the door, on the other side of the room, and um, [sniffs] tobacco?

THE BLUE LADY

I can hear you just fine.

JARED

[startled] Ah! Sorry about that. how are you?

THE BLUE LADY

Why do you ask?

JARED

Manners, I guess? Should I ask- who are you?

THE BLUE LADY

I don't think it really matters now. Besides, it's better I ask who you are.

JARED

Oh, uh, Dr. Jared Hel. I'm a scientist with the Enclosure on the edge of town. I…

THE BLUE LADY

WHO you are, not what you are. I know what you are.

JARED

...What I am is a person who would like to get some rest.

THE BLUE LADY

No, what you are is different. At least different from what I remember.

JARED

From what you remember? Have we met before?

THE BLUE LADY

Not exactly. “Met” isn't the word I would use. But we've interacted.

JARED

How so..?

THE BLUE LADY

I've watched you from afar, I've seen what you do. I guess our paths have more indirectly crossed.

JARED

I've never studied you before. You're not exactly the kind of thing that the enclosure typically sends me to study.

THE BLUE LADY

Then why are you here?

JARED

Well, work decided to fix the plumbing in my house so they put me up here. To get some rest.

THE BLUE LADY

And yet you're not here to study me?

JARED

Well that's actually unclear, I guess. I mean, if they're going to book me in the most haunted room at an inn, I guess they're having me investigate. Or Todd's just messing with me. That seems like something he'd pull.

THE BLUE LADY

Messing with you? [scoffs] When did you start putting up with the antics of people like that?

JARED

Okay, I'm gonna be upfront- if we met more than two years ago I have zero memory of any of that time. So this vague, cryptic talk is going to get you nowhere.

THE BLUE LADY

What are you doing with that thing?

JARED

[rustling sound] This it's an audio journal. It takes less focus and energy than writing. Are you just gonna keep staring at me or..?

THE BLUE LADY

People don't usually understand me this well for full conversations, so it has been quite a while. It isn't as if Ester and Laura can clearly understand me, even if they have tried.

JARED

How long have you been here?

THE BLUE LADY

Longer than I can remember. The rumor is that I've been here since the establishment of this town, whenever that may have been.

JARED

And when did we meet? I mean interact indirectly.

THE BLUE LADY

For the first time? It was many, many years ago. But again, you've certainly changed.

JARED

But again, I don't remember. You keep saying that and, [winces in pain] oh god my head!

THE BLUE LADY

We won't be getting very far right now.

JARED

No wait wait wait no hold on hold on.... and she's gone. [slams fist on table] Damn it! Why won't anyone just tell me anything outright? Oh my head... it's always like this. They disappear for a while and then come back so suddenly. Oh I hate this flesh prison! I'm done recording for now I need to try and nurse this headache now and recover from whatever the hell… oh it seems she left a little gift. Some blue ribbon? It's maybe four or five inches long, a little frayed at the ends. It's the same color as the lamp. There's something written on it. The handwriting's a bit hard to read but it looks like “you need to remember”. Remember what? How am I supposed to remember if no one ever tells me anything? Everyone always pushes me to try and remember but there's nothing to remember if they're making me grasp at thin air! They say they support me, they say they want to help, but what do they do to help, huh? All of this performative support is getting me nowhere. [facing away from recorder] And how is this ribbon supposed to help? You couldn't have given me something a little less vague? [groans] Why is everyone always so damn vague? Are they scared to just say something concrete? Why can't anyone ever give me a straight answer! No, it's fine. It's fine. I'm just… I'm going to go to bed. Right. I'm going to get some sleep. No tapping, no knocking, just sleep. I'm gonna go turn off the lamp and get some rest. Right. Ugh. Whatever. This is Dr. Jared Hel, signing off, I guess.

OUTRO

Jar of Rebuke is written and produced by Casper Oliver, who is also the voice of Dr. Jared Hel. Voice of The Blue Lady provided by Misha Bakshi. The intro is read by Vanessa Rosengrant, and credits are read by Ashley Craft, who has created the podcast official graphics. Music was created by Luke Menniss, spelled m-e-n-n-i-s-s, who you can find and support on Bandcamp, Spotify and Twitch. Find us on Twitter, Instagram and anywhere else you get your podcast fix for more Jar of Rebuke and also to get updates on upcoming official merch for our show. Support projects by this crew on Patreon to further other queer-lead projects and get neat perks. All donations are appreciated and will grant further clearance to special Jar of Rebuke content. You can also make one-time donations on Ko-fi. And special thanks to our patreon supporters Becky Thompson, Perry Bruns, and Tristan Fraud.

#jar of rebuke #jar of rebuke podcast #jar of rebuke transcripts #jor podcast

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ohdarlingohsweetheart · 3 years

Text

EIGHT.

Second time's the charm~

A casual greeting at a book store turns into so much more.

[WARNING]: This is a YANDERE story! Stalking, murder, the whole nine yards!!! Read with caution!

If you find this story on any website NOT under misfitgirlwrites/misfitgirl3390 please let me know!

Font for book cover credit (x)

Sligggghhhhttt NSFW in the beginning!

"Leo..."

The way his name left her lips sent heat through his whole body. He moved down to kiss her again and her fingers tangled in his hair.

"I love you." He mumbled.

"I love you too." She let out a small moan, feeling his hand trail down her body. His kisses moved down to her neck and Cherri wrapped her legs around him. "Leo, please. I need you."

Fuck, she was perfect. Everything about her was perfect.

Leo's eyes snapped open and he sat up. "Fuck," he mumbled, rubbing his hand down his face. His phone began to ring and he glanced at it before sighing. He picked up the phone and answered it. "Nova. Why are you calling me?"

"That's no way to talk to your sister!" Nova huffed.

"Yes it is. Especially if you're calling at 8 in the morning." Leo replied.

"Well, I need you to be a doll and pick me up from the airport."

"...What?" Leo arched a brow.

"Surprise!! I came to visit!" Nova cooed.

"Nova, if I wanted you to visit, I would've moved closer."

"Very funny. Come get me!"

"Fine."

Nova got in Leo's car and smiled. "Did you miss me?"

Leo raised his eyebrows, "you want an honest answer?"

Nova hit his arm as he laughed.

"Don't be so mean! I miss having you so close all the time. You just had to go and mess things up."

Leo let out a grunt as he drove off, "let's not talk about it."

