#she prefers big guns but keeps pistols in her purse

[punkriod]

COLLECTION. / WEAPONS.

#ooc / my edits . #ooc / lady . #fc #bc #she prefers big guns but keeps pistols in her purse

[smallblip]

Honey Bunny

Levihan | Rated for language and one mention of doing the deed

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387343

Hanji and Levi have breakfast at a diner. They find themselves in a bit of a situation-

"We have you surrounded! I repeat! We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands in the air!"

“Tch... Too goddamn loud for the morning...”

“And so.... I politely asked him to suck on my fat dick.”

“You really said that?”

“Yeah... Not really a big win for me considering he’s only humiliated because he lost his balls to a girl...”

Levi snorts. Shitstain of a man, he adds, and Hanji beams at him.

“Anywho... Can you remember that song I said I liked... We danced to it at the pub. This was before you went to the toilet and that whole debacle with shitstain of a man happened...”

“I don’t remember...” Levi folds the napkin and sets it back down on the table. Hanji is pouting, disappointed.

“I honestly don’t remember much besides him yelling at you, then the look on his face after you kissed his girl. Somehow that left a bigger impression.” Levi replies with snark.

Hanji laughs, justifiably pleased with herself. “She enjoyed it though...” Levi knows. What’s there not to enjoy. Hanji takes a sip of her coffee and makes a face. “Levi, try this... It’s the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted... And I’m not a person with any standards...”

Levi hates coffee. Even a cup of the gourmet stuff (or at least that’s what the label had said) had failed to impress him. So he doesn’t know why he relents and takes a sip. “Tastes like dick...” he nearly spits it out and Hanji cackles.

“Wanna go somewhere else that doesn’t have shit coffee?” Levi asks. Hanji looks out the windows, at the flashes of red and blue and the glare of floodlights. The diner has found itself in a bit of a situation- on the business end of the guns in the hands of the boys in blue. It’ll be hard to navigate round. It’s an inconvenience really.

“Hmmm... Sounds like too much trouble...” Hanji drawls, “besides... I can’t complain about the pancakes.”

“The service leaves much to be desired though...” Levi quips, eyes rolling to glare at the empty spot behind the counter. He can hear whimpering from where the waiters are ducked, knees pulled close to bodies, shaking like leaves. He might have to help himself with the refills later on.

Hanji stares absentmindedly out the window when she hears a crackle from the loud hailer. “Here we go again...” she mutters under her breath.

"Levi Ackerman! Hans Zoë! We have you surrounded! I repeat! We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands in the air!"

“Tch... Too goddamn loud for the morning...” Levi says, annoyed, but he doesn’t shift his gaze from Hanji.

“It’s Hanji Zoë... What- Why do they- Ugh... They can never get it right?” Hanji throws her hands up in a show of exasperation.

“I’ll make sure to tell them on the way out.” Levi chaffs.

Hanji turns her attention back to him. “So... Considering our predicament... It might be a good time to reminisce... You wanna start cowboy?” She plays coy, resting her chin in her hands and batting her eyelashes at him. The sight of Hanji like this always tickles him. But it also makes him want to take her to a motel and screw the living daylights out of her. And yet, his face gives nothing away, save for a slight tug at the corners of his lips. Hanji notices. She eases back into her chair, putting on a show for him by stretching long legs out toward him.

“Remember the day at the bank... When we first met?”

“Ah... How could I forget... Out of all the banks in the South side of town we had to pick the same one,” Hanji chuckles, “you hated my guts...”

“I lied... I was angry because I wanted to kiss you stupid right there and then.” Levi shrugs and stirs idly at his lukewarm cup of tea.

“Oh...” Hanji says, lips pursing. There’s a dust of pink high in her cheeks and suddenly she finds it hard to meet Levi’s searing gaze. “That was... Dammit Levi... That was actually really sweet... You’re making me look bad...”

“Spit it out four eyes.”

“I was just gonna ask if you remember the time we had that fight about me forgetting to take the bins out?”

“And you freaked the fuck out and went berserk?” Levi supplements.

“Yes... And I told you our bins weren’t empty because I saw the neighbours put their trash in them? Well... I lied... You were right... I just never took the bins out...”

“I know...”

“Then why did you apologise?”

Levi shrugs, “if you said you took the bins out, you took the bins out. You’ve stood up for me on far less...”

Hanji hums a reply, that she has. She presses her ankles against Levi under the table. “Tell you what... I’m going to walk over to you now and kiss you stupid. Right here. In front of all these strapping young officers. Then we’re going to stop with this sappy nonsense and talk business.”

Levi grunts a reply, sliding his chair out to give Hanji space. And in one long stride she’s sitting in his lap. Hanji keeps her promise and kisses him till they’re both gasping for air. All tongue slipping behind teeth and soft lips as practiced a million times before. She still feels the rush of adrenaline when Levi rests his hands on her hips, fingers digging into skin with possessive fervour. Her arms are thrown around his shoulders and she pulls him impossibly close. This feeling will never get old, she thinks. Like the thrill of a heist. They break apart and Hanji has a dopey smile on her face.

“Do you wanna talk business? Or you wanna continue staring?” Levi smirks and Hanji throws her head back to laugh.

“What do you say? What are our odds?” He says, drawing circles into the small of her back.

“Hmmm...” Hanji scans the windows. She loses count on the number of shaking fingers precariously gripping triggers. “If we’re just talking numbers... Not looking too good...”

“Well they can all- What did you say? Suck on a fat dick?”

Hanji laughs, yeah... she says, a little breathless when Levi reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. God does she love him.

“If we survive this, Levi Ackerman... Mark my words, I’ll make an honest man of you...” There’s a sparkle in Hanji’s eyes and Levi can’t help but return her smile. He deliberates debating the concept of an honest man, after all, they are far from honest people. Levi also has lots to say about the concept of “ride or die” too, considering he’s not one to prefer dying to be on the cards. Their skillset and expertise have not particularly allowed for glorified visions of going out with a bang, they always make it, and it's not luck either. It’s better to be alive, live to love another day. But it’s all petty semantics.

Because he sees the gleam in Hanji’s eyes- audacious, but far from ill-advised and he smiles, an ease consumes him. Whilst not preferable, dying with Hanji by his side isn’t too bad an idea. But Levi remembers it’s Hanji’s turn to clean the house and it would be unfair on him if they die today, considering how he’s been the one cleaning the past three times. He’s not going all soft when she whines this time. This time she’ll be the one cleaning for sure.

Semantics can go to hell.

“I’ll hold you to it, Hanji Zoë...” he whispers as he kisses her chin where he can reach. Levi pats Hanji’s thigh as he shifts to stand. His hands already on the holsters of his guns. She cocks her pistols, this isn’t anything they haven’t done before. And Hanji thinks the odds are still up in the air, it’s a little premature for visions of a glorified death. Besides the chicken in the fridge will go bad if they don’t have it by today. A good roast sounds perfect for dinner. They can have it with that bottle of wine they’ve been saving.

She sets her eyes on the targets and counts them off again in her head. She watches them with interest as they squirm in their boots. Hanji cracks her neck and shakes her knots loose.

Hanji freezes suddenly, “wait Levi...” she says with urgency, “I just got it!”

“No don’t-“ but before Levi can stop her, she’s already humming it- the song they had danced to at the pub. Hanji sways along to the tune. Levi clenches his fist and taps it against his forehead. Why does he have to love her so goddamn much.

“Do you know the name of the song? It’s absolutely killing me!”

“Hanji... I don’t know the name of any song...” Levi squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at his temples. “Great... Now it’s stuck in my head too...” he mutters through grit teeth. They walk toward the entrance of the diner.

Hanji grins. “Ready Levi?”

He nods, smiling at her once more for good luck.

“Let’s fuck shit up.”

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levihan fanfic #levihan fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyoujin #levi ackerman #hange zöe #hanji zoë #shingeki no kyojin #mine #whew tagging is tiring #i'm hiding from manga spoilers tell me when it's over #my fic

[aboyandhisstarship]

not sure if this will help, but Gwenvid prompt on the video game you played most recently?

been playing Ghost Recon Break point (pretty fun game) so i guess i will go with that 

David was dressed in his full gear as the three helicopters flew towards the island in the south pacific, 3 days ago a US Merchant ship was sunk off the coast and since then the island has gone full radio silence. Something that must be worrying enough to send 3 teams to find out what is going on, the choppers were flying over a small town when the pilot said “what the…” the helicopter started thumping and one of David’s team asked “a bird strike?”

Before the pilot could answer the door to the chopper flew open as it tilted, David went sailing out of the chopper as the air craft came sailing down a strange black mist follow it before David closed his eyes thinking he was about to die.

 Gwen heard the strange noises, gun shots explosions and a very loud splash, she grabbed a frying pan, and a second later a red head broke the surface of her pool gasping for air, behind him floating was a helmet with night vison googles on the front, he hauled himself out of the pool laying down coughing and checking himself over for Wounds. He clearly did not see Gwen who noted a few notable features, he was camo, had body armor on with 3 major features the center sat the American flag next to that sat a dark patch with red characters on it, in the centre of that patch was O- and below that was the words “O Negative.”  And next to and a bit above the flag was a name “Greenwood.”

The red head reached for his leg a pistol appearing in his hand “come out.”

Gwen carefully did and he lowered his pistol groaning “sorry about your pool ma’am.”

Struggling to his feet as Gwen heard the sound of a group of people coming, sentinel if she was willing to bet.

The man heard them as well struggling to his feet “I was never here for your sake.”

Gwen was about to answer when a man emerged surrounded by three guys in masks “nice try Nomad, you always were righteous.”

Gwen was thrown behind the solider as his safety clicked off “Campbell?”

The older man smiled “hello Davey, Or Master Sargent Greenwood if you prefer I call you by your full name.”

David slowly reached for a smoke grenade saying “I heard you were in eastern Europe?”

Campbell smiled “yea I figured when everyone is after you, keeping your head down with a bit of misdirection is always a good idea.”

David said “the cargo ship…what do you know.”

Campbell pursed his lips before throwing a ring of things in front of David, David asked “are those?”

Campbell nodded “dog tags…your mission has failed Davey…everyone is dead…save for you…because I quite like you…you can’t beat my wolves…so why try…give it up and I will let the owner of this house live…Misses Gwendolyn Santos…software engineer at Skell Tech, came here for world 2.0…didn’t work out for you did it?”  He said addressing Gwen was hiding.

After a moment Campbell growled “answer!”

Gwen shook her head “ever since sentinel showed up…it has been hell.”

Campbell clapped his heads “you see you lost give it up.”

David glared “you were one of us…and you killed us like we were nothing.”

Campbell clenched his fists “you betrayed me!”

David said “and you killed innocent people….”

Campbell sighed “I see that is your answer…kill him.”

David dropped his smoke grenade, quickly shooting the two wolves before diving out of the view as Campbell tried to return fire he grabbed Gwen quickly dragging her to a car saying “is this your car?”

Gwen asked “what…uhh yea.”

David nodded “great!” he stepped on the gas flying away as Campbell tried in vain to shoot at the fleeing pair. David tried his radio “Nomad to any friendly Unit, requesting status?”

Campbell returned “good thought Nomad, but I got all of them remember?”

David narrowed his eyes “you are a dead man.”

He turned off his radio before throwing the GPS out of the window as Gwen said “uhh where are we going?”

David sighed “Someplace safe until I can figure out what the heck I can do.”

After about 20 minutes David covered the car in branches and dragged Gwen into a cave he sat against the wall he sighed “The wasp is still off the coast…I can get a boat and come back with a whole force of marines.”

Gwen sighed “you can’t…”

David blinked as Gwen explained “there is a network of drones around the island that they have been using as an artificial defense wall…causing what could be…”

David asked “Artificial bird strikes?”

Gwen sighed “I coded them to replace Bees in fields…but yea…”

David smiled programmed them…can you stop them?”

Gwen paused before nodding “I think so?”

