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buildgrist · 1 year ago

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I wrote this last year on Twitter, but since Empty Spaces has sort of abandoned ship, I'll post it here too:

"Funeral"

A woman's whole life changes the first time she sees a combat doll.

First-person, combat doll setting by Twitter user mars_phobos_L1

CW: Harassment, violence, military context, blood, personality changes, conditioning, surgery, unreliable memory

Story below cut:

I washed out of combat training almost immediately, but it wasn’t enough to get me off the hook. I’m sure you all know how it goes – just because you can’t fight doesn’t mean you can’t support the ones who do. If you can’t carry a gun, you can fix a gun, if you can’t fly a plane, you can fuel a plane.

Nothing wrong with that, of course! It’s simply efficient use of resources, and I’m certainly in no place to criticize that, especially not given my current status, so to speak. But even then I wasn’t exactly bothered by it -- I would have rather not been conscripted at all, but maintenance would be safe and interesting and I was already pretty good at it.

The first time I ever saw a combat doll was when I was at the range, trying to get in enough practice to pass my pistol qualifications. I didn’t even know she was there, at first - there was no fuss, no fanfare - but as soon as her handler started barking those sharp, staccato orders I realized what was going on.

I looked over, of course. I know, we’ve all been taught not to make eye contact with the dolls because they might take it as aggression, but how could I not be curious? Can any of you say you wouldn’t be tempted to take a peek?

I hadn’t expected her to not be wearing her mask. All the publicity photos, all the technical diagrams, all the battlefield footage always shows dolls with their masks on, so I assumed that was just their usual state – but no, I was wrong. That was her natural face, with her implant jacks and her surgical scars and her delicate-looking skin. I truly hadn’t expected her to be so pretty…

She caught me looking, of course. Dolls are the apex predators of the battlefield, and noticing a maintenance trainee staring at her was trivial in comparison. She met my eyes before I could look away, and then I couldn’t look away. I knew nothing except her eyes and my heart pounding in my ears, and I had no idea what was coming next… and then she grinned at me.

That grin did something to me, something strange and frightening and wonderful. It felt like lightning running down my spine, like watching a sunrise after being blind my whole life, like finding my way out of a forest I’d been lost in since birth. I was never the same again.

I needed to know who she was, of course. She could pick off targets faster than my eyes could follow, with a perfect bullseye every time. Her handler ran her through everything in our arsenal, and more besides - pistols, rifles, machine guns, throwing knives, on and on - and she was perfect every time. How could I have not wanted to know more after watching a display like that?

Well, apparently, that made me the weird one in the battalion. Everyone I asked about her just shrugged or gave me sidelong glances. Why would they want to keep track of which doll was which, they asked? They were all equally frightening, after all. What did it matter what the shark swimming next to you was named?

It took more than a week - and a couple cases of beer - for me to find out who I’d seen. My buddy on the security team had seen the handler’s name and done some quick research, and he was willing to pass on that information… for the right price, of course.

Victoria. Her name was Victoria, and the next thing he said to me was “be fuckin’ careful around that one,” which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me at the time. We’re taught to use caution around all dolls, combat or not, why the extra warning?

Because, he told me, there were stories about the Victory-class dolls. They weren’t the fastest dolls or the most powerful dolls, but they were notoriously unpredictable, and dangerous even to their allies. I won’t get into the details right now, that’s not what I’m here to do - but some of your classmates went pale the moment I said her name, so ask them about it later.

But what did that have to do with Victoria? I had to ask, because I used to be a little slow on the uptake sometimes. In case any of you haven’t put all the pieces together: Victoria is the first Victory-class, the flagship, the template upon which all others were modeled – and that meant if there was some fault with the Victory-class dolls, some flaw in their design or their conditioning, Victoria would definitely have it.

Even with all he’d told me, and all I’d learned on my own afterwards, I still couldn’t get her off my mind. Not that I was thinking about her every second, or even every day, but that moment never quite left my mind. I’d lay down and try to sleep, close my eyes, and behind my eyelids I’d see that bare face, that grin, and my heart would start pounding all over again.

By the time we were given our assignments, I knew what I was going to do. I knew what I had to do. I got the cushiest possible position – 8th Supply Battalion, well away from any combat zones, where the greatest danger would be a private driving a forklift drunk. The perfect position to serve out three years of compulsory service and go back to my old life, right?

Except I didn’t want it. I hadn’t wanted it since the moment I’d seen her.

As soon as we were dismissed, I went straight to the commander’s office and asked for a transfer – which they don’t usually do, of course, but he was willing to hear me out anyway, so I told him I needed to be on Victoria’s maintenance crew. Once he was done laughing he asked me what I was really there to ask for, and I repeated my request. I explained to him that I was serious, that I wanted, needed more than anything else, to be assigned to maintenance for Victoria.

He didn’t understand – which is no surprise, because I don’t think any of you do either. Why would I have wanted to be transferred to the only role that had higher casualty rates than front-line infantry, right? Truth be told, I didn’t understand either, and I still don’t. There’s nothing I can point to, no specific reason, just this surety that I belonged there and nowhere else.

Someone needed to do maintenance on the dolls, right? Why shouldn’t it be someone enthusiastic about it, someone fully committed to their role? I don’t know if my argument won him over or if he was just tired of listening to me, but in the end he just shrugged and wrote out my transfer orders: maintenance crew, Victory-class combat doll “Victoria”.

I still remember what he said when he handed me the orders:

“It’s your funeral.”

Just because I’d volunteered for the position didn’t mean I was any less nervous when I first reported for duty! The rest of the crew had already been giving me a hard time - I was the squeaky-clean new girl, fresh out of training - but honestly, they weren’t why I was nervous. That was just some laughs and some hazing, nothing I wasn’t used to by that point.

No, I was nervous because of the six-plus feet of exquisite purpose-built killing machine standing in the middle of the maintenance bay.

The thing is, though.. the reasonable thing would have been to worry that Victoria was going to kill me, right? That’s what you’d be afraid of, that’s what any sensible person would be afraid of! But it wasn’t what I was afraid of.

I’d done my research, I knew the numbers, and I was certain - beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt - that I wasn’t going to survive three years in her maintenance crew. I’d made my peace with that before I ever even walked into the commander’s office.

I was worried that Victoria wasn’t going to like me.

I know that probably sounds bizarre to you - after all, nobody worries about whether their tank likes them, right? - but trust me, it was absolutely the biggest thing on my mind. So much so, in fact, that I decided to introduce myself to her immediately! Why hang around hiding behind the rest of the maintenance crew when I could just walk right up to her and make a good first impression instead?

So that’s exactly what I did. Right into the maintenance bay, right past the rest of the crew, right across those painted lines on the floor… one foot in front of the other, listening to the pounding of my heart until I was within arm’s length of an active combat doll.

I took one more deep breath, accepted that it could have been my last, and gave her the usual introduction: name, rank, and role. She just stared at me, with those intense eyes I remembered so well, and I offered a little bit of extra politeness – just a simple little “I look forward to working with you, ma’am.”

The moment the words were out of my mouth, she grabbed me by the collar and dragged me in, my body pressed up against hers, and as I stared up at her in shock and fear and excitement, I heard her voice for the first time.

“You’re cute,” she said.

There were teeth in my neck before I could even make sense of her words - combat-specced teeth, the kind that can slice through bone - and it was unbearably painful… but also something about it felt right. I was helpless in her grip, completely powerless, and I realized that I’d wanted that all along.

I saw her true face for the first time, then. That flat, blank non-expression she’d been wearing when I walked up to her had simply been another mask, another disguise… and she’d let it fall away. As she licked my blood from her lips, I understood – she was a hunter, a predator, hungry for more and strong enough to take whatever she wanted… and I was her prey.

I suspect your instructor would kick me out of this class immediately if I described what she did next, so I’ll just say ‘she had her way with me and I had no desire to stop her.’ You’ll have to use your imaginations for the rest… or come find me sometime and I’ll be happy to tell you all about it!

Anyway, even though it seemed like I’d made an excellent impression on Victoria, the rest of the maintenance crew was pretty clear that I’d made a pretty poor impression on them. As soon as we were off-duty and the dolls had all been escorted back to their bunker, they made their feelings known in a very direct fashion.

I got off easy, they told me, pointing out maintenance staff for other dolls. One man had a bloody bandage where his ear had been, and another was completely unresponsive – just blankly staring at a wall. In comparison to things like that, a bite and some fucking was downright gentle for a Victory-class doll!

The crew insisted that I’d better not expect special treatment from Victoria to mean they’d give me special treatment too – I protested that I’d never once expected that, but I don’t think they were listening to me by that point. From all the shouts and cursing, it seemed like they were upset that I, the death-wish rookie who walked right up to a combat doll and introduced herself, had been treated more gently than maintenance staff who simply wanted to carry out their duties safely.

I tried to answer them, I tried to explain that all I’d done was to be friendly and polite, that I’d just wanted to treat Victoria with the respect she deserved. They didn’t like that answer.

Nobody told me about this, so I’ll pass it on as a warning to you just in case: maintenance crews aren’t just wary of their dolls, they’re downright resentful of them. From their perspective, the dolls are the thing that stands between them and getting home safely, and they’re not particularly fond of people who see the situation differently.

I, not knowing this, made some helpful comments about the dolls not being our enemy, about our purpose being to support the dolls so they can carry out their Purpose. Shortly thereafter, in a totally unrelated event, I slipped and fell down a staircase – completely by accident, of course.

I’d been hoping that the maintenance crew - and the staircase - had gotten all the vitriol out of their system by then, but it only got worse. Someone had found out that I’d volunteered for the maintenance crew, while they’d all been unwillingly forced into that position, and it was all over. That was all the proof they needed to decide I wasn’t like them in some indescribable way. They might not have been able to explain how, exactly, I was different from them, but they all agreed that I was, and they all wanted to make that my problem.

I next saw Victoria for post-mission diagnostics two days later. The procedures would be routine, and yet the crew was far more anxious than they had been for our previous visit to the maintenance bay. A doll just back from an operation, having spent only a few minutes being gentled by its handler before being sent off to maintenance, was the most dangerous kind of doll as far as the maintenance staff was concerned: all keyed up on adrenaline and battle stimulants and potentially unsure as to whether or not it was actually safe or still on the battlefield.

The crew all talked like they were off to the firing squad, and I had no idea what to expect as we all walked down to the hall… especially when they all hung back, in ones and twos and threes, lagging behind me while I walked up to the maintenance bay first.

I was the tribute, the offering, the fresh meat tossed to Victoria to sate her hunger - and oh, did she ever take the bait. She ran to me, snatched me right off the ground, and sprinted back to her designated zone as if to convince everyone she’d never left.. except now she had me clutched in her arms, her deadly teeth tracing up and down my neck, that beautiful voice giggling in my ear.

The maintenance team had to conduct their diagnostics around me, in the end. Victoria simply didn’t want to give me up, no matter how they tried to convince her -- and I had absolutely no desire to argue with that. Where could I possibly have wanted to be more than her arms?

In fact, I didn’t want to leave her arms. Even once our duty shift was done and she’d turned me loose, bloody and weary and deeply content, I lingered in the maintenance bay as the others fled for the mess. I knew what was waiting for me there - the same thing that had been waiting for me since I first met Victoria - and I wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

10.

I hadn’t expected her to notice me hanging around - surely I was unworthy of her attention, right? - and yet, as I lingered behind, she spoke to me for the second time. “Not joining them?”

