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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] Kiro’s Inspiration Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 灵感之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

An early birthday gift to the embodiment of sunshine, @moondusks :>

[ This date was released in CN on 7 December 2020 ]

A pleasantly warm and light breeze lifts the muslin curtains, bringing with it the fresh atmosphere of early winter.

Lemon yellow sunlight filters lazily through the trees, casting shadows on the window and carrying the scent of peppermint.

It’s an incomparably ordinary, and incomparably comfortable afternoon.

It’s very suitable for heading out and casting aside one’s cares - laying down on a grass patch, basking in the warm sunlight.

Or perhaps taking a stroll along the street, and sitting down in a cafe one has been longing to visit.

That’s what Kiro and I originally planned to do.

However, the cruel reality is...

MC: Why does this proposal have to be done by next week ahhhh--

Kiro: Why can’t I write this song properly--

MC: Why do people need to be exploited by work--

Kiro: [sighs] And why are people constrained by inspiration--

Because of a sudden program, I have no choice but to work overtime.

And Kiro, who is about to record a new album, has remained dissatisfied towards the title track.

Due to the pressures of reality, we have to give up our original plans of having a fulfilling and happy date.

The both of us are working overtime at home.

Kiro: [groans] Farewell, my rosy weekend. Goodbye, my donuts and soup dumplings which have vanished into thin air.

MC: And brown sugar milk coffee, taro pies, and lava cakes...

Even though we sing the same tune, complaining dejectedly about not being able to go out, the both of us work non-stop on our tasks.

I can hear the crisp sound of Kiro tapping his pen rhythmically against the music stand. Occasionally, his soft humming can also be heard.

Seeing him working hard and struggling with himself, the corners of my lips lift upwards.

Even though we’re unable to head outside to do something interesting, it isn’t a bad thing to be together at home like this, channelling effort into our differing goals.

In some way, this should also count as a type of date.

I smile, adjusting my posture on the bean bag so that it’s more comfortable for typing, then continue immersing myself in the battle against the program proposal.

The proposal I’m working on is extremely urgent, and has to be settled by next week.

Not only that, but this sudden program has an importance accompanied by a non-proportional preparation timing.

And during such a period of high stress, the goddess of inspiration, who typically shows concern for me, has gone on a faraway vacation, and has completely vanished.

I have trouble writing. When I completely lose my train of thought, I exchange helpless glances with the few words on the screen.

In the end, I give up and pause the hands which have been maltreating the keyboard, preparing to pour myself a glass of water, and attempt to change my mood.

Lifting my head, I subconsciously glance in Kiro’s direction.

The curtains separate the room from sunlight, casting Kiro in a faint shadow as he leans against the window while composing a song.

Busy writing the new song, he hasn’t had time to maintain the state of his hair.

Finding stray hairs a hindrance as they block his vision, Kiro holds a rubber band in his mouth, combing his hair to the back, and ties it into a small ponytail.

Those azure eyes stare at the music score in concentration. They are as clear and bright as always, but lack the flash of light he usually has when inspiration strikes.

Reference materials and abandoned drafts are scattered all over, which seem to isolate him on a higher platform which I’m unable to reach.

Completely engrossed in creating his work, even his languid sitting posture exudes a cold and lonely feeling for some reason.

For a moment, I feel slightly dazed.

Kiro: Let me guess. Is Miss Chips lacking inspiration, and having trouble writing the proposal?

Kiro suddenly removes his earplugs, turning his head to look at me.

He shows me a brilliant smile, and the room is once again filled with sunlight.

MC: How did you know?

He stands up as well, stretching himself, turning back into the him that I’m most familiar with.

It’s as though the him of just a few seconds ago was simply an illusion surfacing from work-induced stress.

Kiro: Hmm... since just now, the sound of your keyboard has been intermittent, unlike how smooth it usually is.

While he speaks, Kiro walks to the snack cabinet and rifles through it carefully, as though he’s a small squirrel searching for a pine cone from the hole of a tree in winter.

Kiro: So I thought - Miss Chips is probably just like me, entering a bottleneck at work.

He splits the low-fat and sugar-free healthy snack into half, placing it into my hand.

Kiro: A little reward for the hardworking you. Now, do you feel more motivated?

MC: It sounds quite embarrassing... but I don’t think I can work any harder.

I munch on the snack which gives me absolutely no happiness, saying this with a sullen expression.

MC: The presentation is next week, but I still have no idea how to go about writing the proposal. Right now, I just want to turn into an ostrich and curl up into a ball, avoiding the presentation meeting in a few days... and also avoiding my unmotivated self.

I turn the laptop towards him, letting him see the lonely and piteous 235 words in the document.

MC: I even want to knock on my brain forcefully, checking to see if new ideas will appear.

Kiro: Hmm... I see...

Kiro curls his finger, tapping it gently against my forehead. He leans closer to my ear and asks a question.

Kiro: Nice to meet you, Miss Chips’ inspiration. May I know if you’re at home?

Following his action, I close my eyes and sense it carefully.

After a short silence, I furrow my brows and lift my head, looking at him bitterly.

MC: Hello, the user you’re calling is not in service...

Kiro reaches out to rub the area between my eyebrows, smoothening out the creases on my face.

After ensuring that I’m no longer a “bun”, he sighs, laying down next to me.

[Note] Chinese buns (包子 - “bao zi”) look like this i.e. they look like wrinkles:

Kiro: [sighs] Actually, I’m the same as you. There’s a song I especially wish to write, and I really like the concept and composition. I want to try writing a song on understanding and interpreting the theme of “love” from my own perspective.

He pauses, lifting his fringe with a wry smile. After give it a forceful rub, he causes his originally tidy hairstyle to become fuzzy.

Kiro: But no matter how I change it, I’m not satisfied. I keep feeling as though something is missing from the music. There’s no soul.

I untie the string, using a hand to smoothen his hair, helping him tie it up properly again.

MC: Whether it’s “My Treasure” or the song we wrote together last Christmas, aren’t they very incredible? They’re tender and sweet - it’s as though they can be sung into the hearts of every listener, enabling them to recollect the best memories.

Kiro: That won’t do.

Kiro flips over and sits up, his eyes serious.

Kiro: Those songs write about us. They write about you. I have several thousand ways to write about how adorable you are, but I don’t know which timbre I should use to face myself.

Not realising how potent his words are in causing one to blush, Kiro sighs once again after speaking, laying back down.

Kiro: [sighs] Looks like this time, we’ve both chosen subjects which are very difficult for us.

Kiro: Since we’ve both sunk into a major crisis--

Kiro: Want to try Kiro’s special, secret recipe and see if it can sort out our thinking?

Kiro shoots me a wink.

MC: Sure. Do I need to do anything?

Kiro: At this stage, all you have to do is sit here.

While Kiro speaks, he picks up the abandoned drafts he had casually thrown on the floor earlier, using them to enclose us within a square frame.

Kiro: This is the thinking box that we’re trying to escape from.

He sets down the final sheet of paper, completing this “box”, his tone light.

Kiro: Right now, we’re both locked in it.

MC: In that case, will the superhero help me break this box, so we can have a breakthrough together?

Kiro: Nope.

Kiro steps out of the square frame made out of drafts, reaching out to seize Cello, who is sleeping soundly on the cat climbing shelf. Then, he places it in my arms.

Cello: Meow?

Kiro nods in satisfaction, then jogs over to the kitchen, bringing over some fruits.

Under the confused gaze of both me and Cello, he makes several trips in and out, bringing over soft cushions, comfortable blankets, and two cups of sugar-free hot chocolate.

Finally, Kiro shifts another bean bag over, and sits down beside me.

Kiro: I’m incredibly sorry to tell you that even a superhero can’t find a way to jump out of this box.

Somewhat pleased with himself, he takes me into his arms with one hand, letting me lean on him.

Kiro: But at the very least, I can keep you company in this box. And together, we can see what exactly in this box has left us so bewildered that we’re unable to get out even after such a long time.

As he speaks, he tousles Cello’s fuzzy head, and it releases a comfortable meow.

Kiro: We can also decorate it a little, so the box is more comfortable.

MC: Pfft...

I can’t help but laugh. The sense of dejectedness due to work earlier seems to be cleared up with his actions.

I reach out, pointing at a corner of the ceiling in a joking manner.

MC: See that? Over there, there’s an MC who just can’t write a proposal, and she’s currently curled up and for waiting for mushrooms to sprout on her... I don’t know how to deal with it.

Kiro nods in understanding, pointing at a corner of the room.

Kiro: Ladies and gentlemen, look here. Here is a Kiro whose inspiration is stuck, and is currently drawing circles.

MC: When you put it like that, it sounds pretty cute...

While he speaks, I more or less understand why Kiro went to such trouble to do this.

Kiro: That’s right. To me, whether it’s that ostrich-like MC, or that MC who has mushrooms growing on her, I want to hug all of them properly.

Kiro: And then tell her solemnly - that you’re already very amazing. Even if you don’t think you’re good enough, I still like you very much.

Kiro: Just as much as a little bear in winter liking the warm blue sky and green grass.

As he speaks, he tightens his grip on my hand, leaning his chin on top of my head.

Surrounding me are soft blankets and cushions. In my arms is a cat which has gone back to sleep.

Behind me, Kiro’s body temperature and scent encase me tenderly, making me feel so contented that I want to release a joyful sound together with Cello.

I close my eyes in happiness, nuzzling the crook of Kiro’s neck.

The things that were bothering me just a second ago, weighing me down with stress and emotions and leaving me unable to breathe, vanish like smoke and disperse like clouds.

It’s as though I’ve awakened from an incredibly long nightmare, discovering that sunlight is illuminating my surroundings, and that a cup of hot chocolate is waiting at the bedside.

MC: Kiro, why do you always know of such ingenious methods?

I lift my head to look at him, gazing at that blue colour which seeps into one’s heart, and the golden colour traced by sunlight.

Our foreheads lean against each other, and he smiles as he responds.

Kiro: You were the one who taught me these things. Why are you asking me instead?

MC: Me?

Kiro: Last time, there were numerous occasions when I felt I couldn’t create works that were good enough, and I’d start to doubt myself. I’d lock myself in a corner, and start having internal fights with myself.

Along with his words, it’s as though I see the Kiro I was barely acquainted with back then, and how he had endured several days and nights of work.

He had locked himself up in a room, helpless and frantic, not leaving any space for himself to breathe.

Kiro: But during those times, you were always by my side. You told me that no matter how I was, you’d like me all the same.

As he speaks, he taps on my laptop.

Kiro: Actually, it’s the same today.

Kiro: Don’t just look at how I appear now. Actually, I’m in a terrible state.

Kiro: On one hand, I’m forcing myself to finish this work quickly. On the other hand, I’m so irritated and annoyed at myself, who lacks creativity.

Kiro: There were many times when I wanted to just give up.

Kiro: But...

He lifts a strand of my hair, twirling it around his fingertip. In the end, he pulls it to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

Kiro: Each time I heard your intermittent yet continuous typing sounds, I’d tell myself that next to me, you’re still working hard.

Kiro: My Miss Chips is also feeling perplexed, but she’s still persevering in work.

Kiro: So I told myself - how could I give up before you did?

Kiro: I must definitely persevere a little longer, so you see how dashing I am.

Kiro relates this softly at my ear. His tone, which harbours a smile, sounds as though he’s depicting a treasure.

I indulge myself in his arms, greedily enjoying the present tranquility and warm atmosphere for a while longer.

I always feel that Kiro is a star whenever I go off course. He always illuminates the pathway, pointing the way forward for me.

Actually, without even realising it, it’s because we’ve seen each others’ light that we could press on.

Encouraging each other, and feeling the way forward in the darkness.

Until we break through the predicament together.

MC: Thank you, my superhero. I think I’ve regained the ability to fight a little more.

A soft chuckle brushes my ear. Then, a warm and gentle touch is planted on my lower jaw.

Reminiscent of the whiskers of a kitten brushing past, spreading into a plain of sweetness.

Kiro: At your service anytime, my Miss Chips.

With that, Kiro and I sit in the “box” together, resuming our work.

He lays on the ground, scribbling and drawing on the music sheet, while I hug the laptop to myself, working hard to squeeze out a proposal.

The typing sounds on the laptop remain intermittent as before, but no longer have the sense of repression and frustration from earlier.

With his presence, I actually manage to complete a draft of the proposal without realising it.

It isn’t excellent, and there are many areas which require editing. Nevertheless, I’ve already tided over the most difficult period.

I move my neck and shoulders, then shift a little closer to Kiro.

Same as before, Kiro is wholly absorbed in the music sheet in his hands.

Even though I can’t tell his current progress, based on his expression and posture, he should be the same as me, breaking free from the lowest point of production.

I observe him quietly for a long time. In the end, my playfulness triumphs, and I think of pulling a tiny prank on him.

Lifting Kiro’s right hand, I burrow into his arms.

MC: Surprise~

Probably not expecting me to do this, Kiro is left dumbfounded. However, he subconsciously props himself up and hugs me.

Kiro: Miss Chips?

MC: A little reward for the hardworking musician.

Saying this, I tilt my head upwards and give him a light peck on the chin.

My sudden attack and the closing of distance between us enables me to successfully capture the faint redness on Kiro’s face.

Kiro: ...mm, how’s your proposal doing?

MC: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

Just like this, I wrap my arms around his neck, tousling his soft, golden coloured hair.

Because of my action, the ponytail is now in disarray.

I simply hook my fingers underneath Kiro’s rubber band, untying it, feeling the softness of his hair in between my fingers.

MC: How’s your song doing?

Kiro: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

He mimics my words, inserting one earplug into my ear.

A somewhat rough demo occupies my hearing.

I close my eyes, immersed in the music he has given to me. My fingers twirl the wire of the earpiece, tracing the rhythm.

Kiro: Although it isn’t done yet, the overall main key won’t change.

It’s a somewhat slow tune.

It's quiet, and even brings with it a heavy and melancholic melody. It’s reminiscent of a self-reflection, and also like a careful recount.

Kiro: Even though this tune is a little sombre, I still wrote it.

Kiro: Because I know you’d definitely say that you like such songs too.

MC: Of course.

I say this with certainty. He smiles and lowers his head, the tips of our noses gently touching.

MC: Kiro, I came across a saying once.

MC: The process of writing a song is actually a writer’s conversation with himself.

MC: Although I don’t know what you said to yourself, if this melody is your answer, I like it very much.

Our drifting breaths channel a temperature slightly higher than the sunlight.

MC: Including these slightly heavy portions - I like them very much.

Saying this, I crinkle my eyes, humming along with the melody from the earpiece.

Kiro releases a sigh, hugging me tightly.

Kiro: [sighs] Why does this song become so sweet when you hum it?

Before I can respond, Kiro continues.

Kiro: [laughs] It must be because MC is a jar of honey.

He nods with force, seeming to be very satisfied with this answer. Then, it’s as though something occurs to him, and he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Kiro: See? It’s very sweet.

MC: What...

I laugh, pretending to push at his chest.

MC: Looks like I have to stay a little further away from you next time, so you won’t become overweight.

Kiro: Hehe, it’s already too late! My feelings come in large portions, so it’s too late to say that.

Kiro presses me against the woollen blanket, embracing me with even more strength than before.

Kiro: Miss Chips has already been firmly held onto by me.

Kiro: I’ll leave a stamp.

While he says this, he nibbles the side of my neck half-jokingly, and half-declaratory.

He doesn’t use strength, but the electric-like sensation makes me forget how to breathe for a moment.

The charmingly tepid air leaves my cheeks burning crimson.

Kiro’s hug is tight, yet very careful. It’s as though he’s embracing the one and only treasure in the entire world.

MC: It’s not like I can really run away...

Not minding my soft mumbling, another kiss descends on the shell of my ear, as though seeking a confirmation.

His breaths lift up strands of stray hair near my ear. They brush against my earlobe, as scorching as his lips.

Kiro: MC, I’m actually timid and a little childish.

Kiro buries his head in my shoulder, speaking softly.

Kiro: When it comes to things I don’t like, I’ll always think of hiding them and locking them up. I won’t see them, and I won’t let other people see them.

Kiro: But if it’s you...

I secretly take a few deep breaths, cradling his face a little stiffly yet carefully, tilting my head upwards.

MC: Thank you for trusting me.

Kiro: ...

Kiro’s eyes widen slightly, and his lips part and close. It’s as though he wants to say something, but returns to a blank.

At the end of a short silence, Kiro speaks solemnly.

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song.

He lowers his voice slightly. Even though this sentence is as light as a feather, I know that he’s as serious as making a vow.

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song, and sing various versions of myself to you in the future.

Kiro: Even the parts which are heavier, and the parts I’m unwilling to face myself.

MC: Mm. I’ll definitely listen earnestly.

Following the trail of his spine, I stroke his back lightly, giving him my promise.

Kiro: I know.

Kiro: It’s precisely because no matter what melody it is, you’ll definitely sing it into a song akin to honey.

Kiro: Which is why I have such courage.

I no longer speak, only giving him a serious nod.

Both his breathing and heart beats can be heard, regular and steady.

Kiro: Since we’ve reached an agreement, should I leave another stamp?

Kiro’s voice is once again light-hearted, even carrying with it a twinge of slyness.

MC: Wait! The most important thing now should be noting down the hard-earned inspiration before it goes away!

I grip several music sheets at the side, pressing them against his chest, attempting to flee from his arms.

MC: Get to work quickly!

Kiro: Why are you like this?

Kiro pouts, showing me his signature, puppy-eyed expression of dejection.

MC: I won’t be duped by your gaze again. I’m going to become a merciless supervisor, so you can finish your work before the deadline!

Seeing that his plan has been foiled, Kiro simply gives up “pretending”. With a smile, he grips my struggling wrist, pressing it to the side.

MC: Where’s your professionalism? Could it...

A prolonged kiss seals up the words I haven’t spoken.

Kiro: It’s exactly because of my professionalism that I can say with certainty...

Kiro smiles, his sapphire-like eyes radiating an azure colour even more eye-catching than the clear skies of winter.

Perhaps he hasn’t realised it himself, but he looks at me with the most burning and clear gaze, sticking out the tip of his tongue. Like a dragonfly flitting across water, he wets his lower lip.

Kiro: Before my inspiration vanishes, there’s still time to act coquettishly with my favourite Miss Chips.

Phone calls: First // Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

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rosenpacht · 4 years

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Mark’s INFJ explained

So I know I said I might do Johnny or Taeyong’s MBTI, because I’ve been getting some ideas of what their types might be. But honestly, I’m a bit scared to post it because both of them haven’t claimed what their types are, and I don’t want to seem like a miss-know-it-all. That’s why I haven’t posted about them until now.