"Fine. Any girls catch your eye?" Nova asked.

"Maybe."

"You aren't scaring her, are you?"

Leo glanced at her. "Drop it. What are you here for?"

"I need to meet a business partner and you're coming along too." Nova answered.

"Business partner. You're really gonna get in mom's bullshit?" Leo asked.

"Yeah! I'm actually pretty good at it!"

"Nova. A lot of people are good at selling drugs. It's not hard."

"Not a lot of people are good at selling drugs and not getting caught. It's not like it's just me and her doing this. It's been a--"

"Family business. Yes, mom told me. She also understands why I'm not interested. I'm not sure you do."

"Finnneee. You're still coming with me."

"Alright."

"Why didn't you get a house like this one? It's so pretty!" Nova cooed as they got out of the car.

"I don't need all of this space." Leo shook his head.

"You can't stay in a condo forever." Nova shot back.

Leo rolled his eyes. Nova was right though. His condo did have two bedrooms but Cherri liked to write and draw; he would like her to have her own space to do that. A basement would be nice too and he could make that a gym. "Hm. I guess you're right."

"I'm always right~"

As they walked to the front door, Leo was surprised to see Commissioner Hughes leaving. His eyes narrowed a bit. It was clear that the man was nervous and he seemed to have a bit of regret on whatever he's gotten himself into. Leo didn't really care. He watched the Commissioner go by before looking at the blond before them.

"Good afternoon." He smiled. "You must be Nova." He looked at the woman.

"That's me. If my mother told me you were this cute we would've met sooner, Anthony." She winked.

He laughed and looked over at Leo, "you're the brother then?"

"Yup. Leo." He shook Anthony's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I see you're friends with Commissioner Hughes." Leo raised his eyebrows.

"Friend. That's such a strong word. Even acquaintance is a stretch." Anthony rolled his eyes. "You know him?"

"No. I had an interesting run in with his son though."

"He's pretty full of himself, isn't he?"

"Definitely."

"Can you believe he didn't want to join me? You two get along great." Nova chuckled.

"Well it'll make our talk more interesting for sure. I have everything set up by the pool so come on in."

Leo didn't say much during his time there but he enjoyed the drinks and listened closely.

"So, Leo. Nova told us you recently moved here. Live in the area?"

Leo looked at Michael and shook his head. "I live by the harbor in a condo. I'm thinking of getting a house though."

"Well if you need something just ask. It's easy for us to pull strings." Anthony offered.

"Funny you should ask." Leo put his cup down.

"The last thing I want to hear is you obsessing over some poor girl." Nova side eyed her brother.

Leo looked at her. "Then wait in the car, Nova."

His tone made the woman clench her jaw. She huffed and narrowed her eyes.

"We'll make sure he doesn't get into trouble, dear. You don't have to be worried." Michael assured her.

"Yeah, look there's a maid inside, her name's Cassidy. She makes the best drinks. Have her fix you a few while we talk, alright?"

"Sounds much better than waiting in the car." Nova smiled before glaring at her brother. "Asshole." She muttered walking off.

"Love you too." He replied.

"Sounds like you've done this before." Michael grinned.

"Mistakes were made. I wouldn't say I'm obsessed though." Leo shrugged.

"I see. So who's the lucky girl?" Anthony grabbed his drink.

"Her name is Cherri."

"Mary's friend?" Michael asked.

Leo raised his eyebrows, "you know Mary?"

"Small world." Anthony replied. "Is that why you're so interested in Joseph and Darius?"

"Mm. Seems like Darius gets away with a lot of shit. And he enjoys harassing Cherri."

"Ohhh. I know that tone." Michael leaned forward. "You want to kill him."

Leo glanced at Michael. "...Maybe."

"Not maybe. I know you do. There are thousands of Commissioners out there. Some much more compliant than him. They're both extremely expendable."

"There's too much work afterwards for me to actually enjoy killing him, so I'm not sure."

"Non-sens, ami. You're not doing it right. It's /very/ enjoyable. I can show you." Michael smiled.

"Really?"

"My warehouse has more supplies. We can bring Darius there and I'll show you how much fun it is."

"Oh great. There are gonna be two Michaels running around." Anthony mumbled. "Kill Darius and we'll have to kill Joseph too."

"Of course, I'll handle that too. Guilt is probably tearing away at him anyway." Michael chuckled.

"What did he do? Kill someone for you guys?" Leo asked.

"Oh this has nothing to do with us. I think this will interest you since it involves Cherri."

Michael was right. He had Leo's full attention.

"I'm sure you heard about Michaela; Cherri's mother. Richard killed her."

"He what?" Leo was stunned, "and Joseph covered it up?"

"He couldn't lock up his best friend of course." Anthony shrugged.

So not only was Richard a drunken asshole, he was a goddamn murderer. Leo left Cherri with a murderer. The only reason why she hasn't told anyone is because she thinks no one can help her. He had to get her out of there, or at least convince her that she can leave. It would be better to have her go thinking it was her own idea.

"I think we should start with Darius. I'd like to save Richard for last." Leo finally spoke after a moment.

"I like you." Michael grinned.

"I need to get Cherri away from him first."

"Alright. Sounds like a plan." Michael nodded.