“No ma’am,” I told her, quietly enough for nobody else to hear. I hadn’t meant to say anything else, but the prospect of having a sympathetic ear was just too much, and the words just tumbled out of me. As she stared down at me with that blank expression, I explained how the crew had decided I didn’t belong, and how they’d been treating me since – the punches, the kicks, the fish in my bunk, the thousand other little reminders that they’d decided to hate me.

Eventually I ran out of words and found myself simply staring up at Victoria. She hadn’t said a single thing the entire time, and her expression was the same unreadable blankness that I’d seen before. While I tried to figure out whether she was sympathetic or simply bored, I suddenly realized that she’d met my gaze, staring into my eyes as if she was looking for something. I couldn’t imagine what she was looking for - and, truth be told, I still don’t know what it was - but I stared back up at her and let her look for it.

I guess she found what she was looking for - or perhaps found an absence of the wrong things - because she simply grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me right out of the maintenance bay. What was she doing? Where was she going? She ignored my questions, of course, so I stopped asking them and simply walked along with her in silence.

You probably haven’t seen a doll bunker yet, but they’re extremely sturdy – downright overengineered, even. They’re even more heavily reinforced than munitions bunkers, and the only route in and out is through an extremely sturdy-looking steel door. It’s the sort of thing that makes the vault doors in heist movies look like tissue paper… and that was the door Victoria had led me to.

Even though I’d walked to the bunker with her willingly, I couldn’t help but protest a little as she swung the bunker door open. I had been told, upon my assignment, that only handlers and commanders were permitted to enter the doll bunker – all support staff were required to stay out in order to avoid ‘unnecessary manpower shortages’. Not that that stopped Victoria, of course! She simply picked me up by the back of my uniform like an uncooperative pet and tossed me right through the door.

11.

Have you ever walked into a room and found eight combat dolls staring directly at you? Sixteen eyes fixed on you, unblinking, like cats that have just spotted a mouse? Presumably not, but if you’re very lucky - or very unlucky - you might get to someday.

That’s where I found myself as the bunker door slammed shut behind me – gracelessly picking myself up off the floor under the hungry gaze of eight combat dolls. They waited a moment, graciously permitting me to get back to my feet, and then… well, I guess the best way to describe it is to say each one started trying, in her own way, to draw me away from my host.

Not a word was spoken, but carnal offers were made, and one or two dolls began to creep toward me as if stalking prey – and then suddenly they all froze at once. I couldn’t receive dollchat yet, so I didn’t know what Victoria said to them - and even now she just giggles when I ask! - but whatever it was, it was enough to convince the other eight dolls not to steal her guest away.

I spent that night in her bunk. I didn't do a lot of actual sleeping, of course, but the moments I did get... having a combat doll holding me close and murmuring sweet reassurances in my ear was maybe the safest I'd ever felt in my whole life. To be told I'm safe now, that the squad will look out for me, that I'm theirs forever…

12.

I hardly ever left the bunker after that. I would have never left, if I’d had the option, but there were still two things I was expected to handle: work and food.

I was still a member of Victoria’s maintenance crew, expected to be present for those duties, and since the necessary hardware was in the maintenance bay, that was where I had to be too. My first duty shift after being taken to the bunker, I’d hesitated – I was even more uncertain about showing my face around the rest of the crew now, after all! Victoria had just returned from a mission, so she would be waiting for me there, but I still had to get from the bunker to the maintenance bay on my own…

Before I figured it out myself, one of the other dolls took pity on me. She took my hand in hers, as if I was a child, and led me to the maintenance bay herself. It was permitted - after all, she was being escorted by maintenance staff - and nobody dared to say she couldn’t stand by while we Victoria received her post- mission diagnostics and I received an entirely different kind of post-mission attention.

I’m not sure if the crew ever appreciated just how much lighter on them she was when I was around, you know? I don’t know if they even noticed, or if they were too busy hating me. It didn’t matter, though – when we were done, Victoria and the other doll walked me back to the bunker, hand in hand, as if they were concerned I’d stray – or flee, perhaps, but there was already no chance of that.

If any of you ever get invited to a bunker, be aware: there’s nothing for you to eat. There is food for the dolls, although it’s terribly bland, but those meals are measured out to the last bite. Even once the whole squad had fully accepted me as their own, they still didn’t have anything to give me – every bite of food for me was one less for them, and dolls are always hungry.

The only way for me to get food would be to get it from the kitchens myself. I’d have to brave the hallways solo, avoiding any other staff, and throw myself on the cook’s mercy in the hopes that they’d be willing to let me take something back with them – and I’d have to do it two or three times a day! It’d be absolutely miserable, right?

As it turned out, that was practically a nonissue. The kitchen staff recognized me on sight - word spreads quickly, especially when you’re escorted to the bunker by two dolls! - and realized that we could solve each other’s problems: I needed food, and they didn’t want to interact with the dolls. If I could come out of the bunker to receive each day’s rations, rather than the staff needing to hand-deliver it directly to the dolls, they’d be more than happy to throw in each day’s worth of meals for me! Teamwork and problem-solving, that’s what we’re trained for, right?

13.

With food resolved and my duties sorted out… well, one day started to blur into the next. There are no windows in a doll bunker, after all -- there’s no sense of time unless you’ve got a chronometer built in, and I sure didn’t. I slept when they let me, I did as I was told, and every time the rations were delivered I felt a little more like I was walking through a dream.

The kitchen staff stopped looking straight at me, eventually. It wasn’t that they were afraid of me - I was no doll, no battlefield predator - but something about me unsettled them. Maybe my body language had changed – after all, I’d been spending more time around dolls than humans, even I could tell that I was picking up their mannerisms, that I was absorbing the way they spoke and moved and held their bodies.

Or maybe it was something else. Maybe there was something in my eyes. I had prostrated myself before the squad and worshipped them for the goddesses they were. I had licked blood from a doll’s body without ever stopping to wonder who it had belonged to. I had given myself to them over and over, even after my stamina was exhausted and I could do little more than accept their desires.

They had made me theirs - with pleasure and pain, with fear and adoration - but they decided I was ready for more.

14.

I’d tell you it was a day like any other, but I don’t even know if it was a day. It was just another moment in the bunker, a moment of laying on a bare concrete floor, my limbs tangled with giggling dolls who simply couldn’t bear to let their plaything go… and then it wasn’t.

They hauled me up off the floor and pushed my back against the wall, one on each side of me, and the rest of the squad parted as Victoria approached, as the doll who’d claimed me first stood over me once more.

“You’ve been fun,” she told me, “but you can be better. We want you to be better. Don’t you want to be better for us?”

Even after all the time I’d spent with them, I still hesitated. I knew what they meant, and I had learned exactly what it entailed. The surgery, the conditioning, the experience of not being human anymore – but wasn’t I already seen as no longer human?

Victoria saw that hesitation, she saw the fear in my eyes, and stroked my head like a pet. She promised me she’d stay by my side the whole time… and she promised to do my conditioning herself.

How could I say no to that?

15.

The surgeons broke me. There’s no way to sugarcoat that. Even without all the modifications combat dolls get, having an arrhythmia control device implanted in your chest without any anesthetic is simply more than any human can bear and stay sane – so I didn’t. I screamed, I struggled and I let myself fall apart.

Victoria put me back together. She reminded me how much I liked being helpful, and how much I enjoyed being useful. She dug up my memories of how much I loved each and every member of the squad, and she made those memories into the core of my personality so I could never, ever forget again. As for the rest of my memories… well, I told you this whole story, didn't I? But everything before the dolls took me in feels distant, removed from me, as if they're someone else's memories instead of my own. It's better that way – I have a whole new life and a whole new family to love.

Speaking of which, Victoria had a surprise for me once I'd recovered, a way of celebrating me as the newest part of their family. One at a time, each doll got up on one of the bunks like it was a makeshift stage and delivered maudlin, overdramatic speeches about the person they imagined I had been before, and we all giggled along together.

In the end, it was my funeral after all.

16.

There you have it, that's the whole story. That's how I went from being just like you to being who I am now. Your instructor wanted me to share it as a warning, a cautionary tale, and I'm sure for most of you it is. But for one or two of you, if it appeals–

Yes, sir?

Understood, sir.

Thank you for your time, everyone! May fate preserve us! Good luck on your quals!

#empty spaces #09bdc9 #combat doll #dollposting

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lennadanvers · 10 months ago

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Three times Simon wanted to hug you (and the one time he did)

This is the final part! I was supposed to post it yesterday but fell asleep. You can find parts 1-3 here.

Simon’s birthday wasn’t a special day. Only one person knew about it (Price), and all he got from him was a “Happy birthday, son” and a pat on the back. It was okay, though, because the captain couldn’t give him the only gift he wanted.

He had tried. Really. But he just couldn’t bring himself to ask you for a hug. How did people do that, anyway? Initiate that kind of contact?

Ghost was pretty sure you wouldn’t turn him down. You were too nice to him. But he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. Didn’t want it to be uncomfortable, or weird. You were so… Human. So warm, so much expression, skin, so much life.

He, on the other hand, had the name of a lost soul and the face of an abandoned body.

A poor combination – one that couldn’t manage to think of an effective strategy, by the way. Whenever he saw you, he opened his mouth and all that came out were sarcasm and dad jokes. An it really wasn’t that bad, because you were laughing a lot -and in his birthday, no less-, but he wanted to know what it felt to be safe. Unbroken. Close to you. Maybe then he’d be infected by your humanity.

He had watched Soap. How easy it was for him to touch people. But Ghost had put up a barrier, a boundary, and now it had become a prison. How was he supposed to cross it? To get out? He was a soldier. A fighter. He could stop people. He could kill. But Ghost wasn’t a fucking climber. And feelings can’t be pierced by bullets or cut by knives. He could hit the punching bag all he wanted: his knuckles still ached for a soft caress, not because of the blow.

It would have been the perfect birthday gift. Scratch that, it’d just be the perfect gift in general.

But no, the only perfect thing in Simon’s life were the sturdy defenses Ghost had installed around him.

Well, you were perfect too. Not in the same way, of course. You were so much better. You were unpredictable, flawed, changing. More than perfect. Simon could rely on you, even though he could never guess what was going to be your next move. You were always there, always close, but never enough (though he wasn’t sure it could ever be enough- can one melt into somebody else? Could he make himself a home inside of your ribs?). Always seeing, even when you weren’t looking (you didn’t look at him that much- maybe slightly longer than at the rest of the people at base, but his expression was always harder to read with the mask).

He, on the other hand, was blinded by your light, unable to see past the brightness you casted over everything.

That’s why he found himself hiding in the kitchen, just a couple minutes away from midnight. Ghost liked the kitchen. It reminded him of you. Like anything else, if he were to be honest. But in the kitchen, he felt the warmth of the oven and could pretend it was your heat, finishing cooking the parts of him that were still raw. The fridge was full of the time, dedication and love you had put into baking whatever sugary thing you had been craving recently. It tasted better than a birthday cake, even if it didn’t fully satiate his craving for something sweet.

He'd figured he would be able to enjoy his pathetic beer on his own.

Not in peace, though, because- as usual- you were there. At first, just in his head. You were in the buzzing of the fridge, in the condensation of the bottle, in the empty space between his fingers.

But then you were also under the doorframe, looking at him.

Your head had the same inclination it had when you were perched on a rooftop, eye against the rifle’s scope: you were searching for your target. You said hello in a sleepy voice, and all the lack of air in his lungs allowed him to do in response was nod. As you walked towards the fridge to get some water, he turned back to the table. There were eight chairs. The only one occupied was his.