David nodded “then get some sleep…tomorrow is a big Day.”

#ask mack a question #Gwenvid #Camp camp david #camp camp Gwen #Camp camp campbell #Ghost Recon Breakpoint

[inspirationdivine]

A Quiet Murder Place

Lydia and Deirdre orchestrate Kaden’s death, with a cruel twist.

Lydia clutched her purse, looking around the room. She stood next to Lydia, looking around the bar. A Quiet Place lived up to its name, and was the perfect place to find someone disposable to kill Kaden. No one in this town liked mimes (although the bar was still full) so no one would notice the absence - because, Lydia secretly decided, this mime wouldn’t survive the ordeal either way. Whichever one they chose. “Are there any you like the look of?” She asked Deirdre softly.

Deirdre held herself back from a joke, something about how Lydia wasn’t making it sound like they were looking for a murder-servent. Like it really mattered what the mime looked like, but she had to hand it to Lydia. A mime was the best choice to kill Kaden; silent, insultingly French and best of all, something he would hate. “Does it matter?” She leaned into Lydia, whispering back. “Do we want a mime that looks strong? Troubled? Like they’re one whisper away from killing someone? Should we ask for résumés too?” She grinned, a little taken by her joke. “My vote is on one that’s hot. The type of mime that could just rip their striped shirt off and carry me to bed.”

The corner’s of Lydia’s lips turned up at Deirdre’s joke. “Would you want them to fuck you with or without the makeup? How do we decide which is hot in that… style of makeup? It’s rather unclear who has the best bone structure.” She teased back, before looking at the room. “The least confident. The most eager for the attention of two beautiful women. Although I wouldn’t say no to some strength. This Kaden looks rather strong on social media. While a gun does solve such things, they aren’t always reliable.”

“Oh, with the makeup, of course. That’s all the charm of it. I don’t want to see anyone’s face while I have sex, I usually make my partners wear paper bags.” Deirdre grinned back, more pleased that Lydia was going along with her joke than she should have been. Maybe she wasn’t so stuck-up after all. She scanned the room a moment later, figuring she might as well actually contribute. Another comment caught her attention though, and she snapped her gaze back to Lydia. “You---were you looking at pictures of him online, Lydia?” Deirdre held back a snicker, “you know he’s Regan’s boyfriend, right? She wasn’t so happy when I tried to marry him.” The idea of Lydia ogling anyone was amusing enough. “If we want someone desperate, maybe we should be the ones ripping off our shirts. How do you usually find people, Lydia?” 

“Darling, we need pictures of him from online to ensure we send the mime after the right man. Regan needn’t be jealous, I’ve ogled plenty of photos of her as well.” Lydia replied with a wink, before turning her eyes more seriously to the staff. “At open mic nights and tiny theatres. Vimeo, once. Not those two, see?” she gestured to two servers walking past each other, drinks in each hand. “They keep smiling and nodding at each other. Strong social connections, so likely to be missed. Not her, she holds her shoulder upright and loosely. Confident, not trying to prove anything. Not him,” Lydia turned her finger to one of the smaller mimes in the joint, “He’d break his arm just lifting the smallest purse pistol, even if he is attractive for a human. I’d say it was between those two - the man who keeps glancing in your direction, and that one that looks like he could moonlight as a male stripper. Neither look friendly with each other, or sure of themselves.” Lydia leant back, turning her snake-like gaze back to the softer look with which she smiled at Deirdre. “Between those two, do you have a preference?” 

“Well now I’m jealous,” Deirdre tried to wink back, but found herself weirdly mesmerized by the sight of Lydia raking her eyes through the crowd. And then with her flawless deduction. Her mother would really like Lydia, she was overcome with that thought first. Then that she really liked Lydia. Deirdre hummed as Lydia went on, waiting for a gap in her words to let her own tumble out with gentle awe. “You’re amazing.” She breathed out, her own observational skills weren’t that sharp. Yet, in place of her usual jealousy, there was admiration. Deirdre slowly turned her gaze to the men Lydia was pointing out. “Hm, I don’t like the one staring at me. He’s too easily distracted, though he has great taste. Now--” Deirdre glanced at the other man. Big. A strong physique took dedication. And he was...well, hotter. Just based on that. “I like that one.” She laughed softly, “what do you say? I’ll admit it’s harder to read mimes than I thought. But you’re good at it.” 

“Only if I’m right. Thank-you, darling, all the same,” Lydia smiled at the banshee. “I’m good at spotting prey.” Lydia followed Deirdre’s gaze, nodding in agreement at the first mime’s distractibility, before following her gaze to the other man. He did match both their requirements, after all. “Suits me very well,” Lydia replied with a smile. “So now we need to wait for him to take a break. In the meantime, I suppose, we drink. Martini?” They talked idly, both keeping the occasional eye on their mystery target, until he walked over to the counter, reached behind it for his phone, and walked outside. “After you, my dear.”

Of all the things Deirdre expected to be doing, enjoying a martini with Lydia inside a mine bar was not one. Thankfully, despite the less-than stellar environment, Deirdre enjoyed both Lydia's company and conversation, idle as it was. Maybe they didn't need the mime. Maybe the true activation was the activation of their friendship and—"Yes, please, let's go." No, she'd take mischievous ploy over friendly banter any day. She led them out, finding their mime standing out by the alley for a smoke. He looked lonely, with his painted face illuminated by the blue light of his phone. She almost felt bad for him...almost. He was probably about to get more love and attention right now than he ever had before. Deirdre turned to Lydia, brows raised. "Seduction is your game," she said. She wasn't the one with the kiss that did anything magical—at least not in the literal sense. "You talk to him first?" 

“With pleasure,” Lydia replied, and perhaps if one blinked, her appearance became just slightly more entrancing than usual. Under the blue light, she could see the crackling paint layer around his mouth as he dragged on his little death stick. “Hi there,” she murmured, waving to catch his attention. “My friend and I were talking about you earlier. We were talking about how attractive you were, and I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lydia.” Her gaze was intense and appreciative. Like a deer caught in headlights, he couldn’t make himself look away. 

“Yeah, right,” he replied, slowly, unsure if he should break the rules of his job. “What are you, some kind of missionary?”

“Not at all,” she demurred, still captivating him with her gaze. “You’re very good at the miming. Very comedic, and I can’t say I dislike your… arms, either.” Without hesitation, she ran her fingers along his arm to drive home the point. And to test something. Someone in a committed relationship would find that off putting and push her away. Someone confident would too. But the affectionate touch, so soon into the conversation, only made him pause, his mouth so lacking that his cigarette almost fell from his lips. He was unsure, but wasn’t prepared to say no. Couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “What’s your name?”

“Miccy. Uh, well, uh, Michael. I’m Michael. It’s- it’s nice to meet, you. You’re attractive - I mean, I think you’re attractive as well… Lydia?” He stammered, hoping he’d gotten her name right. She smiled so very sweetly, like poisoned honey. Pathetic little man. 

“Oh, thank you! I hope we’re not taking away from your break too much. I could barely help myself -” She paused in her little faux ramble, tilting her head. “You still think we’re pulling your leg, don’t you? Let me introduce me to my friend, Deirdre. Maybe she can think of a way I can persuade you.” As she turned to Deirdre, she slipped one hand around his forearm, the other to his back. 

Poor Miccy. First for his awful nickname (did he pick that out himself?), and then for whatever terrible circumstance quashed his confidence. Even without a kiss, Deirdre could feel him yielding to Lydia. And so easily too, as if he'd just been waiting for this kind of thing to happen—as if he hoped, but never dared think it could be true. "She wouldn't shut up about you in there! The way you mimed was like an art—"

"I take miming very seriously," he interjected. Deirdre had no trouble withholding her scoff. Sure he did, talking up a storm to them over here. 

"Look, I know this is sudden but my friend really likes you. And she'd like to get to know you better. More than just those great arms that—well, now I'm jealous of her." Deirdre smiled. The mime dared to look back at Lydia, bashful. "I'm sorry, I know a man like you must get this all the time. You wouldn't have any ideas on how she could persuade you that she's being more honest than all of your other admirers, do you?"

Miccy blinked, he liked the idea of him with admirers, him with these two women who liked his arms and his miming. He just needed the right suggestion. So, Deirdre reached across slowly and plucked the cigarette from his parted lips. "So..." She hummed, taking a drag from his cigarette and slowly blowing out the smoke to her side. "No ideas?" 

He stared at her lips, gulped, then turned to look at Lydia's. "Then uh, you know if you're really not missionaries. Y-you know in France they..." He gulped again, but his mind was on the track Deirdre wanted it to be. 

 "Kiss?" She finished for him. Poor Miccy was too nervous to nod, he wanted to know if that was okay. In their damp alley, his phone slipping out of his hand and his hair slowly falling out of place. If the fantasy he was excited by could be true just this once. He took to biting down on his lip instead and Deirdre, hiding disgust, turned her attention to Lydia. "What do you think?" 

Deirdre was good at this, Lydia thought, as she watched Deirdre pluck Miccy’s cigarette from his lips. She leant against his side idly as him and Deirdre talked, gently rubbing his back. “That sounds like a great idea,” she agreed, and slid her hand under his chin, tilting his face down to hers as she stretched onto her toes. 

His lips were chapped, but he caught her looking at them, and if one could feel a pulse jump, she felt it. Lydia’s lips parted just before she kissed him. His breath was bad, not brushed in several days bad, and his teeth clinked against hers the moment he tried to reciprocate. It didn’t matter, it was too late. Her poison was in his lips and in his breath, seeping into him and making him devastatingly, horrifically trapped. She leant back, wiping her lips with a soft smile. “How do you feel now? Do you believe me now?” She asked coyly, as he nodded vigorously. “You’re incredible.” It was incredible that he was so easy to trick. Her gaze slid down to his phone, slipping his grasp. “Hear, let me look after your phone for you.” Unthinkingly, he handed it over. Her toxin was working, and he would obey. “I would really like it if you listened to Deirdre as much as you would me. Can you promise me that?” Her words didn’t have to sound affectionate anymore, when her tone did. Look at all she was offering, her hands said, even while her words were at surface level confusing. 

“Yes,” he said, his voice thick and eager, “I promise.”

All of a sudden, Deirdre felt terribly for Lydia. That kiss didn’t look great, well, not great for one of them. Concern panged in her, was she asking for too much from Lydia? To do this for her? Kiss the horrible mime? And just how many terrible kisses had the women had to go through just to get the things she wanted? But this wasn’t about Lydia, the woman she knew so little, but had already asked too much of, it was about Miccy and getting him to kill Kaden. Besides, she’d seen this sort of thing a hundred times. Usually though, it was all about getting a human to go steal something, or run around naked, or anything much more jovial than murder. “Was it bad?” She asked Lydia, unable to stop her worry even as she knew it was misplaced. “Should we...make him go promise to...brush his teeth or something?”

And it seemed they didn’t even need to, at the mere mention of brushing, Miccy nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’ams.”

Deirdre rolled her eyes at him, then clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Slow down there, stud. I haven’t asked you anything yet.” And he mimed zipping his lips shut, eyes wide and eager. She could see the apple of this thorat bob as he swallowed down more excitement. He’d probably be drooling if his mouth was open, like a dog. “Would you kill for me, Miccy? You’d do that, wouldn’t you? If we wanted it? You’d make us so happy.” He nodded so fast Deirdre thought his head might roll off. “And you won’t tell anyone you met us, would you? You’d forget our names if we wanted that?” He nodded again. “Well!” Deirdre threw her arms up and turned to Lydia, “you did good work on him. I guess we can start with the promise-binding. You wouldn’t happen to have any picture of Kaden loaded up there now, would you? Since you apparently spend so much time looking at him.” Deirdre smirked, teasing her, mood settled now that their plan was in motion.   