A plan indeed.

~~~

Taglist: None yet~

French Translations:

Non-sens, ami: Nonsense, friend

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere x oc #yandere x darling #yandere boy #yancore #yanderecore #yandere rp #yande.re

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ellariasand · 4 years

Text

i’m not gonna teach him how to dance with you

pairing: frank castle x karen page summary: frank's helping karen with a story. some slight miscalculations put them in serious trouble. rating: t warnings: references to sexual situations & canon-typical violence - no actual depictions of either; swearing word count: 8.2k (sweet jesus) a/n: i’m not particularly used to posting my writing on tumblr (you can find this same piece along with others over on my AO3), so this is new for me! big props to @peoniesforfrankcastle for pitching me the softball of “what do you think would happen if frank and karen ended up in their own version of the landlord threesome situation from new girl??”, because that’s a normal thing to discuss at 1:30 in the morning on a saturday. enjoy!

“You’re sure this is the place?”

It’s pissing rain outside the pathetic blue Jetta Frank’s sitting in — because of course it is. It’s dark, it’s wet, and the only thing he can see properly is the profile of Karen Page’s face, highlighted by soft blue dashboard lights. It’s cold, he’s not dressed properly, and he’d be at home in bed if not for her. He’d be warm, comfortable, and not packing three different pistols on various parts of his body. He’d be, for as much as the Punisher can be, safe.

But Karen, despite every warning and caution and threat to her life, never quite knew when to quit.

She’s packing quite a different arsenal as she sits in the passenger seat, hands still covered in glitter from the bachelorette party she’d been at an hour earlier. Marci had insisted, she claimed as she checked the clip on her own gun, just an hour to say hi — but Frank knew better. Just an hour, he thinks as she makes sure her tape recorder’s working, is an hour she doesn’t have to think about what she’s about to do.

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

She sounds absolutely certain as she speaks, even though Frank can see her hand shake as she stuffs the gun and the tape into her coat pocket. Her research is sound, her head screwed on straight, her plan well-equipped. (Well, perhaps not so much her plan as the plan Madani and Frank helped her make, but it’s all the same to her.) She’s Darius and Daniel all at once, throwing herself into the lion’s den without even a backwards glance.

She’s here for a story, and she’s going to get what she wants, no matter how it scares the shit out of her.

Or Frank, for that matter.

“You’re dead sure?”

His voice is as deadpan as it was the first time he asked - all bite, no bark. Someone once joked that he sounds like he gargles with rocks when he does that, pulls out the Marine voice. The voice meant for giving and receiving orders, not sitting in a Volkswagen with a Bulletin reporter helping her with a story. Apparently, it’s as intimidating as the bruises perennially darkening the orbitals of his eyes - not that he’d be able to tell, the way Karen responds to him.

“Yes, Frank.” She sounds as impassive as he does, if not more. He can’t read her expression in the low light, but he’s sure it’s as stolid as his. “Why are you so concerned about it?”

All he can think to do is scoff as she pats herself down in a quick double-check.

“Because I’d’ve appreciated it if you’d told me we were going to a Cooley gun club instead of having to hear about it from Lieberman.”

If he couldn’t read her expression before, he can now. It drops like a sack of bricks, and for all that his voice suddenly sounds upset, Frank can practically feel the weight of it hit his chest as the frown envelops her entire face. It dents her eyebrows, creases her forehead like some imitation of a child’s origami project. It’s a frown of surprise, not dissimilar to the ones he used to see on Lisa when he caught her reading past her bedtime. She’s been caught with her hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

Even if Lieberman hadn’t tattled, Frank would’ve figured it out eventually. Anyone north of 119th this late was asking for trouble, if not pointing the gun at their forehead themselves. Even he didn’t stray this far if he didn’t have to. Not if he wasn’t on a job. Once Central Park was in their rear-view, he’d gripped the Weston under his jacket a little more tightly.

Karen’s parked herself right in the middle of a warzone, and judging by the loss of confidence in her expression, she knows it.

“I didn’t want to lose my chance at getting you to help,” she mutters. She sounds as much of a spitfire as she did before, but the way she’s gripping her coat sleeves betrays her real reaction. “David knew?”

“‘Course he did.” Frank scoffs. “Guy can hack the NS-fuckin’-A, you think your laptop’s any different?”

Karen’s frown deepens, the delicate origami construction of her face crumpling.

“So that’s why you agreed to come,” she says quietly. It’s almost enough to make Frank regret his choice of words. Almost, if not for the truth of what they’re about to do weighing down on his shoulders.

“You can’t just...throw yourself in with the Kitchen Irish, Karen,” he replies, firmly but carefully.

“I did it with Grotto.”

It’s like she doesn’t even think before the words are out of her mouth. She’s so sure of herself. It scares Frank. Just enough.

“Yeah,” he says, “And look how that turned out.”

“With you in the driver’s seat of my car, wearing a tape wire and helping me with a story.” Karen’s still wearing the frown, but she’s repurposed it now. Outfitted it to her advantage. Crumpled the paper and refolded it - treasure out of trash. “Not too bad in the grand scheme of things.”

She says it with a shrug and a nonchalant glance over at him, and Frank can’t muster much beyond an incredulous laugh in response. A small part of him knows he’d walk through all seven circles of hell with weights tied to his legs if it meant helping Karen with a story, but sometimes he wonders how she does it - looks danger in the face and laughs like it’s nothing more than a carnival clown, there for her amusement. Like the few inches of column space she’s afforded can be weaponized as much as the Ruger she keeps in her purse.

Karen dances with devils and comes out in first place every time, and Frank should know. He’s one of them.

“We get in, you talk to the guy, we get out, alright?”

He says it with a deadpan that hardly hides how much he’d rather taken Karen right back home, but he doesn’t stop Karen from fixing her lipstick in the mirror, doesn’t stop himself from checking that all three of his pistols are loaded and ready to go. The faster they’re in, the faster they’re out, and the less he has to feel his heart pounding in his chest like an animal trying to escape its cage.

“No funny business.”

Karen’s nod in response is perfunctory - she’s thirty-two, not twelve. She knows how this works. Frank knows that too, but the words come out anyway, in some vain attempt to reassure himself that what they were about to do wasn’t completely and utterly batshit. They’re more of a mantra than a command, and Karen’s response comes quickly on their heels as she pops open the door to the Jetta.

“People say my sense of humor is surprisingly dry.”

Frank Castle has, thus far, simply been too angry to die. No other way to phrase it. He’s been shot, tortured, run through, hit by cars, and electrocuted, amongst a handful of other, unmentionable things. He’s gone through more injuries than a child’s video game character, and yet he’s gotten back up, beaten and bruised, every time, without fail. Whether it’s stubbornness or just rage, no one can ever really tell.