What if you decided to sit down with him? Make a birthday toast, even if you didn’t know it was his birthday? Maybe all the years piling on his back would weigh less, huh? Especially if there were still seven chairs unoccupied after you sat down.

You didn’t sit. You stood there, quietly sipping water with your hip against the counter. Simon felt your eyes scratching at the back of his mask.

He ran out of beer rather quickly. Maybe a little bit of alcohol would help? But it was just a bottle, after all, and even though he smashed it as hard as he could against the wall surrounding him, it didn’t even make a dent. It just shattered. Ghost knew he’d still be finding shards of glass the next morning.

Taking in the absolute failure, he stood up and fixed the chair against the table. There, as if he’d never been here. Ghost threw the bottle in the trashcan next to you, the fabric of your pajamas was cotton, and pulled down his mask. He muttered some variation of “Sleep well”.

You were wearing shorts, goosebumps on your legs. His hoodie was warm. And big. He was almost certain you both could fit in it.

You blinked at him and left the glass on the counter.

“G’night, Simon.”

You took one step towards the door, and he was already willing his body to move, to open the way for you to leave first.

Ghost had always known you had better sight than him. You were an amazing sniper, out on the field, of course, but also out in life. You saw all the stupid little things: the defeated tilt of his eyelids, the dead motion of his hands hanging at his sides, the chains around his ankles that reached all the way to hell. And, again, you were an incredible shooter. An empathetic one.

Another step, and you were inside. Your arms held his waist softly. It was a slow movement- inhaling before pulling the trigger. Your cheek rested on top of his chest, the shot going straight through your target.

He felt your weight against his ribs, your hair on his neck, your fingers in his back… Simon felt you. He felt you.

His hands tripped to hold you; the grip stronger than socially recommended. But he was doing his best- he wasn’t a climber, after all. The height scared him. So, naturally, he held on for dear life.

Simon ducked his head, nose against your hair. That way he couldn’t see the empty space under his feet- it was easier to pretend he was still standing on the floor, and not floating above it. He took a step towards you, boots almost bumping into bare feet. It wasn’t a big step by any means, but it was the first.

Behind his mask, he could finally smell you. It wasn’t just your shampoo. It was your perfume (faint, subtle, fresh against the heavy air in his side of the fabric), you: special, delicate, and so different from him. Clean- somehow you had managed to get rid of the blood and gunpowder, the guilt, the grime. The last time the sun had touched his face (the first ray of a cool morning): that’s what you smelled like.

Outside.

Good, beautiful things on the other side of the wall.

No humidity, no rotting, no locked darkness. Clean, healed wounds. Life growing, symbiosis, instead of desperate survival. Even though he was so much bigger than you- back hunched, arms wrapped all the way around your ribs, body practically eating you, absorbing- Simon understood his own insignificance.

It was such a relief not being the strongest person in the room.

Simon’s lungs swelled, his knees and brows relaxing, lips and hands trembling. Finally, there was someone in his side of the wall.

If you have any requests/ideas, you can send them and I'll do my best to write them.

#fanfiction #cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost #task force 141 #lennadanvers

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captain-mj · 11 months ago

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Superhero au

I got inspired and made a little superhero x antihero au, hope you guys like it <3 Part 2 should be out soon

Ghost was good at what he did. Very good. He got up, he killed villains that the heroes were too pussy to deal with and he went home. Today had been easy. One freak that liked to hurt animals to try to make some weird chimera that he found great joy in murdering.

Ghost had been nice. He had left his face and teeth intact so he could easily be identified. The police were fucking useless and he didn’t want them trying to insist he killed an innocent again. The amount of civilian deaths pinned on him (all later redacted because they were never true) was ridiculous.

As he slowly went around his living room, considering what he’d do with his night, he heard a creak of his floorboard. Ghost threw one of his knives at that area, seeing…

“Soap.” He recognized the stupid superhero in his stupid get up. Too much spandex and gold for him personally.

“Ghost.” Soap smiled at him brightly. “I finally found out where you lived!” Already his smoky tendrils, ones that were so commonly associated with him You couldn’t have one without the other, had wrapped tight around his wrists. Soap tries to break free but they didn’t budge despite his super strength. His smile faltered as he was lifted until his toes were barely touching the ground but he quickly put it back up.

Ghost hated him so much. His smile was so bright. Literally, there was a light around him that kinda hurt Ghost’s eyes. He was happy he still had his mask on and that Soap did not see his face.

“How dare you.”

Soap wiggled one hand so Ghost freed it and he pulled out a flier. “So Ghost. I believe that we can find an advantageous alliance for all of us if you were to join th-”

“No. I’m not joining shit. Get lost.”

Soap smiled tighter, an almost grimace. “Well, ya see. We could pardon you of all crimes.”

“I’ve committed no crimes.”

“You’ve murdered many people.”

Ghost glared at him, the tendrils dancing around him. They felt like nothing against his skin but judging by how Soap was reacting, they must be unpleasant. He was a being of smoke and darkness rather than human. It was for the best that no one knew how human he was under everything. “I murdered monsters. It’s your fault they roam free. I’m just cleaning up the trash.”

Soap tsked. “Such messy morals.”

“Morals? Morals? Are you serious? You let these freaks get back out and hurt more people. Children. Animals. Innocent people. And you think it’s better to let them out? They prove time and time again they won’t change and you insist they will.”

Soap stared at him blankly and Ghost wondered if he had just tuned him out entirely. “So our lea-”

“I will not be joining any leagues or organizations. I’m already going to have to move thanks to you.”

Soap tapped his fingers against each other for a moment. “I’m not going to tell anyone. But can you just consider it? I think you’d be a good fit.”

“You just said my morals were messy.”

“I did. But a lot of these people can be rehabilitated.”

“How many people have to die while we wait for one of them to heal?” Ghost asked as he started to make himself tea.

Soap didn’t answer. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. But… even if you won’t join the league, I see no reason we can’t be friends, ya know?”

Ghost glared at him hard. “Get fucked. I won’t help you. I don’t need your help. I work alone.”

Soap smiled. “Well…” He pulled out a business card and put it on the table. “Just in case.”

Ghost waited until Soap disappeared to look at the business card. He faltered when he actually looked at it.

All of the heroes had business cards. It included their names, a small rundown of their powers and what league they were a part of if they were a part of any.

This was not that.

“John MacTavish”

His actual name.

Along with his contact information and his address.

Ghost was a little stunned but he decided to keep the card. He doubted he’d ever need it, but if Soap ever revealed his little flat to anyone, he could spread his information just as fast.

———

Soap was making himself coffee a few weeks later. He had been keeping tabs on Ghost. It was his job. His team even encouraged it.

After the first week though, he didn’t bother to kid himself. He knew this wasn’t because of duty. Soap did not spend over an hour watching Ghost grocery shop for the greater good.

Soap didn’t call it stalking. Stalking implied he watched him constantly and he really didn’t. Just when he had a little spare time, he’d use a tiny tiny bit of his reality bending powers to watch what Ghost was doing. He’d usually use mirrors or his phone and it felt almost like a tv show.

Soap never saw his face. Not just because Ghost constantly wore a mask, but he blurred it. Don’t get him wrong, he’d look in an instant if it was almost anyone else. There’s a reason most super villians never kept their secret identities for long. But with Ghost… it felt wrong. It felt like cheating.

Ghost was funny. He’d rescue kittens from trees, buy little kids balloons, and seemed to have a thing for gardenias but he never bought them. Just looked at them.

Soap had been trying to stop. Besides the ethics, his team was starting to notice how much he watched Ghost and he knew if they saw the depth of it, they’d figure it out. Plus Ghost hadn’t done anything bad recently. As far as they could tell, he was laying low. Possibly moving.

As if he knew Soap was no longer watching, Ghost appeared in his dreams. Usually the dreams were… Soap didn’t know how to describe them. They weren’t nightmares. Certainly not wet dreams despite Gaz’s teasing. Too fragmented and they always left him empty and sometimes… sad.

Soap had never met a material he couldn’t rip through. Except Ghost. Whatever that living smoke was made of, it had to be indestructible.

He sighed and drank more coffee, trying to tell himself not to watch his favorite tv show. He had managed all week. Just a few more hours and he’d hit it.

Something hit his door. It sounded… weirdly wet. He sighed and opened it. He wasn’t dressed as a superhero luckily and no one besides his team should know where he lived.

And there he was. His object of obsession.

Ghost looked at him, blood dripping down from a wound on his stomach. Soap couldn’t really see it, the smoke was wrapped so tight around him and it hit him suddenly that he was holding the wound together.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Soap quickly ushered him inside and sat him down on his couch. “Why aren’t you healing?”

Ghost frowned. “I don’t have super healing. Sorry to disappoint.”

“So when Captain Price threw you off that building last week you were actually hurt?” Soap asked sarcastically. That made no sense. No one without super healing would fight them so regularly.

“Yes. That’s why i was taking it easy this week. He bruised my ribs. I nearly fractured some bones in my legs apparently. I thought i was good to go though…” Ghost adjusted himself. “Look, if you can’t help, maybe i should go. I can leave.”3

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

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mariamariquinha · 6 months ago

Text

Versos de Placer (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader) - Fourteen

Summary: A letter for you.

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: Bad words, slight violence, more daddy issues, fluff, mention of sickness, some angst and... did I say fluffl?

Author’s Note: Oof, I really thought about how would I say goodbye to this story. There's so much I want to say, but for now I hope the words I wrote here makes some difference in what we build as a small community of mutual interest in writing and appreciating what we had of Carrillo.

Quite a journey to get here, right? And I should thank everyone for each conversation, each comment and appreciation towards this. As a non-English speaker, bring all of this here had been a challenge, but one I accepted with love.

As always, I hope I could give a good end for this love story. See ya!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

******

I wish I had done it differently, yes, but I don't think you should forgive me anyway. You don't know me and, by extension, you have every right to doubt my nature. Honestly, I recognize that that letter changed my life, as it reaffirmed that even though I’m in front of bullets or knives or big violent men every day, I’m still my father's daughter, which makes me a coward.

The Sun was burning your scalp a little, so you scratched the top of your head now and again because the heat was bothering you. From afar, you saw the small commotion in front of the building: people going out and about, fuzzing over each other. He didn’t exactly tell you where he was staying (you didn’t ask either), but the badge could do some convincing, such as your name. At least you hoped so.

You looked at both sides of the street before crossing and, when you did, you ended up bumping into a girl – you apologized, even if a little bewildered, and she said everything was fine with a smile that you hadn't seen in those surroundings for a long time. That caught you a little by surprise, so you watched her go with a dumb expression in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Permiso,” Excuse me, You said, approaching the doorman who was sitting in the empty lobby with his arms crossed.

He was cooperative and friendly, but said he wasn't sure if there would be anyone with that name there because the Americans were already leaving. Still, he called the hamal in apartment 15 (you saw him do it over his shoulder) and, shortly after, said that you were lucky and could come up.

Your father was already at the door when the elevator arrived and, for a moment, the two of you stood there for almost a minute just staring at each other without saying anything, as if you were meeting for the first time. He knew there was something you wanted to say that was unconventional, at least by the way he looked you up and down suspiciously, but he didn't give in to asking the question. With a gesture of his head, your father suggested (not offered, suggested) for you to come closer and you did so, just like when you were a child and had to ask permission to sit at the dinner table to eat.

The apartment itself was already empty, except for a few pieces of furniture that were still scattered around and would probably be collected later. The floor creaked a little because it was made of parquet and the walls were obviously old – weird for someone with so much 'caliber', but you understood that maybe it was just a disguise for the neighbors.

