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icarustypicalfall · 15 days

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Commander's last love

part 5 • fic masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

summary: Hold me, tell me it'll pass. I am afraid I'll never know peace.

warnings: mw3 events, inaccuracies, mentions of death, the slow burn is burning fast.(i am lazy)

note: this part is highly based on mw3 events, also might be high timeline inaccuracies. sorry about that.

tags: @unicorngirly1

"Striving for change, yet trapped in a cycle of sameness, a poignant reminder of life's melancholic reality."

Mission [A2626]

Location: [CLASSIFIED]

Time: 07:09:23 - 25/10/2022

When you entered the mess hall that morning, the first thing that struck you was the serenity. No chaos, no shouting, and no proud American man bellowing his national anthem. It was a tranquil scene.

You didn't pay much attention to it. Commander Phillip was most likely still fast asleep, them higher ranks had the luxury of a good night's rest. You sighed, shaking your head with a hint of amusement. Weeks ago, you couldn't stand the man, but now you were dropping formalities and exchanging jokes with him.

It was terrifying, in a way that completely captivated you. The feeling was too powerful to ignore. Not a nagging headache or a throbbing wound. No, it was a heartache. One that gripped you every time your eyes met with the commander's.

From the moment he set foot in the base, you knew he would be trouble. A persistent force, like a charming Hydra. You had let the Hercules swrod down, along your guard. you've lowered the defences and the built up walls, surrendering to his charm.

Perhaps the commander deserved a chance. Every attempt he made to get to know you was proof of his dedication. It was almost laughable how the tables had turned. He had managed to charm his way into your thoughts. You decided to end rapidly your reports then pay him a visit, as you hadn't caught sight of him in quite some time.

Despite all the hardships he had endured, it was the last call that Phillip received that truly shook him. It wasn't just his nervous system playing tricks on him or the stress wreaking havoc on his stomach. It was genuine fear, a past regret that he thought he had buried when he left Las Almas.

Life presents us with limited options. You either patch up your wounds, move on, and forget the past, or you let the wound fester, remaining open and growing larger with time until it consumes you entirely. Phillip's life fell into the second category. It always had and always would, from the moment he entered crying to the moment he'll dying.

He found solace in the brief moments you two shared. But now, all his anguish resurfaced upon receiving new orders from the general. He didn't leave his room, informing his soldiers that they would receive the new orders through Martin.

Phillip lay in his room, reminiscing about the previous night's events. His fury boiled within him as the older man gave him orders with a careless smirk.

"You know what to do, right? If they refuse our deal, you..."

Phillip cut him off, his face a picture of denial.

"General, you mean..."

"Yes, blow up the entire base. It's nothing new, right?"

Heartache struck once again. Forever and always. Peace would forever elude him. His lips trembled as his mind wandered back to you. No, he can't...

"You are paid to follow orders, Graves. I can find someone else to do your job for half the price, with no negotiations. You understand that, don't you?"

Another display of the general's power play. Phillip remained silent, absorbing the words like poison. He knew it would make him sick when the time came. Slowly, it would kill him. He pleaded for a little more time. He couldn't do it. Not again.

Phillip had grown weary of being the villain. All he wanted was to be happy. He understood the sacrifices that came with being in the military, the lives you would lay down to achieve your objectives. But there had to be a limit, right?

He had already lost everything. Family, friends, lovers. TF141 and Los Vaqueros despised him, yet they had once made him feel like he belonged, like they shared a bond. But that bond shattered the night he took over their base. He had deceived his way through life, only to have it all fall apart when he tried to change, to be better.

A knock on the door interrupted his misery, prompting a groan from him.

"Martin, I've told you twice, I'm fine. Can't a person rest in this stupid place?"

You poked your head through the door, eyes narrowed and face concealed by a mask.

Playfully, you uttered:"Now who's base are you calling stupid?"

Phillip jolted upright, his eyes darting around in a frenzy. The evidence of his anguish lingered, temporarily pushed to the recesses of his mind. He managed to muster a forced smirk, but his trembling lips betrayed the falsehood. "Well.. I never thought it would be you, sugar.."