But THEN… I have been absorbing all this comebacks–SuperM’s and NCT 2020. And SuperM’s just all over youtube right now that I just constantly watch them. And then I don’t know how, one day I was pondering on what type Mark would be. And I was having this conversation with myself:

“Mark seems like an intuitive person, because he likes to overthink the smallest things sometimes–he seems like an Ni to me. But he’s also such a people person, like he’s one of the most considerate ones, so probably have a big Fe function also… hmmm, a NiFe… what type has a NiFe function stack? *googled it* Oh! It’s INFJ. Now let’s check what he says his type was…”

And it really was INFJ. wow. I honestly never know what his type was, and I was just guessing things. So, that’s why I decided to dissect a little bit about INFJ and the examples that I’ve found in Mark.

Disclaimer: the theories I’m about to insert are from various sources on the internet, so you can look it up.

INFJ Cognitive Function stacks =

Primary function: Introverted Intuition (Ni)

Secondary function: Extroverted Feeling (Fe)

Tertiary function: Introverted Thinking (Ti)

Inferior function: Extroverted Sensing (Se)

the exact opposite of Jaehyun’s (ESTP = SeTiFeNi)

For this part, I’m gonna be talking a lot about the first and second function and insert some instance that I found on Mark. The italic words are quoted from various sources.

Introverted Intuition (Ni)

Ni is the way that someone perceive their inner world (in their mind). This function leads their train of thought. Ni usually tends to store informations in separate data that connects to each other, forming some kind of a pattern. They have it all inside their head. Ni primary user is known as a genius or smart person (especially INTJ, shoutout). I’ve known an INTJ person and he’s like just so smart, and not just academically.

They just have everything inside their head, all this information and patterns of what might happen if someone did this, or if they did that. Some even say that Ni primary users are like a psychic because of how they’re able to predict what would happen. And this is not in a psychic kinda way, just that because they have everything mapped out inside their head already, and they can just pinpoint what will happen next if A happen or if B happen. Because Ni mainly focuses either on the future or what happens in the present that remains unknown or unprovable. Does that make sense?

Extroverted Feeling (Fe)

Fe as a secondary function basically is how the person based their decision on. Opposite to ESTP (Jaehyun’s MBTI), which secondary function was Thinking (Ti), an Fe user makes decision based on feelings. And because it’s Extroverted, it usually depends on other people’s concern. In Mark’s case, he probably thinks of how his decision might affect other people. Whereas Jaehyun probably will make decision logically, like how things are supposed to make sense.

Fe also the way INFJ process their emotions. This is the first Extroverted function in the function stacks, so this is also the tool to communicate to the outer world–or people. We can already see from the outside that Mark is quite the emotional guy, very considerate, caring, etc. I mean, his emotion is so palpable on screen. You can tell when he’s mad, you can tell when he’s flustered, you can tell when he doesn’t like being told to do something that he doesn’t want to, you can tell when he’s uncomfortable in some situations.

Ni and Fe together

“An NiFe often feels like their whole brain is working at once. On good days, it feels like smooth and cohesive movements of data headed to a single point on a horizon of discovery, but in times of stress, it seems more like a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.”

I realized something recently when watching NCT videos and interviews. Mark often times get teased (mainly by Haechan lol) whenever he was about to say something on screen for taking too long to speak. And I kinda understand why Haechan does that (other than him being an absolute brat, bless his soul). I kinda realize that Mark sometimes over think what he wants to say, or that he has so much to say that he doesn’t know how to filter his thoughts. This is actually a cute trait in my opinion.

And when he does say it out loud, he often times gives out a deep answer to a simple question. To me, I think this is a good thing because when you’re an artist, people tend to want to know detailed things about you. So when he gives out meaningful answer, it’s always a juicy information for fans or the interviewer themselves.

I also found this clip that’s soooooo fitting to the quote above….

He just had an “Aha” moment very briefly, and I can just see the gears in his brain just spinning so quickly. We can see that he was saying something, but then his brain discovered something and told him to say it out, but then just as quickly his brain also was like “Nope, nevermind”, and this all happen in a nanosecond.

And Johnny was just spot on… Something did happen inside Mark’s head.

And the fact that Mark knows what happens inside his head, means that he’s a mature INFJ.

I kinda find this little bit very cute actually….

Moving on…

“Another feature of Ni is that it tends to bring up needed insight and stored information at exactly the right time, without much effort to consciously recall what is needed. Unfortunately, this automatic drive to bring relevant information into the forefront of consciousness can result in negative patterns, like over analyzing problems that have no immediate solution to the point that they can become fixated or obsessively worried.”

I feel like this clip kinda represent the aforementioned traits, just a little though…

I mean… I agree with Kai. Dude, it was just a game, why are you thinking so much about the meaning behind why this person was given that board to solve??

Baek’s response is probably mine if I was there lol…

Anywaysssss!

That’s what I think about Mark being an INFJ. I might read further about the type and make some correlation to Mark. PEACE OUT

#mark #mark nct #mark lee #nct #mbti #nct mbti #mark mbti #NCT 127 #nct 127 mbti #mark nct 127 #mark scenario #nct mark mbti #mark scenarios #nct mark

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 4 years

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My notes on Lethal White episode 3

As usual, my poorly sorted and not-really-filtered thoughts on “Lethal White”, episode 3. Continued under the cut because ALL THE SPOILERS!

We’re back with Robin and cling-wrapped Chiswell. Holliday plays Robin’s tenuously controlled panic very well. The subtle trembling, the tears she forces back. She’s so good. 👏🏼

A two-week jump. These always jar me. Did that happen in the book?🤨

Another mention of Strike talking with Wardle, and again we don’t get to see him. Dang. I really miss his leather-jacketed wry humour. 😔

Of course they’re meeting at “The White Horse”. Where else? *Rosmersholm vibes*

The reveal about the bones was a bit anti-climactic, wasn’t it? It had a better effect with the skull, in the book. And how do you “accidentally” shoot a horse, even when it’s a small one? How much more are we supposed to hate Freddie? (This episode is just full of terribly behaving men)

Who are the kids playing with the dog? Pringle and Pong? Were those their ridiculous nicknames?

And here comes the “Knives Out” scene. 🔪The Chiswell family is such a loving bunch. *coughs*

Did you see the playful tension between Raff and Robin? And that little disconcerted look Cormoran casts them? Bit jealous, Corm? 😏

Raff’s sarcastic little throw-in remarks are really making this scene more fun. Gotta give him that: he adds a bit of “black sheep” dash to the family!

“KEYS!” 😁 Cormoran is like the adult stepping between a bunch of fist-throwing kids.

Cormoran and Robin are staring at the Chiswell’s bickering as if waiting for one of them to actually start spitting and biting.

Raff: “I’m sure our charming hostess means to offer you tea at some point.” 🤣

Cormoran: “I’m thinking it might be suicide after all. He couldn’t face another family gathering.” 😂

*grunts* We’ve all been there, haven’t we? (And I don’t even want to start thinking about Cormoran’s family gatherings…)

Hah! 🙋🏻‍♀️ I guessed right from the leaked stills: it is the hospital Billy’s in! (Cookie points for me!)

That staff woman gives off very sensible and caring vibes. They picked the actress well.

And, god, Billy carved the horse into his own chest? 😟 Good god…

Vanessa! And she looks good! And - unlike in the first series - she smiles! And is really NICE! (Wow, what a beautiful woman.) 😍

That little lounge corner in Cormoran’s office is new, isn’t it? Very cozy. ☕️🍪

Goth Robin! She looks awesome! 😍 (Excuse me, but have we traveled back into the 80s? She looks like half the people in my school back then.) And look at Holliday playing her: she even moves differently! This season must have been a lot of fun for her as an actress.

I love the Wiccan shop. I had one of those salt lamps (and a lava lamp too), but don’t tell anybody… ☺️

Cormoran’s FACE when he sees goth Robin! 🥰The double take, the pleased surprise, that touch of awe… He is so proud of her! (What a contrast to Matt the Twat’s derogatory reactions to her disguises).

Cormoran: “You liking Raff then?” Are we a teensy bit jealous again, Corm? ☺️

When he asked Robin what she was doing this evening, I held my breath. WAS HE GOING TO ASK HER OUT? 🤗 He wasn’t. 😔 Everybody calm down. It’s not happening yet. Unfortunately. And probably never will. *very long sigh*

It’s so cute how he can’t stop looking at her! 🥰I love her confidence. And his twinkle-eyed, soft grin that doesn’t seem to want to fade. He truly admires her, for her competence AND for her looks. ASK HER OUT YOU FOOL! *headdesk*

Lorelei. With coffee. Apologizing for saying “I love you”. Ack. And then Corm says “I was gonna call you.” (You weren’t, admit it!). I didn’t know what to feel when seeing this scene for the first time: shocked that they were still together? Sympathy for Lorelei? Mad at Cormoran’s lackluster ‘yeah, alright, whatever’ attitude? Very mixed emotions.

Cormoran following Aamir along the South Bank. Watch me pointing excitedly at the screen because I’ve strolled down that same boardwalk way back when traveling was still a thing. *flails* *misses London*

Aamir’s place. Why is Cormoran talking about food again? Robin hasn’t fed him biscuits today yet, has she?

Cormoran’s always a bit unnerving when interrogating someone. He uses friendly words, but there is that tiny bit of menace about him, an intensity and pressure… SIB Corm. Tom does that so well. 😎

“You gonna butter me?” Smooth moves, ex-Sergeant Strike! 🥋 Oh, I love seeing him in action! 🤗

Robin hides the phone, and I am a nervous wreck worrying someone’s going to call and her phone isn’t in silent mode! (enneagram type 6 here, hello…) 😬

I was waiting for Matt to be an absolute prick when he sees goth Robin, but he’s actually not. And he’s had the Green Dress mended. I like how the show gives him a few shades and doesn’t paint him as outrageously hateful as the book does. (jftr, we all still hate you, Matt!)

But then, the way he rushes at her with his “That’s not true” - why does it somehow feel like a physical threat? And wow, Robin is COLD. Dude, your marriage is over. You just haven’t been notified yet.

So we’re ignoring Lorelei’s calls again, Cormoran? *eyebrow lift* Is that what we do as a gentleman? And then he calls off dinner and has no more than a lame “Sounds good, I’ll call you” when she mentions breakfast? If he’s not invested at the mention of food, something is clearly wrong…

Della Winn, and they picked a blind actress for the role. Good for them! ✔️

So, help me out here, native speakers: Della says she can hear the West Country in Cormoran’s vowels, but to me he doesn’t sound Cornish. Am I wrong? To my ears, Tom is speaking in some sort of self-made accent that I can’t place, but it doesn’t sound anything like the Cornish burr Robert Glenister gives him in the audiobooks. Opinions? 🤔

Rhiannon’s story touched me in the book, and it touches me deeply here. A revenge murder would’ve made perfect sense to me.

The party. We’ve apparently time-traveled again.

“What’s ‘Becca’ short for?” 🙄

Ah! The note was hidden in the maxipads box! I seem to recall that, in the book, Robin hid the Houses of Parliament bugging device in a tampon box. Cool parallel.

VANESSA! HURRY UP! 😨

The chase. Good thing this goth girl wears sensible shoes! Nice trick with the crouching and tripping. Take THAT, Jimmy! Robin’s learned from past experience, and I love the addition of the chase that wasn’t in the book. Robin’s no longer a helpless victim. She is a FIGHTER! And - BAM! Perfect timing, patrol car! 🚔

Cormoran: “How did you guess where she hid it?” (Because that’s where girls hide stuff, darling. ONE good thing all the menstruating is good for at least.)

Quick shout-out to Tom Burke’s freckles. They really should be credited as supporting actors. 🥰

Btw, the navy jumper is not a jumper but a cardigan! I bet Tom was pleased. (And my shippy brain can imagine him wrapping a freezing Robin in it 💙)

Enter Lorelei. Here be dragons.

“You know, if you want a hot meal and a shag with no human emotions involved, there are restaurants. And brothels.”

Oooohhhh... 😳

Need ointment for that burn, Corm?

And she’s entitled! Cormoran’s old school gallantry seems to have gone MIA when it comes to treating Lorelei with the respect she deserved. Especially since he had his chance at ending it decently and respectfully at their earlier little talk over coffee. I still don’t think he meant to hurt her. It was thoughtlessness. Which is no redeeming factor at all. He deserved this, even in front of Robin. #TeamLorelei

Well, at least he didn’t get smacked with an ashtray this time.

I LOLed when Robin simply went straight back to business without commenting. A real pro. 😎

Cormoran: “That was a bit awkward.” Was it, Corm? We barely noticed. *snorts*

And although Robin defends him a little bit, her suppressed smirk and her work-life balance remark tell us she’s enjoyed this a bit. And not just because Cormoran is single again.

Matthew calls: “Sorry, it’s a work thing.” (NO IT ISN’T AND YOU’RE A LYING, CHEATING [REDACTED] !!!) 🤬

Robin steps on Sarah Shaglock’s earring, and now starts a scene that makes me want to shower Holliday in BAFTAs. 🏆🏆🏆 Heart wrenching, painful, powerful. And Matthew finally shows his true colours. (And Kerr Logan deserves a nod for his acting too).

On a completely irrelevant side note: Matt stole that coat from Darius Tanz, only that Santi looked hot as hell in it whereas Matt just looks like an accountant who pretends to look hot. (Go and watch “Salvation” if you have no clue what I’m talking about)

Robin is so bravely holding it together, and - wow - her coldness towards Matt is pretty impressive, and at the same time she’s forcing herself not to cry and fights down a panic attack. It’s amazing how she puts every emotion and train of thought from the books onto the table and we can read it in her face and in her voice and body language. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼Best scene of the season, if you ask me. (Not that anyone ever asks me, but here it is.)

“I’m not gonna let you fail again!” 😡 Aaaand Matt tries to put her down again. To make her feel weak and in need of help. BUT IT’S NO LONGER WORKING. She’s got this. Oh, she’s got this!

They left out Robin saying that he “doesn’t even have a knife”, and I’m actually glad they did. This didn’t need to be about physical assault again. Matt wouldn’t go that far, and it wasn’t necessary to go there. They clearly showed how manipulative he is and how strong Robin has to be to walk away from him, and that is enough.

The minicab driver. I remember the actress as Mrs. Fitz from “Outlander”, and she’s the perfect motherly tough love type to crack that marriage joke. And to get our girl out of there with no further fuss.

Whoa. I had high expectations. And they were met 10/10.

What did you guys think?

#lethal white #lethal white episode 3 #cormoran strike #cb strike #bbc strike #recap #🚨 spoiler alert

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minecraft-miku · 4 years

Photo

so i finished hamatora. i’ve always wanted to talk about the animes ive watched but never get the chance to so ill just spill my thoughts out. so a new thing on my blog? anime reviews but its just my subjective opinion? fuck yeah! if you dont want to read the rest, its ok. heres my score: 8.5/10

summary: hamatora is about this group of people who have these abilities called minimums. they get hired by people to do stuff for them like solve cases or body guarding. one day, they get a job that is connected to a serial killer and they have to find that serial killer with their detective friend.

things i like about it: oh boy, i have a lot to say. i really like the main cast of characters. their designs are very unique and you can tell each of them apart. you cant really hate a character (unless theyre evil, duh) and they feel like one big happy family. i always love it when the cast of characters feel like a family to me. it makes me super warm and fuzzy inside.

second thing i really like: the animation. the animation in it are great. in the first season, its colorful and its unique. it really pops out from other anime with its color schemes and character designs. episode 5 of season one was an animation train wreck tbh but we can forget about its existence. i really like how they toned down the colors in later episodes, especially season 2. its really evident when they start activating their minimums in season 2. i have no idea if it is because of the budget or animation studio but im glad that they toned it down. it was hard to look at.

story was, aight. got really confusing at times and somewhat boring at the talking parts but thats just me with any anime. i dont really like long talking parts. it all really clicked together at the end and it wrapped everything with a nice bow on top. i cant find any loopholes, i dont have the brain for that.

another thing i like: THE PROTAGONIST. his? minimum? is? super? cool? and? hes? pretty? hot? every time he is on screen i just, cry. hes so cool god i love him sm.

look at him... perfection

last thing i like is the season 2 op god damn. its so good. sen no tsubasa? absolutely wonderful its great perfection. i cant pass it on osu sadly… things i dislike: i put some dislikes in the likes oops. but ill restate them and add on some more stuff one thing i disliked is when the characters used their minimums. the filter they use... it hurts my eyes. super grateful they got rid of that in season 2.

look at this shit. wack. its very unique but it just... hurts to look at.

another dislike: the fighting. i wish the fights were longer and more thought out. like, more strategic fighting. but this anime is more mystery based so ill let that slide.

this next dislike is a spoiler so skip it if you havent finished re: hamatora:

i really disliked how they put in the romance at the end. hajime and nice barely interact in all of hamatora. they shove in the chemistry at the end of the series to act as a motivation for nice. they didnt need to force the romance for a motivation, them being friends is fine.

i was gonna write down my before/after thoughts, but im really lazy right now so ill leave it here. i sorta wish this series was more popular and had some kind of fandom around it. really underrated.

#hamatora #hamatora nice #re:hamatora #ハマトラ #anime #anime review #im dumb #i love nice #<3

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aiiizawa · 4 years

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Cecilia wondered if it was an extended, bad dream. The sensation of falling all around them— the bright, blue sky being blinding with interspersed clouds of pure white and the blurry form of buildings flying past them. They were no stranger to dreams about falling out of the sky, or some building. Almost bored, they closed their eyes and tried to change the dream to something else, maybe even give themselves the ability to fly.

…

……

………

That wasn’t working.

In a flash, Cecilia opened their eyes and tried to look around. How fast were they falling? How close was the ground?? How could this happen when they lived on the GROUND FLOOR of a house with NO SECOND STORY— Cecilia was going to scream,definitely, but the sensation changed almost immediately. What was once the rush of cold air flying behind them was now being shielded, and they gently opened one of their eyes hesitantly.

“Worry not, my young friend!! I am here!!”

A booming, familiar voice. This face…. Long, blonde hair…bright blue eyes nearly eclipsed by the strong bone structure of his face.

“ALL MIGHT?!” The accusation came out faster than their brain could stop it.

“YES!”” His answer, brilliant and shining in the sun, took the wind out of them even further. They stared up at him, mouth hanging agape as he deftly jumped with them to the ground. Apparently, not the correct response, as he had a brief look of shock on his face, but it disappeared as fast as it came, so they chalked it up to the brightness of the sun around them and their imagination. A small crowd had appeared around the two of them as All Might gently placed them onto the floor swiftly, placing both of his huge hands on their shoulders.