“I still have a bottle of whiskey around here somewhere,” He said, even if not moving a muscle to reach for the said thing.

“I’m good,” You shook your head, in time to see him agreeing silently.

An awkward silence followed the decline. With that, you gave yourself another chance to look around and find something to comment on before going straight to the point.

“When is your flight?”

“In about three hours,” He shrugged. “I believe that the Embassy didn’t ask you to give me a ride like the first time.”

“You would know if they did,” You smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. He saw that and responded the same way, even pulling a chair out of the small table in the living room to make himself comfortable for a confrontation.

“What is it then? Did I forget to file some paperwork or something? Because if that's the case, I have to let you know that I-”

“Were you the one who killed Juan Marcos?”

The question caught him off guard, but not in a harsh way – he probably felt more outrage for the fact that you interrupted him, something he never took quite well. For a moment, then, your father just stared back at you, then scoffed as if you were stupid.

“Thinking about leaving flowers on his grave before you leave?”

“I don't think your moral compass is adjusted enough for you to remember which ditch you used to dispose of his body,” You crossed your arms over your chest, not failing for a moment to spit out your thoughts.

“Don't be moralistic.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve just been in this hell for so long, right? Catching criminals, doing the dirty work… that’s enough for you to give me some answers.”

Again, a bit of quietness, but a contemplative one. He had that easy expression on his face, as if you two were discussing the weather, one that always put you on the edge of pure rage. You waited patiently, tho.

“... I did.”

“How.”

“You saw him, you know how.”

“Is this the kind of thing you would do for a daughter?”

“It is, because I did,” He said calmly. “Is this some kind of intervention? This is what you want? Resolve all the frustrations you have with me now, hours before I, what’s that you said? Disappear from your life?”

You looked at him with pursed lips, feet tapping on that stupid floor to prevent any more unwanted feelings. It felt like the Sun was burning your scalp again, so you unconsciously scratched that area again before rolling your shoulders and staring at him with a stone cold expression – one you certainly got from his side of the family. The question was there, burning in your lungs and throat, ready to leave your mouth and make him lose that sarcastic smile on his face.

“... Would you do that for a son?”

The decline in his comfort was gradual, progressive, millimetric. The corners of his mouth lowered into a straight line, his jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened intensely. You flexed your fingers discreetly, trying to hide your defensive posture with the possibility of another aggressive approach on his part, but all he did was access you cautiously while looking for the justification for your question in the way you stood there, in front of him.

“What did you do?” He frowned, probably not sure of the end of that topic.

“Me? Nothing,” You shrugged, head shaking. “Your son did.”

Your father rose from his seat with a harsh scrape of the chair but you kept still, glaring back at him. He could come closer, could do what he did in the office; it wouldn’t happen, though. You both knew, somehow, that someone was his weak point, the thing that couldn’t make him have good nights of sleeping for a reason you’ll never understand.

That made you scoff a laugh before averting your gaze.

“Now you know how it is.”

“Oh, so that’s what it is? Revenge?” His voice was so harsh, so taken by reticence and rage, that it made him static in a certain type of fury.

“I think my best revenge was knowing that you got what you wanted most and he was nothing like what you expected,” You took one step closer, then another, and you two stood there, eye to eye. “Can you imagine? Being your son and having decency?”

“You better-”

“I better what? What, dad? Shut my mouth? Stop talking about Jorge? Or should I wait until you give me the first blow?”

Nothing. He stood there like a bull, fuming and grinding his teeth – no hand raised, no closed fists.

“You asked what I want with all this, with this drama… I never expected anything I discovered about your life to be ethical or clean. You do whatever you want,” You shrugged again, this time going full exaggerated with a fake coy expression. “What I want is for you to take that plane, go back to the States and spend the rest of your days thinking of how your beloved son couldn’t be any more different than you in anything, better than you in anything and a man you’ll never be even closer to be. All that while being raised by a whore.”

The slap was a familiar feeling, like that specific side of your face had a shape to fit his open hand like a glove. Even the movement of your head, the mixing of your insides, it had a natural way to flow, to go this way or another. Still, you’d been caught by surprise, so next thing you knew, your gum was bleeding – you could taste blood on the tip of your tongue, see it on the tip of your fingers when you assessed the small damage. It had the sting, the sharp pain, but that didn’t get a rise out of you.

“That’s what you told him? That I’m your bad father who didn't beat you enough to give you good manners?”

“... Why would I need good manners? I’m a whore, right? Good manners wouldn’t make me fuck Carrillo like I wanted to and you couldn’t do shit to stop it,” That came out with such a force. “In all my life, nothing made me more happy than to trespass your limits as much as I could, to make you show your true colors and still put that scary expression on your face.”

With this, you took a few steps back, adjusting your clothes and smiling, the inside of your mouth and your teeth probably red from the blood.

“Take that plane, go back home. I know that you’ll lie in your bed tonight knowing that you’ll have the same future as that damned Juan Marcos, alone in a grave that no one’ll visit.”

It was as if thousands of years and hurt had finally created the courage to leave your shoulders, as if all the suffering he put your mother through had transformed into a controlled and punctual fury in your heart. A return. An end. And you left there knowing that, with that, you closed a cycle that gave you a happiness more sincere than Escobar's dead body on that roof.

******

Two days before…

You weren’t with your work clothes, so the heat was more bearable with the tank top. The worn out jeans were still there, just as the old boots, and just as the gun and badge. Habits. Carrillo looked at you beside him in the car, arms crossed with the stance of that old self, full Colonel mood of his.

“Are you sure the info is relatable? Safe?”

“I am. Do you want me to bring all of the Colombian Army to this when you all should be celebrating something out there?” You turned to him with a teasing smile, seeing the frown on his face getting even more deeper. “Horacio-”

“Some of them are still out there. You should at least let Trujillo do a-”

“You’re already here with me, Horacio, and this is already too much. There’s people who need you right now.”

Instead of answering, he let you hold his toned arms, then both sides of his neck to melt some of his stubbornness in avert your gaze. Not getting a reaction, you tilted your head to get a better look of his face, jaw tightening in insistence, which made you sigh and let him go.

“You don’t know him,” He said.

“I’m aware.”

“And we’ve been through enough to be suspicious.”

“I’m aware,” You insisted, brows raised. “To be honest, I don’t know if I wanna do this but… If it’s him, if… I need to be sure.”

“Why?”

For a moment you just stared at his confused expression, not knowing the right answer to that – not sure if you had one. Then you pursed your lips, shook your head and averted his eyes to look through the window, where you could see the small house from afar.

“... When my father left, my mother kind of disappeared. Mentally. It was as if the lights were on but no one was home,” Your tone was recoiled, way too low for someone so confident about their decisions. “He said some things to her, said this country was hell but even some cheap pussy could give him what he wanted. I honestly didn’t even know why he needed so much to have a son.”

You could feel Carrillo watching you carefully while you used that false calmness to explain what you wanted to say clearly.

“This made me spend time with my paternal grandparents because she couldn't bear to see me. I was a very complicated, restless child, so when my grandfather started using the old methods he used with my father and uncles when I messed up, I understood why he wanted a boy.”

You felt a weight on your chest, one that almost made you cry.

“At least I think I understand. He wanted to take out the frustrations of what he went through on someone and I was a girl, so naturally I couldn't handle punishment or fits of rage. I would have marks like my mother had and that would make things more complicated for his conscience. A boy could be molded to be strong, resilient. I was always too emotional for him.”

Like the perpetuation of the species to whom he could transfer descendants or something like that. Bullshit.

“I understand. Well, at least I think I would be that kind of person if things weren't different.”

“I don't think it's the same thing,” You shook your head. “You're here, that's more than he's ever done.”

“Because I love you.”

“And if you had children, you would love them too.”

Carrillo didn’t say anything. The idea of children only crossed his mind when he was younger, as soon as he married Juliana, and it seemed so distant that he forgot what it would be like to imagine a life with children. You didn't want that, that's for sure; Given the life you two had, it would even be selfish to bring a child into the world. And even if the car was so quiet, so… calm, Carrilo always had the feeling that someone was lurking, and he felt bad for thinking that, in another time, he would be the same type of father as your father was.

You could feel, little by little, how his hand sneaked closer to yours, the tip of his fingers carefully passing through your knuckles before going up to your wrist. It was so soft, the way he touched you to test the water, to not invade your space, that when his hand reached for your forearm, pulling you just enough to make you turn to him, nothing could stop you from hugging him as if your life depended on it, pressing against his body fiercely.

He didn't say anything because he didn't know how to say anything, because it wasn't like hearing the news that your father was coming to Colombia. Horacio was never good with soothing words. He knew how to act, that's for sure; in that case, if it were possible, if that sliver of humanity were to come away from him once and for all, your father would become a ghost like everyone else.

Well, but you already knew that – he had told you that when he recovered you from another low blow from your father. Selfishly, Horacio would always do his best to create miles of distance between the things he truly loved and those who risked any trace of peace he had achieved. And maybe you didn't know this, but he had made this promise to himself.

I'm not going to lose anymore, Horacio pressed you tighter against him, staring at the wall with the coldness of his decision. I don’t accept that.

“Let’s do this.”

******

I imagine to this day that you would never like Horacio. You always seemed too ‘communist’, progressive enough, but you would laugh until your stomach hurt at how stubborn he was. Still, I don't want to convince you to like him; I just want to tell you that it wasn't him who told me to leave before I could see you that day. You were fine, you were beautiful (I still know you are) and you were holding a baby in your lap, which I later realized was that of one of the patients you saved during an emergency birth. I was only there for 30 minutes and I heard people say more good things about you than they could ever say about me in my entire life. That's when I knew I had to leave you alone.

I cried in his arms later; I would cry a lot more in the years that followed, but I reserved every minute of my future life, the life I never planned for myself, to gather all the memories of what I could tell you one day. No, I'm not dying, at least not from my health, because you know that everyone dies one day, but I've been writing to you because I want you to know that you don't deserve the family you have because you're too good for us.

I want to tell you about Horacio. I want to tell you what we did and how I miss some things in life. I want to tell you this because I know he could be a solid bridge between the two of us, the person who would interpret you for me and interpret me for you. My mother would never be able to do it because of resentment, our father because of disregard and we because of ignorance.

Horacio, however, was my surprise during the time I spent in Medellín. If I want you to know me, I want to be able to reveal my best side, what I truly achieved when I decided I would love him.

******

It was strange not having plans, but you got on the plane alone. Horacio couldn't go with you, not at that moment; there was love between you, yes, but there was also responsibility, and he would never leave his own country behind. You understood. During the time you spent in Bogotá (not in Medellín), the two of you did things together: went out to dinner, visited places, had sex… Things that couples did. When you got on the plane, it was with the uncertainty that things would one day be okay, and that you would be able to reconcile life in Los Angeles with what had happened to the two of you in Colombia.

This was our father's fault and I'm completely sure of that. I was disallowed from having any further contact with the case, which I understood as private revenge for what I did, as if he wanted to take away more of the happiness you could have had if you were to work with Peña and Horacio later. I always resented him for that, I still do. Maybe it wasn't the worst thing he had done and today I know it wasn't, but it was as if every minute of my life, he took away a little of my happiness.

The letters you exchanged were always long, which went quite against his personality. It was as if, finally, he said in words everything he thought, did and gave his opinion. On your part, there were important descriptions, such as how much your mother was fond of him and the cases you worked on at the DEA. He, on the other hand, mentioned the well-known day to day life with Peña, what they worked on and how he missed you, above all, which hurt your heart.

“God, you have to put an end to this. I want to see you happy again, my daughter, and I want to meet him.”