Lydia kept her hands on him as he talked, reinforcing the comfort of their close contact so that she could withdraw it if they needed to give him a small incentive. He was particularly weak willed, this one, his devotion heightened by his neediness. “You’re being so good,” she crooned, stroking his arm before turning back to Deirdre. “Of course I do,” she murmured, pulling up the album on her phone of photos carefully scoured from the internet, most more than a few years old, but Kaden was still distinctly recognisable. In this case, distinct meant like the smell of an old fish town, with rotten bulging eyes on every fish in the marketplace. Lydia showed Miccy the photos. “This man’s name is Kaden Langley. This is Regan Kavanagh. I want you to do something that will make me so happy. Can you promise that? Promise that you’ll do what I ask, as soon as you can?” 

“Yes, Lydia, anything for you,” he agreed quickly, and melted just as fast under the quick kiss she pressed to his cheek.

“Thank you so much, darling. So the next time Kaden Langley and Regan are together, this weekend in the Artesian, can you promise to kill him for us?”

Miccy… hesitated. A simple rhetoric question from Deirdre was different from an active plan. The devotion wasn’t perfect, but Lydia already had what she needed. She dropped his arm and stepped away from him, imposing a consequence. “You promised. You wouldn’t have lied to us, would you have?” Sweat started to pool in his forehead. He was already bound to agree, he wanted her approval so much it felt like he needed it. 

“No- I- I promise. I will kill Kaden Langley, this weekend, in the artesian.”

“Oh, you don’t know how much that makes me happy.” Lydia cuddled him again. “You wouldn’t do anything to give yourself or us away, would you? You wouldn’t let anyone know about this plan or us, ever?”

“I- I wouldn’t.”

Deirdre shifted, not uncomfortable, simply...struck by some manner of strangeness. When it came to murder, she always did it herself. It started as a way to prove herself, then it developed with her stubborn need for Independence. Finally, it was about the principle. If she was going to take a life, and spur fate's wheel by her own actions, then she was also going to do it by her own hand. This was smarter, safer, but it also felt wrong. Though, who was she to complain? "You know, I could kiss you right now, Lydia." She grinned, Miccy looked at her as though he'd been stabbed in the chest. At first, she assumed this reaction to be jealousy, but it felt almost like a plea for help, for some manner of freedom. Was this normal, or was Lydia's hold not as complete as Deirdre assumed it would be? Would it be a problem? She frowned, but knew their promises would hold Miccy in place. "Can you promise that when you kill Kaden Langley, it'll be in front of Regan Kavanagh? That'd make both of us very happy."

Miccy gulped, "I-I promise." 

"And you'll do it as a mime? Dressed as a mime? This one's just for me, I love you as a mime so much."

"Y-yes," Miccy twitched, grounding himself only in the feeling of Lydia. "I promise I will kill Kaden Langley as a mime." 

"Oh, and, one last thing...who's prettier? Me or Lydia?"

Miccy balked, then he paled—some Deirdre didn't know mines could do under their white face paint—and sweat rippled through the already cracked makeup. "Lydi—no, yo—no, Lyd—no!" He threw his hands up to his face, sobbing into his palms. "I don't know!" He wept comically, not unlike a child. "I can't choose! I can never choose! That's why I'm a mime! I made a mistake on my college application and never corrected them!" He continued to sob as Deirdre shot Lydia a look of feigned apology. 

When Miccy burst into tears, Lydia gave Deirdre a look that was something like exasperation - not directed at Deirdre but at this pathetic slimy human. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing his face to her shoulders as he sobbed. “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s alright, Miccy. You’ve been so good. I promise, after you’ve done this, that we’ll never ask such a thing of you again. I’ll take care of you. Hey, shhh, it’s okay. We’ll meet again on Monday, I promise.” His make-up was smeared and his eyes bloodshot. “I’m looking forward so much to seeing you again. She gently kissed his lips. “Now, go clean up, and be the best mime you could possibly be tonight. I’m sure you’re feeling inspired. I know I am.”

And once Miccy was gone back inside, their goodbyes said to him, and their plan was as secure as it could be, Deirdre turned to Lydia and erupted in laughter. "The best mime he could possibly be! What is that? A guy who looks like he rolled around in flour and thinks flailing is an art?" Deirdre threw her arms around Lydia, delighted. "You're the best non-mime a girl could ask for; thank you. I'd kiss you but I really don't want any of Miccy's germs." And their perfect little plan was finally ready, and she owed the best of it to Lydia. 

@deathduty @chasseurdeloup @kadavernagh

#para #chatzy #deirdre

[we-killed-parker]

Deadly Deals

Class of 198x 

Ships: OT4, but Amanda and Mike are the only characters present.

Note: Fake 198x/Fakes of 198x/Fake8x, I don’t know what to call this au 😅 In this AU, Mike doesn't work with his SO's very often, preferring to stay clean and manage his moving company, but he lends a hand when any of them need his help. AU co-created by @ryanthemadbitch! Warnings: there’s guns, there’s a fight, everyone makes it out alive.

Read on Ao3 // Read the other fic from this AU

“I don't understand why I'm here.” Mike grumbled, glancing up and down the back alley for the twentieth time. They stood against the wall next to a dumpster, a dim bare bulb above them casting shadows across their faces.

“Cause I need backup and Sam and Hannah are busy.” Amanda said. She crossed her arms, her shiny blue purse dangling from her forearm. Mike didn't want to be there, he had made it abundantly clear the entire way over and for the past five minutes as they waited.

“What are they doing?”

“Restocking. Tito tipped Sam off to a small stash down at the precinct and was going to make sure they were clear to get to it, though only through the vents, so Sam and Hannah would be the only ones that can get to it.”

Mike shook his head, “I still don't trust Tito. I don't know why you guys deal with him.”

“He's dirty and cheap to pay off, and he's been more helpful than anything so far. Don't worry hon, we're keeping an eye on him. If he so much as thinks about turning on us, we'll make his life hell.”

Mike grunted. He saw no reason to trust the dirty cop, but he didn't doubt his three significant others could handle him.

Amanda glanced down at her wrist, noting the time on her watch when Mike elbowed her and she looked towards the mouth of the alley. Three men in button up shirts and suit jackets had just turned the corner and were walking up to them, a cocky swagger in their steps. The two behind the leader carried a crate between them.

“Was about to think you weren't coming,” she said in greeting, pushing herself off the wall. Mike stood next to her, tall and intimidating at her shoulder. She could see the lead guy eyeing Mike up, his expression wary. Good. That's what she had hoped for bringing him along.

“Wouldn't miss it for the world, baby girl.” The leader took his eyes away from Mike and purred at her. She felt like she was going to hurl, this guy was actually trying to flirt with her? She could hear the change in Mike's breathing, evening out as he attempted to keep himself calm.

“Yeah, we're not going there, Allen, just show me the goods.” She said.

“You got the money?”

“Show me the goods, Allen.”

Allen glared at her, but snapped his fingers as he stepped back. The two dropped the crate at her feet and pulled the lid off. In the crate was a pile of weapons, on the left were three pistols, each wrapped in police standard leather holsters, and to the right was a box of smoke and fragment grenades. She could see at the bottom of the crate there was the rifle she had requested as well. On top of it all though was a wooden bat, the handle wrapped in red and black grip tape.

“Didn't ask for a bat.” She said.

“Oh gosh, how did that get in there, that's my favorite bat.” Allen said with badly feigned surprise. He scooped up the bat, twirling it by the end of the handle before leaning it against his shoulder.

“We said no weapons, Allen.”

“Could say the same thing to you.” He said, side-eyeing Mike.

“I'm not allowed to bring a partner when you brought two?”

Allen shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile. “You want this or not?”

“Not. Have a good night, gentlemen.” She said, pivoting on the heel of her gogo pumps.

In an instant she heard the snap of Allen's fingers, followed by the crack of a gunshot and Mike's hand was on her shoulder shoving her to the side. She stumbled and barely got her hands up to protect her face before she landed hard on the ground. She rolled onto her back, her feet caught between Mike's as he stood over her. She looked up just in time to see Allen strike Mike in the side, the bat connecting hard with his ribs. Mike grunted but retaliated with a punch, the hit swinging just past Allen's nose as he ducked back. The goon with a gun turned it on Mike, who grabbed the guys hand, forcing his arm up just as he fired, the bullet whizzing over Mike's head and into the brick wall of the alley. He twisted the guys wrist and forcibly disarmed him, throwing the gun away. The other goon came from the other side and landed a punch to the side of Mike's head, making him stumble back and fall to one knee with a grunt.

“Mike!” Amanda shrieked, trying to sit up and help him. He extended his arm behind him and held his palm towards her, signaling her to stop, stay back and stay out of danger. She didn't want to listen, but she couldn't get up with the way he was straddling her legs.

He managed to get to his feet, stepping to the side to have solid footing without her legs in the way and getting into a stance before the now weaponless goon was on him, a flurry of punches that he managed to block with his forearms. He shoved the guys arms outwards, leaving his chest open and landing a solid kick to his chest, sending him reeling backwards.

Before he could get his feet back under him Allen was swinging for his ribs again, this time landing a hit hard enough to break ribs with a sickening crack. Mike roared at him, swinging wildly with his fists. Allen weaved and bobbed, avoiding every punch before rearing back for another swing of the bat.

It struck true on the right side of Mike's head, sending him reeling. He spun nearly all the way around and collapsed, landing heavily on Amanda and driving the breath out of her chest. She lay there gasping, trying to get even the smallest amount of air in her lungs.

“Well, that went a little far. Do you still want this?” Allen asked, gesturing to the crate. He stepped next to her, placing a boot on Mike's back. She could only lay there glaring up at him, lack of air leaving her silent. “No, you don't? How about your purse? I assume that's where the money is?” He pressed down on Mike's back, putting more weight on her chest. The only response she could give was a wheeze. “Alright, no response is a yes in my books, so I'll be taking that too.” He reached down, snatching the purse from her arm. He slung it over his shoulder, striking a pose with it and the bat being used as a cane before smirking at her and walking back to the crate.

“Hey! Hey, are you ok?” Someone hollered from the street. “Oh shit, what's going on here?”

Allen snapped his fingers and his goons scooped up the crate between them and all three booked it down the alley in the opposite direction of the bystander.

As soon as she could breathe again Amanda started shrieking, her throat burning as she screamed for someone to help. Mike's head was just off her shoulder, his breath inconsistent against the side of her neck and she could see blood spreading through his hair. “Help! Somebody help! We've been robbed!”

The man that yelled was next to them in short order, his feet skidding on the cracked pavement. “Miss? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine,” she said. She couldn't get up, laden as she was by Mike's weight and her arms pinned at an awkward angle. “Mike! Mike, wake up. Please, Mike!” Her eyes watered, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks at the sight of Mike so still, so limp against her. “Please, I can't lift him.”

“Shit, yeah, he's a big guy,” the man commented, rolling Mike off of her.

She latched onto Mike, making the man drag her with him with her fingers knotted in Mike's t-shirt. Her eyes burned with tears and she could feel her throat tightening, a sob ripping its way from her chest painfully.

“Ma’am, please let go,” the man said, putting his hand firmly on her shoulder, “Let me get a look at him.”

“No, he’s my boyfriend! Mike, please wake up!” She couldn’t stop babbling. No matter the risks they took, the fights they got in, she could never get used to seeing any of her partners injured, but Mike most of all. He was always so strong, so steady. She had seen him fall before, almost lost him a couple times even, but it was painful to watch every time. God, what she would do for one of those tubes of healing goo right then. He wasn't even supposed to be here, he didn't want to be involved in this part of her life and yet here he was, bleeding in an alley he never should have been in.

She barely registered the man asking her questions until he put his hand on her shoulder again. “Ma’am, I need to go get help, will you be ok for a couple of minutes?”

She nodded, sniffing back tears as she tried to compose herself. The guy took off out if the alley again, barely disappearing around the corner before Amanda was trying to wake Mike.

“Mike? Can you hear me? Come on big guy, we need to get out of here.” She said, tapping his cheek.