“Now, my young friend, as much as life may be hard for you-- or perhaps you were merely experimenting with your quirk-- You must value your life!! It is not to be carelessly thrown away!” He enunciated these words firmly, eyes boring into theirs as they blinked. There was a misunderstanding somewhere there, definitely, but they couldn’t seem to find a moment to interject as he continued his well-meaning lecture. More than likely, they were in a bit of shock. First of all…that was All Might. ‘That’ All Might. The world’s greatest hero, the symbol of peace.... That is, in their favorite shounen manga. Undeniably, they could feel his hand on their shoulder and his finger wag as he continued, and the way their neck hurt from attempting to look up to him. Slowly, they tried to look around themselves. Aside from All Might (surprisingly in his normal clothes), there were several heroes hovering nearby...even some in the sky. They could read advertisements on the various buildings and hear the speakers announce clearly.

‘Be Free to Be You-- Unique Styles for your Unique Body Type.’

‘QUIRKS ARE DEVELOPING SOONER THAN YOU THINK. IF YOUR CHILD SHOWS SIGNS OF DEVELOPING THEIR QUIRK, DON’T BE LEFT BEHIND. QUIRK COUNSELORS IN YOUR AREA ARE SPECIALLY TRAINED TO MAKE SURE THAT YOUR CHILD CAN GO BEYOND’

‘Attention: those trying to commute to the 4th Ward on the train should make alternative arrangements as a recent villain attack has left the tracks unable to be used. For the time being--’

As their gaze flickered between the various sights, oblivious to the world around them, All Might continued. “If you have any other problems, please do not hesitate to take advantage of this country’s mental health services! You have your whole future before you! Go beyond!! Plus Ultra!!” He took a step back, saluted, and went to leap away.

Away.

Hold on--

“W-W-WAIT, DON’T G--” Cecilia, finally realizing that he would be their best bet to understand things, reached out to stop him, hand outstretched.

“HA HA HA!! DO TAKE CARE!!” In a flash that was more powerful than they had thought, even when he had just saved him, he was gone. Well, fuck. Cecilia was frozen in place for just a moment, and then turned their attention to the crowd around them that was already dissipating since the attraction, All Might, had just vanished. A couple of well-meaning people approached, asking if they needed help to a hospital, to which they firmly denied. An embarrassed flush came to their face, so they bowed quickly and dodged them, walking in a random direction to make more sense of their bearings. As soon as they had managed to filter in through the crowd and walk a little bit, Cecilia leaned up against the wall in a nearby alleyway.

First things first, they needed to take stock of what they had on them. Thankfully, they weren’t in their pajamas or anything...a blessing, since the last thing they remembered was crawling into bed at a late hour. Simple pair of jeans (with pockets! That was epic.) and a comfortable shirt that they recognized from their closet that had flowers decorating the front. Worn tennis shoes, and...they patted their back pocket firmly. Yes. Quickly pulling out their phone, they hoped they’d have some information. However, quickly running through their phone, it was clear it wasn’t the case. No apps, except for an unnamed app that resembled the original internet browser and the notepad. They didn’t think it was possible to have a phone like this; they never messed with it in this fashion. At first, the thought did come across that perhaps their phone had been switched, but the telltale crack in the screen protector…the case and phone holder that they chose specifically together...there was no way it wasn’t their phone. Idly, they tried to open the browser, but even then...nothing. ‘BAD GATEWAY’ was written in bold, dark letters each time they tried to reset. Heaving a sigh, they decided to shove it back into their pocket rather than waste anymore battery. For now, they’d just have to keep it in case something DID work. Now...to figure out what to do now. They didn’t have their purse, so it wasn’t like they could go anywhere with no money or identification. Even if they did...the currency was a problem. Cecilia debated about sitting down and just going ‘fuck it’, but in the end, decided on a random direction and started walking.

Even if the circumstances were the absolute worst, they’d always wanted to go to Japan, so they at least took in the sights. It was really neat, especially with quirks everywhere, it was hard not to stare. Naturally colored hair in so many fun colors...they frowned briefly at their reflection. Would it have been too much to ask for some fucking pink hair without effort? Everything else was the same.

“Um, excuse me…? Are you alright?” A young voice called out to them, and they swiftly turned on their heel to answer.

“Ah, yeah-- I’m fine, sorry, I’ll move.” Cecilia bowed quickly and shuffled to the side. The young man put his hands out in refusal.

“Oh no! I just...recognized you from the article. You just got rescued by All Might, right? I saw you wandering around and-- Not that I was stalking or following you or anything!! But you seemed confused and I wanted to know if you needed help to the hospital or anything--” He stammered as Cecilia stared at him.

Green hair. Not just any green hair, a very special, curly head of green hair…and freckles…

Wait a minute-- Cecilia recognized him immediately. It took a minute because he wasn’t in the U.A. uniform, but that couldn’t have been anyone but Izuku Midoriya. Looking down at his black gakuran, could it be? Putting the clues from All Might’s appearance earlier, they must have been put in the very beginning of the story. Made sense. However…

Cecilia blinked. If he was right here and wanted to take them to the hospital…he wouldn’t have his interaction with the sludge villain that let him meet All Might. The thought sent a chill down their spine. Absolutely fucked, they couldn’t let that happen. Cecilia needed a plan, fast, and thankfully, there was always ol’ reliable.

Lying.

“Hey, you’re, uhhhhh, Midoriya-kun? Yes?” They asked him, tilting their head slightly. Midoriya blinked rapidly in shock, round eyes widening.

“H-Huh? How do you know my name?” He asked incredulously. He looked a little bit suspicious, but more shocked than anything else.

“I live in your apartment complex! I’m really new, both to this country and to the city;” Not a lie. Technically. “I didn’t recognize you until just now! Unfortunately, you’re right. I am a bit lost, but I just wanted to get home. Would you mind walking me there?” They flashed him their best smile, putting forth what they hoped was a trustworthy and slightly embarrassed face. He thought for a moment, and then immediately nodded.

“O-Oh! Of course! I had heard that someone had moved in earlier, what a coincidence!” He laughed brightly, bowing. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I live with my mother-- Well, you probably already met her already if you know me.” He stuck his hand out with a friendly smile and they grinned and introduced themselves as they shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Midoriya-kun.” Cecilia smiled, nodding once and then returning their hands to their pockets. “Lead the way, sir.”

They felt a little bit bad that they were having a child lead them into what they fully knew was danger on a full and blatant lie...but that would be a problem for Midoriya after he had his fated encounter with All Might. After that...it’d be fine.

Probably. He was a forgiving child.

“So you just graduated middle school, huh? Wow, you must be really excited to start high school. What school are you aiming for?” They asked conversationally as they walked. For the most part, even though he was TERRIBLY shy and only called them by their last name despite asking for him not to, he was pretty talkative.

“I-- I want to go to U.A! It might be silly of me, especially after everything that happened today, but…” he sighed. “It’s all I want to do, even though I’m quirkless.” Cecilia nodded along.

“Of course, of course. I get you, Midoriya-kun. Don’t worry. I know you’re gonna be a great hero, no matter what. After all, you saw me lost and approached me. The kind of person who can’t leave troubled people alone, I think, is a good candidate for a hero.”

They might have been a little biased, though. He grinned bashfully, happy to be praised by an adult. “Thank you, Love-san. I really appreciate that…” He scratched behind his neck. “I’ve been feeling really discouraged recently, so thank you for believing in me, even though we’ve just met.”

Oops. Cecilia laughed it off nervously. “Well, you know, I’m an American. We tend to say whatever’s on our mind!” At that, they launched into a discussion (read: Midoriya infodumping) about All Might’s time in America. It was very informative, even though it was hard for them to understand a lot of it with how fast he was speaking. Mostly, he seemed content to have someone listen to him, so they did just that and tried to keep watch on where the sludge villain would finally come. After the fourth underpass they walked under, they were starting to wonder if maybe their appearance had fucked up the timeline. Taking a quick minute, they rubbed their temple gently.

Noticing they stopped, Midoriya turned and looked back concernedly. They opened their eyes to tell him it was nothing, but stopped, suddenly making eye contact with the grate bubbling at their feet.

“Love-san...?” He asked. His eyes were so wide, and then, the manhole cover seemed to explode. A disgusting, creeping feeling crawled up their leg.

“Two disguises? What a wonderful day I’m having, especially after having just run into that man here…” Disgusting, cold, sticky. They tried to kick him off but it was no use. Midoriya ran running to their aid, even as he was also being ‘tried on for size.’

“You’re a little too short, so I don’t think I’ll bother with you...but I can’t have you running off to the cops.” The viscous, amorphous fluid flowed freely into their mouth, leaving a rancid taste behind. At this point, they couldn’t even see Midoriya, who was still trying desperately to save them even as his own airway was being blocked.

Maybe it was their karma for lying to him and getting him to follow them? That sure would be a kick in the head. Even with their eyes closed, a deeper, darker blackness was coming over them. They hoped All Might would come here soon, damn it…They didn’t want to die for nothing.

“Have no fear, my boy!”

That voice, once again. All of a sudden, a huge, unrelenting pressure from a different direction that seemed to force the villain out of their body. As they sunk to their knees, and then flat on their face, they just barely saw him do the same to Midoriya. Cecilia had just one thought.

Fucking finally.

It had been a hell of a day.

#txt #writing stuff #hello this is my SUPREMELY self indulgent fanfic

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awhitehead17 · 5 years

Text

Cruel To Be Kind

Tim & Bruce & Dick, Sick!Tim, Good dad Bruce, Big brother Dick, Comfort, Suppositories medicine, Humour.

Summary: As Tim keeps on being sick and can’t keep any oral medicine down, Bruce can only think of one more thing to try before taking his son to the hospital - something he knows Tim definitely doesn’t want happening.

Enjoy! :D

Dick’s line of thoughts was broken when his phone starts ringing next to him. Without looking at the caller ID he answers it and carries on reading the documents on the computer screen in front of him. “Hello?”

“Dick.”

Dick raises an eyebrow as Bruce’s voice filters through the phones speaker. “Hey B what’s up?”

It stays silent for a while, long enough for Dick to double check his phone just to see if he was still calling Bruce and that they hadn’t been accidently disconnected somehow. He frowns when he sees that yes they are still connected and wonders why hadn’t Bruce answered him straight away.

“Bruce, what’s wrong?”

There’s another pause before the man was finally talking back. “Are you busy right now?”

Dick blinks at the unexpected question. “Uh not really I guess. I’m in the cave on the computer reading up on the recent documents on the Falcone case. Why?” There’s something going on but what exactly it was Dick wasn’t entirely sure.

“Do you mind coming up here and giving me a hand with something? I’m going to need your help with this.”

Now wasn’t that entirely unexpected. He couldn’t help but blink in surprise at the request, because when does Bruce ask for help for anything he does. The answer is never. What ever was happening was in fact big, big enough for Bruce to ask help. Not only that but to ask for help outside of the capes.

“And where am I going to?” Dick asks already saving his page and shutting down the computer for later. He’ll just come back to it after finishing helping Bruce with whatever it is.

“Come up to Tim’s room, it’s him that I need help with.”

Dick pauses his motions in shock. “Tim? What’s wrong with Tim?” He hadn’t realised anything was wrong with his brother. As far as he knew he was at WE for the day, they were even planning on going on patrol together that evening. What’s happened?

Bruce sighs and Dick can just imagine the other man pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, come here and I’ll explain okay.”

“Yeah sure, you better.”

Dick makes quick work then of turning the computer off and making his way up into the Manor. He works his way through the building all the way to Tim’s room where he finds Bruce pacing, pacing, outside of Tim’s bedroom door in the corridor.

“Bruce?” Dick calls out as he gets closer. “What’s going on, what’s up with Timmy.”

Before the man could say anything Dick was peering into the teenager’s room with curiosity and worry. He sees the kid curled up on his bed, wrapped up in his blankets, a bucket down on the floor and a half full water bottle on his bedside table. Dick scrunches his nose at the smell coming from the room and from that alone he could tell what was up.

Tim was sick.

“Tim’s sick.” Bruce says, confirming what he had thought.

“No shit.” Dick deadpans. “Why am I just finding out about this now? How long has he been sick for?”

Bruce sends him a glare but Dick’s unmoved by it. He’s had years to get used to it by now.

“I only found out that Tim was sick just over an hour ago. Tamara had called me from the office telling me Tim had a high temperature and was throwing up everywhere. I’ve spent the last hour getting him home and settled into bed, but the thing is he keeps on being sick.”

Dick glances at the teen curled up in bed again with worry. Tim’s always getting sick nowadays, it’s really unfair to the kid.

He turns back to Bruce raising an eyebrow, “Okay, but what was with the phone call? What do you need my help with?”

Much to Dick’s amusement Bruce suddenly looks very uncomfortable. It’s not often he sees the man baffled or unsure of something, sometimes it’s very funny to see however other times it can be downright nerve wracking.

“Bruce?” Dick prompts.

“As I said Tim keeps on being sick. I don’t think it’s a fever or anything, maybe just a bad stomach bug but as he keeps on throwing up he can’t keep any medicine down. There’s one last resort I can think of before I take him to the hospital if he doesn’t get better in the next few hours.”

Dick looks at the man expectantly, not entirely clicking onto what he was hinting at. Bruce stares back just as expectantly clearly expecting Dick to know what he was on about despite actually not saying anything to do with it.

Dick’s patience runs out, he rolls his eyes and sighs. “And what’s this last resort of yours Bruce? I have no idea what you’re thinking of right now! I’m not a mind reader!”

Bruce looks at him annoyed now and Dick glares back. He doesn’t get to be annoyed at him for his attitude. The man wasn’t being very forth coming (surprise surprise) and Dick want’s to know what’s going on.

“The only medicine I can think of giving him is some suppositories.”

A few beats go by before Dick’s eyes widen in realisation. “Oh!” Well that explains a lot of things. Frist being why Bruce seems so awkward about it and secondly why he wants Dick there to help him out. A few seconds later he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“He is gonna hate you for that Bruce.”

The man grimaces, “I know. But it’s either we try this or we take him straight to the hospital and we both know that Tim would rather stay here than be in there.”

Dick’s still smiling, finding the situation oddly funny. “He’s not going to be happy about it and will most definitely put up a fight.”

Bruce glares at him now, clearly finding it not as amusing as Dick is. “I’m aware Dick, thank you. That’s why you’re going to be there with me calming him down and to stop him from moving.”

Dick hums, already having figured that’s what he got called up for when Bruce said about the suppositories. He glances back in the room to find the kid now curled on his other side facing them with his head buried within his blankets. Dick looks back at Bruce raising an eyebrow in question, “And does Tim know what you’re planning to do?”

If possible Bruce looks even more uncomfortable. “Uh no… I haven’t said anything to him about it because I know that he’ll immediately refuse the medicine. But as I had said before, it’s either we try this or I take him down to the car right now and get him to the hospital because I’m not taking any chances.”

Dick fights the smile that’s trying to break out on his face. The situation wasn’t funny at all, the fact that Timmy was sick and keeps on vomiting was a worry, what makes this whole situation funny is just how protective and concerned Bruce is being for the little bird. He hasn’t seen Bruce this worried about any of them in a long time, it was amusing as well as refreshing to see. Thankfully to years of training he’s able to control his emotions (as well as his tongue) and nods in return of Bruce’s comment.

“Well while you go get the stuff you need, I’ll do your dirty work and break the news to the kid then.” Dick tells him.

Bruce gives him a relieved smile, which Dick returns with an unimpressed look, “Thanks chum, I won’t be a minute.”

Dick doesn’t respond, instead he opens the door further and enters Tim’s room. He walks over to the bed and crouches down by the mattress so he’s head level with the sick teenager. Reaching out he strokes the top of Tim’s head, trying to gently coax him out of the blankets. “Hey Timmy, I’ve heard that you’re feeling under the weather.”

It takes a moment but eventually the teen was moving and lifting his head up so he could see Dick. Dick tries to not flinch when he sees Tim’s face because his brother looked like crap, he was very pale, his eyes were glassy and blood shot and his skin was sweaty.

“Dick?” Tim sounded really croaky and confused.

“Yeah it’s me kid.”

Tim’s face falls back down into his blankets, when he next speaks it’s all muffled but Dick’s able to make it out thankfully. “Where’s Bruce?”

“He’s gone to get your medicine Timbo, he won’t be long.”

“But I won’t be able to keep it down. Anything I’ve tried I’ve just brought back up.”

Dick’s unable to hide the wince that comes with knowing what this next bit is going to all about. “I know kid but it’s a different kind of medicine we’re going to try with you.” Here we go. “Bruce is grabbing some suppositories for you.”

Tim lifts his head up again and gives Dick a look of confusion. Normally Dick knows that Tim would know what he means but he guesses being sick is rattling his brain for a moment. So being the kind older brother that he is, he helps Tim’s mind along.

“It’s… it’s a medicine that goes in your butt Tim.” Nothing like the blunt truth. “We’re going to need to put it up inside of you.”

There’s a moment of silence between them as Tim takes in that information. It’s then like he’s been snapped into reality and is suddenly all lucid because he’s shaking his head in refusal and starts squirming on the bed. “No. Not. Absolutely not. You are not inserting a tablet up my ass!”

And here comes the fight… Dick sighs and quickly climbs onto Tim’s bed to stop his brother from escaping. He wraps his arms around him (blankets and everything) and holds him close. Tim carries on squirming and protesting, even going about and kicking his legs.

“Tim, Timmy. Tim! It’s for your own good okay! You can’t keep any oral medicine down so this is the last resort or else we take you to the hospital. I know that you really would rather stay here than be in there so this is the only option. I know it’s not great and is extremely embarrassing but it’s this or the hospital!” Dick explains to him, struggling to keep a hold on him as he carries on trying to escape.

Tim doesn’t stop trying to get away, thankfully Dick has the advantage of being bigger in size and not currently ill and is able to keep him from going anywhere. Tim was still (weakly) trying to get out of his grasp when Bruce walks in with a small box of stuff. He looks over at his son’s with an amused look and Dick glares at him in response

“You’ve told him then?” Bruce says evenly coming closer and places the box on Tim’s bedside table. Tim squirms even harder now that Bruce was here.

“No! Please Bruce don’t,” he begs, “Let me try the oral ones again. I don’t want you to put anything up my ass!”

It appears that in the time that it took Bruce to get the medicine together he had gotten over how awkward and embarrassing this situation is going to be because Dick finds the man looking like normal, so between stoic and comforting.