In one of them, which was a call, he told you something that he kept so deeply within himself that he was certain that, one day, he would come back to you for good and that there would be no turning back.

“I want to marry you. I see no other choice and I have no other way out. I need to assure myself that I’ll no longer have to tolerate this ordeal without knowing that I’ll come home and find you.”

“Don't be so dramatic... I know people who would find our obstacles small compared to what they go through. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“So wait. The next time we see each other, I'll have a ring to put on your finger.”

You know, I always thought he was a brute, but Horacio never failed to keep his promises. In fact, he came back with a ring, and we actually got married, which was a simple thing that meant enough to both of us. We moved to El Paso. It was close to Peña, in fact, and sometimes we spent holidays together, which I never thought would happen. Maybe, thinking about it now, it's those moments that I miss most.

“Is that white hair?”

“Fuck off, we both know we’re getting old,” You elbowed Javier in the guts, puffing smoke in the Texan hot air. “By the way, you’re getting a belly down there. Don’t come at me.”

“What I gained, you lost. Have you been eating?”

No was the proper answer. He knew it was, and that was why he asked. Still, you shrugged, taking another drag.

“... Yes.”

“Hey-”

“I am, Javi, I promise. It's just been different.”

“I hope so. One of you needs to remain standing.”

It was around the time our father passed away. Well, I can't say for sure if it was too close or too far, especially since he fulfilled his own mission of dying alone. I didn't have the opportunity to talk after he got sick; I didn't even know if he had someone. Today I'm almost the same age as he was when I was in Medellín and I can't see him in myself, while I don't know if I would live my life differently if he asked me for forgiveness. Below I leave exactly where he is buried and, if you want, you can visit him. If you're the praying type, decide if it makes sense to give him the privilege of prayer; God knows I'd like that too.

******

At that point of things, you made fun of Horacio for not actually marrying you like the tradition said, just giving you the ring he promised he would, but you understood that the world didn't survive on big events like that.

When he found out what the diagnosis was, you went straight to the computer and did your research. It wasn't that you didn't believe the doctors, but the first step to acceptance was denial, and you knew how to do that very well. At the time, you had just been promoted to an important position in Mexico. You found a good doctor there who could treat him, and the offer didn't get as much back-up as you thought it would – it was like he thought he was going to die.

It was a very different change than it had been when you went to Colombia years before. There was no urgency, no hustle, just the tranquility of a bureaucratic job with a good house, space for a yard and a good salary.

“It's in the early stages, so it's a relatively simple treatment. The change in routine and habits will be more severe, so I would be more attentive to that.”

You decided to stop smoking along with him because of this and, deep down, Horacio was a little upset at having to stop this habit.

“I don't know, I just feel embarrassed,” He said one night, you two sitting on the porch because he wanted to take a look at the street. “I didn't imagine that my life would end without emotion.”

“You won't die like this, stop being an idiot.”

“How can you know?”

“Well, because I just know.”

Not every day was easy and, honestly, coming to Mexico was the acid test for many things in my life. Interestingly, I never thought about giving up Horacio, and if I was honest with myself, I also thought that one day I would die from a gunshot or something that would make newspaper headlines. He would never admit it, and neither would I, because it seemed inconceivable, but having that life made us feel grateful and, most of all, lucky.

It was also at this time that I decided to get back in touch with you. He made a promise that if he was cured of cancer, he would include forgiveness for his own past, so we started slowly. I met Juliana (and the three children she had), and I started visiting our father almost religiously every year. We went back to Texas to see Javi, and sometimes we went to Miami to visit Steve. Horacio had reservations about my country, but he could appreciate some things that I think you might like too.

Jorge, I know that our life could have been different and I, as an older sister, feel responsible for being able to give you some glimpses of life with a family up here that loves you, because I would like that too. Along with these letters, I also send tickets to the capital, for you and your husband, if you want to visit us. Horacio is a great tour guide and I, interestingly enough, learned to be a great hostess.

I apologize for having done all this so late. Well, apologies are never enough, but I feel that this phase of my life, the phase of gray hair and wrinkles on my face, terribly nicknamed 'better years', is the right time for the two of us to reconcile for someone who left us behind.

I miss what we didn't have. Even if you don't want to, which I understand, know that my life is only complete because I know that a part of me is also in you.

******

“Appealing to nostalgia?”

Horacio barely raised his head from where he was staring at a box full of old trinkets. Through the mess of the office, he went straight to the memories of Medellín, rooting around and reliving the years in the dust, and he seemed focused enough to barely pay attention to you.

You could say that the guests were already arriving, that he should take a shower soon to welcome them, but the scene seemed so peaceful that you were afraid to interrupt and decided to participate.

“You have that perfume again,” He murmured right when you touched a framed picture of him and Trujillo alongside other stuff.

“Does that bother you?” You eyed him over your eyeglass lenses, to which he tsked and shook his head.

“You’re also appealing to nostalgia.”

“Huh, I remember that was the first thing you noticed about me when we met.”

Horacio then looked back at you and, seeing your mischievous smile, smiled back, leaning back on the chair to give you full attention.

“You drove me crazy, that's what.”

“I didn't know that was the effect it had on you. In fact, I was sure you hated me.”

“Because I couldn't want you and I wanted you.”

You left the frame in the box and walked over to him, walking around the table to sit on his lap, which he gladly accepted. For a few moments, you stood there, motionless, staring at his face, not knowing exactly what to say, just… admiring him, the grays on his hair and the lazy grin splattered there.

“What are you thinking?” He asked then, always eager to get inside your head.

“I always imagine that we wouldn't be here if we didn't live what we lived there,” You pondered, a hand massaging the side of his neck. “And it's weird because people have lost so much. Do you think we deserve it?”

“Is this part of your reconciliation process?”

“Yeah, I guess. I've been thinking about some things... I'm writing you a letter, even.”

“But I'm not going anywhere.”

“I know,” You pecked his lips softly. “Who knows, maybe I can express it with words instead of hiding it on paper.”

Horacio stared at you for a bit, his brow furrowed and the mechanisms moving in his head. You thought it was strange.

“What?”

“I want to read you something.”

You got up so he could look for what he was finding, and when he did, he took a notebook out of a box, accompanied by yellowed sheets of paper.

“I wrote these things while we were in Colombia.”

“And what exactly is it?”

“In the beginning, it was a diary of missions and operations that we carried out. The day you arrived, I ended up writing 'perfume' instead of 'precision', which made me realize that the feeling wouldn't leave my head. I didn't stop thinking about you after that, so I started… I don't know, writing down things about you, what you did, what irritated me and what I liked.”

There was no way to react, more out of shock than offense at him having kept it in for so long. You imagined a Carrillo from the past, a thousand times more stubborn and stubborn, taking the time to write about a woman he couldn't stand. Maybe sitting alone at night in the office, cigarette in one hand and whiskey in the other, mumbling swear words while saying he liked something about you, disbelieving his own feelings.

Then he took that photo that Steve had taken, which he stole and caused temporary chaos with your colleagues. You, younger, tired but with a spark of life, an eagerness to do the right things.

You watched him as he looked at the photo and felt a warm feeling in your heart that seemed more frequent since you started having more moments together.

When he started reading what he wanted, you could barely move.

“I don't know what this woman did to me and I try hard every day not to ruin everything because I think about her so much. The perfume drives me crazy, the defiant eyes impress me and, oh my, lately I've noticed how incredibly mind-blowing those jeans make her. I have no one to express these feelings to, perhaps because I can't say in words what I imagine when I think of her.”

“Today she told me to go fuck myself. I had to suppress my satisfying smile when I saw that fire in her eyes when she spat those words in my face, because I purposely provoked her into being angry with me, thinking I wanted a reason to get her away from me. In the end, I know that that exact reaction was what I wanted, that she will never give up because she is too stubborn to do so. She goes to the end. She is true to what she believes. I'm sure I'm in love.”

“If nothing were as it were, I would ask her to dinner. I would see her eyes light up in the candlelight, I would make all the romantic moves and show a side of me that no one knows. I want to see her confused, I want to surprise her, and then I want to kiss her, make love to her, and feel every inch of that sweaty skin beneath my fingers while I see her sigh with the pleasure I'm going to offer. I want her, I want her so much, and I feel bad for every kind of thought I might have about her.”

“I call these verses, then. Versos de Placer, in my mother tongue, one that she knows how to say and that is even more beautiful when it comes out of her mouth. Verses that I will never be able to recite out loud, not to her, but I will be able to remember as the spark of a good memory of the complicated days we spent hating ourselves because the world we are in is destroying us. Always her, and never anyone who isn't her or who even looks like her.”

“Always her and her perfume and her accent and her presence. Always.”

******

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@616wilsons

@nessamc

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@padbrookcottage

@seaweeden

#horacio carrillo #colonel carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo x reader #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fandom #maurice compte #female reader

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imtooscaredforthis · 2 years ago

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So Two Murderers Walk Into A Room…

Chapter Three: The Truth Isn’t So Bad

Mentions of: Murder, Homicidal Thoughts, Knives, Homicidal Tendencies, Mental Illness, etc.

A/N: I was super sleepy while editing this so please forgive grammar/spelling errors

Tags: @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @moonshineinasippycup @stwbwwychan @mama-miya

He was right. You hate to admit when you’re wrong, but boy were you wrong. You truly are in some sort of fucked up dimension. And that entity thing, you saw it. After you sacrificed all those survivors. It was real.

In some strange way, you felt connected to it. Like it was controlling you. You shouldn’t want to be controlled. You never want to be controlled. But you like how you feel.

You get that familiar blissful feeling whenever you kill, but multiplied by ten. Right now, you feel amazing, the buzz and adrenaline running through your veins. You feel better than you’ve felt in a long time. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind doing this for eternity.

“Boo.” A voice suddenly whispered in your ear, making you shriek and turn on your heel, waving your knife around. A gloved hand caught your wrist, stopping you before you could do any damage.

It was that masked freak from before. He chuckled to himself lowly, and you could feel the smugness emanating from him. “Seems like I caught you red-handed, Sweetheart. You finally ready to confess?”

And just like that, your mood soured. Sweetheart. Who does this condescending prick think he is?

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed poisonously. “And I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“You don’t, but I’m sure I can get it out of you. You do have quite a bit of blood on you after all. Cute. So how many did you get? Two? Three?” He examined the knife in your hand, before releasing your wrist.

“Four, actually.” You corrected him, doing your best to stop your smile as you felt some sadistic pride grow in your chest. What are you doing? Why are you trying to please him?

“Ooooh, four. You got them all?” He asked. “Yeah, not like it was hard or anything. I was a district champion in track in High school, and I did gymnastics in college. So I have some extra skill when it comes to the hunt.”

You can’t help but find yourself getting sucked into this conversation with him. No one’s ever talked to you about murder before. It’s such a taboo subject, and yet, you’re here, talking to this man and treating it so casually. It’s so…freeing.

“See? Isn’t it nice being able to be yourself? Your true self? I knew you’d admit it eventually.” He remarked.

“Okay, you might’ve been right about some things, but not everything. Who are you, anyway?” You asked, realizing he never told you his name.

“Mmm, I go by a lot of things, but most people know me as Ghostface.” He said.

You repeated the name to yourself, before giggling. “You’re so weird.”

“Laugh all you want, but that name terrified anyone who heard it, especially those who read my name in the paper. The stories of what I did kept countless up at night, and I would’ve scared you too.” He stated in an irritated, almost threatening tone.

“Oh really?” You challenged him. “Yep. I’d have you changing your locks and everything. Maybe I’d even get you to move.”