You observed him. He was wrapped in the comfort embrace of a soft blanket, his eyes reflecting a deep crimson, concealing untold torment. Phillip appeared utterly miserable, to put it mildly. He hadn't bothered to shower or leave his bed all day. Sniffing, he averted his gaze, not out of embarrassment, but out of fear that you would see the truth hidden within his eyes.

You spoke up, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence with a touch of amusement. "What's the matter, Phil? Did something get in your eye?"

He chuckled sheepishly, shaking his head. For a brief moment, it seemed as if his face brightened before plunging back into the abyss of melancholy.

Shaking off his thoughts, he refused to spoil this moment. He knew that words had the power to taint this heavenly jiffy. He longed to seize it, to feel its edges softened by weeks of vulnerability and profound conversations. After a moment, he let the words slip, his gaze fixed on you, his blue eyes locked onto yours, imagining that you were looking at him with the same intensity, dressed in white and surrounded by loved ones who'll witness the legacy.

"No, sweetheart... It's just... No... It's complicated..." he trailed off.

You raised an eyebrow, sighing. "Martin was looking for you. He said they wanted to discuss something about a certain 'secret.' What's that all about?"

Phillip choked on his own saliva, staring at you in disbelief. You shouldn't have known about the new orders, and neither should any other member of this base. He responded defensively, his words rushing out. "It's nothing... Why don't you go join your boyfriend, huh?"

The words stung him, but he couldn't help himself. Jealousy and agony had blinded him, unable to bear witness to you and Sky, laughing together over dinner while Phillip watched from a distance, yearning to be the one who brought a smile to your face.

"...Boyfriend?" The uncertainty in your voice left Phillip bewildered.

He raised his hand, pointing at you, then mimicked a fall from the sky to the ground. Confusion filled his voice as he spoke. "You and Sky... You are a thing!"

Silence hung in the air, followed by the most genuine laughter. You wheezed, slapping your knee and giggling uncontrollably. The sweet melody of your laughter was pure, something he had sorely missed. His ears had grown accustomed to screams, gunshots, and explosions, not the gentle giggle or the tune you hummed. Warmth surged through his insides, radiating from his heart and enveloping his mind. Blushing, he looked down.

"Where on earth did you get that idea, Phillip? Sky and I are friends, we've known each other forever!" You paused, wiping away a tear before playfully crouching down. "I never thought you would fall for such gossip."

Oh...

He rubbed his neck, feeling shame wash over his face. You continued to stare at him, your eyes narrowed yet filled with a glimmer of light.

"My mistake, doll... I thought..."

"You thought what, Phil?"

He closed his eyes, your perfume filling his head. The stars got red and the night is blue. He didn't want to say something foolish or scare you. God forbid.

In your presence, he felt as though he was in the company of a gentle creature, a beautiful pearl he never thought he would need in his life. Unfortunately, you were too good for him. You were a sun that would blind him if he stared for too long. God only knew how far he would go, willing to burn in flames just for a glimpse of you.

You were crouched beside him, a few feet apart. You could see the specks of grey in his hair, the blond locks carelessly resting on his forehead.

A surge of courage built up within you. Your eyes met once again, capturing the soft blend of his baby blues and your gentle gaze. You could swear you saw a cry, a helpless wail, hidden within his irisis.

Holding your breath, you reached out your hand as if to soothe his demons. He surrendered, his pupils dilating with an overflowing longing. He leaned into your touch, and you smiled. With tender care, you brushed his hair behind his ear, tracing your hand gently along his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

"What's inside here?" you insisted, cradling the side of his head. He smiled.

"Just stupid things, doll. It's nothing... just stupid things."

You sighed, nodding. You knew he didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps, for the sake of preserving whatever bond you two shared, it was best to let it go.

Phillip closed his eyes, letting out another long sigh. The weight on his shoulders seemed to ease, leaving nothing but a sense of relief behind.

He flinched as the phone rang, abruptly interrupting the silence. He shook his head, motioning for you to stay close. He didn't want to deal with whatever tantrum General Shepard was having. All he wanted was to rest. Answering the call, he carefully chose his words, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on you, wearing the same smile from ages ago. He would tell that old dog where exactly he should put his plans...

"Commander Phillip Graves," a harsh voice spoke, and he frowned. "General Shepard is dead. Killed by Captain John Price. There's no need to proceed with your last mission. Or the one suggested by him." Phil's eyes widened, recognizing the voice as none other than the captain of TF141.