But, he thinks as she smirks and hops out of the car, Karen Page might just end up being the death of him.

___________

The club they end up loitering outside of is dark, barely more than a husk of a building on the outside. It’s creative, the amount of effort these scumbags put into disguising themselves in plain sight, despite their existence being as common knowledge as the Harlem bus schedule. Decrepit storefronts, butcher shop basements, even the occasional apartment over a nail salon. Real estate in New York is slim, and Frank’s seen just about all of it - and a disproportionate amount of it with Karen at his side.

He doesn’t understand how he keeps getting dragged into these places, these undercover ops for information held so closely it might as well be fantasy. He doesn’t understand how Karen gets herself involved, much less convinces him on nothing more than a hunch and a prayer to follow at her heels, sneaking about like Zoey when she’s trying to dart out the apartment door before Karen can catch her.

He is, as Lieberman not-so-lightly puts it, built like a brick shithouse — sneaking isn’t particularly his style. Pretending to be someone else is something he’s done enough of in his everyday life. The life belonging to Pete. The life that doesn’t quite fit right - a present from an overbearing grandparent that collects dust in the basement from disuse. An old shirt, run through the wash one too many times that ends up stretched and worn, too grimy and ugly for everyday use.

The only parts of that life that seem to fit right are the ones with Karen in them. Even if they involve breaking the law.

The both of them are soaked by the time they’ve made it down the street, out of sight of their little blue getaway vehicle but in too much of a hurry to have bothered with an umbrella. Mercifully, there’s an overhang, and in some stroke of luck, the Irish at least have the courtesy to answer quickly when Karen knocks at the peeling wooden door with bare knuckles.

She’s good at that, sneaking right in the front door instead of prowling around out back. Good enough that Frank can only stare in silence as she barely blinks at a burly, dark-haired man opening the door, drilling her with enough questions to unsettle a Marine. He watches intently as she tosses around names Frank’s never heard, places he’s never been like she’s at some kind of fucked up family reunion. She calls him Robert and herself Harriet, and all he can think as they’re invited to cross the threshold is that at least it isn’t Pete.

The inside of the club looks more inviting than the outside, but Frank’s eyes are too busy scanning the interior for exits to notice the furnishings. He lets Karen do all the flattering as they’re dragged through room after room, past locked door after locked door, each one more and more concerning as Karen makes inane comments his ears barely hear. He’d been primed on all the exits - and that did mean all - but the anonymity of what lay behind those dark panels of wood doesn’t bode very well for them.

He manages to count sixteen separate doors by the time one of them opens to invite them in. The creak of it grates on Frank’s nerves, but he pays no mind as his attention zeroes in on Karen, whose blonde hair is disappearing into a dimly lit room, leaving him to chase after her like fool’s fire.

His eyes are practically evolved for low-lighting by now, but his pupils still blow wide as he ducks past a burly security detail and into the darkened room. He could swear he’s stepped into an old-fashioned parlor, one of those overly ornate ones from the PBS dramas Karen likes to watch. Velvety couch, paintings on the wall, the works - even that awful gold gilt that old New York money people thought was pretty, rather than like they’d plastered scrapyard salvage all over their walls. Frankly, his grandmother had had better taste in decor, but clearly the new Irish have money. And they want to prove it.

They want to prove they can defend themselves, too, based on the three men Frank clocks the instant the door snaps shut behind them. Strapped to the gills with firepower, looking like they could take a hit from a train and not move and inch, and angry to boot. Not too dissimilar from himself, in a way, aside from the way they mold themselves around the presence of a much slimmer man, in much better clothing, looking significantly more smug.

If Frank had to describe him, he’d say the man standing in front of he and Karen looks like one of those people mothers describe as “homely” when they’re young, but is really just the kind of person women cross the street to get away from on their commute home. Pasty, skinny, unsettling to a degree that Frank can visibly notice as Karen’s posture goes rigid. The suit he’s wearing is very obviously couture, as are his cufflinks and shoes, but it doesn’t offset the alarm bells that his general presence sets off in the both of them. Not enough to truly make either of them afraid, but enough to suck all the air out of the room in less than an instant.

Why do all drug lords remind Frank of the rats in the 34th Street subway station?

Perhaps because of the way they sneer like this one does, overconfident and cocky when Frank knows he could crush him under the heel of his boot in one step. Perhaps because of the way they carry themselves like they own the world, own the people standing in front of them and all that they’ll ever say simply because they’re on home turf. They’re leeches of the worst kind - vacuums of airheadedness and egos so big they could stop a truck.

Frank prays this isn’t the guy Karen’s come to see.

There’s a reason he stopped doing that.

“Ah, Miss Smith.”

His voice is as cocky as his face, dripping with something between venom and crude oil. His hand extends towards Karen, and Frank can only watch as she accepts it with a plastic smile.

“What a treat to finally speak in person. And this is Mister…?”

“Martin,” Karen replies. “My partner, yes.”

“Partner.” He says the word as if considering it, as if the answer is better than he’d been expecting...which is, ironically, the best reaction Frank’s gotten to his own presence in years. Clearly the beard he’d started growing in was doing its job as a mask. “Wonderful.”

He’s like a cartoon villain, this guy - if cartoon villains trafficked women and had bodyguards wearing enough firepower to set a building alight. All he’s missing is a mustache to twirl. Too bad he looks too young and skinny to be able to grow one.

“We weren’t expecting a third,” he jeers, “But in that case, would you prefer business or pleasure first?”

Karen shrugs, and Frank mirrors it. It doesn’t look as friendly coming from someone as broad-shouldered as him.

“I suppose we could do both,” Karen says. “It’s a bit late for shooting, but I’m not opposed to firing a few rounds while we talk about the--”

The laughter that cuts Karen off is even more jeering than the Bad Bond Villain’s voice. It’s high-pitched, off-key - like the vocal equivalent of nails scratching on a chalkboard. It takes a significant amount of Frank’s restraint not to flinch as he grins at Karen, far too boldly to simply be friendly.

“Oh no, my dear,” he replies as Karen’s mouth is left hanging open. “This isn’t that kind of club. Did Georgey not tell you?”

Karen’s mouth closes, then opens, then closes again as she blinks. Frank offers a quick “no sir” in place of a response from her, despite the fact that the closest thing he’d ever heard to the name Georgey was one of Karen’s silly pet names for her dog. Whether she’d crucify him for that, he couldn’t tell, but it was better than leaving the reject Lucky Charms man hanging. The expression on the man’s face tells him that’s a bad idea.