“Well, you’re wrong, Ghostface. Because I’m not a pussy. I’m not scared of anything.” You replied, gesturing at him with your knife in hand, a big grin on your face.

He was oddly quiet for a moment and stood as still as a statue. Still, you could feel his eyes following your movement. Then, he spoke. “I have a feeling you and I are going to be good friends.”

Huh? Just when you thought you got under his skin, when you thought you finally deflated his huge ego, he bounced back immediately. Seems like you can’t push his buttons like he can push yours.

“Now, there’s lots for us to do. I need to show you around to the other realms and have you meet the other killers. That’ll be fun.” He remarked.

“Other killers?” You repeated. “Yeah, you didn’t think it was just us, did you? Now c’mon, let’s go.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the woods.

–

It didn’t take long, just a little more walking before finding the other killers. There were around eleven, all grouped up together, waiting for another trial, you assumed. Many had more monster-like features, but others appeared to be human.

You weren’t afraid, but you were intimidated, and curious. Why did they look the way they did? Did they always look like that? Or did something change them? Do you look like that?

It’s been a while since you looked in a mirror, but you don’t think you do. You hope you don’t. One of the few things you pride yourself on is your looks. You’re beautiful. You know you are.

Not only is it nice to be pretty, but it’s good for sex, and it’s also easier to lure in your prey. That’s how you’ve killed and gotten away with your murders.

“Hey guys, welcome our newbie, _______! Isn’t she just the cutest?” He pushed you against him, before reaching up and squeezing your cheeks. Glaring at him, you smacked his hand away, slipping out of his grip.

Feeling all the attention on you, you glanced at the group, suddenly feeling shy. “Uh, hi.”

It’s strange, being around people and creatures that all now know your secret, even though you’ve spent your whole life hiding it. It’s even weirder knowing that they’re just like you.

Well, not just like you, but they obviously have to have some involvement with killing to be there.

“Well, hello there.” A lilac-haired man purred. He approached you quickly, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. You blinked at him, processing his actions.

Okay, now some guy dressed in what seems like a ringmaster’s outfit is hitting on you. Not that you minded. He was quite good looking after all, with a pretty face, and a toned upper body. Great abs too.

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m-”

“Fuck off, Trickster. She’s mine.” Ghostface interrupted, shoving him away. He said something to him, you weren’t sure what because it was in another language, but whatever it was didn’t sound nice.

You opened your mouth to object to Ghostface’s statement, but the next thing you knew he was ushering you away from the killers. “You’ll get to know them later. Let me show you around.”

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morningstargirl666 · 2 years ago

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17 Questions 17 People

Tagged by the lovely @galvanizedfriend

Nickname: My name is too short, so I don’t really have one. However, no one can ever pronounce it right half the time, so I did have one memorable science teacher in secondary school that called me Double A, like the battery, because that’s my initials and every register he got the name wrong without fail so one day he just declared, screw it, I’m calling you Double A.

Sign: Gemini

Height: Honestly not a clue, I forget. I’m not short but I’m not tall, so probably something like 5′5, 5′6.

Last thing I googled: Literally just googled my sign to check it was Gemini because I was second-guessing myself.

Song stuck in my head: Songs don’t often get stuck in my head, and I don’t think one has today, but I have been listening to ‘Eight’ by ‘Sleeping at Last’ on a loop lately while writing?

Followers: 143

Amount of Sleep: Anything from 8-10 hours usually. Though I can function on like 5 hours for about 48 hours before I crash. Like the crash never happens the first morning for me, it always comes in a day or two late. Same with hangovers, though those so far I just sleep off with no other consequences.

Lucky number: Don’t have one, but any even, rounded number works. Odd numbers scare me.

Dream Job: Filmmaker, specifically a Gaffer. They’re basically the heads of lighting, second only to the Cinematographer. Technically the director and producers too, but that’s not my department. Worked on a short film with someone who worked on Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon before Christmas, which was cool.

What I’m wearing: PJs & dressing gown. Normally I get changed before bed but eh, tonight I’m chillin’.

Movies/Books that summarise me: Books would be Rebecca (1938) by Daphne du Maurier, the Skullduggery Pleasant series by Derek Landy (truly the favourites of my childhood) and more recently the Nevernight series by Jay Kristoff. All of them are my exact vibes. Sass with a dash of the macabre and spooky. Sometimes a little murder. Movies - god do you even realise how many movies I’ve watched. Which ones summarise me? I appreciate anything with good filmmaking, and I’m not talking about weird arty stuff. I’m talking films that hit the bar of every note - fantastic production design, writing, performance, soundtracks, cinematography, like they gotta have it all. I want to be seduced by story. I’m also an incurable romantic. So I guess films like Se7en, Psycho, The Old Guard, Cyrano, A Monster Calls, Hacksaw Ridge, Knives Out, The Batman, Everything Everywhere All At Once. Like with books, I’ll go with gritty, dark spooky vibes any day, but I also dip my toes in every genre of every age, and the movies that summarise me would reflect that.

Favourite Song: I really love movie/show soundtracks. At the minute a favourite song of mine would be ‘I Need More’ from Cyrano.

Favourite Instrument: Piano. Gotta be. No competition. Though I love fully formed orchestras, the whole shebang, like classical covers are my secret love.

Aesthetic: The complete opposite of a sweet summer child, even though I was born in such a summery month. I prefer cold frosty winters, thick fog mornings and heavy rainy days over heat and sun. In fact I regularly hiss at sunlight when I open the curtains, often not opening til late morning/afternoon because I prefer the dark so much. Fall is probably my favourite season because of October and Halloween, but I also ADORE the sunrises and sunsets of winter, so like its a close tie. I’d probably move to somewhere like Canada or Norway just for the snow and ✨aesthetic✨. Ooooo also forests, I love forests, so you’ll always find me walking in them. Beaches are so overrated. I’m like Anakin I HATE SAND

Favourite book: Rebecca (1938) by Daphne du Maurier. I read it in a day while in the college library (it’s around 150k words) and still go back to read certain parts years later. Gothic novels overall are a favourite of mine, too.

Random fact: I have literally no self-preservation instincts when it comes to animals. I just want to pet them, even if they’re wild and want nothing to do with me. I caught a grass snake (maybe an adder, I was excited to find a snake, okay, I didn’t check if it was venomous) at a beach once. And like, 50-60 crabs (this was in the same day) by shoving my hand under a rock and letting them pinch me so I could drag them out. I let them all go, obviously. On a different day though while at the same beach, I found a flounder in the mussel beds. That was also pretty cool. Not as cool as the snake though.

Thank you for tagging me! ❤️

I tag @bellemorte180 @stars-and-darkness @purplesigebert @garglyswoof @heatherstyles @kirythestitchwitch @little-miss-sunny-daisy @destellolunar @helpless-in-sleep @enniec123 @frogs-are-bitchs @thetourguidebarbie @cupcakemolotov and literally anyone else I feel like I’m forgetting people, and I wanna get to know people more. Don’t need to participate though! I just thought it might be fun 😊

#don't come at me about the snake guys #i blame my mother #she made sure not to show fear around animals when I was younger #expecting it meant i wouldn't develop a phobia of spiders like normal people #kinda backfired

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mothlegs · 1 year ago

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eurgh

dreamt basil abused me :/ or dreamt that i dreamt it? idk. it was all the same as before. i was still finding ways to take all the blame so he wouldn't have to change or ever be in the wrong

and like. i definitely did suck severely but so did he and i was the only one taking any kind of responsibility, just like irl

gehh. stupid dream

it was like. he left a message for me on amino that he was going to sleep and i should put that in my discord status and we'd talk in the morning? and cause i'm still a stupid loyal dog i did that. his profile picture was blue and his username started with knee ..??

but. in the dream i dreamt he sexually assaulted and i think physically abused me too? i was talking to someone about it, about how my real vision/memories had high contrast and the dream ones were the same just in grey. i wondered if it wasn't just a dream (i know it is irl since i never met him in person)

we fought, physically, for a while. think there was glass and knives involved. i triggered him on purpose and accused him of race faking and faking being jewish? which? irl he is white and Not jewish? i was doing it just to hurt him, i said that to the other person later, and it felt like this big revelation that would fix everything. i used to have those all the time, i'd realise something that could he viewed as being my fault and i'd immediately do everything i could to change, because he wouldn't change and i somehow thought that if i just did everything, that would make him care about me, would make him stop hurting me. god damn stupid i was

other dream stuff. i was friends with this guy whose brother was intellectually disabled? and it was the brothers birthday so i was invited. not a lotta other people were, just a few kids his age (6-8 idk)

they were like. rich.? and somehow i ended up. erughh just remembered what happened next. i somehow ended up babysitting the kid, his? her? idk im saying his- his name was tay, and he also had some movement related disabilities and i think food related ones too

i got along w this kid really well, he used AAC and even at the party i seemed to be the one including him the most?? like we were considering going to some place and i was the only one who actually Asked tay if he wanted to go or if he was ok with us going without him

but anyways. uhh something. Weird. happened. there was a Dude. outside. who was. imitating me.? like... trying to copy how i look. it was really freaky

i told tay to know what i looked like n stuff and to not ever trust that other guy, and then i went down to i guess fight him

and Fight Him I Sure Did. he had some kinda sharp weapon and i had. something. some kinds tools idk what they were

he managed to cut me once and *i* managed to stab him through the mouth into his head. at an angle where every time he moved, he crushed his skull further. the sound was so disgusting, i couldnt look at it and he wouldnt stop

i was screaming for help and some woman came over, said something about hannah, andd. idk i guess that was okay then

i went back in the house and tried to make food but i cant cook so it went bad. tay was sitting on the counter trying to guide me buy man i am Bad

then his dad came home and was like. i told you i put food in the fridge. and i jus OH. I. COMPLETELY FORGOT. SORRY. and he said it was fine blehbleh

i told him about the weird dude (really unsettling and scary the entire time something was Wrong with him) and he got kinda Hh and said something about hannah too, but also that we couldnt talk here. i understood, the walls had eyes, metaphorically.

aaand that was p much it. think thats all i remember. i kinda miss tay and also his brother they were cool. feel like i dreamt more but i forgot u.u

#dream #dreams #dream log #dream journal

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shy-bee · 8 months ago

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ReignBot Japanese Mockumetry

03:00 yeah i think i definitely missed something

03:23 hahaha ‘lackluster narration’

05:27 mhm, also noted! if i remember to watch that 😭

05:30 ah!! it’s set in 2009! oof my bad lmao

05:46 that is a nice detail, since they are filming in a house they can’t just make a room bigger to accommodate a camera crew, so it’s very personable (if that’s the right word?) in each other’s space, breathing down each other’s necks.

07:04 yeah i did think it odd but yeah you didn’t have to think about it for too long… 45-25=20. eh the mother was at an okay age, not a concerningly young!

08:26 yikes! still spooked me now

09:42 i saw the shrine too! but i thought is was for the husband, but now i know i was wrong

15:28 oh she is 22! i thought that was a fake age… why did i think she was 25..???? i’m so confused

15:56 still wonder why he brought the bag in with him :/

16:52 kinda funny has they censored the head injury but not the website

18:01 ah! i didn’t even notice that was what that frame was showing… oops

18:58 yeah.. thought as much

19:22 ah!! that makes sense as to why she was able to get back! i must’ve missed that too

19:58 eh, i saw that too, that the family was helping him more there. ah! makes sense. i was too wrapped up him him being the bad guy i didn’t see people’s opinion of him change since i was the problem…. oof

20:54 i do wonder what the other papers mean

and i found that scene weird, the cameraman is just lingering filming. it’s just odd, i know it’s probably for the movie, but if it were more real maybe one would start recording half way through the shout? aiy what do i know?