“I know kid, trust me I want to do this less than what you want me to but it’s either we try this or I take you to the hospital. We all know that you’d rather stay here than be in there don’t we?”

Tim doesn’t respond to that but he does stop fighting Dick’s hold on him. His brother slumps in his arms and buries his face in his shoulder. Dick couldn’t help but smile at that, he reaches up and strokes the back of Tim’s head to try and offer some comfort.

“It won’t be that bad Timmy, once it’s done we’ll give it a couple hours and see how your are then.”

“Dick,” Bruce gets his attention and gestures to all of the blankets surrounding them, “Think you can give me a hand here?”

Dick hums and starts trying to untangle all of the blankets around Tim. His brothers whines pitifully against his shoulder as his legs are revealed. They maneuverer the teen so he’s lying down on his side with his head buried in Dick’s lap and his back to Bruce. They strategically keep Tim’s arms trapped inside of the blanket so he can’t fight them with his hands.

“Guys please, don’t do this…” He whines against Dick’s leg. He then lets out a noise that sounded like a sob but when Dick peers at the kids face he finds Tim scowling more than anything so he doesn’t worry to much about it.

He watches as Bruce picks up the box he had brought with him and as he goes through it. Bruce puts on some latex gloves before grabbing box and pulling one wrapper out, he places that to the side before reaching for Tim’s shorts. His adoptive father slowly starts pulling Tim’s shorts and boxers down his legs to reveal his ass. Tim does try and stop it by squeezing his legs together but Bruce easily overpowers him and pulls his legs apart to get his shorts down to his knees.

“Tim, fighting me on this is only going to make it harder than it needs to be. Like I said before kiddo, it’s either this or the hospital.”

Tim huffs against Dick’s leg and mutters darkly, “You both can go to hell…”

Dick cracks a grin at that and runs a hand over Tim’s hair. “We love you too little brother.”

Bruce then moves one of Tim’s legs up towards his stomach and straightens the other out. He pauses for a while and simply massages Tim’s legs. After a couple minutes Bruce frowns, “Tim you need to relax son, I can’t put it in with you this tense.”

Dick pouts and strokes Tim’s head a little harder, “Timmy, try and relax for us please. Once it’s done, it’s done. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I don’t want it…” Tim whines, sounding very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Just give me an oral tablet.”

Bruce sighs and continues to rub Tim’s legs and eventually Tim relaxes against them. They could see the tension leaking away from Tim’s legs and as they go pliant against the mattress. Bruce quietly mutters a “good boy” before reaching for the tablet. He rips open the packet and brings out the suppository and covers it with lubricant before moving back to Tim. Dick watches as he keeps one hand on Tim’s upper leg and the other as he carefully enters the suppository into Tim.

Tim makes a noise of discomfort and squirms slightly as Bruce continues to insert the tablet. Dick shushes him gently and does his best to keep his brother from moving around too much. Thankfully Bruce doesn’t take too long to do it because seconds later he was moving away and pressing Tim’s legs back together.

“Keep your legs like that Tim,” he instructs, “Don’t move for about 10 minutes.” Before standing up Bruce replaces Tim’s shorts back over his hips and then takes the gloves off afterwards. He looks at them and smiles softly before reaching out to stroke the side of Tim’s head. “Thank you kiddo, hopefully this will help and we’ll see an improvement in your health over the next hour or so. I’ll come back and check on you in a bit.”

He’s then looking expectantly at Dick with a raised eyebrow. Dick returns the look and shrugs, “Well I’m going to stay here for a bit, make sure this little bird does as he’s told.” Dick pointedly ignores the protest coming from Tim’s mouth at that. “And so I can have a catch up with him, it’s been a while since we last spoke.”

For once Bruce takes his answer and leaves it at that. The man picks the box up and starts heading for the bedroom door, “Alright, if anything changes let me know, if not I’ll be back in about an hour or so.”

“Yeah sure, whatever,” Dick responds back.

Bruce closes the door behind him and Dick turns his attention on his brother. Tim’s doing as he’s told and has stayed in the same position, his head was still nestled in Dick’s lap and looking more closely Dick finds the kids eyes close and hears that his breathing has evened out. The kid’s asleep, it’s probably the best for him right now anyway.

Dick takes a moment to carefully move them so he’s comfortable on the bed with Tim still lying on him, thankfully undisturbed from the movement. He rubs Tim’s back gently in a soothing manor despite him being asleep, he figures it might be more of a comfort thing to himself rather than Tim because it’s reassuring him that he’s still Tim’s big brother, still someone the kid can rely on and trust despite everything that has happened between them.

With Tim asleep on top of him Dick figures he won’t be moving for a while (something which he really doesn’t mind as he gets to cuddle Tim). He leans back on the mattress and closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax. If Tim needs him any time soon, at least he’ll be right there to help him, even if it’s to grab a bottle of water or to grab the bucker for him. Dick’s staying with him and he isn’t going anywhere any time soon.

#fanfiction #dick grayson #big brother dick #Tim Drake #sick fic #bruce wayne #good dad bruce #comfort #humour #suppository #batfamily

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distressedpanda · 4 years

Text

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 12

Warnings: Language, mentions of a panic attack (mild and short), pain and injury, fluff, angst (probably the most angst ever! *evil writer chuckles*)

A/N: First, yes that is A way to treat a burn. Especially one that would have so much debris in it (my brother went through it, I was there, it was awful). Second, I do not believe that Iloa could take on the Hulk and win, especially not right after the explosion. I took some artistic liberties with the character of the Hulk (sorry, not sorry). Last this could be a very triggering chapter for some, I know it was slightly hard for me to write. Having been through almost an identical situation as Iloa, it drug up some things. Read at your own discretion.

Also this is just super super angsty! It’s slightly ridiculous and I couldn’t love it any more! Just be patient, we will get there soon I promise. (;

As always let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat @thenatallie

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Much to her eventual dismay Thor did follow her onto the elevator, peppering her with questions about what she would have to do. She explained as best she could finally ending the conversation with, “You will just have to see, I can’t explain it.” No longer wishing to explain the intimacy of the situation she was willing putting herself in.

Reaching the recovery room door, she paused hand on the door knob unable to coax her hand into turning it so she could enter the room.

Thor rested a comforting hand on her shoulder blade, “Talk to me,” he stated softly.

She turned her fearful gaze to his crystalline blue eyes, seeking comfort there. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, the air filtering into her lungs becoming heavy. Releasing the door, she leaned back against the wall next to it.

His hand having slid from her shoulder to her arm, Thor gave it a gentle squeeze, “Tell me how you feel right now.”

“Apprehensive,” she admitted, holding his gaze. Watching his eyes soften in understanding, she found her doubts falling from her lips, “What if I am wrong about being able to help him? What if he is still in pain despite my efforts or even because of them? It’s all my fault this happened in the first place,” she was barely taking breaths between sentences, words. She could feel her head becoming light from the lack of oxygen.

Thor suddenly gripped both of her arms, shaking her slightly. “None of this was your fault,” he argued vehemently.

“Yes it damn well is,” she shouted back. “If I hadn’t lost control, the tower would never have been compromised. There would have been no need for construction. The Russians wouldn’t have had such easy access. They wouldn’t have blown up the fucking tower. Loki would be fine, Natasha would have been fine. Banner wouldn’t have lost control. No one would have gotten hurt. It is all my fault, Thor!”

She was hyperventilating and Thor’s worried eyes dancing back and forth between her own panicked gaze wasn’t helping anything. Her chest heaved with every clawing draw of breath, her lungs burning, vision fogging, ears ringing.

Thor pinned her in a tight embrace that had Iloa gasping in pain. “STOP!” He demanded, his deep voice ringing clearly in her ears. The first clear sound she had heard in days. And she did. Her breathing immediately evened out, her mind clearing slowly.

Thor leant away from her, loosening his grip but keeping her pinned against his chest, her arms trapped at her sides. “Don’t ever say such things again,” he warned. She blinked and frowned as his words came to her muffled again, her brain already attempting to come up with a counter argument, but he kept speaking, “If they hadn’t used the construction incident to infiltrate the tower, you are very aware that they would have found another way in. This is part of the job, not everything has to have blame assigned to it. And if you have too, it makes more sense to blame the Russians not yourself. This happened. Everyone is alive. Get over it.” He finally released her taking a step back.

Her head spun slightly as she processed his words and her sudden freedom. She couldn’t bring herself to place blame anywhere but on herself. It was what she did best, unfortunately. Internalize everything, making it her problem and no one else's. But as her brain sluggishly replayed everything he said, she captured the one sentence that would help. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t that she should blame the offending party. Get over it, rang in her ears repeatedly, becoming a sort of mantra that finally got through to her.

Thor watched her carefully for a moment letting his speech sink in. He saw her eyes clear from their earlier storm, then asked, “Are you ready now?”

She focused on Thor before nodding slowly. He reached out and opened the door, motioning with his outstretched arm that she should go ahead of him. She rounded the door frame, looking up at the hospital bed. Instantly all her fear and anxiety vanished. Loki caught her gaze with blazing emerald eyes and lifted his hand from where it rested on the sheets. He winced slightly but gave no other indication of pain, as he beckoned her to him.

She raced the short distance across the room to his side. She didn’t care that there were two other sets of eyes watching as she climbed up onto the bed, carefully tucking herself into Loki’s side, his arm draping effortlessly across her shoulders. Matching relieved sighs escaped them as she settled against him and he squeezed her shoulder soothingly. This was her warmth, her comfort. This was her place, her heart, her home. This is where she would always belong.

“Are you alright?” Loki whispered against the top of her head.

She nodded, “I am now,” she admitted. “You heard?”

He hummed his affirmation against her scalp and she shivered from the tingles that lit their way pleasantly down her spine. “I was afraid you were blaming yourself,” he admitted barely loud enough for her to hear.

She tilted her head up so she could see the lines of his face. His sharp brow and the hard lines of his cheekbones and jawline. His eyes were so open and exposed to her, only her. His paler than usual skin tone and the already fading scrapes on his forehead and cheek, the only indication that anything was amiss. He was breathtakingly beautiful, even with his current affliction, “I thought you were never scared?” she quirked an eyebrow teasingly at him.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” he scoffed. “Perhaps concerned was the word I was looking for instead,” he countered, grinning down at her.

She giggled, but was unable to respond, “Whoa,” Banner abruptly broke in. But when she looked toward him, he wasn’t looking at the pair on the bed. She finally noticed the additional medical instrument that had been brought into the room. There was now a patient monitor alongside the IV stand. It was connected to Loki in various places to monitor his pulse, oxygen levels, and blood pressure. Banner was concentrating intently on the screen, his brow wrinkling as he studied the readings.

“What’s wrong?” Iloa asked, almost losing herself to panic again.

Banner held up a hand, quickly looking over at her, “Nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s just that before you got here, his readings were less than favorable.”

Iloa wrinkled her own brow, looking to Loki who looked just as confused as she was, then back to Banner, “Are you going to explain any further?”

“Hmm?” Banner was looking back at the monitor. When he finally glanced up at the others in the room, he continued, “Right sorry.” He at least had the decency to look abashed as he finally explained, “Earlier his readouts were all over the place, high blood pressure and low heart rate, then followed shortly by low blood pressure and a much faster heart rate. His oxygen level was dangerously low as well.” He lifted his hands placatingly as Iloa stared wide eyed at him, her mouth dropping open in a gasp, “It’s alright, it’s alright. All of this is perfectly normal and expected from someone that has suffered an injury this severe and isn’t on pain medicine. Dangerous perhaps, but unfortunately normal.”

Iloa sunk closer into Loki’s side, her hand splaying protectively across his chest. Loki tightened his hold around her shoulders as well. Banner smiled at the show of affection, “As soon as Iloa came in contact with your person Loki, everything evened out. It’s like you haven’t been injured at all. It’s amazing!” Banner was beaming by the end of his explanation. “I must apologize to you, Iloa. I can’t say that I actually believed it was you causing the difference, until I saw it happen on this screen.”

Iloa ducked her head, feeling uncomfortable with the apology and praise. Loki spoke up on her behalf, “I could have confirmed it for you, without the need of this confounded contraption you have been torturing me with.”

“I would hardly call three sticky pads on your chest and a pulse ox on your finger torture,” Banner countered, amused at Loki’s air of irritation.

“These,” Loki stated, gesturing at the pads, “Itch. The cords attached to them are constricting. And this,” he added lifting his finger with the pulse oximeter, “Is heavy. As I said, torture.”

Thor laughed, after having stayed silent throughout the previous conversation, “Dear brother, I do believe you are whining,” he chidded with glee.

Loki snarled, “I would never.”

“Oh but you are,” Thor argued with another boisterous roll of laughter.

Iloa decided to cut in before the two of them could get out of hand, “Boys, you can argue your points at a later time. I do believe we have a more pressing matter to attend to, right Doc?”

“Yes, right,” Banner said, catching on to Iloa’s train of thought. “I don’t want you to move using your own muscles anymore than is absolutely necessary. But I will need you on your side at least.” He paused running a hand over his face before looking pointedly at Iloa, “I am not sure how you want to do this.”

She shook her head, feeling heat creep up in her cheeks, “I don’t know anymore than you. Just has to be skin-to-skin.” She looked up at Loki for confirmation.

Keeping his eyes on her, instead of looking up at Banner, Loki added, “The more contact the better.”

“Right, well, I am not going to ask anyone to strip in my recovery room,” Iloa flushed from head to toe, her stomach fluttering at the prospect of being naked with Loki. Though she had to admit, she didn’t want an audience in attendance if that happened. While Loki just gave a devilish grin, licking his lips like he wanted a taste. Iloa was beginning to remember why she had thought she should keep her mouth shut about helping.

They had just survived an extremely traumatic event after finally tearing down the walls between them. There was so much built up sexual tension now, it was like a gunpowder keg. One correctly placed match and it was going to explode, consequences be damned.

This whole situation could very well end up being that match.

Gritting her teeth, she inwardly beat the flutters into submission. Knowing her confidence wouldn’t last long when she started to give orders, she hurriedly started speaking, “Banner and Thor, you two can roll Loki onto his side. Loki, I am going to stay in front of you with my hands and arms against your chest. You need to relax enough to let them move you without any help from you. We will take it slow,” she looked up at the other two before settling her gaze on Loki once more. “If you need them to stop, if you need them to go slower, or if anything else happens, and I mean anything, you have to tell me.”

Loki looked positively livid, but he nodded his head. She knew that he would not want to admit any weakness in front of others. But he could get seriously injured if they didn’t do this safely. “Promise me, Loki,” she whispered. He nodded his head again.

Her hands shot up to his face, tilting his head to her as their foreheads pressed gently together, “Promise me,” she begged, unable to hide the desperation in her off-key voice.

Loki couldn’t stop himself from melting into her touch as his eyes darted worriedly between hers. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t make this promise. But as she held his gaze determinedly, he let himself give in, “I promise,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes, humming, “Thank you.”

When she glanced back to the others, she noticed Banner tucking the sheet over Loki’s waist more securely against his hip. And there was that blasted heat in her cheeks once again. Then he lifted the sheet underneath Loki from the mattress and instructed Thor to do the same. He caught her gaze, “This way we run less risk of overstimulating the nerves on his back, before I do the treatment,” he explained.

She tried to hide her flinch at that from Loki. She had nearly strangled Banner to death the first time he had done it. Stark had forcibly removed her from the doctor, kicking, screaming, and sobbing. She was not looking forward to it any more, with Loki awake.

Carefully she shifted her body back from Loki, keeping her hands on his face cradling his neck with her forearms. He released his hold on her as she moved back, her elbows nestling against his chest, she asked, “Are you ready?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“Of course,” his quivering, unsteady, breathy answer, gave him away.

“Liar,” she countered gently.

“Always,” he mimicked her earlier response. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax his muscles one by one. To his disappointment it wasn’t working. Finally deciding it was now or never, he closed his eyes, grit his teeth and gave a nod.

She looked up at Banner. He and Thor started slowly lifting the sheet to gently roll him to his side. “Relax, Loki,” she cooed softly. “I’m right here, don’t tense.”

To his surprise, he didn’t. He couldn’t lie, the sheet pressing against his skin hurt. But it wasn’t unbearable. Slowly the pair behind him rolled him to his side, where he nestled into Iloa’s awaiting warmth. He sighed heavily, their bodies laying pressed together from chest to toe. “That wasn’t so bad,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around Iloa securing her to his chest. The cords from the monitor tugging uncomfortably against his upper arm. Banner quickly taped them together hanging them over a hook over the monitor to keep them from coming in contact with Loki’s back.

Loki let his head settle against Iloa’s, pressing his cheek to hers, breathing in deeply to capture her scent in his lungs. Joyously, he felt nothing but the girl in his arms.

“That wasn’t the bad part,” she whispered against his ear. Banner had already begun to remove the bandages. Iloa tried desperately to keep Loki’s attention on her and it seemed to be working for now.

Involuntarily Loki tensed at her words, a single bolt of pain shot down his spine like lightning. But this was nothing compared to the waves that wracked through his body before. The bolt had made him aware that the doctor had started his work. The slight pull on his skin from tape being removed and gauze being lifted away had him breathing in sharply through his teeth a few times. Still it was manageable and didn’t explain the worry he could hear laced through Iloa’s broken tone. Finally lifting his head to find her blue eyes again. “What do you mean?”

Iloa traced his cheekbones with her thumbs soothingly, “The treatment,” she answered, her deft fingers abruptly moving into his hair and holding his head still.

Like the harbinger of death, her words brought forth the first wave of nauseating pain. He roared in agony, “You fucking mortal bastard,” he bit out over his shoulder, fighting against Iloa and now Thor’s hold as well. At some point he had rounded the bed and now had firm hands on the top of Loki’s shoulder, pinning him to the bed.

“Loki, look at me,” Iloa begged, “Please, Loki.” Finally getting his gaze back on hers, she flinched seeing his murderous gaze now aimed at her. “This is part of it. He has to scrape the dead skin and debris from the wound or it won’t heal properly. Trust me if there was any other way, I wouldn’t let him do this to you.” She tried to explain as tears bled from her eyes. Another cry escaped his throat, the sound of his misery tearing at her heart. His hands fisting tightly onto the back of her shirt, causing the pulse ox to dig agonizingly into her skin. Ignoring her own pain, she stroked his hair with one hand, massaging his scalp with the other. “Focus on my hands, Loki,” she tried to appeal to their connection, have him focus somewhere, anywhere else.