"Oh, and Phil..." John spat out, "Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish is KIA."

The phone slipped from his grasp. Uncertain, you uttered, "Phillip?"

No. Not again.

#𓆩♡𓆪 faith writes #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #phillip graves x fem reader #cod philip graves #phillip graves x female reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #philip graves #phillip graves x you #fluff phillip graves #Phillip graves angst #cod angst #fluff #mw2 fanfic #mw3 fanfic #cod fics

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icarustypicalfall · 17 days

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EID MUBARAK TO EVERYONE CELEBRATING

dont forget palestine 🤍

edit: bro tf was that tag??

#eid mubarak #palestine

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icarustypicalfall · 20 days

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Prompts for writer block but it gets aggressively stupid

masterlist * ao3

-What do you think you are doing?

-erm.. i can explain. Maybe.. No.

-How did you even know that I like orange pie?

-I spied on you

-Wha ..

-Kidding I know someone that knows someone that knows someone…

-Wait. Did you just bite me?

-What's the difference between..

-Don't want to hear it

-.…

-Fine. Tell me your stupid joke already..

-It's called a surprise for a reason..

-why are you here for again?..

-I hit my head in the door.

-I think I am becoming more stupid.

-Tell me you didn't fall from the spinning chair again..

I'll take that silence as a yes..

-Why would you think that dieing the wall orange is a good idea?

-You are absolutely not driving us home.

-You have five seconds to explain why I didn't find you beside me when I woke up.

-Can you kindly get out and never come back?

-I forgot to do the project, can you add me? I'll give you my stickers!

-The mirror doesn't care, baby

-Sing me something..

-Au clair de la..

-Shut up.

-When I asked you to cut my bangs, I didn't mean you should make me look like Dora..

-I failed.. Kind of.. At least I had a good hair day.

-My ultimest fear is becoming one of those Auntie what's up addict that laugh at Minion memes

-They say it's not mainly to cry.. but holy I am holding my first born and the two of us are bawling.

-Can i please draw [..] on your face with sharpie?

-The pigeon pooped on me.

-It's his thank you.

-I hate squats.

-It hates you too.

-You're too good to feel such pain.

-Sit. Yo. Pretty. Butt. Down. We got a story to write.

-Are you still here? I thought you left.. Okay.. thanks for witnessing me being a crack head.

#𓆩♡𓆪 faith writes #writer humor #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writeblr #writblr #writing #writing prompt #writing challenge #writers and poets #stupid prompts #fic prompt #week #dialogue prompt #writing community #poets on tumblr #writerscommunity

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icarustypicalfall · 21 days

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Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨

DEHHEHEHH TYSM POOKIE YOU ARE WONDERFUL 🤎🤎🤎

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icarustypicalfall · 21 days

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Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨

aww hehehe you are wonderful 🤎🤎

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icarustypicalfall · 21 days

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The settlers are already planning the names of cities in Palestine.

We are slowly running out of time, we have to take action. We have to demand, we have to scream. There was time to be polite, but It’s over now.

Fire is catching. Let it burn.

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icarustypicalfall · 22 days

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heart broken 10/10 would recommend 🤍

A Pearl Of Your Own (2/2)

Part 1

Part of the A Pearl Series

As much as you wanted to pretend he was just tired, the permanent burn that was left on your heart seemed to sting every day. The first time you felt the worst of it was the morning after, when he pretended to fuss over you. Everything was so obvious now, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t seen it before. Some would say it was removing the rose-coloured glasses from your life, except this was permanent and something you wished you could force back.

For once in your life, you were actually angry that you hadn’t woken up early. Even more so, you were angry that he he woke up before you. If anything was a first, that was. You used to love when he woke up before you because the feeling of his warmth surrounding you as you blinked the depths of sleep away was incomparable. Now you just shiver at his voice, scared of his words hurting you more than they already have.

He had seen the fresh tear stains, newer than the last he’d seen, eyebrows furrowing when he sees your eyes flutter open. Such gentle hands for a person with such cruel words to say. Even if they were so calloused, they cupped your cheeks with such care and love, something you've longed for months.“Hey, love, what happened? Who did this to you?”

You

You did it.