21:14 oh fking hell! harsh words mother!

22:25 i thought it was weird! and creepy

22:58 why tf are there more knives in the fruits?? what did they do to you?? QAQ

23:52 hahahaha, wait what where supposedly doing, kissing right? i thought i heard them kiss

28:33 hehe still made me chuckle

30:40 i thought he was dead in that room tbh 😅… too much true crime

34:38 … i feel like i should’ve probably just watch the first youtube video and not make a 1 1/2 hour long video double it length with me pausing so often 😭

35:40 ah! the mother!! 👀☕️ go on

36:19 oh… did… did the mother kill the cat? *LE GASP* like she killed the chicken because it went into her garden??

37:53 ah… why did i think the mother to be… i have issues let’s just move on ha…ha

39:06 ah… is the mum trying to get them to have false memories about what happened?

39:20 AH!!! I SEE! taht explains why he was looking over so much?

39:51 omfg that one scared me. chills ewh

40:03 so it was a read hearing? she brought it up because her son brought it up?

40:25 oh wait pffft that’s another daughter! so this is what she got them to talk about? the photo to distract people from what actually happened?

40:50 me either sister! me either brother! creepy!!

42:25 ah creepy! did the mum push him? but nice work cameraman to make that camera angle make sense!!

43:33 ah! all in the fruits! i see! that is a good what time show that! the fruits as the kids!! mhm mhm

43:52 Ringo sweetie what are you doing?

wait Ringo was the first to call him father and that, could she be on the mothers side. to stay on this land so no one finds the dead husband under the plants, and that’s why the plants are so healthy because they have good nutrients… was she slowly poisoning her husband… no her daughter wasn’t a nurse then… i’ll continue watching sorry!

43:58 i did think that might be poison but she quickly had some herself so i disregard that

44:16 wait maybe it is. and in small bits it’s okay but after time and you eat more it slowly but surly clogs up and builds up to a life ending amount? the look Ringo gave the mother was a but sus (at 44:13)

44:56 same same!

46:05 when i heard the lady say their family name at the end i did like that it did sound like that but i didn’t want to be ‘that guy’ but say that now sounds dumb

47:11 i’ll have a snoop too to see if there are any more translations for the other signs! 🫡

48:16 thank you! i don’t feel as bad now!

48:27 i also thought that *cough*

49:16 yes yes detective! tell us your theories!!

49:42 hmmm i see, you’re cooking, continue

50:28 yeah, figured as much

50:56 wait-!! omfg!!! ah! that’s so cool!! that cat 😌🤍

that makes it feel so real!!

51:01 :000 oh my go-

good watch good watch!! thank you

saiko family

notes - to keep track

father Sumio 39 <- stepfather

previous husband Ura (went missing)

mother Tsukasa 45

2 daughter Mikan 24 (works as a nurse)

2 son Ryuta 17

^poured food on Sumio’s face

^probably into something pervert (prediction had before 20:20)

3 daughter Rie 16

^beats up Sumio

4 daughter Remon 13

4 son Dan 12

5 daughter Sumomo 6 (Sumio’s)

5 son Raichi 5 (Sumio’s)

(prediction at 10:28 the new husband killed the first husband and forced his way into the family)

(prediction at 13:28 the not-husband-husband does something creepy behind close doors that it creeps the children out but they can’t say. the mother can’t say any since she needs his help to pay for the kids)

1 son Gouki 23

(prediction at 15:04 something sus is up with the 1st son. maybe possessed, is the ‘real’ man of the house that the younger ones look up to)

???? Ringo

^maybe the oldest sister? she’s ‘missing’

1 daughter Ringo 25

^left hole after graduating from high school to go to university

^found work in Tokyo (3 years ago)

^stop contact 6 months ago

^she was against the marriage

^maybe works at a brothel (22:26)

(prediction at 22:56 Sumio probably did something to the oldest daughter so she runs away from home to get away from him, traumatised. he -Sumio- gets caught on a ‘dirty’ site and pretends it’s a lead on the oldest daughter)

(24:50 i don’t want to watch this 😭😭😭 this is so weird!! why would you book a from, at a brothel house, with your supposed daughter??? that’s so wrong, if you where worried try contacting the place or wait until her shift is over and try to talk to her!! don’t book an appointment!! 🤢🤢🤢!!!!)

(26:02 this is so awkward i wanna die, what the hell 🤢)

(prediction at 33:16 is he going g to slowly ‘kill’ off the other kids until is only his two kids?)

(prediction at 35:24 he hurt the 2nd son you be able to get the 1st daughter back)

Ringo

^got scammed into the industry

(prediction at 38:58 he’ll kill the boyfriend to bring her home?)

(40:46 i hope they expect her!! QAQ!!)

(41:41 please give her a hug!!! QAQ)

(43:56 …… no surprised)

(46:48 .. somethings fishy..)

(prediction at 46:50 i don’t think the mother wanted the marriage, maybe she agreed because or the film crew… she doesn’t seem happy, or he told her to shut up and stop talking)

(46:51 … or am i being too harsh on him. sure going to a brothel to see you step daughter is weird, very weird, but maybe he’s a good person….? we’ll see)

(48:54 not cookie… oh gosh, don’t say that infront of the kids, when they’re eating!! 😭)

(49:49 reminds me of that case where everyone was scared/revered the oldest daughter and they turned a blind eye to her madness and even put lotion in her even after she died)

(50:30 not the children crying 😭😭😭😭!! what a background noise to see hands gently caring for the planets!)

(52:14 aren’t you over spraying that plant?)

(54:14 did his tell his wife that? was he hoping the 3rd to leave? you just got back the eldest why ask is they want to leave?)

(prediction 54:56 the 3rd daughter is possessed)

(prediction at 55:22 or the oldest son?)

(prediction at 55:38 maybe something bad happens every year? like a once a year curse? but the children brought up a ghost so i don’t know what specifically it is)

3rd Son with first husband Tuakaharu (don’t know if i spelt that right) died at the age 9 (in 2001, don’t know when this is set but was made published on youtube in 2015 so give or take a year)

(57:16 oh sh!t i think it is something once a year!)

2001 - son dies

2002 - husband goes missing

???? - Ringo being tricked

???? - Gouki’s mental state

???? - Rie’s hostility/domestic violence

???? - Remon’s (?) bike accident

^one year the cat dies

Present - Ryuta’s fall from roof

(01:01:32 maybe the photo he wanted was the ‘ghost’ photo? he seems to be more down on the ground about that’s possible)

(01:01:46 oh!! maybe the head injury ‘cleared’ his head so he can think more clearly?)

(01:02:24 a g-g-g-ga-ghost! hahahaha… sorry)

(01:02:28 hopefully we can see the photo, or the spooky of the ‘unknown’ is scarier. allowing us to imagine what scary thing is shown in the image, because everyone has different tolerances to different things)

(01:02:40 never-mind 😭 spoke too soon!)

(01:02:46 pffftttt! hahahahaha, hahahahahahahahaha!!! thanks to that zoom hahhahaha i thought it was a normal photo pffft so thanks! hahahaha)

(01:03:00 oh lord she’s become a ghost hunter hahaha! with that look maybe she’s the one behind it! hahaha! her voice suits the lazy fill of how this documentary would’ve been made if it where a real one!

… i fill a bit bad. i keep pausing to type, it’s probably keeping from getting sucked into the story! sorry! but i’m going to continue doing this!)

(01:03:08 burn the photo?)

(01:93:14 hahahhaahahahHahahHhHhhaahahah a omfg hahahahahahaha)

(01:04:48 a nice homely vide it wraps you up in a nice warm blanket!)

(01:05:44 hehehe sneaky cameraman!)

(01:06:18 👀☕️)

(01:07:08 it is nice to see that the children are more happy! but i have a feeling Rie is about to rock the boat. maybe the older siblings have a plan or something to mess with the new dad?)

(01:07:30 … what a waste of food. and i was right)

(01:08:02 i feel like i shouldn’t be watching this…

since it’s real acting though these fight seems are a bit funny looking since the kicks/punches look weak but the father is good at acting hurt)

(01:08:37 EYH!! oh my… that one he definitely didn’t actually touch her, but still bloody hell!)

(01:09:12 …pfft… sorry i just can’t help but think about the cameraman standing up close a personal at this scene through his camera lens being like ‘good sh!t’ while his face stays in moved)

(01:09:22 …hmmm oof line… i’ll keep watching but i do think this father isn’t as innocent as he seems)

(01:09:44 …. now i feel bad QAQ)

(01:11:00 how much do you how much do you bet that she’s gone missing just poped out from existence like the father?)

(01:11:18 maybe call the police or something?)

(01:12:28 don’t push her of the bridge! don’t! i see you! don’t you dare!)

(01:012:40 i was about to say you don’t need to apologise… but they both should really, neither are really in the right here.)

(01:13:18 wow “you are… Nothing.” wow! i should get that tattooed one me pffft)

(01:14:09 what does this mean?)

(01:14:30 (?) good question)

(01:16:22 awh 😭😭😭)

(01:17:50 i guess she needed the slap of reality? there is still 20 minutes so i’m uneasy)

(01:18:14 MISS!!! it’s not you place! it’s bad enough you’ve filmed all of this, don’t poke your nose into who’s calling who father!!)

(01:19:04 with what money??? you can afford a house but a nice van for a camping trip??

what are you kidnapping them???)

(01:19:22 oh my! that sure was a jump-scare!! was not expecting to see him outside of that room!)

(01:19:30 … wait why does he has his bat with him? does it bring him comfort after facing a traumatic experience so he brings it around with him to feel safe? i don’t know… i feel uneasy again, sorry big brother!)

(01:20:07 so cute!!! heart is melting!!!)

(01:20:28 eh! put both poles in before you bend it! you’re making it harder for yourselves!!)

(01:21:56 omfg lady!! don’t ask such a question! they are two different people, two different fathers! they’d be different so don’t compare them! ehy!

before she asked that though it’s nice to see the children except him! they have seen him put his foot down, so i can see how that gave them some reassurance!)

(01:22:20 awh her smile!! QAQ!!! so precious!)

…. that poor gosh!! 🤢😭 sorry had to skip that

(01:23:24 awh..! to have them all day that T^T i’m not crying you are!)

(01:23:42 pfffft hahahaha then it just pans to her awkwardly/creepily watching from a distance… ha…

maybe she should had a series where she stays with a family for a month and buy the end of the month they are all sawn together with her magic hands)

hehehe!! ✨fire✨

(01:24:08 are they really a family? i feel after all this they’ll be close together and have a bond no? a bit like the weasley family. to act like a family for so long you’d have an emotional connection to them so maybe the joy they’re showing is real?)

tbh i thought the announcement was going to be another child lmao

(01:24:24 maybe the oldest son did have something happen, the way he’s acting makes me think maybe he has something, not in like a mean/bad way.

it nice that he’s being included into the family’s things now :D)

(01:24:55 protect the fire from the rain QAQ)

(01:25:33 i wonder if they planned the weather)

(01:26:15 oh gosh 😭😭😭😭 so precious)

(01:26:27 why am i waving goodbye?)

(01:27:40 what’s going on??)

(01:27:55 oooo that neat! to have the ‘open door’ button on the floor, stops the germs from getting in the hands!

but what about escapees who scroll on the floor and people with no legs/in a wheelchair)

(01:28:30 …. that sight brings back memories)

(01:29:24 … sus … did he push her down so he could get her and her husbands life insurance?)