He groaned, rolling his head away from her and then blinking his eyes open. “'Manda?”

“Yeah, it's me, I'm here Mike!”

“Are you ok?”

“Am I ok? What the fuck dude, you just got your ass beat and you're asking me if I'm ok?” She couldn't believe he was actually thinking of her at this moment and slapped his chest.

That was a bad idea. Mike clenched his jaw and his whole body nearly curled in on himself, his arms coming up to protect his ribs. “Ow! What the frick, that hurts.”

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry, that was so stupid and I shouldn't have done that.” She winced, pulling her hands away.

“I'm definitely awake now,” Mike coughed out.

“Can you stand? We need to get out of here before that guy comes back.”

“One way to find out.”

It took a minute of moving very slowly, but Mike was finally on his feet, leaning heavily on Amanda for support as they walked deeper into the alley and out the other side to where their car was parked. With Mike in the passenger seat and Amanda driving, they started the drive back home. Amanda hoped Sam and Hannah would be home by the time they got there to help take care of Mike. She felt so guilty, asking him to come with her only to wind up with him so injured.

It was quiet in the car for a few minutes, Mike had slouched in his seat against the door with his eyes closed. She glanced over at him a few times until he finally broke the silence.

“If you have something to say, just say it. I can hear you thinking from here.”

“I just… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for bringing you along and getting you hurt.”

He half opened one eye, squinting at her. “And what would you have done without me? If Sam and Hannah couldn't be there and I wasn't there, I don't think Allen would have let you off easy.” He closed his eye again. “And I don't know what we would do without you.” He added with a whisper. Amanda was surprised to feel his hand on her arm, gently tugging until she took her hand off of the steering wheel and letting him fit his fingers in between hers. He didn't initiate contact very often and she nearly swerved off the road in shock.

“I-I don't know what we would do without you either, Mike.”

Mike squeezed her hand and let their hands fall to the seat between them, fingers still entwined.

“You saved my life.”

Mike grunted in agreement.

“Thank you.”

Another grunt and then silence filled the car again.

“I'll probably do it again, but please. Just leave me to my boxes when possible.” Mike said, the hint of a laugh in his voice.

Amanda squeezed his hand before letting go to turn into their driveway to park next to Sam’s van. “I'll do my best,” she said with a laugh.

#class of 198x #fake 198x #gta au fic #my fic #amanda hess #mike jaundice #I'm gonna try to write another story like Pressure Pops #I like that style more but I just don't get the inspiration for it very often #Fake8x

[absolutechippedtooth-blog]

Please God, Be Kind Part 2 (Frank Castle x Reader)

           “So tell me about this girl,” You murmured and slid into the bed next to Frank. There was a rare twinkle in his eye that was accompanied by a goofy grin. It was rare to see quiet and introverted Frank a little bashful and star eyed. This was a side so few people had seen. To most it would have seemed odd. To you it was like Christmas come early to see him happy.

           “Damn she was-” He trailed and just looked out the window of your shared apartment. “She was beautiful. And witty too, she gave as good as she got.” Laughing you patted his shoulder and smiled. Frank Castle had it bad for a woman he had just met. It was good to see him happy.

           “What’s her name?” You asked.  The bottle of whiskey that sat open between you found its way to his lips.

           “Maria,” He stated and his voice dropped low, “Mark my words, I’m going to marry that woman.”

           Frank was rarely wrong. This time was no exception. Maria was soon Mrs. Castle. The biggest thing had been introducing the two of you. Maria was worried that you wouldn’t like her, being the best friend and all. You were worried that she would get territorial due to the fact that you were another woman. Turns out it was Frank who should have been worried. The two of you got along too damn well. First of all Maria was remarkably intelligent and observant; there was little that happened around her that she didn’t notice and she had a good sense of humor. There were some nights when the two of you would go out and drink. The stories that she could tell about her shitty boss or parents could last for hours. Those were the good times. Things got tense when you got deployed. As a corpsman you were responsible for keeping soldiers alive and this time it looked like your deployment would last a little longer than usual. Frank was nervous and was fretting about. The two of you had been close for a very long time and he didn’t enjoy being separated from you. But you had a duty to your country and the men who served it.

           “Frank.” You embraced him, “Everything is going to be fine,” He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if that was true or not. You were capable of taking care of yourself but that didn’t mean that everyone else would have your back.

           “You call whenever you get a chance and you stay alert. I just got a bad feeling about this one, yeah? Got it?” He pressed his forehead to yours and you nodded.

           “C’mon, you know I’m not going to be doing anything too dangerous.” You slung your pack over your back went to Maria. She was standing off to the side with a sad smile on her face. Leaning in, you kissed her cheek.

           “Make sure this one doesn’t do anything too stupid,” You told her and she laughed.

_______________________________________________________________

           Your arms were numb. It had been at least a couple of hours since the last time your feet had touched the ground. The air was stale and acrid. There was no windows and the doorway wasn’t visible from your current position. Frank had been right. Something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. The intelligence your unit had been given was wrong. You should have never taken the position as specialized unit’s medic. The simple mission, it had left your squad mates dead. A simple mission had gone to utter shit and now you were strung up and bleeding. The men around you were speaking a language you could catch a few words of but didn’t completely understand. A knife was pressed to your bare belly and you didn’t have the energy to flinch away. Maria, what would she be doing right now? Laundry? Cooking lunch or dinner? Maybe taking a walk through the park? What would you give to have to eat some of her cooking?

           “Where is the rest of your squad located?” One of the men asked, voice heavily accented. Rolling your head back, you looked at the cracks in the ceiling.

           “Six feet under considering that the entirety of my squad was with me when I was captured.” You told him. A strike the knife left you gasping. Blood ran down your bruised torso. The man’s face was filled with fury. Fortunately you could take a fair amount of abuse. It was nothing new. This didn’t even rival some of the beatings your own father could dish out back in the day.

           “No your unit was too small,” He told her. Looking at him, you pursed your lips in a thin line. It was time to make a choice. You thought of Frank and his big smile and crooked nose. You thought of Maria and her soft laugh. You thought of the love you felt when you were near them and took a deep breath.

           “I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” You stated and kept the tremble out of your voice, “I’m just a medic.” What came next was series of punches against already broken ribs. When the fire under skin stopped burning you opened your eyes and narrowed them.

           “You will die here,” The man stated and twirled the knife, an odd tick. A bloody smile crossed your face and you spat the blood in your mouth to the ground.

           “I know,”

           It turned out that they didn’t plan on killing you that or next or even the day after that.   It had to have been more than a month now. The problem it seemed was that they thought you had information that you absolutely did not. Dragged out of your small cell you gazed at the halls. By now you had the route memorized. Two rights and then a left and you would be strung up, beaten senseless, and then returned to your cell. They had recently gotten creative. The starvation wasn’t too bad. Nor was the drowning if you were being honest. It was the lack of sleep that was starting to get to you. It was the lack of sunlight. Today was particularly bad. Right. Right. Left. The rattle of chains. The unnerving feeling of being lifted off the ground. Then you were met with silence. Opening your eyes you leveled the man you had become rather well acquainted with a cold stare.

           “Getting’ bored?” You asked. He said nothing and looked at you. Today there was no knife in his hand. There was no other instrument that he could cut you open with either. That meant one of two things. It would either be his hands or something far less pleasant.

           “I just find it interesting that you have lasted as long as you have. Whether you tell us the information or not does not change the outcome of what happens here.” The man walked over to the table at the far end of the room and picked up a blowtorch.  Letting out the bitter breath you had been holding in, you adjusted and gripped the chains above the manacles.  The sound of the gas being flicked on and ignited sounded like a bomb going off. It smelled.

           “Well I’m nothing if not stubborn.” The man approached you and put a steadying hand on your hip, hands strangely gentle. Panicked breath left your body as he leaned in.

           “True, but we’ve reached the end of the line.” Those cold eyes studied you and you knew that this time it was true. Steadying yourself, you looked the man in the eyes.

           “Well let’s get on with it then. It’s rude to lead a girl on,” You pursed your lips and looked at the wall with words of goodbye stuck at the back of your throat. When the flame licked at your skin you didn’t bother to hold back the screams.

           Everything fucking hurt. The man tipped your chin up and you met his gaze. The subtle respect you saw there was surprising.

           “Would you prefer a knife or gun?” He asked and you choked. It was the first real choice you’d had in a month and the freedom of it was a bitter pill to swallow.

           “I think I’ll take the gun,” You choked out and let your eyes close. There were familiar sounds. The sound of a magazine being inserted. The sound of the slide being pulled back. A bullet entering the chamber. The sound of gunfire…the screams of men screaming. Opening your eyes you saw that the man was standing at the door pistol raised before he glanced at you. Please, you thought, be stupid. It turns out the man was a lot dumber than you originally thought. Walking towards you, he pressed the gun to your stomach. Clearly he was intent on taking you hostage. When the door opened and the end of a rifle appeared he glanced away.

           “You move, she dies!” He called out and turned his body towards the door. Snarling you lifted yourself up and wrapped your legs around his neck. The gun dropped from his hands and you squeezed. Hands ripped at your thighs, trying to loosen your grip.

           “Or you will,” You stated. The soldier on the other side of the doorway entered the room. Twisting your hips you snapped your torturer’s neck and let him slide to the ground. The soldier was watching you with something like awe and grabbed the keys. When he got to you, he assessed where would be the best to grab you. His eyes and hair were dark. The uniform he wore was that of the Marines. Gripping your hips he lifted you gently to alleviate some of the pressure and unlocked the first manacle. Slumping forwards you rested against his body as he repeated the action with your other hand.

           “I got ya,” He said and carried you out the door. You breathed in the smell of him. Sand and sweat.

           “Castle I got her,” The soldier who rescued you stated as you entered the main room. It was impossible but you lifted you head. Frank fucking Castle stood less than three feet from you. Reaching out, you made a noise at the back of your throat. The gun in his hand hit the floor and you were gently removed from the other soldier’s arms.

           “Curtis!” Frank yelled frantically, “Curtis get in here!” You reached up and traced your fingers over the tip of his nose and jaw.

           “Hi,” You smiled. There were a number of things you wanted to say. There were things you should have been embarrassed about. The fact that you were nearly naked and completely broken in a room full of Marines was one of them. But you were safe, Frank was here. It was laughable really that his unit was the one who found you.

           “Hi,” He answered and wiped tears away with his free hand. A man you assumed was Curtis entered the room and you saw that he was a corpsman. You were injured, right. Everything was just kind of numb at this point.

           “None of that,” You murmured and offered a small smile as you were eased to the ground. What came next was a blur. You were sure that Curtis got you comfortable and stable. You were sure that there was a helicopter ride. You were sure that you heard Frank whispering soft words in your ear.

________________________________________________________________

           Frank was next to your bed when you woke up, dead asleep. Smiling fondly, you tried to sit up. Instead you fell back against the pillows and let out a grunt. Frank was startled out of sleep and looked around before his gaze settled on you. The warmth of his eyes settled over you.

           “I feel like shit,” You told him and let out a shaky breath. Snorting, he got a hand under your head and the other under your thighs to help you sit up. The dryness of your throat was clearly apparent because he handed you a glass of water. You murmured your thanks and chugged it.

           “Easy there birdy,” His voice was low and gentle; “You aren’t exactly in the best shape right now.” The burns were still fresh enough to sting and your ribs ached but overall you felt great. It was then that the soldier who’d gotten you out of the room that day entered your temporary abode.

           “Frank-” He paused when he saw you sitting upright. Now that you weren’t delirious from a culmination of awful things you could see that he had an angular face with high cheek bones. The shape of his mouth was full and he had dark and wickedly intelligent eyes. Without thinking you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

           “Well you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a month,” Immediately you grimaced and Frank burst into laughter. Now that you really thought about it, there was the haze of morphine at the back of you consciousness. Drugs always made you irreverent and chatty. “Sorry,” You said to the soldier at the door. The whole time Frank was laughing before the other soldier gave a small chuckle.