The words claw at your throat to be released, some part of your head seeking vengeance for your failing heart. You wanted to yell it—you wanted to scream, shout, sob some more, and then be comforted all over again. You wanted to be told you overthought it all, and he really was tired, but the thought of that possibility just kept running away—like a dog chasing their tail. Useless.

Even so, you’ve always been determined and strong; you won’t let petty things take you down so quickly. Your love for him overrides anything you feel, even if that is a bit dangerous to yourself. It’s alright; every couple fights, right?

The next few mornings you spend cheerily pushing yourself to be better to him, to be better for him. It’s your last hope, and you’re hanging on a loose thread. With both hands gripping on and legs dancing above heartbreak’s jaws, you attempt to climb. But there is one small lie that you tell yourself: distancing yourself is so he can get a break from you; he needs to focus on relaxing. It’s definitely not because of the small seed of fear buried in your heart from those eavesdropped words.

He doesn’t seem as tired anymore, probably because you leave the bed as soon as he falls asleep. After finding out he can’t stand sleeping with even the slightest touch from you, the mere thought of causing him to go through that makes you sick to your stomach. So, every night, you force yourself up and drag your drained mind and body downstairs, settling on the couch. He falls for it every time, especially since he only ever finds you cooking breakfast; he just thinks you always get up early. There’s that, but also the fact that he doesn’t care enough to dig deeper or question why you always have those dark circles under your eyes. You’ve also gotten used to just leaving the house multiple times a day. The neighbour needs help? You’re gone. One grocery is missing that you don’t even need for dinner? You’re already at the nearest store. You believe you’re doing him a favour, realising he never gets alone time in the house as you’re always there. Why must you burden his life so much? You should help him out by leaving him alone.

It’s early one morning as you cook blueberry pancakes, a staple dish that he would always make for you. It was one of the only dishes he could make, and damn, he always made it exceptional. You’d smile a loopy grin as you watched him cook, mentally noting to brag to your friends later about the whipped cream love heart on your plate and the fact he posted it on every social he had. You felt like the most special person in the world then, especially when he’d playfully pop blueberries in your mouth until your cheeks were puffy like a chipmunk. He’d chuckle at your embarrassment before kissing you and serving you your dish for the morning.

Now you stand in the lone kitchen, flipping the dull pancake as you hum quietly to yourself. The blueberries just make the pancakes look mouldy , you think, pulling a small disgusted face as you plate them up. You’ve changed a lot in the span of the past three months. Sure, work had been hitting you hard with demands needing to be met and coming home with no food available or someone to listen to your stress, but something shifted in you entirely. You ask Leon how he finds his food, his freshly ironed clothes, the new products you bought for the bathroom, and especially his day. Like a game of cluedo, you narrow everything down as you try to figure out how to be the best for him. How to make him love you again.

He sits at the kitchen island again, the porcelain plate squeaking against the table as you slide it gently over to him. Stacked with pancakes and a small dollop of whipped cream, which took 30 days to finally get right. You watch as he takes a bite, popping it into his mouth after you eat your own.

“So..? Did I finally get it right?”

You say with a small laugh, a teasing smile on your face, to cover up your desperate need to know if you had succeeded.

“Can you stop interrogating me every day about whatever you do? It’s fine, okay? It’s never been any damn different; I dont see the big deal.”

Of course he knows what you do is different every day, but he doesnt care—not even in the slightest. No, that’s why he’s so stern with you; his voice is harsh, and his eyebrows furrow in exasperation at your question.

“I.. Leon- I was just trying to get some feedback.. I only wanted to make it better for you and for both of us.”

It wasn’t just about the blueberry pancakes now; it was everything. Everything you had ever tried was to better yourself for his sake, for his livelihood, and for his happiness.

“Well, can you stop? It’s really fucking annoying having to answer your stupid questions every day because you’re too insecure.”

He huffs, swallowing down another bite of the pancakes as he glares at you, not even hesitating at the hurt expression that slowly forms. You pause for a moment; the last time you two had an argument had to be well over a year ago. Maybe even two. Unsure and a little bit taken aback, you steady yourself.