The next cry pulled the air harshly from Loki’s lungs and he slumped forward inadvertently pushing Iloa into the mattress beneath him. As he lay half on half off of the girl, he did focus on her hands. She never stopped moving them, shushing him quietly, calmly.

Trying to remember to continue breathing, he closed his eyes pressing his forehead harshly against her collarbone. He tried to focus on her warmth wrapping around his body, quelling the soul deep ache now coursing through his veins. Trying to capture the electric current that ran between them, but as soon as he grasped it, it was ripped from him by another wave of excruciating torment.

After his most recent roar, he crumbled tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “It’s not enough,” he breathed into her clavicle. Her hands stilled in his hair, then one of them disappeared momentarily before returning to soothe once more. The pain stopped for the moment. He took deep steadying breaths trying to regain a mite of his composure.

“What do you need?” her voice quivered with her own commiserating misery. Terrified that she was no longer helping.

He just shook his head slightly. He didn’t know. All he knew was their contact was no longer enough, he needed more. So that was his answer, “More.”

She nodded, trying to think of how she could provide. His hands flexed against her back, pulse ox bitingly reminding her of their placement and she suddenly had her answer. “Loki,” she breathed, pushing down all nerves that threatened to stop her next words. “Slide your hands underneath the back of my shirt,” she barely spoke loud enough for him to hear.

He gave one nod, then followed her directions. Slowly he tucked his hands under the hem of her t-shirt. The pulse ox popped off his finger, but no one made any move to replace it. His hands met her bare skin and he sighed in much needed relief. Pushing his hands up from the small of her back, she arched her body carefully into him trying to ease his assent and he moaned but not from pleasure. Her shirt rode up over her stomach to press against his skin there too. He finally stopped his hands when they met her shoulder blades, his forearms and biceps pressed securely against her bare skin. He squeezed her against him urgently before allowing them to settle back against the bed again.

“Okay,” he breathed, in dire need of the torment ending as quickly as possible.

Eventually it did, when his tears had finally spilled over and he was certain he had left bruises on the soft skin still beneath his splayed fingers. His throat raw from his cries, he had somehow sunk to Iloa’s stomach, pressing his burning cheek against her cool sink. He didn’t move when that damnable doctor said he was finally finished, allowing Iloa to field the conversation for him.

“Good news is, I shouldn’t have to scrape the skin again. All debris and risk for infection appears to be gone now,” Banner explained as he covered Loki’s back with a cool liquid that soothed his ache further.

“And the bad news?” Iloa asked cautiously, still running one hand soothingly through Loki’s hair.

“Well it isn’t really bad, I just need to leave his back uncovered for a little while. It needs to air out and soak in the silver sulfadiazine. Not that the ointment itself will help much, but it will cool the overheated skin and the silver will help prevent infection. It just means he can’t move for a couple hours.”

Iloa glared up at Banner, “I don’t think he is going anywhere any time soon,” she snapped. She didn’t care if she was unnecessarily biting his head off. She had hated watching Loki suffer, it was so much worse than any time before.

“Iloa,” Thor interjected. But his conference was unwanted and she snapped her glare to him quickly in warning.

“No, she’s right,” Banner agreed rubbing the back of his neck. He reached to adjust the sheet more securely around Loki’s hips, making sure it wouldn’t come in contact with the exposed wound. Somehow it had managed to keep Loki’s more private assets, well private. “We will leave you two alone now. I will be back in a couple hours to place fresh bandages.” With that he quickly turned and exited the room.

Thor held Iloa’s gaze until it calmed, “You should apologize to him,” he said, nodding toward the closing door.

“I have every time,” she sighed. She wasn’t even angry anymore, she was just tired.

Thor nodded, turning to leave as well. He stopped at the door, glancing back over his shoulder, “You take good care of him now.”

“I always do,” she offered a small weary smile, which he returned before exiting the room as well.

Looking down at Loki’s wrecked and broken form, she had to fight a fresh wave of tears from falling from her eyes. She licked her dry lips, wishing she had asked Thor to get them some fresh water before he had left.

After a few quiet moments of listening to Loki’s ragged breaths, she asked, “Are you alright?”

Loki shook his head slightly against her stomach. “Distract me,” he said against her skin and she shivered.

Iloa stilled her hand in his raven locks, racking her brain for any way to complete his request. So she asked, “How?”

Loki groaned an after shook rippling through his muscles, “Tell me a story,” he begged through clenched teeth.

She blanked on a subject, thinking hard. She had pretty much covered her entire life with him already. There were finer details sure, but what would he be interested in right now. What could possibly be a sufficient distraction.

She could feel that she had been silent too long. Loki’s body trembling slightly in her lap. “What kind of story?” she asked.

He sighed heavily, his weight lifting and settling more firmly against her lap. “Tell me about your love life,” he blurted, going with the first thought that ran clearly through his mind.

A barked laugh escaped Iloa’s lips and she reached quickly to cover her lips. She cleared her throat before lowering her hand back to the bed, “That would be a very short story,” she admitted.

“Impossible,” he argued.

She frowned, her brow wrinkling in confusion, “How so?”

He shifted slightly, trying to see her. Catching on to what he was attempting, Iloa shifted to the side so he could see her face without having to move. Trying to hide her wince as the skin Loki had gripped so tightly stretched with her movement, muscles throbbing slightly. She didn’t want him to worry about having injured her. Propping her head up on her hand, elbow pressed into the mattress, she waited for him to answer.

“Iloa,” Loki started, licking his lips as his eyes scanned every inch of her face, “You are far too radiant for there to have been no interest in you.”

She flushed at his compliment, then giggled softly, “I didn’t say there was no interest. I had suitors when my parents were still alive. But I wasn’t interested.”

Suddenly feeling even more possessive of her, Loki bit out, “That means they are all dead now, correct?”

She giggled again, nodding at him genially, “You have nothing to worry about, they are all long since past.” Her brow wrinkled for a moment, before she asked, “Are you jealous, Loki?”

He scoffed and bit into his cheek trying to keep from groaning aloud. Catching his breath, he answered, “Don’t be absurd.”

“You would never,” she mocked.

“Of course not,” he agreed a little too quickly.

Lifting her hand from her face, she gently poked the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Lair,” she said, returning her hand to hold her head up.

Loki tracked her hand with his eyes, all the way back to where it now cradled her cheek. His hand should be there instead. He flexed his arms around her waist gently, confirming to himself that she was indeed still within his grasp. She winced slightly, again, and he feared for the condition of her own back. Trying to stick with the diverting conversation, “You have never been in love before?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he really wanted the answer, but the distraction was working. So he resigned himself to receiving her answer.

Iloa thought about it for a moment. She lifted her gaze, focusing on distant memories from her past. Then whispered, “No, I have had sex before, but it was more like an itch that needed scratching.” She noticed his eyes grow dark and blurted, “But I have never been in love before now.” Feeling heat gather in her cheeks, when she focused on the last sentence that had escaped her lips. She ducked her head, her hair falling to curtain her face.

Loki couldn’t resist. Lifting the arm that wasn’t trapped between her and the bed hurt like hell, but he reached forward and tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingering on her cheek as blue eyes met green, “Don’t hide from me, please,” he begged, “Not now. Not anymore. Your confession warms my heart, Iloa.”

Sliding forward until his palm lay flat against her cheek, Iloa closed her eyes with a hum of affection. The fluttering sensations she had fought into submission, came back with a vengeance. She could feel every place Loki’s body was in contact with her own. The press of his cheek against her bare stomach. The arm that was still wrapped around her waist, fingers pressed gently against the small of her back. His chest as it rose and fell against the tops of her thighs. And that hand pressed against her cheek, long elegant fingers lacing into her hair. All of that contact flooded her senses causing liquid fire to run through her veins. Could he feel it too?

Slowly she opened her eyes, meeting irises blown so wide she could only see the barest green ring surrounding them. The match, she thought. She knew at that moment that if Loki had been able too he would have struck that match and happily set them both on fire.

She shivered in his grasp and Loki groaned in response. But this time they both knew the sound had nothing to do with his pain, at least not pain caused by the injury.

The door to the recovery room swung open, snapping Iloa’s gaze from his. He groaned, this time, in frustration, letting his arm fall back to lay beside her. The sooner he healed from this ailment the better. He needed her more than he had ever needed anyone in his entire existence. He couldn’t help thinking that all this built up sexual tension was certainly out to kill him. He felt like he was burning from the inside out.

Banner made quick work of applying fresh bandages. Iloa apologized to the doctor several times before he finally waved her off telling her there was nothing to apologize for. “At least you didn’t try to kill me this time.”

Loki’s ears perked up at that, “You tried to kill him?”

Her cheeks turned the most delicious shade of pink and Loki had to bite back a moan at the sight, “I almost strangled him to death. Would have succeeded too if Tony hadn’t pulled me off of him. Luckily, I had the element of surprise and he was slightly weaker so soon after the explosion at the tower. So I avoided bringing out the good doctors alter-ego.”

Loki huffed at that, “Yes, lucky.” Having been on the receiving end of that alter-ego himself, he knew it was nothing short of luck that Iloa hadn’t had to face him.

With Iloa and Banner’s assistance, he was allowed to return to lying on his back once more. Once settled, Iloa tucked securely at his side once more, Banner excused himself for the night.

Loki squeezed her shoulder, feeling her tense beneath his hand. Looking down at her, he asked, “How bad is it?”

She shook her head, worried gaze lifting to his, “It’s not bad, I swear. Just a little sore.”

Loki didn’t believe her, “Let me see.”

Iloa’s cheeks heated, “Loki,” she drawled his name through a low whisper, “Are you asking me to take my shirt off?”

His jaw dropped at her tenacity, but he quickly recovered. Fixing his devilish stare on her eyes, “I can’t lie,” trailing his eyes slowly down to linger at her lips, “I would love to pick back up where we were interrupted earlier,” his voice low and husky, gaze dropping ever lower over her elegant neck before stopping at the tops of her breasts. He snapped his eyes back up to hers, “But I am more concerned about the damage I have done to you, at this moment,” his tone becoming deadly serious.

Iloa sighed, sitting up and away from his side. Loki let her move, dropping his arm from her shoulders, watching as she turned away from him. Slowly she gripped the hem of her shirt lifting it slowly up her back while keeping her breasts covered.

Loki groaned at the bruises that steadily appeared as her shirt ascended. “I am so sorry,” he breathed, lifting his hand slowly. Carefully grazing his fingers across the various marks he had left on her beautiful flawless skin. Of course it wasn’t flawless anymore, she was with him now. He ruined everything he touched.

Hearing the way his breathing suddenly became erratic short gasps for air, Iloa dropped her shirt. She spun around on her knees to face him again, taking his outstretched hand between both of hers. “Don’t be,” she assured.

“How can I not?” Doubt clouded angry emerald depths as he turned his face to look across the room.

Taking one steady breath, she answered with exactly how she felt, “Because I like it.” His head snapped comically back to her, wonder and disbelief painting his features. “I do. I sort of feel like you have marked me as yours with them.” She giggled, tucking her head down to look up at him through her lashes, “Does that make me sadistic?” she inquired quietly, hoping her answer would have the desired effect.

It seemed to do the trick. Loki suddenly gripped both of her wrists and jerked her to him. She had no way to keep herself from landing on his chest, tensing her back to help keep her body from hitting him too hard. Her forearms landed across his chest, her waist planted firmly against his. His nose brushed against hers with each breath he took, “You continually surprise me,” his voice filled with fascination. His hands trailed steadily up her arms across her neck to stop tangled lazily in her curls. His emerald gaze blazing as he took in every inch of her face like he was memorizing it.

The intensity of his gaze, set her stomach fluttering, heat pooling in her core. Her insides squirmed with need, she breathed against his lips, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Loki chuckled, grinning at her daring attitude. He was enjoying this steady back and forth between them. Lingering on the edge of arousal, he shifted closer to her lips, “It doesn’t, does it,” he responded then brushed his lips softly across her own. Absorbing the fresh flood of warmth that coursed through him when she whined softly, he added, “I don’t think you are sadistic, my dear.” Finally he pressed his lips firmly against her own. Fingers flexing and gripping her hair, he smashed her face against his, desperately attempting to devour her mouth.

Matching moans erupted from gasping throats. Tongues dueling for dominance, hands gripping hair in desperation and desire. Their bodies quickly became overheated, until Iloa lifted herself to straddle Loki’s lap. He was eager for her contact, keeping his mouth against her just as eager lips, welcoming her movement. But when she sat down, it was too much pressure even with her small build. His back rippled in spasming protest. He jerked his head back to the bed gritting his teeth, even though her weight quickly vanished.

Her hands rubbed circles against his chest quickly, eyes wide with panic, “I am so sorry, Loki!” Her words grated against his ears, made worse by the attack and her unnatural lilt.

“Fuck,” he growled through clenched teeth and her hands left him. This was going to kill him. Not the injury, of course, but the fact that it kept him from getting what he wanted, needed, desired most right now. It felt like the world was still trying to tear them apart, even though they had jumped so many emotional hurdles already. Now they had to face physical ones as well.

The spasms dying off, he was finally able to find her face again. She had sat back away from him on her knees, her hands clasped tightly together, her head dropped chin to chest. That damned current of hair hiding her face from his eyes once more.

“It’s alright, Iloa. I am alright.” He needed her contact again, even if it couldn’t be anything more than comforting for now. The tension between them had dissolved the instant they had separated. Now he was simply exhausted.

She shook her head, refusing to look up at him, “No you aren’t,” her voice so small and broken in so many ways, he couldn’t possibly name them all.

He placed his knuckles against her knee. He needed her touch, she needed his comfort, “I am alright,” he stated with finality. “We just have to be more careful.” He groaned as he added, “We just have to wait for anything more serious.”

She nodded at him, lifting her head slightly and finally drawing storm filled blue eyes to his. He hated seeing them like that. They should never be anything but the blazing blue sapphires that normally held his gaze. “Come here,” he said lifting his arm slowly from his side.

Iloa hesitated, “What if I hurt you again?” She stated, voice still so small with a nervous edge wrapped around the question.

“You won’t,” he consoled her, “Come here, I am not asking.”

Slowly she rose from her knees, placing her hands carefully on the bed as she crawled up to his side. There was nothing seductive or suggestive in her movements, instead she just looked tired and emotionally worn out, the same way he felt.

Tucking her under his arm, he gently stroked her hair. Letting the feel of her wrap his body in its healing warmth. He moaned low in his throat, “Much better. Now sleep, my love,” he whispered against her hair. She nodded, sighing heavily.

When he was certain she had finally drifted off, he closed his own eyes allowing his bone deep exhaustion to pull him under into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

#loki fanfic #loki x ofc #tom hiddleston loki #angst #pain #somuchangst #didimentionangst

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comfortmarvelimagines · 5 years

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When You Can’t Find the Quiet pt2

yoyoyo sorry this took a lot longer than i said it would, i rewrote it three times and it STILL sucks but uh here ya go i tried

“Fuckfuck Mr Stark I-I think they’re dead! Ohmygodohmygod,” Peter crouched down, moving to shake you back to consciousness.

“No, Pete, they’re fine. Don’t touch them. The complete removal of stimulation when I activated the blackout protocol probably gave their brain permission to turn off… Or something like that. I’m not a doctor.”

“They’re probably exhausted.”

“Yeah, well, then, that too. Problem now is getting them and your mask out of the school with minimal pain to them and no harm to your identity.” Peter could hear footsteps in the background of the call. Tony was pacing, thinking.

“What if I just… Put them on one of the projector trolleys! There should be lab coats in here somewhere, what if I covered them with that so that no one sees? It’ll be like one of those super cool spy movies!”

“You know, for someone so smart you really are dumb sometimes. You are not smuggling them out of the school like a corpse, the last thing May needs is a call to the police station because you’ve been arrested on suspicion for murder.” There was a pause, neither of them knowing what to say. Needing to feel like he was somehow helping you, Peter bent down and gently pulled your hand from your mouth, now that you were no longer biting on it. It was still bleeding.

“I, uh, we need a band-aid in here.”

“That’s what you’re concerned about right now? Look, do you know anyone you can call, a parent, that can take them home?”

“Uh, no. Last time Ned called their mom when they were gettin’ really anxious and kinda stimmy during an assembly she… She kinda didn’t care? Like, she didn’t come and pick them up or anything, and y/n said it wasn’t too pretty when she got home… And I thought about going to the nurse earlier, to see if there was someone else, but come to think of it I don’t know who you could call. They don’t have anyone else, really.”

“Okay. Okay. So you need me to come and get you…” Peter swore he could make out the clinks of a suit piecing itself to Tony. “When’s the next class end?”

“Ummmm,” Peter pulled the phone from his ear, tapping the screen, “Three minutes.”

“Sweet. I think the only way you’re gonna get them out of there is if you take the mask off. Reckon you can get them to the front office in like, 90 seconds before hell breaks loose?”

He didn’t finish the sentence before spiderboy was out the door, phone in pocket, you in his arms.

***

The phasing out of unconsciousness was, sometimes, the worst part. It was like becoming aware of everything that hurt more and more acutely until it was almost overwhelming again, but not actually being able to do anything. The need to get out never went away. It was just paused for a second. Occasionally, you were lucky, and the pain wasn’t quite there before you managed to fall asleep properly, but today was not one of those days. Your head felt like someone had repeatedly dropped a brick on it. Nausea came over you in waves. As you became increasingly more aware of your body, other things began to trickle in; the muted sounds of kids yelling in the corridor, the hum of the lights (which, incidentally, were enough to make your eyes burn even through your eyelids), the click of a keyboard, adults talking- no, arguing, the smell of disinfectant and GOD these sheets were so BAD…

As much as you felt like dramatically waking up with a gasp and flinging of cheap blankets, like in the movies, the most you could manage was a half-hearted groan and weak attempts to pull as much blanket as possible over your head. The tapping sound next to you stopped.

“Mr Stark!”

You knew immediately that it was Peter. As much as you could tell he was trying to be quiet, his whisper-screaming wasn’t really cutting it. Another groan left your throat, this time completely involuntary. Footsteps. A click. Your eyeballs weren’t on fire anymore, thankfully. Still no way in hell were you about to open them. More footsteps, heavier this time.

“Hey there, kiddo, nice to meet you. Obviously not nice circumstances. Pete and I are gonna get you out of here, okay, but it’s probably gonna hurt a bit before we can fix it. Alright?” The voice hesitated, as if waiting for your consent. “Oookay then. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Pete’s gonna help you sit up. Then we’re gonna get you out to the car. Pete said to try to touch you as little as possible, so do you think you can walk on your own?” You thought for a second. Your legs felt like jelly, but you didn’t want anyone anywhere near you. Even though it was splittingly painful, you managed a slight nod.