           “It’s an honor ma’am.” He extended his hand and you took it in your own, “Billy Russo,” Even his name sounded nice. Frank had mentioned him more than once, he had your best friend’s back. There was a tick before Frank cleared his throat and ran his fingers through your hair.

           “Well corpsman, it is my absolute pleasure to inform you that you will be going home as soon as you’re fit to fly.” Frank had that soft sound to his voice but his eyes were trembling with rage. Not at you, never at you. Reaching out you patted his cheek, fingers lingering. Don’t be angry, the action reminded him, I am safe.

           “Franky, I can honestly say that day can’t come soon enough.” It was unspoken, how scared you were. The wounds might be healing but it wasn’t like you were actually okay.  “When do you get to come home?” When will you come back so I can feel safe again? The two of you had a way of communicating without words, something that Billy seemed to pick up on immediately.

           “Eh, we will be done within the next couple of months. Maybe sooner.” Billy told you and smiled gently. “Turns out the three of us are from the same area. Might even see you when we get back.” You appreciated that he was making the situation a little less grim, tense.

           “Well, I figure that I owe you a drink considering that you gave me the opening to kill that fucker.” You adjusted your position and looked Billy dead in the eyes, “Thank you, I mean it.” He shrugged.

           “Let’s just get you home, then you can buy me a drink.”

________________________________________________________________

           The flight home felt like an eternity. You didn’t like that Frank was still in the desert but you felt better now that you could put a face to the name Billy Russo. You were under the distinct impression that the two of them were close, that was good. When the plane touched down and you walked from the plane, through the airport, and into the lobby you took a series of deep breaths. Maria saw you before you saw her. The sound of her heels clicking on the stone floor alerted you to her presence. Arms wrapped around you and you tucked your head into her neck. Peaches and honey. Home. She still smelled the same and you gripped your arms around her tightly. Both of you cried, right there in the middle of the airport. It had to have been a funny sight. You couldn’t give a damn.

           “You look good!” You clutched her cheeks between your hands and she smiled so brightly it hurt.

           “Not so bad yourself,” She chuckled, “Frank made it sound like you were coming back looking like a corpse.” Leave it to Frank not spare any details of what had happed. “Now what do you want to do tonight?” She asked you.

           “Honestly, I just want to go home and have a bottle of wine and a hot bath.” You slung your pack over your back and walked out into the cool New York air. It still smelled the same. Like a ruthless combination of gasoline and snow.

           “That sounds perfect,”

           That night you ate greasy pizza and drank an entire bottle of wine. Maria helped you in the bath and you had never loved her more than when she didn’t stare at the scars marring your body. Even you couldn’t look at them. Maria washed your hair, nails dragging your scalp.

           “So I have something I need to tell you but you can’t tell Frank that I did.” She rinsed out the conditioner whilst shielding your eyes. Honestly that made you nervous. Frank could read you like a cheap book.

           “Okay,” You answered. Ride or die, you would support her.

           “Well, Frank got some leave two months ago.” You remember telling him to go have fun, take his wife on a date, “We’re pregnant,” Maria blurted out. Head whipping around, you looked at her face. She was trying rather poorly to hide the grin on her face.

           “That son of a bitch,” You breathed out. Naked as the day you born , you wrapped your arms around her and kissed her cheek. Water soaked through her shirt and Maria laughed loudly. “Congratulations Maria,” You told her. Maybe things were meant to be this way.

           A month later Frank got home with Billy Russo hot on his heels. When he announced that Maria was pregnant, you tried to conceal the fact that you already knew. Son of a bitch saw right through it and scowled the entire night. At least Billy was surprised.

________________________________________________________________

           “Okay,” You murmured and cut straight through Frank’s shirt. There was a solid eight inch gash from belly button to the middle of his torso. Accompanying that were a number of nasty looking bruises. “You tell me that you’re alive by breaking into my house and bleeding on my brand new god damn white sofa. Really Frank?” You gritted your teeth. There was nothing broken or puncture from what you could tell. Reaching into the medical kit you kept, you set up a line between the two of you. Along with everything else you to shared, Frank had the same blood type. Next came the morphine and lidocaine. Threading the needle through his wound, you stitched it shut with practiced fingers.

           “Didn’t want to put you in danger,” He murmured softly and you gripped his chin tightly. Looking him in the eye, you growled.

           “Don’t you fucking dare,” You told him. At this point the two of you were soaked in blood, him more than you. The air felt heavy with the tension of words that needed to be said and the state his body was in. You didn’t care how he got here. You didn’t care how he was alive. You just cared that he was safe and in your living room.

           After you had cleaned up the living room and given him as much blood as you could manage, you stumbled into the kitchen. Food and water, you needed to get both of your blood sugars up and keep him hydrated. Soup would be the easiest but you settled on grilled cheese. The sound of him shuffling into the room was almost startling. The thoughts in your head were too loud. Turning, you saw him standing there shirtless watching you.

           “Were you ever going to tell me you were alive?” You clinched your jaw and helped him settle on top of the bar stool. You already knew the answer.

           “No,” He was different now, all the humor and softness was gone. In its place was a stone cold expression and an unbreakable rage. Angrily you turned away and settled a plate of food in front of him and a glass of orange juice.

           “Eat,” You ordered, “Then I am getting you into the shower and after that you are going to sleep for no less than eight hours. Am I clear?” Frank nodded and took a bite of his grilled cheese, closing his eyes.

           “Am I clear?” You repeat desperate to hear his voice.

           “Yes ma’am,”

________________________________________________________________

           Getting him into the shower, you left him alone. Settling into bed you brought your knees to your chest and sobbed. Not because you were sad. Relief was washing over you. The phone beside your bed rang and you froze. Billy’s name showed up on caller ID and you answered.

           “Hello,” You answered and somehow managed to keep the tremble out of your voice.

           “Why do you sound upset,” Damn it Billy. Pausing for a mere second, you cleared your throat.

           “Just had a bit too much to drink that’s all,” It wasn’t like your drinking habit was bad but it was significant enough that the excuse was believable.

           “Do you need me to come over?” He asked and in the background you could hear him set down a glass of what was likely his own liquor. Sighing you looked out the window. You knew he would love to see Frank too but you wouldn’t risk it. Never again would you ever risk something that might put Frank in danger. It was clear who had been shooting up the gangs now.

           “No, I just need to be alone tonight Billy. I’ll call you in the morning, have a good night.” You  hung up the phone and set it on the bed.

           “You and Billy huh,” Frank said from the doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed. It was so familiar, like no time at all had passed. You smiled bitterly.

           “Not really,” You told him as he stepped into the room. “Just when I’m feeling shitty and he’s feeling self-deprecating,” You didn’t tell him that his other best friend had fallen in love with you. You didn’t tell him that you used Billy just to feel some nights.

           “Well I believe you ordered me to get some sleep,” He said softly and his voice sounded incredibly raw, like he had swallowed an entire pack of razors. “You want me in the guest room or here?” Did he even need to ask? Flipping back the covers you took his hand and helped him ease down onto the mattress. Muscles taught, he seemed unsure of how to respond to your touch. Whether to flinch away or lean into it.

           “Just let me hold you,” You pleaded and guided him to lie against your chest. The softest of breaths tickled your skin. One of his hands was under your back and the other gripped your shoulder. Lightly you carded your fingers through his short hair.  He said nothing but his hands trembled and his body shook with silent sobs. You just held him tight. Never intending to let go. “I got you.” You spoke softly as his grip tightened. I’ve got you and not a damn thing could take you from me, you thought.

           Frank fell asleep on your chest, breathing slow and even. The smell of him was in your nose, it hadn’t changed. It was impossible to move. The trap of his arms was tight and sure. Sleep was evasive though. Memories of a happier time tried to fight past the trauma. Glancing at the clock you saw the number 4:05 on the face and sighed. There was no point in bothering to go to work. You wouldn’t be able to focus and that wouldn’t benefit anyone. Grabbing the phone you dialed the number for your boss and hummed when she picked up.

           “Hey,” You murmured quietly and cleared your throat, “I’m not feeling to great, food poisoning I think. You gonna be good if I don’t show up today.” You had never missed a day of work so your boss let you off easy. She wished you well and hung up. Frank nuzzled against your neck and hummed low in his throat.

           “Food poisoning huh?” He questioned sleepily. Sliding lower into the bed, you shushed him softly and went back to stroking his hair.

           “I said eight hours,” He chuckled softly and your heart broke. Behind that pain was still your best friend. Quietly he adjusted his hold on you, cradling you frame against his. Frank was always affectionate. It had raised some eyebrows from your unit, including Billy. You had assured them that Frank was nothing more than your best friend and work-husband. It was hugs and friendly touches. And on the bad nights he would lay next to you. You would lie on your stomach, his hands tracing your spine. His head would be on the pillow next to yours, both of you speaking softly. You would run your hands over his hair, his nose. Tonight you lay on you back, eyes on the door. Watching his back. What hurt was that he was letting you. He was just that damn tired. That damn broken.  Anything that came through that door would be dead before they could blink. Nothing, absolutely nothing would take him from you.

#frank castle x reader #blood and gore #Sad people just trying to be happy #Frank castle

[hunnybadgerv]

You bought a dog?! (Bain x Ryder)

Running into Bain randomly throughout the Heleus Cluster was not abnormal, nor did it really surprise Maritza anymore. What did surprise her was the growl that echoed through the main cabin of the shuttle when Bain pinned her against the wall and kissed her hard.

Still halfway dangling from his neck, her hand went right to her pistol. She knew that sound too damn well. 

“Wait,” Bain said, hand meeting hers and holding it to the grip of her pistol before she could draw it and fire. “Weapons fire is bad for shuttles, remember.”

“What was that?” she asked, already half-certain of the answer.

“That’s just Lulu. She can be a little shy … and protective,” Bain said with an almost boyish grin, that she couldn’t say she’d seen before. “Please, don’t shoot her.”

Maritza’s brow was so tight she was nearly certain it looked like she might just have one fuzzy caterpillar crossing her face, but she nodded silently. Bain managed to get his hand between hers and the grip of her pistol. A moment later he stepped away, then crouched, pulling her down with him. She followed his lead.

She felt her brow crinkle further when he produced some dark morsel from his pocket. A moment later something pounced at his hand from the shadows and shimmered into view. In surprise, Maritza rocked back, catching herself. Her hand pulled at Bain’s, but he held her firm, keeping her flight or fight response from reaching the gun on her hip.

The knew challyrion when she saw one, but she couldn’t remember having seen one this small or this young, or with fur. Somehow it’s jaws only snapped up the treat, missing Bain’s fingers completely. She just stared for a moment, watching the house cat-sized creature the brush it’s spiky back against Bain’s calf and wrapping it’s tail around his foot.

Multiple sets of eyes blinked at her as it stared at Maritza from between Bain’s knees where it sat. Massani’s fingers scratched at the broad nose that bumped his knee.

“You bought a dog?” Ryder asked finally, still staring at the beast.

“Lulu’s a challyrion. I think, maybe. And I didn’t buy her,” he said. Lulu snuffled at Bain’s boot, then sneezed. “No toxic spit,” he added in explanation.

“So you adopted some unknown creature and let it roam your shuttle?” Maritza asked. The kett hunting was bad enough. And in that moment she couldn’t fight the image of finding his shuttle somewhere else in the galaxy only to open the door and find out he’d become a chew toy for Lulu. Her lips pursed into a thin line.

As if on queue, Lulu leaned back into the head scratches. Its wide jaws, lined with rows of sharp teeth, lolled open letting its forked purple tongue unroll and hang nearly to the floor. 

“You’re insane.”

Bain looked at her and smirked. “Didn’t know my sanity was in question,” he replied with a laugh.

“You don’t even know what this is.”

“It was alone, abandoned. Needed a place.”