“His loss, my gain, then.” The man shrugs, sits up straighter in his seat. “You two are...swingers, no?”

Ah. So, not a gun club then.

Frank can feel Karen tense next to him. Not enough to alarm the asshole, but enough that he hears her breathing go shallow, notices the way she sits up that much straighter on the couch. She nods, refusing to break character, but he can see how far the comment has thrown her off course. He even goes a bit stiff himself - and not in the way the creep sitting in front of them would hope for - so he’s not sure he blames her. He can do guns, he can do knives...but this was new.

“It’s all part of the deal.” The creep sounds far too satisfied with himself, far too pleased in reaction to Karen’s nod that wasn’t any more than perfunctory. “We give you what you need, you give us...a little something in return.”

The look he shoots at Karen is enough to make Frank’s trigger finger twitch.

The locked doors suddenly make more sense, much the same as the furnishings that seemed slightly too impeccable for a mafia den. Everything is slightly too pristine, slightly too well-oiled for a bunch of amateurs fresh out of metaphorical diapers. No criminal gives this much of a shit about appearances unless they’re trying to impress - who that is, Frank doesn’t know, but he can only imagine the kinds of clients that run through here. A gun club in the middle of Harlem is bad enough, but this? Nothing wrong with a bit of fun if you aren’t psychotic, but...

“You traffic girls and you run a swinger’s club.” Frank’s voice sounds like he’s down an entire construction site’s worth of grave, disguising the sarcasm he can’t quite keep out of it. “Clever.”

The man nods, oblivious to Frank’s train of thought.

“We pride ourselves on it.” Pride isn’t exactly the word Frank would use, but the emotion shows on his face anyway. “The guns are a temporary cover. While we get our hooks in, so to speak. Clearly a good cover though, eh?”

He’s teasing Karen now, clearly trying to get under the thick skin of the identity she’s created for herself. It won’t budge, Frank knows that much, but the remark still makes him shift in his seat, fighting off the urge to throttle the bastard before they’ve even gotten a word out of him.

Frank’s never been good at holding his tongue, but he’ll do it for Karen.

She nods at the remark, a sound coming out of her mouth that’s as far from her real laugh as Frank imagines she can possibly get. It’s a hollow tittering sound, like hearing birds chirping through the metal of a roof they’ve nested on, but it’s convincing enough for their host, whose grin borders just the slightest bit on insane.

“We’ll give you two a moment,” he says. “Only reasonable to let you get...comfortable.”

There’s that teasing voice again, and Frank hardly has the chance to let it annoy him before one of the guards is swooping in on them, an ominous black-clad raven with an assault rifle strapped across his chest. He almost reaches out when he puts a hand at the small of Karen’s back, not quite pushing her but not letting her move of her own free will either. The cold stare Frank receives when his nerves jump is enough to tell him that he should follow, or suffer the consequences otherwise. He’s not particular to following the rules - not anymore - but he chooses to make an exception this time.

The creep stands by as the two of them are herded away, towards a door at the far end of the parlor that hangs just ajar enough to remind Frank too much of The Shining. The darkness beyond doesn’t look promising, and the results aren’t much better as they’re herded into some kind of dimly-lit antechamber, presumably a dressing room of sorts. Broom closet would’ve been a better term for it, given the fact that Frank and Karen are nearly chest to chest once the gorilla takes his hands away and leaves the two of them in relative dark, lit only by mood lighting that does about as much for Frank’s eyesight as a flashlight with mostly-dead batteries.

He can see about as much of Karen as he could in the Jetta, but he’s hesitant to say anything. Who knows how much of the club the Cooleys had bugged for posterity - he wouldn’t be surprised if there are cameras hidden in the tiny cracks of exposed brick he can see behind the swaths of fabric covering the walls. These types didn’t seem entirely beyond a bit of voyeurism at all.

“You okay?”

Frank Castle is not a man to whisper, but that’s how his voice comes out anyway; low enough that it would probably be unintelligible to cameras. It’s not as though he needs to shout in this broom closet anyway.

Karen shakes her head, less as a response to his question and more as if she’s trying to shake cobwebs from her brain that she’d missed when she dusted last.

“I swear to God I didn’t know this was going to happen.” She’s rambling, her sentences peeling off one after the other with no way of stopping them. “There was nothing in the notes about it. Not in the witness statements, not in the police reports...fuck, somebody should have told me or else I wouldn’t have brought you here into the middle of this—”

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Frank’s hands are on her shoulders before he can think to stop them, a grounding wire for his emotions and hers. He knows how it feels to have a plan go to shit, that feeling of the ground spinning underneath you without any recourse to stop it. He can see that feeling in Karen, the way her pupils are so blown with fear he can practically see himself in them. It’s not often that anyone can strike fear into Karen Page.

“Shhh. It’s okay.” He’s rubbing her arms now, though perhaps a bit more for his own sake than for hers. “Even Lieberman missed it. It’s not your fault.”

It really isn’t. He’s not sure how a sex club got confused with a gun league - all euphemisms aside, even Lieberman isn’t that stupid - but the Irish must be smarter than he thinks. Or, at least, clever enough to deflect attention away from themselves. It makes sense, in the long run of things, he thinks... if you’re that kind of subway track scum that traffics human beings.

“I’ll handle it,” he mutters. “You go out the back, call Nelson or Walker or somebody, get the hell out of here. I’ve still got the tape so you’ll still get what you need, I promise. I can take care of—“

“What?”

Karen’s voice interrupts the speech that he has memorized all too well, and he short circuits. Feels his hands squeeze her shoulders in place of a question. Watches her shuffle in place, shift her weight to her hip. He’s not prepared for this. This doesn’t usually happen.

She’s got her eyebrows raised, shoulders squared under his hands. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. He can’t focus when she’s looking at him like that. Can barely focus when she’s looking at him at all.

“Red door down the hall takes you out the back,” he sputters. Now was not the time for thought-out tactical plans. “I’ll get you what you need. You just get out.”

He’s not sure exactly how he’ll manage that, but he will. It’s the least he could do, in return for everything she’s--

“Frank, I’m not leaving.”

He can feel Karen’s enunciation down to his bones. It rattles her shoulders and moves the curtains that swirl around them, an energy not even Red could match if he tried. It’s an energy that speaks to the reason she’s good at her job, why and how she gets herself into situations like this, cramped in a tiny dressing room in a swingers’ club well past midnight when she could very well be at home, safe and secure without a second though otherwise. It’s an energy Frank knows all too well.

Here she is, looking as much like a scared rabbit as Frank’s ever seen, and Karen chooses now to be stubborn.

“You kiddin’ me?”