Peter’s voice sounded, closer to your head. “On three, I’m gonna hold your shoulders and pull you up, ‘kay? Ready one, two, three.”

Sure, you knew it wasn’t going to feel wonderful, but that didn’t make it any less stomach-churning. Dizziness took over and you overbalanced to your left, face-planting into something… Soft? Nice. Good feeling. You hummed in contentment.

Peter sounded like he was trying to muffle a laugh. “Oh my god, Mr Stark, they like your shirt. Good luck getting them off now!” He was still whispering, but it was enough for you to realise what you were burying your face in. Did you care enough to sit back up? Absolutely not. Apparently Peter had moved on, because he went on to ask if he could take the shitty school blanket off your head and replace it with his hoodie, so that the light outside would at least have some sort of filter. You answered by humming again, so he took it as permission. Better. Smelt like Peter. No longer wanted to rip the skin off the back of your neck. Somehow, the good fabrics helped to cancel out the other Bad things. The nausea wasn’t quite as all-consuming anymore.

Cool hands met yours. You recognised them- Peter. Another countdown, and you were pulled to your feet. It didn’t quite feel like you were attached to the lower half of your body, somehow suspended but tethered at the same time. Slowly regaining feeling in your feet, you shuffled forwards. “Good to go, kiddo?”

If inside the nurse’s office was tolerable, than the outside was a burning pit of hellfire. The disorientation from not being able to see from the jumper over your head was panic-inducing, but when you pulled it aside everything was too much. Flick right wrist, flick left. Click your fingers, twice. Repeat. The light on the ceiling, flickering. Like the one from the train. Make it stop. You felt like your head was imploding, starting from right behind your eyes. Get out. Need. To. Get. Out.

Peter was near you, saying your name, but it merged into everything else. Not knowing what else to do, he pressed his fingers to your shoulder blade to trigger you into moving forwards. He knew he shouldn’t touch you, but what choice did he have? Your eyes were glassing over and the only way to make it stop was to help you get out, seeing as you weren’t quite there enough to do it yourself. Rather than the jump that he was expecting, you followed the pressure; for whatever reason, it seemed to ground you a little. Tony was close, to your left. You didn’t realise how you’d gotten to where you were, but all of a sudden the fingers on your spine were pushing down and it was cool. Dark. Not completely, but worlds better than before. Now that you were sitting and it didn’t feel like you were spinning, out of control, it felt safe to pull Peter’s jumper back over your face. It wasn’t quite a blanket, but combined with your hoodie it was better than nothing.

“Hey, y/n, I’m so sorry about… Everything. I know today has sucked but you’re doing so well,” Peter’s voice dripped with guilt. You swayed to your left, nudging him in thanks. You sat in comfortable silence for a minute, until the door to your right opened and Tony sat down.

“Everyone doin’ okay?”

“Shhh! You can’t be loud yet.” Peter knew the drill. No loud noises until you said so.

“I, uh, got a band-aid.” Much quieter this time.

“Give it here and I’ll put it on their finger.”

They both leaned across you, making you into some sort of human sandwich. But the pressure was nice, secure. Despite what Peter would tease you about later, the disgruntled noise of protest you made when they moved off was NOT deliberate.

“Do they like deep pressure?”

“Ask them, not me. They can answer. Also, where did you learn about DPT?”

“Pete, I know people, read things. You may think I’m old but I know how to use the internet.” You felt the older man sit back in his seat, no longer talking over you. “Y/n?”

“Hmm.”

“Did you want us to sit closer to you again?”

“Hmmmm.”

“That was a ‘hm’ of approval,” Peter clarified as he shifted closer.

“What are you, some sort of y/n translator?” Just as he said that, the car started moving. Feeling you tense, Peter pushed further into you and you gave easily, falling into Tony’s side.

You’d forgotten how soft the fabric was.

It was less than a minute before you were out cold, in a much more pleasant way this time.

***

You absolutely hated how groggy you were after a sensory overload. Some Bad Brain days were manageable- far from comfortable, but enough for you to get to where you had to be and crash when you got home to try and sleep it off. When it got as bad as it had that morning, it felt like all the energy had just leaked out of you. It was strange. Even on the okay, the good days, you never really sat still. Peter noticed it too, that for once you weren’t even happy stimming or calm stimming, just humming.

The transition from the car to the inside of the compound was considerably less stressful than the one from the office. You were okay to hold Peter’s hand and tap with the tips of your fingers as he followed Tony into the elevator, up and down a hallway. When he let go for a second, to hold the elevator doors for you to get out, trepidation for the unknown in an unfamiliar environment began to set in. Without consciously meaning to, your hands started twisting each other, pulling, until the bones rubbed; an anxious stim. “Hey, y/n, is your tangle in your bag?”

You shook your head.

“In your pocket?”

Same response.

“Uh, Mr Stark, do you have like… I guess you don’t know what a tangle is… Like, something they can stim with, with both hands?” Peter had softly taken your hands in his, loose enough for your fingers to flick and tap independently without hurting yourself. He’d seen how you used to come to school with bruises up to your wrists from stimming like that, and it was MJ that had produced a tangle from behind her book one day. Since then, they had easily become your favourite stim toy, your friends always making sure you had one in your bag, your locker and your desk at home, as well as spare ones on them just in case. Of course, it just so happened that now you had none.

“Hang on a sec, we’ve got a bunch of stuff in here,” Tony opened a door to reveal a completely dark room. Illuminated by the sliver of light seeping from the outside, he opened a drawer from a storage chest built into the wall to show an array of tangles, tactile fabrics, chewelry, just about anything small you could possibly stim with. You felt the grip on your wrists release as Peter grabbed a bumpy tangle- the best kind- and handed it over to you before shutting the door.

“FRIDAY, turn on the sensory room lights.” An entire wall of bubble lights lit up in response. They gradually changed colour, but you were too excited by the pile of blankets by the adjacent wall. As you sat down on the padded floor and began pulling one over your head, Peter found his voice again.

“Dude… Where did you get all this?”

“I’m Tony Stark, I can get anything I want,” he paused. “But seriously, after Germany I did some research into sensory difficulties. I figured that if you were ever struggling with the whole ‘dialled to eleven’ thing, some of this might be useful. Obviously, you haven’t needed it but turns out it’s not such a bad thing to have.”

As you soon discovered, the blankets were weighted, and between that and the calm lights and the tangle in your hands the sound of their conversation didn’t make you want to scream. You started rocking from side to side, legs crossed. The foggy heaviness was still there, but the good stims were starting to make you feel safer, more okay, more yourself since your brain wasn’t perpetually in flight-or-flight mode. Peter came over and sat down next to you and you threw yourself onto him in a hug.

“Squeeze?”

You nodded in response. Somehow, he made it out under the now three blankets over your head and wrapped his arms around you. Peter was safe. Tony, standing awkwardly to the side and watching, was safe now too. Sometimes the world and your brain just weren’t quite compatible, but with friends like yours and people that got it, you knew it’d be okay.

tags: @inumorph @autistic-patti @crystallstaircase @rebel-by-default

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banditthewriter · 5 years

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Ain’t No Grave - Billy Russo - 2/2

Here we go, the second part to this monster! 12k words below! Thank you so much for the wonderful response to part 1. Considering how nervous I was about this story, I’m very touched!

Title is from the song, more specifically the cover done by Renee Elise Goldsberry.

There are some saucy parts, but nothing that is considered smutty. Also violence. And an over abundance of flashbacks.

Disclaimer: This is a Billy Russo x Reader story. You’ll understand why I had to specify that shortly.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

*****

Fast forward ------ The police station was an absolute wreck. There was blood splattered and debris everywhere. You stumbled through them, unsure and wavering a bit. The wounded but still alive were off to the side, staring blankly at the damage to the station. "How could one man do all of this?" The officer looked at his buddy and spotted you behind him. "Wait... you're..."

Your hands immediately went into the air as you were surrounded by the angry officers with guns. Things went pretty quickly after that until you were dragged back into the interrogation room. Beacham came in first, a bullet proof vest stretched almost uselessly across his stomach and chest. He slammed the door open and stomped in angry as could be. Behind him was an equally angry but more put together Agent Madani. She shut the door behind her and spun around to face you. "Want to tell us what happened and why you're back here? You get busted from the station after we get called onto a false tip? You want us to believe that was a coincidence?" You shook your head. "I don't care what you believe," you said as you looked away from her and over to Beacham. "I was left here unguarded and I was kidnapped. I was held in a dark room for hours." Madani was grinding her teeth in front of you and you watched her screw on a false smile. "And who held you in that dark room for hours?" You turned and met her eyes, no emotion on your face. "I never saw anyone." She slammed her hands down against the metal table, the reverberation making you sit back a bit. Her eyes were narrowed at you and you could see that she was getting red in the face as she glared. "You were gone for hours and you don't know who took you? Bullshit," she spat out even as Beacham was pulling her back a bit. "It's bullshit and you know it. It was Frank Castle that took you." You tilted your head a bit as you examined her in her fury and shook your head. "I was under federal protection and I was taken by some unnamed force. It was such a difficult time and I'm undoubtedly traumatized. And to think," you added as your eyes flicked over to Beacham once more, "I was promised that I was safe here." Beacham inclined his head to you, acknowledging that you had won. He grabbed Madani's arm and started to pull her towards the door but you weren't done yet. "Oh, and Agent Madani? There's something that's been bothering me since our last conversation. When Detective Beacham questioned me about Billy, he called him Mr Russo or just Russo, but when you first came in, you asked me if I was involved with Billy." Her eyes were growing wider and you couldn't help the smile that started to stretch over your lips. "Just like that, you asked if I had been involved with Billy. Not Mr Russo, not just Russo, but Billy." Beacham continued to pull Madani out of the room and you smiled as you leaned back in your chair. "I don't know, I just thought it was interesting." ------ Present ------ Frank moved away from you, his hand still pressed against where you had stabbed him with the pen. He got to the door and reached out to unlock it. As it came open, you saw nothing but darkness. He inclined his head towards the darkened room or hallway but you didn't budge. "Come on Y/N, where's that spunk that had you stabbing me with a goddamn ballpoint pen?" He turned into the darkness and waited for you. Hesitantly you followed, unsure what could be waiting for you on the other side. It was a hallway. If there were any windows, they were covered. You could see just the tiniest amount of light coming from a door at the end of the hallway. That was how he was able to enter the room without you seeing any light. You had to hand it to him; Frank was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. Frank opened the door enough for light to spill into the darkened hallway. You blinked a bit and then took a few more steps forward. He stayed mostly in the hallway so that you stepped into the room by yourself. It was an old house or apartment. The room you were held in was probably a small bedroom, making this a living room. There was a couch that had seen better days, a few lamps scattered around the area. There was a high tech surveillance situation along one wall with screens showing different things including the precinct you had been taken from. You weren't sure what Frank wanted you to see at first. He had said that you had it all wrong, but what did he mean by that? You began to turn to ask him as much but you froze. To the side of the room, watching quietly, was Billy. He was wearing dark jeans and a black zip up hoodie, but it was him. "Billy?" You took a step forward and hesitated, sending a look over your shoulder at Frank. Frank was grinning and he nodded, jerking his chin in Billy's direction. Slowly you turned back and saw that Billy looked like he hadn't blinked since you stepped into the room. He wasn't dead. That spurred you forward to cross the rest of the distance. A foot or so away, you stopped and simply looked at him. Alive. He was somehow alive. His eyes softened a bit as he looked you over. Never before had you felt the urge to wrap him up in your arms so clearly. You wanted to hold him, to touch him. You hadn't seen him in a month and had only thought that he was dead for the last few hours, but you needed to know that you weren't imagining it. "I can explain," he began, his words trailing off as you raised a hand to lightly touch his cheek. He was real. Your whole world had been turned upside down once more. Before Billy could continue that train of thought, you pulled your hand back and let your fist fly. It connected just under his eye, the cheekbone hard and firm against your knuckles. Just like he taught you. "Fuck," you swore as you shook out your hand, not feeling any better for having done it. Billy sat up and rubbed his cheek, laughing as he shook his head. "I deserved that." "Hey," Frank said from behind you, a cloth pressed to his shoulder where you had stabbed him, "she stabbed me with a pen. Think you got off lightly." You took a few steps back to observe the two of them. Frank gave Billy a grin before he moved over to a box that housed a first aid kit. Billy rubbed his cheek once more before he turned to another computer behind him. They were both alive and, as far as you could tell, on good terms with one another. "You both look good for dead guys," you said sarcastically. "And pretty amicable considering Frankie here was the one that supposedly killed you Billy." The nickname had slipped but you saw the way Frank's shoulders had tensed when you said it. You shook your head and turned away from both of them to try to gather your wits. Frank was alive and obviously hadn't killed Billy. Billy was alive and apparently working with Frank. Billy was alive. The words kept repeating in your head and you tried to ignore them. Now wasn't the time. "The plan got fucked," Frank said as he yanked his shirt off to apply a gauze. And hopefully some disinfectant considering you stabbed him with a pen, but you weren't about to mention it. "The plan? What plan was that?" You'd spun around when he mentioned a plan and gestured helplessly around you. "The plan to find the one crack house with high speed internet and fake everyone's deaths so that you could, what, pin it on me or something? You were dead and then you're killing Billy but apparently nothing is what it seems so tell me what's going on. And tell me why I shouldn't just walk out that door and turn both of you bastards in." Frank looked over at Billy and the two of them had a silent conversation. It was something you'd seen a hundred times before over the years. They knew each other so well that they could communicate with just a few expressions. The mere thought that it was still possible for them to do that made you almost smile. Almost. "There was a cop near the warehouse so when it exploded, we didn't have the amount of time that we first planned for," Billy explained as he moved closer to you. "The plan was for us to fake my death and then come and get you. You were never supposed to end up in that police station. That was us improvising." You looked between the two of them. Frank had simply tugged his old bloody shirt back on and he crossed his arms over his chest as he stared back at you. Billy looked like he was trying to impart some grand wisdom to you but you didn't see it. "So you're fake dead and Frank here is your fake murderer and I'm, what, collateral damage? What's the point? What was the plan?" Billy glanced at Frank and you could tell that it was his turn to try. "The shit that happened with my family? That started overseas. Started with me and Billy. We figured it needed to end that way too." He gestured to the screens that lined the wall behind you. "This shit goes all the way to the top. The people who did this are in the police department, they're in the government. And I kicked a hornet's nest recently and shit was going to roll down hill. I reached out to Billy to help me make it right." You looked over at Billy who was leaning against a table as he watched the two of you. He met your eye and gave you a bit of a smirk, causing memories to filter through your brain of all the times the two of you pretended not to be involved when around Frank. "So why come and get me after both of you faked your deaths? I mean, at that point you're in the clear, right? You can do whatever you want and it all falls on the Punisher. So why bother coming to the police station and kidnapping me?" Frank's eyebrows furrowed and he took a few steps closer to you. "These people want me dead and they'll use whatever they can to get it. They'd go after Billy because he was involved. They'd go after you because you're my sister." That word felt like a kick to your stomach. You swallowed down the emotion and turned away from them both. There was a hum in the room probably from all of the screens and electronics in there. You focused on the hum and tried to breathe evenly. "You told me that the only people you cared about were dead and you never wanted to see me again," you reminded as you looked up and met Frank's gaze. "You should have stuck with that." With that you turned and headed towards the door. ------ Ten years ago ------ Sitting on the porch in the winter air felt better than sitting in the living room with Frank and Maria. Finding out that your brother was about to be deployed again, this time while Maria was pregnant, made you angrier than you could remember being in a long, long time. The door opened and you glanced over your shoulder to see your brother lumber over to where you were sitting. He huffed out a breath and settled onto the stair next to you. "You gonna give me the silent treatment again? You did that when I went I first enlisted. Remember? Didn't last long, did it? You were back to talking my ear off in no time." You sighed and bumped your shoulder against his. "I can't believe you're leaving again. I mean, Maria's pregnant man." Frank laughed, leaning back on his hands a bit. "Oddly enough, I knew that." He bumped his shoulder into yours and shook his head. "She knew what she was getting into. And we've talked it through a lot. It's not ideal and it'll be hard on us both, but it's the job, Y/N. I'm a soldier." You scuffed your shoes on the stairs and looked over at Frank who was staring up at the sky. The lights in the area were too bright for him to really see any stars, but he'd always enjoyed looking. "Who's gonna get me out of trouble, huh? Mom pretends I don't exist and your dad doesn't want to stir up shit so he stays out of it. I'm all alone out here when you're gone." "Well you could try not getting into trouble in the first place," he said as he stood up. He went down the last few steps and turned to you from the side walk. "You could do amazing things if you just put your mind to it instead of finding new ways to piss people off." You got up and moved to where he was standing, pushing him a bit as you did. The two of you went off in silent agreement, feet pounding the pavement as you both ran a few laps around the neighborhood. It was something you'd started doing back when you were kids. It'd been your mom's idea to help you both expend some of that endless energy. It'd served you well over the years. You were well versed in running from your problems. After the run, you both collapsed on the porch in a heap. Maria would probably roll her eyes at the two of you when you went back in, covered in sweat and shivering from the cold. "You could stick around here for a while," Frank said as he panted a bit. "I'd feel better if you and Maria could look after each other. And she might need help when this next kid comes along." Frank was looking away from you as he said it and that's how you knew it was something big. "Yeah, I can do that," you said as you stood up. Offering a hand to Frank was pointless because you'd never be able to actually pick him up, but you did it anyways. He smirked as he lifted himself off, pretending you were giving him any leverage. You'd always help him any way you could. ------ Present time ------ The front porch of the pimped out crack house was dark and you couldn't see a vehicle. Nor could you see anything else in the area. It was apparently a remote crack house. "Y/N, wait," Billy called as he jogged out onto the sidewalk to where you were standing. "Listen, I know you're pissed right now and you have every right to be, but there's still a lot we haven't explained. If you could just–" You spun around and poked your finger into his chest. "I have nothing to say to you Billy Russo. Nothing. And I really don't think there's anything you could say that would make me change my mind. You're just a liar." He grabbed your wrist before you could poke him again, giving you a stern look. "You weren't supposed to be surprised about my untimely demise," he explained, still holding onto your wrist which he used to try to drag you back to the house. "I'm not a liar just because shit went sideways." You had a strong urge to hit him again but you pushed it down. This close and with him on edge, you knew you'd telegraph the movement and he'd catch you before you could even twitch your fist in his direction. This was a highly trained Marine after all. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the fact that you knew Frank was alive for months." His eyes grew a bit wider and he released your wrist. "It's not like I had much of an opportunity to tell you. You left, remember? You walked out because I was trying to make you see reason." He didn't touch you but he was so close that the warmth of his body was bleeding into you. He reached out and let his hand hover near your cheek, his fingers barely brushing against your skin before you pulled away. "And what about before then, huh? I know for a fact that you knew for at least a month before I left." It was the first time you'd probably ever been able to throw Billy off kilter. He even stepped back a bit, his hand falling limp at his side. "How... what do you mean you know for a fact?" "The Homeland agent that has a hard on for you showed me some pictures. You were supposed to have been in Afghanistan and instead you were at a dock here in New York giving a package to my brother. That was weeks before you and I stopped... whatever we were doing." Billy took another step back and swore, his eyes darting up back to the house before he looked at you once more. "Madani? Was it Agent Madani?" After a moment of trying to read Billy's face, you gave a quick nod. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he swore again. "Fuck that woman just doesn't know when to give up," he growled as he started back towards the house. Must have been important if he was ready to forget that he had been trying to get you to come back with him. Suddenly unwilling to let him out of your sight, you hurried forward a few steps before you called his name. "Billy." He stopped walking away and you took another step forward. "Did you sleep with her?" Did you mean for that question to sound so broken and miserable? For all you knew he slept with her in the month that the two of you were on the outs. You didn't have a claim on him. Hell, even before then you didn't have a claim on him. You had to constantly remind yourself of that little fact over the years the two of you were involved. Billy turned back to you and crossed the space before you could even blink. His hands went to your face, pulling you into a kiss that made you arch into him immediately. One of his hands moved to cup the back of your head and keep you close while the other fell to the small of your back, tugging you in closer as his lips moved against yours in such a familiar way. His tongue rubbed along yours, coaxing a moan out of you as you gripped his hoodie in both hands. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as the two of you breathed together. The hand that had been on your back moved up to cover one of yours on his chest, keeping it trapped there. "There hasn't been anyone but you in years. You're an idiot if you didn't already know that." Apparently you were an idiot. You laughed and closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of this man pressed against you once more. It wasn't just that it had been a month since you'd seen him. You'd spent the last few hours thinking he was dead and you'd never get this again. You hadn't truly faced how that had made you feel. "I'm gonna need bleach to get that sight outta my head," Frank's voice called from the porch. You turned guiltily to the house but Billy didn't look at all repentant. You weren't sure how this was going to go but you knew you weren't going to leave Billy's side. Not after you just got him back. Frank raised an eyebrow at the two of you and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Got something on the screens if the two of you are done with," and he waved a hand between the two of you, "all that." ------ Two years ago ------ You took a look around the room and raised an eyebrow as you glanced over to Billy who was smirking at you. "I thought 'come over for some self defense lessons' was a line. I didn't realize you actually wanted to teach me self defense." There was a dummy nearby as well as a pristine mat on the floor. Billy was wearing his workout clothes which consisted of a tank top and sweat pants. He rolled his eyes and moved over to you. Thankfully you were wearing your lounge clothes because jeans and heels would not go well with his plans for you. Leggings and a large t-shirt was close enough to workout clothes at least. "Your brother told me that there's been some break ins in your apartment building. I told him I'd get you some self defense classes." He grinned as he led you to the mat. "I just happened to leave out that those classes would be with me." You dropped your purse and took off your jacket. He told you to leave your shoes on and then he moved behind you. His hands dropped immediately to your hips as he used one of his legs to spread yours. "Now this is more like it," you joked as he helped you get into a good stance.