The answer and the look in his eyes struck her, perhaps a little too close to soft center she preferred to pretend she didn’t have. “And you’re not worried about it getting hungry one day and deciding you’re delicious?”

“Lulu doesn’t eat meat,” he explained, pulling another treat from his pocket. He turned the hand he had been holding palm up and placed a piece of dried fruit there. “You know those mushrooms on Havarl you can’t touch. In the same clusters, are these little fruits. Seems to be the only thing she likes.”

Four glowing purple eyes blinked at Maritza as Lulu inched closer to the hand with the fruit. 

“Did you find her on Havarl?” she asked.

“Yeah, ran an errand for an old friend. When I got back to the ship, she curled up near one of the engines. I think she liked how warm it was.”

Ryder nodded. A dry lick at the back of her fingers, prompted her to pick up the treat and offer it to Lulu. The beast was much more gentle this time, as if aware of the reaction the human had when she pounced at Bain’s hand.

“What a sweet girl,” Bain said, patting its side. 

Lulu bumped Maritza’s hand with her nose again. “I don’t have anymore.”

“She wants a pet.”

“Oh.” Her tone was a bit sheepish. And like everything in Andromeda she rather expected Lulu to be course and prickly. But her fur was thin and silky, even the spikes felt more feathery and flexible than she imagined. “She’s soft,” she said with a laugh.

Bain just gave her a crooked, I-know grin. Maritza buried both her hands in Lulu’s fur scratching her behind her powerful looking jaws. Massani just watched a for a bit, before he leaned over and planted a kiss at the corner of Maritza’s jaw. “Are you going to let me take you to bed? Or did I lose you to Lulu’s charms?”

Maritza leaned closer to Bain’s pet, cuddling her while giving him a smile steeped in mischief. “I don’t know. She’s kind of sweet. And she’s got luxurious hair,” she teased, burying her fingers in Lulu’s fur once more. With her attention split, she didn’t see the purple tongue before it licked her beneath the chin. It was dry and rough, leaving Maritza giggling despite herself. 

Giving her a mock glare at the hair comment, he merely offered Ryder a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet at his side. Lulu stretched her lithe body pawing at Maritza’s knee caps with three large claws, the middle of which dwarfed the other two. Whatever she was, she was certainly something Maritza had not run across before. 

“Bed time,” Bain told Lulu. She sat on her flank and looked up at him, each blinking at a different pace. “Go on. You can get more pets later.” 

Lulu trotted off her wispy tails trailing behind her as she disappeared back under a bench which had been draped as if to create her own private space. 

Bain tucked his nose beneath Maritza’s ear, whispering, “After I get mine.”

“Selfish, aren’t you?” Ryder teased, turning toward him. 

“Even more than usual where you’re concerned,” he told her, tilting her chin upward to seal their lips once more. The pace picked up once more as the pair of them awkwardly made their way through the thin corridor and into his quarters. 

Maritza caught her foot on the bed, but luckily the room was so small that she fell on the bed. All her breath rushed from her chest as Bain landed atop her. 

“So graceful,” he said, brushing his thumb past her temple. 

Maritza punched him in the ribs. “Asshole.”

“Should I take that as a sign that you’re okay?” he said with a bit of a groan at the shot. 

Her own laughter bubbled up again. “I guess I’m just lucky this room is really only big enough for a mattress.”

“And here I was thinking about upgrading to something a little more spacious.” Bain, despite the heat in his gaze, laid on his side next to her to give her time to recover from their tumble. 

“More space for you and Lulu?”

“Yeah, but she might not have been the first person that came to mind,” he admitted as his fingertips traced the line of her brow. 

#vorchagirl #Maritza Ryder #Bain Massani #Mass Effect: Andromeda #Mass Effect Andromeda #Mass Effect #Mass Effect Fanfiction #Mass Effect Andromeda Fanfiction #Broken Old Hunter & Little Duck #MassEffectWriterCircle #Mass Effect Writer Circle #Badger Scribbles

[lalast0ne]

The Skids

Wilder

*My patience was wearing thin. As much as I had paced, I would need a new pair of boots and Layla would be shopping for another fancy rug. I looked down at the colors staring back at me. Red my favorite.....blood, sin and fire. I was in the mood to see more red. I tossed the papers on my desk, shot off a quick text to Kingston and checked my boot to make sure my blade was there. Only one knife. I was going in with less weapons than normal but for the first time in my life, I was playing by their rules. It would be the only fucking time. Rules and I did not get along. I made and broke them. I did not follow them. I grumbled and Killer grunted on the rug. He was staying home this round. I dropped my phone on top of the papers and left my office in search of Layla. Much to my surprise  and for the first time in her life, she was actually ready to go. My eyes traveled down her body and I smirked when I saw she was wearing tennis shoes.* That’s a first. You actually listened to me. Let’s go Layla. We have 4 minutes to be on time and I plan on being a little late.

Layla

*My nerves were shot. I was trying my hardest to keep them under wraps but I wasn’t sure I was doing that good a job.  I hated being in these kinds of situations. The ones where I never knew what to expect .. and that’s exactly what this was. I preferred to be in control; I was like my Dad in that respect. I’d made such a big deal about going along with Wilder the first time he went down to The Skids that I hadn’t given a second thought about what we were walking into, what we would find once down there or what would happen .. until now. 

As I stood in the entrance hall waiting for Wilder, shifting from one foot to the other, I reach in to my bag to double check my gun is still there. I didn’t travel anywhere without it now and there was no way I was going into an unknown situation unarmed. I just wish I’d kept up with my target practice. 

I jump, involuntarily, dropping the pistol back into the depths of my purse and smile up at you, 99% of my nerves dissipating* There’s a first time for everything baby, don’t go getting used to it though *My fingers link with yours and I give a little squeeze, the soft laughter dying on my lips as the nerves jump up another notch* What exactly are we expecting to find down there?

Wilder

A bunch of shady ass mother fuckers who have invaded my town and there will be hell to pay. *Leaning down, I bite your neck, letting you be my calm. As I straighten back up, I take your bag off your shoulder and lay it on the table.* No weapons. It’s the deal for today. *You pout as bad as Killer grunted and I pull you out of the house before I get an earful. We already had this discussion.....more than once. I do all the talking and you will stay behind me. Two simple orders. I hold your hand, my stride fast as you keep pace beside me. We pass through the main part of town and make our way to the outskirts. Soon, we are standing in front of the graffiti building.* Remember what we talked about Layla. *Dipping my head, I crash my lips to yours, sucking your bottom lip between my teeth.* I love you. If something goes wrong, leave me behind. *Searching your face, I know you want to argue but you bite back your words. I keep you close behind me as we enter the building and maneuver our way through the hidden door that takes us deeper. Deeper into the bowels, darkness shielding us. 20 steps left and I reach up to find the metal latch on the wall.....another door. I push through it and blink as a low light beckons us forward. Your body is against my back as we both cross over.....the Skids in front of us. An abandoned railway tunnel, covered in more graffiti. You can hear the low murmur of voices echoing through the tunnel. If you listen close enough, you can hear footsteps approaching. I jump down and lift you off the platform, both of us facing the tunnel and the unexpected.*

Layla *My protest falls on death ears as I’m pulled from the house leaving my biggest security blanket behind in my little black purse. The fact I’m to be seen and not heard, for this first visit only, irks me slightly and goes against all my beliefs but I’ll comply. With no clue who will be down there, I have no desire to make things worse than they need to be.  I smile as an angry bark from Killer, when the door slams shut, tells me he’s just as thrilled with this situation as I am. Travelling by foot, we pass thru town briskly. Conversation is non-existent and I can’t help but wonder if you’re even a little bit nervous about what lies ahead. The fact you tell me you love me and remind me of the plan if something should go wrong turns my stomach in to a tangled mass of knots. I don’t protest, instead I give my own instructions, smiling against your lips* Tell me again how much you love me when we walk out of here together.  *With my chest practically glued to your back, we walk thru the graffiti house until we come to the entrance of our destination. I inhale a sharp breath when you push the door open and in we go. My eyes blink rapidly, adjusting as best possible to the extreme low light and after a few minutes I’m able to get a better idea of our surroundings. Abandoned rail tunnels. Tunnels neither of us had any clue existed. The realisation dawns that it isn’t just a small area down here, it‘s an entire network. A mass of tunnels that stretch on for an unknown distance.

I wait patiently as you jump down onto the tracks and turn back for me, lifting me down and holding on until my feet are planted on the uneven surface. I grab your hand and continue to walk closely behind you. No clue where we’re heading or who we’re looking for ... but I don’t think we need to know because, as footsteps approach, it becomes obvious that they know we’re here.*

Wilder

*I stand up a little straighter, your hand gripping mine tighter and stare down the dark. It doesn’t frighten me. I’ve been prepared to die everyday since I chose to live my life against the straight and narrow. The only thing that truly scares me is harm coming to you. Yet, I brought you to stare down danger with me. The footsteps come closer and a shadow breaks through into the dim light. It’s not the person in charge. They sent a low life to get us. He beckons us forward and I pull you with me. Heavy boots along the rails masked by the quiet of your shoes. We inch deeper into the tunnel, the shadow joined by others. Soon, we are flanked by the underground criminals. The ones who think they are going to continue using my town for their dealings. I know their weak spot but I will not play my hand early. Footsteps become quiet as my eyes lift from the dark to face him. The underground kingpin and for the past few weeks, my arch nemesis.*

Layla

*He smiles. He actually smiles a cocky, broad grin as you stand face to face. My shoulders square as I move to stand beside you, refusing to stay behind and I eye him. I’ve seen many men like him in my lifetime already. His lean build isn’t in the slightest intimidating but he didn’t get to this position by using his fists .. not unnecessarily anyway .. that’s what the muscle he’s flanked by is for.* 

“The infamous Mr and Mrs Steele. It’s a pleasure to have you as our guests.”

*His eyes move from you and land on me as he extends a hand, waiting for me to take it but I don’t. Instead I openly stare at the offering then back to his face.*

“Let me introduce myself; I’m Carlos. Welcome to The Skids.”

*He lifts his arms in the air and motions around the area, laughing as he does. It’s a fake laugh, there’s no humour there. Carlos’s eyes move from me and back to you, offering his hand once more*

“Tell me. Do you like what you’ve seen so far, Mr Steele?”

Wilder

*My jaw ticks as this slimy looking car sales man stands in front of me. Carlos Winstead. Fucking asshole number one. He welcomes us like he is not the one invading my town. MY MOTHERFUCKING TOWN. I feel Your hand move out of mine and onto my back in an attempt to calm me. I’m no where near calm. I can feel my blood boiling and anger about to flame out of me. I extend my hand and shake his, my eyes taking in everything.* It’s nice to meet your acquaintance Carlos. Thanks for the invite today. *I pull my hand back and fight the urge to punch his lights out.* Impressive tunnels you have. *My words are laced with anger and a hint of sarcasm.*

“Mr. Steele.....” *I hold my hand up and cut him off.* Call me Wilder. Not need to stand on formalities.

Layla

*Carlos smiles, his eyes going between us both, choosing to ignore the sarcasm in your voice*

“Wilder .. I know our existence down here probably came as a shock to you both but we’ve been down here for a number of years without you realising and without our activities impacting on your town...”

*My eyes narrow and I break one of the rules without thinking, my hand dropping from your back and my finger pointing straight at Carlos chest* One of your men KIDNAPPED a five your old child! That more than impacted on our town. 

*Two set of eyes land on me and I feel your hand go to my ass, squeezing hard in warning. I turn to look at you, biting my lip in a silent apology*

“That was a terrible, terrible misunderstanding Mrs Steele. The girl was returned as soon as she was discovered down here and, believe me, consequences for those actions have been dealt to the person involved.”

Wilder

At least you did something right. *Not even caring that I said those words out loud, a knowing look passed from Carlos to me. Punishment and retribution always comes at our hands.* Don’t dump your shit out in the open again. *Carlos steps back and I can see the anger cross his eyes. I’m in his space in less than a second, my fist grabbing his shirt.* You are lucky I don’t kill you right now. *I shove him as I take a step back, my hand going around Layla’s waist.* 

“That is your one free pass Wilder. Touch me again and you will be sorry.”