His arms flop down at his sides, and the air stings his palms where they’d touched Karen’s shoulders. She’s looking straight at him now, and that’s all he can focus on - the stinging and her eyes. Both of which flare when she shrugs.

“No, I don’t think I am,” she replies. “I don’t think “coercion via the Punisher” is a printable source. It’s my responsibility to get this information, and if takes going a little out of my comfort zone, then I’m more than willing to—“

“The guy wants you to strip down and have sex with him, and you call that your responsibility?”

It seems like an applicable moment to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, had he not broken it less than a week earlier. His definition of “responsibility” might be more muddled than the average New Yorker’s, but being propositioned for a threeway in exchange for information is certainly not in his dictionary.

“He included you in the offer too,” Karen protests, “And I’m pretty sure I just heard you say ‘I’ll handle it’.”

“Not by playing into whatever fucked up fantasy he’s got in mind!”

He might as well have pulled the pistol out of his waistband for all the good his words did. They ricochet off the walls like stray bullets, and he can see them lodge into Karen, though the way she rolls her shoulders and stands all that much straighter proves that she’s not in any mood to back down. She never is, and he knows it. Anyone who assumes otherwise is in for the shock of their life.

Being around Karen is like sticking your finger in an electrical socket, and Frank is a curious kid who doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

“How badly do you need him to squeal?”

He chooses the sentence carefully, measuring his words as though they can remedy the situation all on their own. He’s not good with that, figuring out what to say. Actions speak louder than words, he’d always believed that, but this is Karen’s show. Karen’s livelihood. A livelihood she’d built on words alone.

Her expression doesn’t change.

“Enough that I’m willing to stay,” she says. “Frank, this story could wipe out a whole new generation of Kitchen Irish before they even get started. If I get this guy to talk, they’d be busted wide open within the week. Maybe sooner.”

“Same thing could happen to your head if you say the wrong thing.”

“I’m a journalist, Frank.” Karen squirms under his gaze, but doesn’t falter. “Saying the right thing is what I get paid to do.”

But you shouldn’t have to.

That’s what Frank wants to say. Wants to blurt it so loudly that the shit-for-brains in the next room can hear him loud and clear. Wants an excuse to bust them out of there, to avoid this situation entirely rather than subject himself to the burning gaze of this woman who doesn't know when to quit. He wants to shake some sense into Karen’s head, despite the fact that she’s about the only sensible person left in his life.

“I emptied a clip on a man,” she says. Her words are measured, careful. “I think I can handle...that.”

It suddenly feels like there’s not enough air in the room for both of them to breathe.

“Fine.”

Frank can’t tell if she’s being entirely serious, or if this is another facet to the facade she’s put on tonight - whether her bravery is manufactured entirely because she’s too persistent to walk away from a story unfinished. The room feels like it’s running circles around him, and he’s too dizzy to fight.

“You want it?” His voice is harder now, sharper. “Let’s go in there and get it.”

It’s not quite the Punisher persona she’s used to - it’s a little frayed around the edges, askew from being out of place - but Karen recognizes an irritated Frank when she sees one.

“I can do it by myself,” she sighs. Frank isn’t convinced - not when there’s half an army on the other side of the door and a creep who’ll undoubtedly take advantage of her the moment he turns his back.

“Like you said,” he replies, “he said both of us.”

Karen frowns.

“You’re really going to go in there and do this just to get me to admit that I’m wrong?”

“Could do worse.”

His shoulders are too heavy with the weight of their predicament to really make his shrug convincing, but he does it anyway. Tries his hardest to look nonchalant, despite the fact that his dominant hand still burns - this time for something a bit more significant than the air it’s currently grasping at.

“Too much longer in here and they’re going to get suspicious,” he offers. “Either we do this or we don’t. Your pick.”

He’s offering her an ultimatum. Karen fucking hates those.

“I do the talking.”

It’s the only thing she says while she’s shrugging off her jacket, loosening the top button on the starched, Wednesday Addams-looking blouse she’s got on. It’s the only confirmation Frank gets to shirk his own hoodie (how he’s going to finesse hiding the wire he’s wearing, he doesn’t know), before she slips out of the dressing room and back into the parlor, where Redhead Dr. No has shirked his own suit jacket, and the armed gorillas have all but disappeared.

He can’t tell if the feeling in the pit of his stomach is regret, but it certainly makes him nauseous all the same.

If it’s at all possible to have dimmed the already barely-lit lights of the parlor, that’s what they’d done in the time it’s taken he and Karen to argue their way into this mess. He can see the room for what it really is now that he’s removed the rose-colored glasses of playing along with Karen’s scheme: the way the room is laid out, with larger-than-usual couches, designed with open slats for things Frank didn’t even want to begin to think about. The fact that, despite being part of a much larger complex of rooms, there are no doors leading anywhere except the small antechamber, and no windows either. All that’s missing is some shitty Careless Whisper saxophone playing in the background, and even Frank wouldn’t do that song that much of a disservice.

“Ah, the lovebirds return.”

The phrase lovebirds makes the hair on Frank’s neck stand on end, but he beats the impulse to stir like a startled cat down just enough as their host approaches, clearly more keen than when they’d been whisked away. He’s rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and Frank’s fairly certain he can see rope burns up and down the lengths of his arms - fresh enough that they might not even be a day old.

That is what makes him startle.

“It’s club policy for couples to...initiate proceedings,” their host says, with an eagerness that makes Frank want to beat it out of him. “To ensure all parties have a comfortable evening. Unless, of course, you’d like to…?”

“No, I think we’re fine.”

Karen’s face is red as she replies - not the kind of red it gets when she’s angry, but a brighter kind. It makes her look gaunt.

“No sense breaking the rules our first time ‘round, huh?”

The man smiles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Very well,” he sneers. “I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready.”

Whenever you’re ready.

The dealer’s voice is laced with the chill of dry ice, and that fact doesn’t escape Frank. This isn’t some jaunty weekend experiment, where consent is key and anybody who isn’t comfortable can bounce when they want to. This is payment, and he expects his full share, whether they like they like it or not.

That’s the thought that ruminates in Frank’s head as the dealer fiddles with the buttons on his perfectly-starched shirt, and Karen moves into his space enough that his vision is enveloped by her. That’s the thought as she steps in close, close enough that they can share the same breath, and that’s the thought as he considers the fact that nothing on Earth could possibly be more humiliating than this. The thought of touching and being touched in ways that don’t bear thinking about is worse than any embarrassment he’s ever suffered. Worse than any hazing his Marine buddies ever put him through, worse than any and every time he’s said something stupid and gotten himself landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. He feels stripped bare, down to the bone, and he hasn’t even taken off his clothing yet.