He slapped your hip a bit in retaliation and then he pulled you to stand up straighter. "I know you can fight because I had the joy of watching you bash that beer bottle over that racist asshole's head in a bar that evening, but self defense is more than that. This is fighting for survival and not just because you're a little bit of a hot head." You grinned as he moved to stand in front of you. "You calling me hot?" He rolled his eyes motioned to his body. "There's plenty of weak spots on the body that you can take advantage of. Jesus Y/N," he said at your responding leer, "I'm being serious here." "Can you blame me? I came here thinking it was a booty call. My engines are all fired up and this isn't the outlet I was looking for." You saw the change come over him slowly. He stalked over to you, his fingers tilting your face up to his. "You got pent up frustration?" His hands moved over your body, grazing the sides of your breasts before they went lower. "You lookin' for release?" You bit your lip and nodded, your hands going to his biceps as one of his hands went to your thighs. Just a little closer and— He had hooked his leg behind yours and brought you down onto the mat. Your back smacked against it hard enough to knock the breath out of you but his hand was behind your head to cushion the fall. He sat up and moved so that he was straddling you. The grin on his face made you want to hit him but that move was hot and you also really wanted him to do it again. "You play my game first and then we'll play yours," he said as he stood up, offering his hand to you. You glared at his hand before you accepted the help. Back on your feet, you went back into the position he had gotten you into to begin with and gave him a sarcastic look. "Game on." ------ Present time ------ "Our distraction worked but we're almost out of time," Frank said as he pointed to where you could see dozens of uniformed police officers swarming an area. "What distraction? What did you guys do to clear out the precinct?" Billy shook his head as he put his hands in his pockets. "I didn't do anything. Frank won't let me leave—" "You're supposed to be dead, remember?" Frank rolled his eyes before he looked over at you. "Ran into Curtis leaving the precinct, told him what's going on. He offered to help so we had him set some charges to try to make them think I was up to something in a different part of the city. After that I just went in to the station to get you out." By himself? He couldn't have known how many police officers would still be there. You looked at the bruise on his jaw and wondered if he got that tonight instead. "So what happens next? They'll be back to the precinct soon and know that you took me." Frank shrugged and looked at the cameras. "We're not done yet. The head honcho, he's still untouchable so far. He's one of the higher ups in the CIA. The bastard is as protected as they come. He was our next target until I saw this." He tapped on the screen where there was a still of Agent Madani talking to someone out of shot. "Fucking Madani," Billy swore as he walked up to the screens. "She was after Frank for the thing that happened overseas. That's how she found me. Once I got on her radar, she started to go after me since I was involved too." That was interesting. Both of them were staring at the screens so they didn't see your face, but you cleared your throat to draw their attention to you. "What was the thing that happened? You said that's what started all of this, right?" The two of them glanced at each other and you wondered if they would just ignore you. Or worse, tell you that you didn't need to know. You were already mentally compiling a list of reasons that you deserved to know when Frank turned around to face you. "We did things when we were over there, things that neither of us are proud of. The person calling the shots, the CIA guy, he used us like his personal hit squad. And one of the guys that we..." He looked away for a moment, unable to maintain eye contact as he laid his soul bare to you. "Well Madani was close to him. She's been hunting his killers since." Killers. You knew that there was the chance they had done things in the service that they weren't proud of. It's why Billy got out first, why Frank was about to do the same before the gun fight in the park. Billy had told you one night while he was drunk that he saw the faces of the dead in his sleep sometimes. You had thought he meant of the soldiers he had to kill overseas, but apparently there had been civilian casualties as well. People that maybe didn't deserve it. And, if you following the points to their natural conclusion, it also meant Maria and the kids. Not just Billy, but Frank. They were involved and therefore, apparently, in part, responsible. How long had Frank known? "So Madani being involved throws a wrench in the plan how?" It was Billy's turn to explain. "She knows that Frank was part of the squad, suspects that I was involved. She got a video somehow and is using it to track us all down. We don't know if she's figured out that Rawlins was involved or not." That didn't sound like a problem to you. "If she knows then she can do something about it. She's a fed, right, so she can just turn him in? He'll go to prison." Frank slammed his hand against the table, the objects on it clattering sideways. Something even fell off the table with a dull thud. "He doesn't get to go to prison. He killed my family. He turned us into murderers. He doesn't get to get away with it. He gets put down. That's the only way I'll have justice." You remembered Frank coming to your apartment over a year ago and telling you that there'd be more killing to set things right. He'd died not long after that. Faked his death at least. Had he been killing people since then? How big was this conspiracy? "If Madani tries to bring him down, he'll kill her." Billy shrugged his shoulder like he wasn't sure that was a bad thing, but the look Frank shot him had him nodding. "Frank's moral compass has always been a little more north than mine." You nodded slowly as if it made sense. And then you finished their thought. "So you need to know if she knows or not before you take your next step. So that you know if it's going to have any repercussions." They both nodded and turned away once more. As far as you could tell, there wasn't exactly a plan for how to figure that out. You glanced at the screen and watched as Madani put her gun in the holster and looked around at the scene of destruction that Curtis had caused. You sure hope he got out of there before the cops arrived. "I can figure it out." Frank spun around to look at you, already shaking his head, but Billy reached out to grab his wrist. "We can find another way," he said as he looked at you, but you knew he wasn't saying no. Billy was never the one to shut you down. That wasn't his style. He'd told you once that he knew Frank was protective and that he tried to use his position as best friend to lend a hand sometimes. That's what he was doing right then. He was letting you decide. "They don't think I'm involved with Billy's murder, as far as they can tell I'm not close to Frank, and I'm pretty sure I've already gotten under Madani's skin. Just tell me where to look and I'll do the rest." You looked between the two of them with confidence. "I can do this." The two of them looked at each other and you waited for the verdict. Finally Frank nodded and stepped forward. "I'll take you back to the city. C'mon, the car is out this way." You let out a breath and nodded. As Frank started towards the back of the house, you moved over to where Billy was standing and reached out for his hand. "I'll see you soon?" He smiled brightly, his eyes darting in the direction Frank had gone before he leaned in to brush his lips against yours. "Give her hell," he muttered against your lips before he pushed you towards the other room. "And keep yourself out of trouble." You smirked and raised your hands out to your side. "Never been in trouble a day of my life that I wasn't equipped to handle," you promised before you turned to follow your brother out to the car. ------ The car ride was mostly silent. You weren't sure where you were, but you weren't that far from the city apparently. The ride was bumpy and he had the radio playing quietly in the background. "Maybe we should talk about something," he said with a quick look to you. Your mind flashed back to the kiss that he had seen. You weren't sure you were ready to talk about that or not. "Those things that you said about us just leaving you? You know that you're not collateral damage here." God you'd almost rather talk about your sex life. "I know it's been a while since the last time we talked, but my memory is pretty good. I vividly recall you telling me that the only people you cared about were dead and you never wanted to see my face again. And yeah," you continued, talking over where he was trying to interrupt, "maybe I could have chalked that up to you just being upset about losing Maria and the kids but you faked your death. I've been in mourning since the call about the shooting. I never got to stop mourning you, even when you were still alive." It felt good to get it off your chest. The look on Frank's face told you that you struck a nerve, his fists tightening on the steering wheel. "During my trial, before Bill snuck you into the prison to see me, I found out what had really happened. This man—this monster killed my wife and kids. I knew he wouldn't stop so I had to cut ties." He gestured a bit before he gripped the steering wheel again. "Those things I said were for the benefit of the guard in the hall that I was pretty sure was dirty. And because I needed you to leave. I needed you safe and the only way I could do that was to keep you away from me." You chewed on the corner of your lip as you thought about it. If he had found out about Rawlins and how big the whole thing was before his trial, he would have taken precautions to keep you safe. "You'e my sister. Mom and dad, they wouldn't have understood, but I knew that you would. I just couldn't risk it. You and Bill are my family and I had to protect you both. That's why I faked my death." "So why come back? You said you needed Billy's help?" "To protect you," Frank said with a humorless laugh and a shake of his head. "I was pretty sure that Rawlins had figured out that I was still alive. In part because of Madani looking for me about that damn video. Once I realized he knew I was alive, I knew that I needed to keep you safe. Bill was the only way I could think to do that." "You didn't think you could just show up and tell me all of this yourself? Instead you had to fake Billy's death to get it done?" Frank pulled onto a familiar street and you realized you were almost back to where you had started. At some point you'd have to get out of the car and walk to keep him from being seen on the cameras. "You saw how you reacted when you saw me again. I figured me coming into your life like that would cause more harm than good so I asked Billy to keep an eye on you." Here he snorted and gave you a look. "How was I to know you were going to break up with him during it?" That made you almost swallow your tongue. "You knew?!" His laugh shocked you and you found yourself laughing along. "Shit kid, recon was literally in my job title. Of course I knew the two of you were fooling around. I pretended not to at first because I thought it'd play out. Once I realized you idiots were probably in love with each other I just kept pretending since neither of you were ready to admit it. Gave you both plenty of chances, but nada." You ducked your head and smiled. After a moment you remembered you had another question. "So why fake Billy's death? And that you were the one that killed him? If it wasn't for my benefit?" Frank pulled over and looked around to make sure there weren't any cameras before he settled down a bit. "That has a lot of moving parts. Part of it was for Madani's benefit, so that she'd stop chasing Billy as the culprit in the video. I'm setting myself up for the fall. Gonna put a bow on it once I kill Rawlins and release another video." That made sense, even though you weren't sure what was on the other video. Another question came to you, one you weren't sure why you hadn't thought of before. "Frankie," you said softly, turning in time to catch the fond look in his eyes at the nickname once more, "how are you and Billy gonna come back from this? You're seen as a murderer and a wanted criminal and Billy's confirmed as deceased." The look of fondness left Frank's face fairly quickly. It was replaced by something that made you wish you hadn't asked. "I'll answer that if we make it out of this alive," he said as he gestured to the street where you could see a few police cars driving by. "You should head back to the precinct. You have my number; call or text once you get anything from Madani." You nodded and opened the car door. As you stepped out, you took a deep breath and bent down to look back into it at your brother. "Be safe Frankie. And keep Billy safe too please." He grinned and rolled his eyes. "You got it kiddo," he said as he gave you a nod. With a smile, you shut the door and turned towards the street. It was showtime. ------ After Beacham had pulled Madani from the room, you were left to try to figure out how you were supposed to get the information that Frank and Billy needed. Frank had given you some ideas in the car, but you weren't sure how you could do any of them now that you were back in the interrogation room. You really hadn't thought this plan through. He had said that she might have the information on her phone, but you'd seen it in her pocket. Surely she'd notice if you pick-pocketed her. Actually, you thought with a grin, that was an idea. You opened the door and smiled at the officer who was obviously trying to pretend he wasn't standing guard. Beacham and Madani were a little ways off, both of them shooting a look at you when you stepped into the hallway. "Can I have my phone?" At the trio of blank faces, you shrugged a shoulder. "I haven't been arrested or charged with anything. I'm here on my own recognizance and I'm cooperating. Surely you guys can't have any issues with me playing Candy Crush while you come up with more pointless questions for me." The two of them looked at each other before Beacham shrugged and reached into his desk drawer. You could see that Madani didn't seem to agree with the decision by the way she huffed and turned to look at you, but you ignored her in favor of grabbing your phone. After you unlocked it, you frowned as you pretended to flick through messages. "Been off the grid for what, eight hours? Can't believe I don't have more missed notifications." You tapped a few last things before you looked between the two of them and grinned. With a little salute, you headed back to the interrogation room while you brought up a game to play for a moment. Back in your seat, you turned so that your phone wouldn't be visible from the mirror, door, or the camera that was filming you before you clicked back to your main screen. In the corner was an app you hadn't used much before. It had been put on there by a friend that you had gotten into trouble with more than once. He was in and out of jail for various hacking crimes, but he was a good guy that you could always count on. He had hijacked your phone and put the app on there with a brief explanation of how it worked. Activated, it gave you access to any phone in the vicinity. You didn't understand the technical part of it, but you had seen it work while you pretended to be checking your messages. You weren't sure which phone was Madani's so you had paired with them both. Checking them now you could see which was which so you deleted Beacham's and focused on the information you now had access to. The call log all had calls from contacts. You saw a few to Billy's number that made you clench your teeth before you moved on. Next was text messages and it was much the same. She did text him off and on to try to get him to meet up with her to talk about his time in the service but it seemed after the first few times he made excuses, he just stopped answering her. That made you smile for about half a second when you realized how guilty it made him look. No wonder she was digging into him now. You hesitated over her emails before you went ahead. At this point reading a federal agent's emails was not going to rank high in the crimes you were committing. Nothing seemed to jump out at you at first. Then you saw a draft. It seemed to be an email she had mocked up to send to a superior about her progress on the case. It was a newer draft so you doubted she had received any new information about Rawlins being in charge. Instead the email painted both Frank and Billy as the culprits, as well as a few other Marines. You skimmed the information before you took a screenshot. Next you checked the trash and her sent box to make sure you weren't missing anything else. Satisfied that she didn't have any more information, you closed the view. You didn't know if you'd keep being paired with her phone once you were out of range, but you didn't think it mattered much anymore. Eager to let them know, you opened a text message to tell Frank that she didn't know anything. The sooner this was over, the better. You sent the message, the screenshot attached, and then clicked back onto your game right as the door opened. "C'mon Paul," you complained as Beacham came into the room, "you made me miss the high score." He gave you a look that clearly said he didn't care before he looked at your phone. With a sigh you locked the screen and gave him your full attention. "If it was your brother that took you, why did he let you go?" You drummed your fingers on the table and shrugged your shoulder. "If it was my brother—and I'm definitely not saying that it was—maybe he has more important things to do than worry about his little sister." Beacham's mustache twitched and you knew that he caught your lack of the use of 'step' before brother and sister. You smiled and picked your phone back up before you had a thought. "Did you ask Agent Madani about her weird fixation with Billy? I mean, if she was close to him, she might be emotionally incapable of performing her duties completely. That'd be a real shame," you added as you leaned back, the music from your game starting back up as you turned away from Beacham. He huffed out a breath before he left the interrogation room once more. ------ Two years ago ------ Billy's nudged his leg against yours and you turned your head to face him. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit. "You look like you have a lot on your mind," he said as he leaned back against the headboard. "Care to share?" You sighed and rolled to face him fully. "I guess I just feel bad? We've been doing this for a year. Don't you ever feel bad for lying to Frankie about it?" He laughed and tugged on your hip until you had no choice but to crawl on top of him. Straddling his lap, you placed your hands on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you. "Don't think of it as lying to him," he said easily with a shrug. "I highly doubt Frankie is ever gonna ask if you and I've been sleeping together." He reached up and brushed his fingers against your cheek. When you didn't pull away, he tucked his fingers under your chin and lifted your head an inch until your eyes locked with his. "You ever want to stop, you just say the word. That's the rule, right?" You nodded once and then leaned forward until you could rest your forehead against his. ------ Present ------ You'd been waiting in the room for a while without any word. The longer you waited, the more paranoid you got. It didn't help that you hadn't heard from Billy or Frank. It'd been about two hours since you'd gotten back to the precinct. Surely whatever they had planned was being put in motion by now. Would they let you know when it was safe to leave? Or were you waiting for a signal? While you were lost in thought, the door opened and Beacham walked in once more. He shut the door and moved over to the seat across from you before he sat down heavily. "I wanted to let you know that you were free to go." Despite his words, neither of you made a move. "Your relationship to the deceased and to Frank Castle not withstanding, the decision to bring you in was out of my hands. I've been made aware of some uncomfortable truths that shed a light on the circumstances involved in your questioning and I'm making the decision to let you leave." It was a lot of words just for him to say that he realized that Madani was personally affected by this case. You nodded your head but didn't do more than tap your fingers on the table for a moment. "Was it about keeping me safe or were you using me as bait for Frank?" Beacham held his hands up and gave you a smile, the first real one you'd seen since you were brought in. "If we were using you as bait, I'm pretty sure the two guys that were sent to the hospital and the bullpen that looks like a a crime scene are proof enough that it worked, huh?" You rolled your eyes and stood up, stretching a bit as you did. Beacham stood up too. He followed you to the door, even opened it for you. "Y/N," he said as you started to step through, "level with me. Was it Frank that kidnapped you from here?" You tucked your phone into your pocket and gave him a smile. "It's been fun Beacham. Tell Madani I was sorry to leave without saying goodbye." And with a little wave, you walked out of the precinct and into the night air. You were just about to pull out your phone to call a cab when you noticed a familiar car parked nearby. You dashed across the empty street and knocked on the driver's side window before you walked over to the passenger door to slide in. "Wanna tell me why you're scoping out the precinct? Pretty sure that's frowned upon buddy." Curtis laughed and turned the car on. "Got a call from your brother. Thought I'd stick around in case I was needed." You reached across the space to give him a hug, grateful that he was there. And in part to soften the reminder that you were the one that had told him the false news that Frank had killed Billy. "I can probably direct you to their criminal crack shack," you began but Curtis shook his head. "Shit's going down. Him and Billy cleared out to go to work." He nodded at your startled look. "Think this nightmare might be over soon." He pulled onto the street and started to drive while you were left to buckle up silently. The thought of all of this being over soon made you feel a little better, but you couldn't stop thinking about Frank's face when you had asked him what would happen to him and Billy once it was done. Even with it over, you weren't sure it was going to be done. ------ Nine years ago ------ Frank had been home just for a few days when Maria called you. She had to take both Frank Jr and Lisa to the doctor and had called to ask you to come by the house for the hour or so she'd be gone. "Frankie need a babysitter?" It had been a joke but the silence dragged on and you bit your lip. "Something goin' on Maria?" She sighed and you heard movement as if she was stepping into another room. "He's just having a hard time adjusting again," she said in that faux happy voice that meant that something was wrong. After a moment her voice became softer and more solemn. "He's barely leaving the bed. He doesn't seem to want to spend any time with the kids. Honestly Y/N, I'm scared to leave him alone right now." You knew that it had taken a lot for her to admit that so you grabbed your stuff and headed over there. For the first twenty minutes, you left him alone. The door was open and you could see him curled up on his side, but he hadn't even responded when you told him hello. Then you slipped into the room and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Hey big guy, you gonna put me in some sorta Marine hold if I sit here?" When he didn't respond or attack, you kicked off your shoes and lounged on the bed. "You got Maria worried. That's not an easy feat, as I'm sure you know. She pushed out two kids, one without an epidural. And she's put up with you for this long." There was a twitch on the other side of the bed and you turned your head to look at his back. You weren't sure if the movement was him laughing or crying. Either one would be a step up from this. "I remember you telling me that this happens to some soldiers when they come back. You said that they get wrapped up in their heads from what happened and they don't know how to live with it. Is that it? You, what, aren't sure how to be here?" The silence stretched on and you wondered if you should continue. Then his voice echoed in the room. "You wouldn't understand," he mumbled, turning his face into the pillow. "Then explain it. At least try. Because the only thing you're doing right now is scaring your wife and sister and at some point probably your kids. You're not alone here Frankie." For the rest of the time that you were there, Frank spoke quietly. His words were stilted and jumbled and sometimes he would trail off as if he had forgotten what he was saying. When Maria came into the room to check on you both, she was surprised to hear his voice. "Everything okay in here you two?" She looked at you hopefully and you shrugged a shoulder. She carefully put her hand on Frank's shoulder. As she started to turn away, his hand landed on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. "It will be," he promised in a low voice that made you smile. "I'm gonna go check on the kids," you said as you excused yourself from the room. They needed a minute. ------ Present ------ Curtis brought you to his place and told you to make yourself at home. You curled up on his couch and kept your phone in sight at all times. If he noticed your attention to the device, he didn't say anything. He just made some coffee and handed you a mug. While he watched television, you couldn't help but stare at him. Curtis was like a big brother to you. You'd known him about the same length of time that you'd known Billy but your relationships was completely different. What would have happened if you had fallen for Curtis instead? That thought drew you up short. Since when were you admitting to having fallen for Billy? "You gonna keep staring at me all night Y/N? Starting to worry I'm gonna have a mark." "Sorry," you said as you cleared your throat, hoping that he couldn't see the path of your thoughts. Then you turned back to him. "What did Billy tell you that night you walked in on us at his place six months ago?" Curtis laughed and leaned his head back against the back of the couch for a moment before he looked at you. "I've been waiting for you to ask me that since that night. Can't believe it's taken this long to be honest." When you didn't do more than stare at him, he rolled his eyes. "He told me that he wasn't going to apologize or feel guilty. Told me that you were two consenting adults and it wasn't really any of my business what you got up to." You bit your lip and nodded, turning to glance at your phone for a moment. "I told him to take care of you," he added conversationally as he flipped through the channels. "He told me he'd die before he let anything happen to you." You could feel a smile starting to take over but something caught your eye. "Curtis, go back," you said as you shifted on the couch. He flicked the channel back and you were both faced with local news. A news report of a shootout in the city was scrolling along the bottom while a live feed showed police officers on scene. There in the midst of it all was Beacham. He was shaking his head, his mustache twitching as he pointed at something on the ground. There were blood stained white sheets all over the ground that made you swallow and look away. Looked like Billy and Frank had been busy. "Y/N," Curtis said haltingly. You looked up in time to catch the caption. The Punisher Dead "No," you said as you stood up, your phone in your hand before you could think. "No, it's wrong. He's not..." You started to dial the number of the burner phone but Curtis's phone started to ring before you could complete it. He pulled it up to his ear and let out a breath. "Scared the hell out of us man. The news is blowing up. Literally, apparently," he added as a replay of an explosion went on the screen. Then he nodded and looked up at you. "Yeah, she's right here. One minute." He passed the phone over to you and you eagerly put it to your ear. "Hello?" "Good to hear your voice," Frank said, his voice rougher than usual. "Things are gonna get heated for a little while, okay? I need you to keep your head down. Don't listen to anything in the news. And when it's safe, I'll come get you." "Okay," you said as you sniffled, turning away from Curtis to wipe your tears away. "Are you okay? Is Billy okay?" "We're both gonna be fine Y/N. Keep your head down, okay? Stick with Curtis. It's all gonna be okay." You passed the phone back to Curtis who accepted it with a nod. While he listened to whatever Frank was telling him, you felt your phone buzz. A text from a number that wasn't saved lit up your phone. I'll see you soon. We have a lot to talk about. -B You locked your phone and clutched it against your chest as you smiled. It was going to be okay. ------ Three weeks later ------ On the other side of the door was Detective Beacham. He gave you a nod and then gestured at your door. "Mind if I come in?" There was a voice in the back of your head that told you not to let him in, but you opened the door anyways. The voice—which sounded a lot like Frankie—called you an idiot but you didn't think you needed to worry about Beacham. "Want something to drink? I have tap water and three different types of beer." Beacham shook his head as he sat down on the couch. "I'm on duty," he said as he tapped his shield. "Never stopped me," you said as you tipped your bottle up a bit before you had a seat across from him. "What do I owe the pleasure?" He shook his head, looking down at his hands. You tilted your head a bit and studied him closely. His mustache was twitching a bit, but that wasn't even the biggest tell at this point. It was his refusal to meet your eyes that really told the story. "I should thank you for Frank being buried with military honors," you said as your eyes darted over to the folded flag that sat on your mantle. "I know that you were the one that pushed for the charges to be expunged postmortem."