Layla

*The fight for position of the alpha male is inevitable when two worlds collide but I’d back my husband every single time. I stand still, your hand wrapping around my waist and pulling me into your side to keep me from doing anything silly while my jaw ticks in annoyance. I’d never undermine you by doing something so bold like slapping Carlos, but the temptation is there. My fingers flex and and I shift from foot to foot until your hand releases my waist and grabs my wrist*

“That’s right Wilder, keep your charming wife under control, you know it makes sense.”

*I bite back my outburst that’s threatening to explode out of me and swallow it down, my eyes remaining narrowed.* Why here? Why this town? *His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks back at you while speaking*

“Because, my dear Layla .. you don’t mind if I call you Layla, do you? ... as you know Blacksoul has an unexpectedly high mortality rate and zero police presence. A very appealing settlement for people like me and those I do business with.” 

*Carlos Leans in close, his voice low as he speaks directly to you but loud enough for me to hear*

“Let’s come to a mutual agreement shall we before things get unnecessarily silly and someone gets hurt? I won’t underestimate you and it’d be very wise for you to not underestimate me.”

Wilder

*I move my neck from side to side, the cracking loud and fold my arms across my chest.* First, it would be wise of you to not look or address my wife in that manner. I’m sure you have some respect in your slimy bones. *He nods slightly, one of his men flanking to his side and his voice muffled in his bosses ear.* Second, as of the time I stepped foot down here, *motioning to each tunnel that veers in every direction* which I’m sure your lackey just made you aware, has been closed off. My men now control the outside of every tunnel. So you only have one option available to you. *Pointing up* And I’ve already made it clear that your shit is not being dumped up there. So let’s make a deal Carlos.

Layla

*Carlos shifts and straightens himself out as his lackey steps back after delivering the news. A hint of something passed across his face.. respect maybe .. but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.* 

“Is there a deal to be made, Wilder? It seems to me you’ve shut my operation down without taking the facts into account .. and that I don’t take kindly to. I thought you were a man of reason, that was my mistake. It appears I underestimated you after all. But you say there’s a deal .. so lay your cards on the table and let’s see if we can come to an arrangement that suits us both.”

Wilder

You said you had been using my town for your benefit over the years. *Taking a step closer to him* I wanted you to see how easy it was for me to shut it all down. Ask your man to check the tunnels now. I am a reasonable guy but you will not get an easy pass just because you said so. As you know, I run my town a certain way. I am judge, jury and executioner. You nor I want the police rocking up there or down here. The better question should be, how much control are you willing to give up?

Layla

“I don’t give up control to anyone, Wilder. I made this place what it is ..”

*I tip my head to one side and watch as Carlos tries to regain some composure and control of the situation* And he just shut this place down. *I smile a little when Carlos’s eyes turn on me*

“That’s a fair point. Ok, I’m all ears. Name your price, Mrs Steele.”

*My fingers stroke over your palm as I talk. I’m a little surprised he’s even listening.* The price for you staying here in Blacksoul and continuing your dealings .. it’s simple. We take complete control.

Wilder

*The gasps surround us as I squeeze your hand and grin down at you.* Don’t worry Carlos. I’m a reasonable guy after all. We take complete control and you get a cut. It’s the least I can do for letting you use MY TOWN. You have 12 hours to let me know your decision. *I turn, my boot kicking up dirt as we walk back in the direction we came. No one guiding us this time. Before we clear his view, I turn my head and call back to him.* Your brother is under my care and watch now.

[falloutdovah]

Holes In a Tin Can

The door slammed hard against the cracked plaster of the wall so hard that a bit of the ceiling crumbled and landed in flakes on top of their heads.

Hancock pulled off his hat and gave it a good dusting, Nick doing to same with his own simultaneously. Cat did nothing of the sort.

She put her foot back onto the ground slowly, wincing at first and then resting her hands against her hips. “And THAT'S how you open a door! One swift kick and, KAPOW!”

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was probably unlocked if it came open that easy, detective.”

“Humor me here Valentine. You're the detective, not me.” Cat rolled her eyes.

The ghoul only laughed. “Maybe, but that WAS pretty cool. I'd've done the same thing.”

“See? SOMEONE APPRECIATES ME!”

Nick sighed loudly as they continued into the lobby of the cannery. Along the way to the settlement he'd spoken of earlier, they'd run into what they at first assumed to be an abandoned warehouse. A sign just off the road a few miles back clarified that it wasn't just ANY warehouse, but one with potentially lots and lots of cans of who knows what. Food preferably. It was worth the risk anyway; they were just about out of stuff to eat. Not that Nick needed to eat, but the other two did.

A desk with a computer sat in the middle of the room. Broken or worn down sofas and chairs spotted the sides, a few empty plant pots stood in the corners, and the wallpaper was virtually peeling off nearly everywhere they looked. One of the lights flickered menacingly, but all in all, the place remained rather quiet.

“I'm surprised I don't see garbage all over the place...aside from the usual amount that is.” The detective muttered, leaning down and picking up a dented, beat up aluminum can before tossing it aside.

“What makes you say that?” Cat was already near one of the sofas, stepping onto it and jumping up and down. “Hey these still have some spring in 'em!-”

“I SAY that because raiders is why. You've seen how they leave their trash everywhere. And you can usually hear them too.”

Hancock snorted a little as he circled around the desk to look at the computer. He tapped at one of the keys, but all that came up was a password login screen. “True. Color me a lil' surprised that we haven't seen any around a place like THIS. I mean, if I were a raider that read 'cannery', provided I COULD read (and I can,) then I woulda come sprinting to this place and holed myself up for a good long while. There's supposed to be a lotta good eatin' in joints like these right?”

“Well not if they're canning motor oil and other things. I don't think you can eat THOSE.” Nick answered flatly.

The ghoul shook his head. “Even if I were high, you couldn't get me to try that. Anyway...let's go have a look around. Might find somethin' useful in all this junk. Cat! C'mon! Get off that thing.”

Cat jumped off the sofa and back onto the floor, moving on ahead to the pair of doors that lay behind the desk, presumably leading into the inner parts of the factory. “Think they'll have that stew-flavored dog food?”

“You, kitty, are crazy. …But I do admit that stuff's pretty good...”

“Uh-” Nick raised his metal hand at them to stop them, but they were already halfway across the room. His finger joints refused to move. All the rain had slowly been taking its toll, rusting up little parts here and there. “Before you two go running off to look around for who knows what, make sure you check it out first-”

“Just incase of danger blah blah blah, I know Nick! Besides, I got this guy here to watch my back, what could POSSIBLY go wrong?” Cat ignored the synth's half-pleas and attempted to kick the door open again. It didn't work, and there was only a loud slam. “OW ow- DAMN IT-”

“Hancock-”

“I got it, keep yer trench coat on. Ain't nobody here. We'll be fine... Ok, my turn.” As soon as Cat moved aside, the mayor ran at the door and delivered a much stronger kick, successfully bursting through.

Nick's eyes remained half-lidded for the entire display. “You're gonna alert the whole damned Commonwealth if you keep at it with the amount of noise YOU'RE making.”

“Well then we better hurry on up inside! You gonna stay out here?” Cat turned and glanced over at him briefly while Hancock went ahead.

The detective paused for a moment, then looked down at his hand. “Yeah, I'll be there in a moment.”

Cat shrugged as she left. “Suit yourself!”

With another sigh, he went over to one of the chairs and sat in it heavily, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little screwdriver.

“Always the rain with you...Pretty soon all the bolts are gonna be falling out.” Nick grumbled to himself as he retightened everything again. Even he hated to admit that his body was just getting old. Falling apart even. Once the stuff he called skin started peeling and breaking along the seams, he stopped caring about how he outwardly appeared (not that he ever really cared, but still.) If anything, it only became a bit of a nuisance because a good amount of the inner workings of his face and neck were exposed to potential enemies and the weather. Every now and then he could feel his jaw go stiff, or his neck, or some other part.

He flexed his fingers a few times, making sure each one of them worked. They were still a little reluctant, but they worked all right. That would have to do.

The screwdriver went back into his pocket in exchange for his lighter, and a cigarette from the other side of his coat. Once he had that, he got back onto his feet and went looking for the other two.

Inside the main building, past the doors, the place rather eerie in terms of the lighting. Half of the facility was covered by darkness and there'd be the occasional emergency wall light to break things up, giving little parts of the massive room these warm orange glows. Some of them even flashed on and off softly and slowly, almost like fireflies during a summer evening.

Nick paused briefly, only long enough to wonder why he'd thought of that specific image of all things. Probably just some memory that wasn't his. He shook his head lightly and kept walking.

“HEY HANCOCK, find anything yet?!” Cat called out as she pulled her head out of a box and tossed it onto the floor before moving to the next one.

“Uhh-” The mayor cringed a little as he opened pulled open another cardboard box, only to find a dead radroach in it. “Not really! Just a lotta crap and empty cans but otherwise no like...FOOD.”

The girl scowled and stood back to look at the scene, eyes narrowed. “There's gotta be something here... Doesn't look like anybody's been in here in ages...”

Hancock came over to her. “Well unless the place has been raided already. Doesn't look like it though, there are still boxes with tape on 'em and stuff. Why would anybody go wasting tape for that?” He slowly reached for his gun and made no sudden moves. The realization only hit him now.

Cat watched him, brows furrowing in concern now. Neither of them said a word for a long moment.

“Hear anything?” She asked quietly.

“...Nah... But I'm startin' to feel real uneasy. We should go get Nick n' get outta here... We'll just wait until we get to that settlement.”

“...Yeah, yeah ok, fine.”

The two abandoned their search and turned to head back the way they'd come. As soon as they stepped out from behind one of the big processing machines, Hancock's arms immediately came up and he nearly pulled the trigger.

Nick did the same with his pistol. “Son of a-”

“DAMN IT NICK! You scared the shit outta me! I coulda taken your metallic head off!”

“That makes two of us.” They lowered their weapons. “I'm ALMOST comforted to know that you don't have trigger happy reflexes.”

Hancock frowned. “Yeah, lucky you in that case. We can't find anything in here. The boxes are all-”

“They're all like taped up and filled with junk like someone did it on purpose! Why would anybody do that?”

Nick pursed his lips a bit, finding the situation to be more than suspicious. “What? I don't know. But if that's the case, I don't want to stay to find out. Let's get the hell out of here already. Rain or not, it's probably not a good idea to stick around a place like this.”

They hadn't gone two steps when a small, nearly undetectable sound hit Nick's audio sensors. Even Hancock would have been hard pressed to hear that tiny metal clink against one of the catwalks hanging above them.

In one swoop, the synth spit out his cigarette, swung his arm out and wrapped it around the mayor and their charge and pulled them in between one of the big machines. “Don't move.”

None of them spoke as they strained to listen for any kind of noise.

At first there was nothing, and then they started to hear it. Something else walking around somewhere in the factory. Something that wasn't them.

Cat stayed squashed in between them while the mayor and the detective gave each other a knowing look. They had to somehow get out of the building without being spotted, or heard. And it couldn't be through the front door in all likelihood.

They started to inch in tandem carefully towards one of the far walls. There had to be a back door somewhere. There always were other exits in places like these for shipments to go out, for emergencies, or for just plain old convenience.

As they shuffled along at a snail's pace, Nick kept his eyes on the catwalks above them. He could have sworn he saw something up there. A light moving in the black void.

“Hello?” As soon as that computerized voice rang out abruptly into the factory, they all stopped cold.

Other synths. From the Institute no doubt. There had to be more than one here, they never came alone.