“Leon- i understand work has been stressing you, but i’m just trying-“

“Work? Thats what you think this is about? Maybe you are just stupid or too far into your ego to realise maybe you are the problem.” A loud scoff and the clatter of cutlery is heard, almost laughing at the sheer stupidity you had for trying to shift the blame onto his work.

“I am trying to actually be understanding, i’m sorry if i annoyed you but Leon- there is no need to put me down like that.” Hate grows in your heart. Hatred for how your voice cracks, how your breath shakes, and your chest feels tighter. Yet you have no hate for him.

“You think you’re being understanding.” He laughs at your pitiful expression, thick with a mocking tone, as he says the words. “I can’t believe it. You actually think that. If you can get one thing through your insecure mind, know that you don’t understand anything about me. You never have. Hah.. ever since that night where I almost fucking choked you.” He remarks, his expression turning sour at the mere thought of that night. Not because of the pain he caused, but because of pain he felt.

It’s ironic now because you really can’t understand what he’s talking about. You’re so far out of the loop that you can’t even piece it together.

“I’ve been trying to ask you—to help you. I want to be there for you-“

“Yeah, as if. You know, on that night, I really thought that you might just understand, unlike anyone else has. I was stupid enough to even think that. You just told me your same stupid reassurances; I should’ve kept my hands on your throat a little longer that day. I wish it scared you off and out of my life.”

You’re deadly silent, your mind is not thinking thoughts, and your voice is dying out all the same. Everything feels so blank: your emotions, your mind, the atmosphere—his heart. It’s blank; the love is just gone. You wish you had more time to mourn it before even attempting to resuscitate it. You can’t, because that died long ago and only now has your stupid head caught up with everything thats happening.

You’re frozen in place as he gets up from his chair, the plates landing in the sink with a horrible clatter.

“You’re not what i wanted. I shouldn’t have expected things you could never reach.” He mutters it out, not even caring enough to face you as he says it, walking back upstairs. Now alone again in that kitchen, water is dripping onto the floor from your own eyes. Another faulty leak that you hadn’t even realised until now, when you’re resigned to yourself once more.

That day echoes constantly in your mind, relived every night with different words, each time becoming more hurtful. Your heart wishes he could reassure you of these terrors like you did with him. His cruel sayings are a dagger that twists through your chest each day; they go unresolved, because for once in your wilting relationship, he didn’t apologise. No, he barely even regret what he did. Theres not a smidge of chance that you can even fix it— you already have tried apologising, only to be met by an annoyed look. He walks past you every morning after that, not a word between you both as you finally stop trying to ‘help’ him.

If being strangers in your own home was an award, you’d receive a standing ovation for the weeks that follow. Every sense of his seems to avoid you like the plague, his sight moving upon seeing you to the point where he walks past you, on purpose. A year ago, he would’ve woken up and wrapped his arms around your waist at the smell of his favourite breakfast; now he only wakes up later on purpose just to eat something else in front of you. Speaking of that, he loved to taste your food, standing nearby to try everything you cooked for him. Now he neither compliments nor insults your cooking, staying quiet as he eats. Cries fall on deaf ears at night as you beg him to stop leaving so often and returning days later. You can’t stand not knowing where he is, especially if it’s for an extended period. You need him, you plead, but he just carries on reading a mission report. Finally, he still doesnt touch you anymore, having not done so since the day he found fresh tears on your cheeks in the morning. Even as you ask politely and quietly, he is completely indifferent to you, walking back to the bedroom after you ask simply for a movie together on the couch that could just as well be new with how little either of you spend time.

It’s been a month since the argument, and different is how you’d finally describe him. You knew this before, but you wouldn’t dare say it because you’re still the same you, and you had refused to believe he wasn’t still yours. A small part of you holds onto this now, but as you both lay in bed and you breakdown, begging him to just tell you what you can do better for him, you realise the truth.

‘That’s the issue’ he tells you, turning his head away from the soaked pillows with an exasperated look. He doesn’t tell you about the feeling of a pearl in your head, rolling around every night shimmering terrors that should’ve ended.

‘You never change; you’re so consistent’. Thats what he explains, claiming you don’t understand the pain he feels when everything starts to shift and you can’t even control it. When your life flips, twists and shatters but doesnt rebuild.

Though, now you see that orb shimmer every time you close your eyes. You don’t understand he says, and you hadn’t before. But that didn’t mean he had to make you understand now.