But for a moment, he looks at Karen, and thinks of the way his hands burned when he touched her, and a part of him thinks, Maybe if we spin this, we can get out mostly unscathed. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Not with Karen. He thinks that, of all the people he could end up stuck here with, at least it’s her. Their foreheads are touching, and he can feel Karen skate her own hands down his arms until she’s gripping his. At this distance, he could reach out and--

But then another part of him remembers Maria, remembers that he can’t recall the last time he used those hands to do anything but cause hurt. He remembers everything he buries deep inside, under layers of Kevlar and firearms and a voice so gravelly no one could ever think that it had ever belonged to a father. He remembers all the reasons why Karen shouldn’t trust him anywhere near her, and the situation morphs, molds itself into something that could only be a disaster, could only end with both of them hurt in a way that no stitches or antiseptics or trauma nurses could ever fix. It’s inescapable, and it’s all his--

“It’s the red door, right?”

Karen’s voice is a whisper, barely audible even when she leans in close (too close, too close, she’ll get hurt); it’s easily misconstrued as sexy, but really, it’s a well-practiced way of communicating in crisis, and Frank can hear the wobble in it even as she breathes.

He nods just enough that she can feel it, without looking like he’s doing anything but...well, setting the mood. Karen nods too, and he’s sure the both of them look fidgety - like nervous first-timers, not sure how to proceed. And it isn’t far from the truth - Frank’s got no idea how he’s going to proceed from here, but he’s nothing if not good at improvising.

“I, ah...think you should take charge.”

This she says at full volume, loud enough that their partner can hear. Like she said - she knows when to say the right thing.

And Frank knows enough about the fear on her face that his pistol’s out of his pocket before she can blink back tears.

And when he blows them out of there, it isn’t a euphemism.

_________

The sun is peeking out over the horizon line by the time the two of them stumble down the sidewalk to Karen’s walk-up. It plays peekaboo with them, reminding them that they've survived to see another day as Frank watches Karen digs for her keys in her purse. It’s stopped raining now, though the air is still muggy with its aftereffects, and they walk slowly as they approach the stairs to her building. She’s got cuts in three places on her face, and he’s got at least one broken rib, but they’re out. They’re safe.

She’s safe.

Her hands are still shaking though, vibrating ever so slightly as she attempts to find the right key to get them into the building. The ring jingles like an out-of-tune band, and Frank can see the frustrated, tired tears in her eyes as they slip out of her hand and onto the ground.

“Let me.”

He stoops before she can and dutifully ignores every protest from his tired, overworked muscles as he picks the bundle of metal up from the ground. They chime their high-pitched tune as he does, muffled by the size of his hand compared to Karen’s, like wind chimes in a distant open window. She doesn’t look at him - won’t look at him, maybe - as he straightens his back, but she can’t hide her frenetic blinking from him as he does. He doesn’t blame her. This is the longest night either of them has had in years.

He’s never sure how to fill long silences between them. He’s a man of few words, always has been, and the idea of saying anything when his entire body wants to shut down is beyond his area of comprehension right now. Is he supposed to hug her? Pat her on the back, tell her it’s alright after she watched him (not for the first time) eviscerate a handful of human beings like it’s nothing? Nothing he could possibly say can erase that. Erase everything else he’s ever done to her, every layer of hell she’s been dragged through and back out again. Silence feels like the only appropriate response, the only way to avoid dragging her through anything else.

She’s the first to speak up, naturally. Her voice comes out soft, a quiet monotone Frank suspects she uses to disguise the fact that she’s choking back a night’s worth of emotions all at once.

“Thanks.” She’s still not looking at him, but she doesn’t move to wipe away tears, doesn’t hide behind the high collar of her jacket to avoid him. “Do you want to…?”

She hesitates, and Frank can nearly hear her backtracking in her head as her sentence drops off. The missing word hangs in the air, heavy and loud despite the fact that it never leaves Karen’s mouth.

Stay.

“I’ll be up working on this damn thing to make the deadline.” She shrugs, as though overnight shootouts and going thirty-six hours without sleep are a regular part of anyone’s workday. The laugh that comes with it is watery. “Might as well have some company.”

The scoff that escapes Frank’s mouth isn’t entirely intentional, but it isn’t accidental either. He can feel the bruised muscles in his face sting as he lets the sound ring, ducking his head to fiddle with the glittering skull trinket she keeps on her key ring.

“Almost get your head blown off and you’re worried about a deadline,” he mutters. “Should be resting.”

“So should you. And I know for a fact you won’t sleep a wink.”

Karen shrugs, reaching a hand out for her keys. Frank obliges, and there’s something of a smile on his face when he does. The little skull glints in the light of the streetlamp, a sly reminder of just what kind of a mess she’d gotten herself involved with.

“I started this story,” she asserts, “And now I'm obligated to finish it. Just like any job.”

“You think you’re gonna be able to get anything outta that wire?”

“I’ll have to,” she says. “If not, I’ll pester Turk, see what else he can get me. Maybe do a ridealong or something. I know what’s there. We saw it. I just need proof.”

Frank laughs then. Not maliciously - not really intentionally, either. It just spills out, a soft, short bark of a thing that sounds off coming from him. Frank Castle doesn’t laugh, much less like that. It’s like interference on a radio; a negative side effect of pushing the wrong button or adjusting the wrong lever. The AM channel no one ever wants to use.

“Y’know,” he huffs, “I wonder if you don’t know when to let something die.”

It’s not that he doesn’t think before he speaks - Frank’s a smart man, he knows what happens when someone backs Karen Page into a corner. He’s seen it, from the moment she shoved that photo of his family in his face while he was chained helpless to a hospital bed, and he respects it. She’s a force to be reckoned with, a hurricane of immense proportions that doesn’t give a shit who you are or how much power you say you have if you’re in the way of the truth. Karen Page is not someone to be taken lightly.

But she’s more than that. She’s also a human being, a woman with a life, friends, family that cares about her. She’s got more than blood on her hands and a legacy so stained she can’t even use the name her family thought to give her when she was born. She’s better than that, better than this ugly, misshapen world they’ve both found themselves in whether they like it or not. She’s the best goddamn thing to happen to New York - hell, the country, probably - since god knows what, and to lose her to the storm of her own determination is something that Frank thinks might snap a lot of people clean in two.