Hancock swallowed the lump in his throat, resisting the urge to just jump out and start shooting. He wasn't going to be scared off by these boogeymen. Not by a long shot. But he also knew he didn't have just himself to think about either. He looked over his shoulder a few times, trying to find any way out before spotting an exit sign with an arrow pointing down another hallway.

He elbowed Nick, then turned his attention to what he'd seen. The detective nodded and began herding them in that direction.

The moment they reached the halfway mark, a bright blue blast from a laser flew past them and hit the wall, melting a small crater into it. Another synth stuck its head out from in between one of the huge canning machines and stared right at them with glowing white eyes. “Stop.” It commanded.

“Shit- MOVE!” Nick gave them all a good shove before the idea of running even hit their heads.

“Are you KIDDING? You're just gonna LET 'EM GO WITHOUT A FIGHT?” Hancock spun around as soon as they reached the exit sign and ran into the new hallway, ready to take aim at the synth running at them. He could see a two others jump down to the ground floor in the back somewhere.

“NOT today.” Nick grabbed the back of his ragged coat and forcefully yanked him back.

At the end of the hallway Cat slid to a stop and frantically turned her head back and forth in both directions. The hall split off into other passages, without another exit in sight. “Which one?!”

They all hesitated for a second or two before the detective once again pulled them down one of the corridors as soon as the other synths started to appear behind them. Even he didn't know where they were going. He just hoped that there was another door somewhere inside.

Several more laser beams hit the walls beside them as they ran. Little offices and closets dotted the sides, until they spotted another exit sign pointing them out of the labyrinth of a factory.

Luckily for them, the emergency fire escape door was just a few feet away from the indicating sign.

“That thing looks like it hasn't been used in ages- I don't think I can kick THAT-” Hancock blurted out. Another laser nearly brushed past his back and he spun around, growling. “Nick, get it open, I'll cover us.” He raised his rifle and fired a few shots. “YOU WANT SOME OF THIS? COME AND GET IT!”

One of the pursuing synths received a direct hit in the chest before falling onto the ground, little more than a malfunctioning mess. Its companions pressed on, unfazed.

Cat moved closer to Nick as he tried to get the door open. “They're COMING- HURRY UP!”

“I can't-” The lock was jammed real good. There'd be no sweet talking this one. Nick gave up and took a couple steps back, running at the door before giving it a hard kick himself. The thing flew open and almost tore off the hinges. “HANCOCK, FORGET ABOUT THEM! LET'S GO!”

“JUST ONE MORE SHOT-” The mayor fired again and hit the second synth, leaving only one more remaining before one of the lasers grazed his upper arm. He gave a loud yelp before turning and following after the others.

On the outside it was still raining, just like it had been when they had arrived, but nobody cared about that now. If they had to run across the soggy and muddy hills of the Commonwealth to get away from that thing chasing them, then so be it.

“Go on- go-” Nick stopped and let them run ahead of him before following. He knew there'd be no place to take cover and hide should that thing start shooting at them again. Unfortunately for them, it did.

Cat screeched as one of the beams nearly hit her foot. “NICK-”

This had to end.

The detective slid to a stop and whirled around, reaching for his pistol with his metal-claw. All he had to do was fire one shot into that thing's head and they'd be rid of it.

Everything happened in a flash and almost in slow motion at the same time. His arm came up, his finger curled around the trigger and he could see the synth barreling up the hill they had just climbed, raising its own weapon to him.

But his fingers wouldn't move. They locked up again and stood still.

“N-No-”

Before he could do anything about it, the opposing synth fired a blast right into his chest, the energy sailing right on through him and out the other side.

“NO-” Cat stopped running and Hancock spun around, loading one more bullet and aiming at the enemy synth's pristine white head. He fired, and took it off with one clean shot.

As it fell to the ground, Nick followed suit, landing heavily onto his knees, his yellow eyes flickering.

“NICK- HEY-”

“NICK-”

It was a bizarre sensation, feeling everything go dark at a rapid pace. His visual sensors shut off first, and all the control he had in his limbs seemed to just vanish. He hit the floor and only then did he realize this was bad. Real bad.

“N-...no-” He repeated. Why did his fingers have to lock up right then and there? Why didn't he tighten those stupid bolts more? Or oil the damned things?? How the hell was he going to protect anybody now?

He never knew such questions could run through his head. Would the real Nick have done the same? Maybe.

The last sensory function to shut down was his hearing. He had caught little pieces of their voices before everything went silent all together, but his brain hadn't really been able to decipher it. Before everything ceased to even exist he felt his lips move but he didn't hear anything he said.

“Not...not like... Not like this...”

#sinks under the couch huehue #i did a bad #i post these on ao3 too #fo4 #fallout 4

[adrift-in-writing]

Conflict of Interest

A dabble in which I write whatever I want. It’s stupid, has no relevance to anything, takes my writing formatting and throws it out the window, but also it’s supposed to be me having fun, which I did. It’s probably horrible writing, but it’s still writing.

I put very little thought into this other than “keep it going no matter how dumb it sounds.” Expect nothing except stupidity and nonsense.

A small crossover between Saints Row the Third and Grand Theft Auto: Online. Characters are based off of my own, of course.

Maybe this’ll be a short-lived series, we’ll see.

The city is yours. Of course it would be after all, you’re the leader of the most notorious gang who made it big. Everywhere you look, your people are plastered around in billboards and flashing signs. The gang’s now a fuckin’ household brand, what do you know? The big boss, that’s your name. Except it isn’t. It’s Bailey, and Bailey is a girl’s name.

Black, slicked back hair, a nice purple suit and tie with a black work shirt to go with it was what Bailey wore. Not the average stuff she wears, sure, but just for today she wanted to dress for the occasion. It was a nice day out for a suit, after all.

 Still though, The Boss is still a pretty sweet name. After five years from being a nobody to a somebody whom even the police force asks ‘How’re the Saints?’ To which of course, you deign answer before punching them in the nuts. Preferably twice before they stand back up.

You’ve moved businesses down from Steelport to a fancy new place they call Los Santos, San Andreas. Everybody around here recognizes you, right? Big shot, big money, all that shit? Not really. Los Santos was more obsessed with itself and the police genuinely are corrupt, even your money couldn’t buy ‘em.

 The phone rang. It’s Shaundi, and she was a little concerned about what was happening. “Boss, we’ve got a bit of a problem. Check your phone.” she says.

“Why am I not surprised?” Bailey had replied. The conversation didn’t last long.

The phone lights up, and there’s details telling Bailey to go somewhere. Maze Bank West’s office, it seemed. Somebody up there had a shipment of priceless antiques stolen from the cargo plane the Saints were supposed to have. 

Why antiques? Because Oleg advised the gang to move past drugs and guns. Opt for more legal stuff. Everybody except you agreed around the meeting table. Sure, shooting up a whole building and slamming a dude’s skull to the floor is fun, but in this place that isn’t gonna fly all that well. Johnny wouldn’t have liked it, he’d have rather settled it with a 9mm pistol.

Bailey arrived to the office, now aware that she really needed to get that shipment back. The doors swung open and, according to the lobby, the 25th floor was the company’s office. As soon as those elevator doors swing open, whoever’s in there’s gonna get what’s coming.

She reached for her 45 Shepard, old, yet reliable. Then the elevator doors opened up, and a secretary was sat just behind her desk behind the glass doors. She screamed and ducked as gunfire from Bailey’s pistol began erupting. Bullets whizzed by and cracked bits of the reinforced windows.

Despite the assistant’s pleas for help, the CEO of the building was calmly typing away at her computer. She had just finished placing orders to get all 42 crates of her cargo shipped onto a plane, asap, and then reclined back. Next thing Bailey did was ignore the assistant and go straight for the person in charge.

The CEO wore a black overcoat and a pink and white shirt. Her neck was covered in a classy-looking grey scarf, and she had fingerless gloves. Black quilted jeans and some calf-high black boots adorned her lower body, but what was most noticeable through her amethyst figure-eight glasses were her yellow eyes.

Bailey pointed the gun right at her. “Where’s the fucking crate?” she asked. The CEO was not phased, nor was she even remotely scared. She said nothing, rather doing some gestures and beckoned Bailey to check the computer with a message of saying the crates were ready to go.

Angrily, Bailey rushed the CEO up from her seat and planted the barrel of her Shepard behind her back. “Drive me there. Now.” With some thought, the CEO shrugged and moved back to her assistant’s desk. Cowering behind it, she peeked out only to meet the two bosses staring intently at her.

“Y-Yes boss?” The assistant asked.

Pursing her lips, the CEO flipped a clipboard and pointed at her car, then nodded. The assistant sighed and repositioned her chair so that it wouldn’t be on the floor. “It’ll be in the driveway shortly. See you then...” Another sigh. The bosses had gone to the elevator and descended down. “What am I gonna do about these bullet holes?” The assistant asked herself.

The CEO and the Boss exited the building and were immediately met with gunfire and rockets fired over in the distance. A military Hydra jet was hovering about messing about with an F-69 VTOL in the air while several Saints members were being attacked by the Ballas. It was unusual the Ballas made it this far uptown, but whatever.

In the driveway was a black and purple Truffade Nero, engine ready and roaring. With the press of a button, the doors swung open and the silent CEO went in. Bailey had dived herself into the shotgun seat, smashing the window while getting comfortable in her seat. “Nice whip. Sorry, not sorry ‘bout the window. Now drive!”

No need to say more. The CEO put her foot down and immediately drove as the on-board phone rang. “Hey, boss. Did you get the coordinates? It should be on your map right now.” Her assistant called again and informed them that the airplane would be made ready in Los Santos International Airport.

As they were driving, the mayhem had subsided and 80′s Synthwave music came on-board. They came to a stop at a redlight when Bailey glanced over at the person in the driver’s seat. “You don’t talk much, do you?” She ignored the question and went on her own business. When they arrived at the airport, the plane was loaded without any sight of bodyguards to be seen. Without a word, the CEO parked her Nero nearby and stepped out. The back of the plane opened up as she approached, only to find no crates in the bay. Bailey came in and raised her hands up.

“What’re you playing at?” Bailey asked, and the CEO shrugged. The Boss’ 45 Shepard was raised once more at the CEO and before Bailey could fire, she received a notification from Shaundi stating they’ve got company.

Several armored Schafters came in and men in suits poured out of the car, all with their Assault SMGs loaded and pointed at the two.

With a chuckle and an eye roll, Bailey pulled out her SA-3 Airstrike gun before the CEO lowered it with her hand. In her other one, a heavy revolver with a golden etched finish was spotted. She raised it up and then, instead of aiming directly at any of the suited men, she aimed at one of the Schafter’s front grille.

The bullet penetrated the front of the car, yet nothing set itself off. Several of the men began laughing until one of their cars exploded, followed by simultaneous other Schafters exploding all at once. In a couple of moments, all of them were dead and had bled out. All the CEO did was put another bullet in the chamber, re-cock the hammer, and smirk.

Much to Bailey’s amusement, her eyes darted to the gun as she swiped it away from the silent woman. She examined it and gawked at its sheer magnificence. “Those guys didn’t even have a chance with this, god damn! Might need to stop by Friendly Fire or...um...what was it? Ammu-Nation! Right, Ammu-Nation, for one of these.”

Another notification popped up, this time by the CEO’s assistant once more. She informed her boss that they’d need to track down the crates in a van somewhere in the city, yet it was not quite known where it was going. Multiple trackers were set off from different points.

Bailey flipped out her phone and began making a call to her fellow FBI hacker, just to see if they couldn’t speed this process up. “Hey, Kinzie. See if you can’t track down our missing crate of antiques.”

“Um...okay, boss. I’ll see if I can’t triangulate --”

“Yeah whatever, no time for your science talk. Bye.” She hung up and then slid the revolver over to the person next to her.

With her revolver returned, the silent woman beckoned Bailey to get back in the car. They needed to find those crates, else they’d lose millions of dollars. The Nero’s engine roared, and within seconds, they were off.

#Do I want to tag this? #No. Not really. #My OCs #My OC #self indulgent fanfic