"The video did that," he said as he shook his head, meeting your eyes for the first time since you had opened the door. "I'm really sorry that we'd all been so wrong about him. Well, mostly." You smiled and gave a quick nod before you grabbed your beer again. Burnt remains were buried in a grave with your brother's name on it. Not buried with Maria and the kids, but nearby. That had been your idea. You didn't want a stranger buried with your family. You covered it by saying that it had been Frank's decision when he was still alive and no one questioned you. No one questioned the sister of the dead Marine. No one was calling Frank a hero, not really, but they all knew that he wasn't the criminal they had painted him as. Not the murderer of his best friend at least. The reveal that it had been one of Rawlins's guys that killed Billy had rocked the city. It came on the heels of another video that painted Rawlins as the criminal mastermind behind a drug and weapon smuggling operation out of the desert. That video also included a recorded confession that Rawlins was behind the death of the Castle family. The confession had been recorded right before the warehouse went up in flames. People weren't sure if Frank wanted to die as well or if it had been an accident, but DNA didn't lie. Well, it did, but they weren't aware of that. And how the hell had they been able to fake the DNA evidence twice? It'd been three weeks and you hadn't heard from either of them. Outside of that one phone call to Curtis and the text from Billy, both of them had seemingly dropped off the face of the world. Not that you blamed them. Hell, you had a detective sitting on your couch. It was probably for the best. "Agent Madani was put on administrative leave pending an investigation into her ethics regarding the case. She bent a lot of rules and her higher ups aren't sure she did it for the safety of the country," he said conversationally. She hadn't, you knew that. Madani had wanted to take down the people responsible for the death of someone she cared for. You didn't fault her for that. It had just taken her too close to taking down the two people you cared for most. You weren't about to pretend that that didn't piss you off. "She had her reasons," you said noncommittally. Beacham laughed and gave a nod. He looked around your apartment, noting pictures that littered your walls. There were some of you and Frank growing up, some of Frank and Billy and Curtis. You wondered what story those pictures painted of you. "I just wanted to check in on you," he said as he stood up, waving you off when you started to stand as well. "I can see myself out. Try to keep out of trouble Y/N; I think we both know you're better at it than you pretend." You smiled as he walked over to the door to leave. "See you around Detective Beacham," you said with a salute. He turned at the door and shook his head. "And just so you know? My name is Jason." With that he walked out of your apartment. When the door shut, you laughed again and settled down into your chair a little more. For what it was worth, you felt like you had grown on Beacham a little him. He was a good guy for a cop. Your phone vibrated and you frowned as you leaned forward to grab it. The number wasn't saved but you recognized it as the one Billy had texted you from three weeks ago. Is there a problem? Saw the detective You looked towards your windows and frowned. You stalking me or something? Should I be flattered or worried? His reply came before you could even put the phone down. Keeping an eye on someone that matters to me isn't considered stalking, is it? You didn't think that his burner phone was for flirting, but it made you smile anyways. Before you could think of a response, he sent another text. You remember how to get where you last saw me? Pretty sure. When? Tomorrow. Ten pm. I'll be there. You put the phone down thinking that was it, but it buzzed once more. I miss you. You smiled and tapped out a response. Won't have to miss me much longer. ------ One year ago ------ The headstones were side by side, each one etched with dates and a name. You looked at the larger one in the middle and the new name that had been added. "He's not in there," Billy said as he wrapped his arm around your waist. "That's the problem," you said as you looked up at Billy, your eyes wide. "He's not in there. He's nowhere. He's just gone." Billy kept quiet because you figured he understood that you didn't want to hear his theories about Frankie being alive. You didn't need to hear the false hopes right then. You just wanted to mourn your brother. Or the man your brother had been. "I don't want one of these." Billy tilted his head down to look at you, raising an eyebrow. "A headstone?" "A grave. A funeral. When I die, I just want my ashes scattered in the ocean and then I want to be forgotten. I don't want to leave people behind to miss me and mourn me. I just want to be gone." Billy's hands rested on your hips and he pressed his chest against your back. After a moment, when you didn't pull away, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips against your ear. "You better hope I die before you then because I won't forget you. And I'll definitely miss you." You felt a tightness in your chest and you closed your eyes against the feeling. Then you nodded. "Take me home?" Billy pressed a kiss to your cheek before he guided you to where he had parked. You weren't ready to face the loss of Frank on top of Maria and the kids. And you definitely weren't ready to face the feelings that were growing for Billy. Not today. ------ Present ------ You had gotten a little lost on your way to the high tech crack shack, but you found it. You did feel a little bad about stealing a car but you didn't have one of your own so your options were limited. Although the idea of taking an Uber to their hideout had made you grin for a while. The car that Frank had driven you in was missing but you parked your borrowed vehicle where it had been. It meant you entered the house through the back. The screens and computer set ups were disassembled for the most part in the living room. Nothing seemed to be on currently. You looked around as you started to feel worried. Was it a trap? "Didn't hear you come in," Billy said as he came out of one of the back rooms. You spun around to face him in relief and froze when you saw the healing bruises and cuts on him. He noticed your gaze and reached up to touch his jaw. "You should see the other guy." "I'm pretty sure the other guy went up in flames in that warehouse fire so I'd prefer not seeing him if possible." You looked around and then back at Billy. "Where's Frankie?" "He wanted to give us some privacy. He'll be back in a bit." That felt ominous. As if sensing your sudden unease, Billy jerked his head to the side of the room where the small couch sat. You sat down with your body stiff and didn't relax until Billy grabbed your hand. That simple touch made your shoulders slump. "Why do I feel like I'm not going to like this conversation?" Billy smiled and angled his body towards you. After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed your other hand and kept them cradled in his. "Frank said you asked how him and I were going to come back from all of this. He also said he didn't answer you." "Yeah, I noticed that too," you said softly, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. The look on Billy's face had you shaking your head again. "You're about to tell me that there is no way back, aren't you?" "It's not like it was before. Frankie and I, we burned this city down. We did what he set out to do and put it right, but we did a lot of wrong along the way. We both hurt innocent people before this, back in Afghanistan. And hell, we probably hurt a lot of innocent people recently. There's no way for either of us to just step out of the dark and be ourselves again." You slumped further and nodded. It was something you had pretended not to think about, but you knew it was true. Frank Castle and Billy Russo were dead. That was that. "So what happens now?" Billy shrugged his shoulder and looked over at the screens that had been taken down. "We had a friend help us out, someone with some serious tech skills. He made whole new identities for us. Whole new lives that we can use wherever we won't be recognized." Your heart stuttered as you thought about that. They could disappear, be someone else. It wouldn't be their old lives, but they'd be alive. It was the way that he stressed the last part that made you pause. Obviously at the very least Frank's face had been splashed around New York City lately. And you'd seen quite a lot about Billy Russo in those days leading up to the final showdown. Both of them were cited in bringing down the criminal organization run by Rawlins. And then there was Anvil. "You're leaving," you said as you looked back at Billy. It wasn't a question. "We'll probably stick together for a while, make sure the heat is down. No real long term plans for either of us but we make it work. Frankie's saying goodbye to Curtis right now." They were leaving. You had lost and found them both so many times that you'd lost count. Sitting here with Billy, you weren't sure you could lose them again. That thought is what made you realize what was happening. Billy was telling you the plan, but he was giving you a choice. They weren't keeping you in the dark this time. "When you said your tech buddy made identities for us, you meant the three of us, didn't you?" "Frank and I decided that we weren't making your decisions for you. He's been killing himself over keeping you in the dark before and he's right. We both made those decisions for you and it wasn't right. We're not doing that again." He reached over to grab something off the side table and handed it to you. "We don't want you to make your choice based on us, but we want you to have all the facts before you do decide." It was new documents for you. You wondered where they had gotten your picture and fingerprints, but you didn't ask. Instead you flipped through the documents with curiosity. You couldn't help but wonder if the documents that were made for Frank had the same last name; a real brother and sister for the first time.

And a tiny part of you wondered if maybe this new identity shared a last name with Billy instead. "So you and Frank are going to leave, never come back to the city? If I stayed here, I'd never see either of you again. You'd really be dead to me." Just saying the words hurt. You glanced at Billy and you could see that he was walling himself off. Preparing for the fatal blow when he had to say goodbye to you. Billy had told Curtis that he'd die before he let anything happen to you. He'd been planning a future with you for a lot longer than you had thought it was a possibility. And Frank had gone to extremes to keep you safe, throwing away his family just so that he couldn't lose them. "When do we leave?" The look of shock on Billy's face had you smiling. He tilted his head a bit, confusion in his eyes. "Do you get what you're saying? We'd have to fake your death—" "What's one more?" "—and you'd never be able to go home. You'd never be able to come back here. That'd be it. Y/N Y/L/N would be dead." With your new identity in one hand, you wrapped the other around the back of Billy's neck and pulled him into a kiss. He responded immediately, framing your face in his hands as he tilted his head just right. If you weren't certain you'd get sepsis, you'd honestly think about having him right then and there on the couch. "I'm gonna guess she said she'd come with us," Frank said from the doorway, his voice dry but a grin on his lips when you pulled away from Billy to look at him. "Guess I'm going to have to get used to seeing that." You grabbed Billy's hand as the two of you stood up, only letting go when you wrapped your arms around your brother. He squeezed you back, his cheek pressed to the side of your head. "You two are the only family I have. Why would I stay here?" The two of them smiled at you and you couldn't help but laugh. As if you'd ever let them out of your sight again. ------ One year later ------ Curtis grabbed the stack of mail from the box and made his way back into his apartment. His leg had been bothering him all day, but he was used to the ache. The mail was mostly bills or inserts, but there was something mixed in that made him pause. High quality envelope addressed to him and postmarked from halfway around the world. The handwriting was familiar but he couldn't place it. Curious he broke the seal and pulled out a piece of nice card stock. It was embossed and fancy. And he couldn't stop the smile on his lips as he read it over. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Y/N Castiglione to William McCarty. There was a time and a place on the invitation and Curtis glanced at a calendar nearby to judge how long he had to get ready. Inside the envelope was also a pretty good amount of cash to pay for the ticket. And a little note in Y/N's handwriting. Better not miss it Curtis. You're my maid of honor. He laughed as he set the invitation on the table. Looked like he needed to book a flight. And look for a wedding gift apparently. What does one get someone who has everything? He'd known it for a while, but those three really proved it. Death was nothing but a beginning.

McCarty was the last name of Billy the Kid.

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