Himself included.

He knows he’s said the wrong thing, knows he’s pushed that button of hers that makes her cheeks flare red and her voice hike up a few notches. He can tell as soon as the words are out of his mouth, as soon as she bunches her keys up in her fist in a way that’s got to hurt as she finally looks him in the eyes.

“Oh, you mean the hundreds of people that would die because I put myself over the truth?” She spits the words out like they’re shitty vodka from Josie’s, like if she kept them in she’d explode. “What am I supposed to do, just let this fall by the wayside? Tell Ellison I need him to switch me to the lifestyle section this week? I can’t just let it go. That’s not how this works.”

A part of Frank knows she’s right - knows that this shit won’t stop until the world can see the man behind the curtain - but a bigger part of him, the stubborn, protective part of him that he can never quite seem to fight down, can’t live with the idea of danger knocking at Karen’s door.

“You could’ve been killed before the truth ever got out!” He doesn’t mean to be as loud as he is, but that hidden part of him doesn’t like the quiet. “You really want to do that again? You want to put a gun to your own head like that?”

“I was hardly in danger of anything except hurting my own pride and you know that. I just let myself get scared.”

Frank can see her flex her hand where her keys are digging into her palm, but she doesn’t relent. She doesn’t look angry, but he can see the way her jaw clenches to fight back another round of frustrated tears threatening to spill over. He can see how tense she is, how close her shoulders are to touching her ears. She’s got every hallmark of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but she refuses to move an inch.

“Don’t make this about my safety, Frank,” she says. “You can’t keep mothering me like this. I can handle myself.”

She stares at him like she bore a hole directly to his soul, and Frank’s skin burns when she looks at him like that. Not like fire, but like acid. Corrosive, stinging, sizzling. It’s a burning that seeps through his clothes, plasters them to his body so nothing he does can serve as escape. It’s the worst in his hands - pins and needles that suddenly makes that “reach out and touch faith” song make more sense. He feels the stinging down to his bones, and sometimes he wonders whether he’s just a skeletal ghost floating around anymore. Whether the rest of him matches the skull crudely painted on a vest in his closet.

No, it’s not like fire. Fire would be too easy, too instant. One splash of water and it’s out, wiped from body and from memory. It burns brightly but shortly, in and out of someone’s life with almost no passing thought beyond treating the wounds left behind. Fire is an easy solution. Fire doesn’t come from people who matter.

No, the burning Frank feels isn’t fire, because Karen Page never does things the easy way.

“‘M sorry,” he says, conceding another in a long list of arguments that neither of them would ever be able to win. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do to stop the burning. Isn’t sure if he wants to stop it. “Just didn’t—I didn’t want it to be like that.”

“Didn’t want what to…”

Her sentence drifts off before she can finish it, and he can’t be sure whether she understood what he was referring to. Her fists clench and unclench, and the burning worsens when she looks at him like she’s staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Frank, come on.” Her voice is tired - the groan of someone who’s been through far too much, far too soon. “You’re bleeding. I’m tired. Let’s just go up, and you can crash on the couch and we’ll talk about this—“

In the morning. Later. After. That’s always how it goes. Let things settle. Let them rest. Let the blood flow out of things, let the venom run its course. Take the rose-colored glasses off and let reality settle back in before anyone does something dumb. Karen wants an after for him, she’s said as much. She wants him to be able to walk out, as unscathed as a man with blood on his hands can ever manage to be.

What she doesn’t realize is that his after is already standing right in front of him.

Which is his only explanation for why his hand shoots out and closes around her arm like he’s pulling her away from some invisible danger. It’s the only explanation for the way he spins her like a top, until they’re close enough that he can see her eyes dilate in surprise. It’s the only explanation for the way he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a feral animal broken free and running down the streets of Brooklyn with wild abandon.

It’s the only explanation for the way that he kisses her on her front stoop for God, the early morning garbagemen, and the rest of the modern world to see.

Karen Page, he realizes, is everything good left in the world. She is sun after a thunderstorm and a comfortable bed after a long day. She’s raucous laughter at a terrible joke, the kindness of a stranger when you need it most. She’s good friends and fond memories and the ridiculous way she dances to Lady Gaga whenever she finishes a piece that gives her trouble. She’s the beers they share on her fire escape after weeks away and the tight feeling he gets in his chest every time someone asks what the hell he’s still fighting so hard for. She’s everything he thought he’d given up the right to have a long time ago, and she’s everything he fights to keep.

Pulling away from her is painful. More painful than any gunshot, any gut punch, any knife wound he’s ever received. Pulling away from Karen is like pulling the skin from his bones, the air from his lungs. It’s like the burning he feels, only a million times worse. A million hot pokers on his skin, burning away anything that makes him who he is and leaving nothing but a shell, cradling this stubborn, beautiful, terrifyingly intelligent woman in its arms.

All that’s left is her. All that matters is her.

Her eyes are closed when he finally moves far enough away to see her face in full. For a moment, he panics, terrified -- too close, too close, fuck, did I make her cry again? -- but then she’s opening them, something he thinks might be glee or absolute horror written on her face. He can’t tell which is which, so he improvises.

“Didn’t want to do that in front of the Irish.”

Karen’s pupils are still dilated, and the glee-horror-something-else-maybe morphs. Becomes a little clearer.

“Oh.”

It sounds less like surprise and more like a smug question. He shrugs. He’s still got a hand at the small of her back.

“Didn’t want them to get a chance at it either.”

Now he sounds smug. The garbagemen can definitely see them now. He’s not sure he cares.

“Mmm.” Karen doesn’t bother to move. Doesn’t bother to separate herself from him. “Kinda glad about that.”

Frank quirks an eyebrow.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” She fiddles with her keyring. Glances at the tiny skull. Jams the whole thing in her pocket. “‘Cause you kinda just ruined it for me for the rest of my life.”

“What, the saving your life or the kissing?”

“Both.”

She taps his chest with her newly free hand, and the spaces that have been hollow there since the park feel just that much fuller. Just enough to ease the ache.

“But mostly the latter.”

Frank can’t even remember what the latter is, but Karen’s kissing him again and that’s all that matters. This moment, on this grimy doorstep, with her hands bunched in his coat and his wrapped around her back.

So this is what it means to finally have an after.

#do i know how to tag this? absolutely the fuck not.#the punisher fic #punisherff #kastlenetwork #kastleff #my work #maggie.txt #karen page x frank castle #the punisher

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