#leon kennedy

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icarustypicalfall · 23 days

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Which trope is the most heart wrenching in real life

asking for a friend :3

#writers on tumblr #writblr #writing #writeblr #tumblr polls #random polls #polls #tips #writing community #inspiring quotes

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icarustypicalfall · 26 days

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icarustypicalboop

replace one word in your username with boop tell me in the tags what it is

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icarustypicalfall · 26 days

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icarustypicalfall · 26 days

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Exciting don't you think?

masterlist • ao3 • follow for more

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

summary he is too oblivious to notice, bless his foolish heart and pretty eyes.

warnings re2 leon Kennedy, sorta open ending? fluff, mentions of murder and serial killing, short drabble :3

note my hyper fixation is alive y'all, i am not over the infinite darkness leon, but re2 leon is so sweet. sorry if it's inaccurate this is one of the rare times where i post something other than the cod fics. enjoy and ily

“[he] is only slain by stab after stab, and loves on till the last drop of life blood drips away”

Raccoon City, what a magnificent place to be! The soft notes of jazz filled the air, permeating your car as you gracefully cruised through the night. Darkness reigned, with a sprinkling of stars and a glowing moon casting its ethereal light upon the road. It was a wonderful night, such a night as is only possible when we are young.

Ah, speaking of youth, you spotted a youthful-looking police officer on the side of the road, gesturing for you to pull over.

Darn it.

Trouble was certainly brewing. You were well aware that the curfew had already passed, a precautionary measure implemented by the government to safeguard citizens from a recent spate of serial killings. They were secretive about the details, as always.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced in the rearview mirror. Thoughts raced through your mind as you turned off the engine, coming to a halt just as the officer approached your vehicle.

Taking a moment to double-check the weapon holstered at his side, the officer—Leon, made his way towards you. A gentle cough escaped his lips before he rested his forearm on the window, knocking lightly to signal for you to lower it.

As you complied, a sweet smile adorned your face, emitting an aura of innocence. The cold breeze crept under Leon's skin, causing him to shiver. He couldn't help but be captivated by your alluring smile and daring attire, a testament to your mischievous nature. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, his heartbeat quickened as he mustered the courage to speak, attempting to avoid any stammering. "Your registration and identity papers, miss.."

You obliged, handing him the requested documents and, for a fleeting moment, your fingers brushed against each other. Your mischievous self reveled in his bashfulness, as his cheeks flushed, and he retreated to his patrol car to inspect your records. Meanwhile, you remained still, leaning against the window with an impish grin.

Leon returned, his voice barely above a whisper as he returned your papers. "It is past curfew, miss. May I know why you are out?"

Your smile grew wider as you locked eyes with him, finding him rather intriguing. His baby blues avoided your gaze as he fidgeted with the door. With a grin, you replied, "I was with a friend, officer. I assure you, I am a good girl."

Leon gulped, nervously rubbing his neck as the blush continued to stain his cheeks. These formalities were unfamiliar territory for him, making him all the more flustered. Softly, he whispered, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he leaned closer to the window. "Alright, miss... I mean, call me Leon."

You asked, finding the play rather too attempting not to."Tell me Leon, do you always work alone so late?"

He shook his head, feeling his insides flatter with warmth, none had really shown interst in his job before. He replied in a hushed tone still smiling.

"No, I usually don't work alone at such late hours. This is my first time."

Ah, still so young, you thought to yourself.

No, not him.

You nodded, sealing his cheek with a tender kiss. Leon blushed once again, pulling away and watching in awe as you started the car. "Take care miss!"

He called out, and you laughed, "I do enjoy a little danger, Leon."

He observed as you drove off, his heart fluttering with an unfamiliar sensation. Unfortunately, he was oblivious to the crimson stain on your shirt or the axe resting in the back seat.

The following morning, Leon couldn't believe his eyes when he saw your picture in the newspaper. The headline screamed of the capture of the notorious serial killer who had slain a cop while being stopped during the curfew.

You did that in order to silence the persistent officer who had stopped you right after Leon. Caught red-handed, the only thing on your mind was those mesmerizing baby blues... too precious, too angelic. You contented yourself with leaving a mark on his cheek and etching a core memory in his heart.

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