(01:31:26 maybe that was the ghosts plan, to now keep sending you to the hospital to make you stay in the house. the injuries becoming -worse?- so it’s gets more power and causes you to stay longer and it continues)

(01:31:51 ah! the eldest boy! eating with the family! very proud!)

(01:33:02 awh he’s also out there with the father!

i’m just worried the reason why i watched this was because another youtube video said that there was horror, or something like that and to watch it before the video, maybe i missed something in all this.. if so, oof!)

(01:33:19 pffft nothing to the actor, her dead eyes as selling this… well

01:33:22-24 i guess you could say there is warmth her looking at a family endearingly)

(01:33:28 the deadpan voice- so i’ve tried not to talk about it much- pffft-)

#saiko! the large family #ReignBot

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cryonme · 3 years ago

Text

𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐕

PART FIVE- “Just Because They’re Not Here Doesn’t Mean They Stopped Being Wonderful.”

part one here

part two here

part three here

part four here

short series- jj maybank x kook!reader

word count- 4.3k

tw- guns, knives, mentions of weed, stabbing, swearing, mentions of death, fluff 😊, angst 👿, mentions of murder, fighting, drinking, mentions of stitches and hospitals. lmk if I missed anything

a/n- don’t u all love how I said this was gonna be a “short” series and now we’re at 19.2k words total and five parts? and not even done yet? lol. anyway, this chapter is a fucking rollercoaster of emotions and shit gets really real really fast so hold onto your hats, grab some popcorn, and happy reading!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Your friends all stared at you with wide eyes, mouths agape. JJ’s grip tightened on your thigh, you winced a little but he didn’t let up, which you were glad he didn’t.

“Wait, your mom is dead?” John B asked, earning a smack on the back of the head from Sarah.

“You had a sister?!” Pope explained, confusion plastered on his face. “I thought that was just a ru- OW!” A smack from Kiara.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Yeah.”

“You think you know a person then all of the sudden she has a dead mom and sister who were killed by her step brother that you didn’t know about.” John B said, a hint of humor in his voice.

“This isn’t funny, John B.” Sarah scolded.

“It’s fine, Sarah.” You assured your friend. “Look, I know I’m a shit friend for not telling you guys things about my life. Tyler, the abortion, my mom and sister. And I’ll work on getting better at it but all of that isn’t important right now, okay?” You looked between John B and Pope, waiting expectedly before they both nodded and backed off.

“What makes you say that, (Y/n)?” Kie asked you, fully turning her attention to you.

“Well when- um, when Tyler showed up at my house that day,” You swallowed your fear, sitting up straight and taking a deep breath. “When Tyler showed up at my house that day, he said ‘I did everything I could to get my mom to marry your dad. My mom doesn’t know, but what she doesn’t know won’t kill her, and now you’re ruining everything with your fat fucking mouth.’”

The room was silent. Nobody really knew what to make out of all of this, all this time you had come off so unbothered, like your life was picture perfect and there was never a dark cloud in your sky. Everything that had happened the past couple of weeks came out of nowhere for the group of friends, especially JJ, John B and Pope, who didn’t even know you had a step brother. But when the three thought back on it, they never really asked.

After about a minute of everyone sitting in shock, Sarah spoke up, “Well, we need to tell your dad and Christine, right?’

You shook your head, “Not until I have enough proof. The entire island’s eyes are on me right now and if I’m wrong I make a fool of myself. I know this is gonna sound really stupid but, I need to find Tyler.”

“No.” JJ protested, his voice sharp.

“You’re right, (Y/n). That does sound stupid.” Pope agreed.

“Super stupid.” John B chimed in.

“I love you, but I have never heard more stupid words leave your mouth.” Kiara said.

“Guys, maybe hear her out.” Sarah said.

Kie whipped her head to the side, looking at the blonde girl in bewilderment. “Seriously? I’m not listening to you when all you seem to do is put (Y/n) in more danger.”

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know what the fuck to do!” “You tell someone, dumbass!”

“Jesus, you two! Shut the fuck up!” You interjected, standing up and stomping your foot, ignoring the shooting pain going up your leg.

“I came here because I need help, not to sit here and be judged and have you two fight with each other. Kie, lay off. I begged Sarah not to say anything until I was ready, and promised not to go home until I said something, okay? And you two.” You gestured to John B and Pope, “Telling me I’m stupid for something that I haven’t even explained yet is a little premature. Can we all fucking focus?” You had your time to cry and allow yourself to be broken, but now it was time to get shit done.

Kie shrunk in her seat, muttering a half assed “Sorry” under her breath and crossing her arms. John B and Pope nodded, both boys looking down at their shoes. You sat back down and JJ’s hand returned to its rightful spot on your thigh.

“Now, just, listen to me for a second. We,” You put the emphasis on that word so everyone would be a little bit more open to the idea, “Need to find Tyler so we can somehow record a confession from him. I’ll rile him up, and once I get the confession we get the fuck out. Got it?”

“How the fuck are you gonna find him? Even the Sheriff's department can’t find him.” Sarah said.

“Right,” You responded, “First thing to consider, the police are incompetent, especially here. They probably looked at my house and his job before giving up.”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head as he listened to you talk in awe.

“Second thing to consider, I have his number. I can ask him to meet up and talk it out.”

“The more you talk, the more I really don’t like this plan.” JJ muttered, raking his fingers through his hair.

“The more you talk, the more I wanna kick your teeth in.” You smiled sweetly, “This is the only way.” You tried pulling a joke, but JJ’s face remained concerned, so your face fell and you leaned into him. “I’ll be okay, JJ. I’ve been dealing with Tyler for years, okay?”

JJ nodded, taking a deep breath before pulling away from you.

“So what can we do?”

“Wherever I meet up with Tyler, I need you all to be on standby. Someone on lookout, someone hiding near me just in case things go south, and someone waiting in the vam.”

Everyone agreed in unison, nodding their heads. “Anything we can to get this asshole put away.” John B said, giving you an encouraging smile.

After going over a few details, and finally sending the text to Tyler that you wanted to meet up, the pogues dispersed around the chateau. Pope was talking Sarah’s ear off about the latest book he had just finished while she politely listened and even threw in a couple of her own thoughts, John B and Kie playfully jabbed long sticks at each other, and JJ stood on the porch, watching you swing by yourself on the hammock, lost in thought. He was trying to decide if he should approach you, or give you space. Just then you turned your head and made eye contact with the blond boy, a soft smile on your face, your signature red lipstick back where it belongs.

Fuck space.

He bounded down the stairs and made his way over to you on the hammock, plopping down next to you. Neither of you said anything for a couple minutes, there wasn’t much to say.

“I was 14.” You said, breaking the silence, causing JJ’s head to turn towards you. He stayed silent as you continued.

“Hit and run.” You laughed bitterly. “My little sister was 12. We were finally getting to the point where we didn’t fight everyday, we were becoming friends. She had just started asking me for advice about boys and was always asking to have sleepovers.” You smiled, remembering your little sister fondly. “It still hurts. It’ll always hurt, I think. But, I’ve learned I can’t change what happened, and I try to be thankful for the time I had with her. I would say she probably wouldn’t want me to be sad, but that’s not true, she loved attention.” JJ laughed with you this time.

“What’s her name?” JJ asked.

“Layla.” You responded, her name feeling weird on your tongue. You hadn’t said her name in years. “And my mom, gosh there was no one like my mom.” JJ wasn’t asking, but you were telling.

“She just always understood, you know? She’d let me stay home if my mind was taking over, she continued to buy the ice cream I told her was my favorite when I was 7, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t like it anymore.” You frowned, staring at your hands. “Christine is great, I love her with everything in me. But sometimes I wish she was in my life under different circumstances.”

JJ nodded in understanding, taking his hand in yours and pressing a lingering kiss to it. “They sound wonderful.”

“They are- were.”

JJ shook his head, “Just because they’re not here doesn’t mean they stopped being wonderful.”

You yanked JJ’s hand so his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you leaned into him, earning a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re sweet, princess.” You teased, using the nickname that you would use when the two of you fought.

“Tell anyone and you’re dead meat, baby.”

You laughed, resting your head on his chest. “What changed your mind about me?” You asked, biting your bottom lip.

JJ thought for a moment, mulling over his words to avoid saying the wrong thing.

“I never changed my mind.”

Your heart dropped as you began to pull away, feeling embarrassed.

“Uh uh uh, let me finish.” JJ pulled you back against him and you huffed. “I never changed my mind because I’ve felt this way about you all along. I’ve never had such strong feelings for a person before, so when you came along I mistook all of the signs as hatred. My mom left and my dad…” JJ trailed off for a moment, trying to put together his words in the least concerning way possible, “My dad takes his anger out on me. And I just never really learned how to receive love, or how to understand it.”

Your heart sank at JJ’s words. All those times he’d show up to the Chateau with bruises and scrapes, telling everyone to fuck off instead of boasting about how he “totally kicked that kooks ass”, it was his dad.

“JJ-”

“Mmm, let’s not do that now, yeah? Just know I’ve adored you this whole time, I was just too stupid to see it.”

“When did you change your mind about me?” JJ asked.

You pondered for a moment, thinking back on when you first started thinking of JJ differently.

“That night at the Boneyard, when Tyler showed up. I was dancing with Pope and all I could think was, ‘I need JJ’, and then there you were. I didn’t want you to ever leave my side again. When you took me back to the Chateau and sat me down on the couch, I was confused because I felt so safe and loved, more than I ever have. It was so out of the blue. Hours before we had just been screaming at each other and then I never wanted you to let me go.”

“You’re making this really hard, Red.” JJ huffed, running a hand over his face.

“What?” You asked craning your neck to look up at him.

“Not kissing you.”

You sat up from your position on his chest, turning your body so you were facing each other, your legs hanging off one side of the hammock and his off the other.

“Then kiss me.”

“(Y/n)...”

“What, scared?”

JJ didn’t say anything, he just looked at you. You had that striking red grin, and your eyes held that glint of mischief and joy.

“You were just inconsolable like, an hour ago.”

“But I’m not now.”

“I-”

“Please, JJ.” You pouted, your eyes big and your frown deep as you slowly reached for him.

And he couldn’t say no to that face.

He slowly brought his hand up to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek as his face slowly leaned into yours, his hand softly pulling you closer by the neck. You brought one hand up to the back of his neck, burying your fingers in his hair as his other hand found its place on your waist. You stared at each other for a moment, noses barely touching. Your heart was beating so fast you felt like it was about to crawl out of your throat, the anticipation was driving you crazy but you were also cherishing every second of it, just being so close to him, knowing what’s about to happen.

His lips just barely brushed over yours and your entire body erupted in butterflies, goosebumps dancing all up and down your arms and legs.

“You fucker.” You teased and JJ giggled before fully planting his lips on yours. You felt like you had been on fire and had been dumped into an ice bath. The relief that covered your entire body and soul was something you had never felt before. You had kissed plenty of people in your lifetime, and nothing had ever compared to the feeling you had kissing JJ.

You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath, but JJ whined and pulled you back into him, bringing you to sit on his lap as he continued to kiss you. You both giggled and broke apart when you nearly toppled out of the hammock, JJ’s hands immediately steadying you. He looked up at you while stroking your cheekbone with his thumb before planting soft kisses to your arm, trailing his lips up to your shoulder, neck, cheek and finally one last sweet kiss on your lips.

“Well it’s about goddamn time!” John B yelled as the rest of the pogues whooped and hollered, jumping up and down. Both of you flipped off your friends and JJ kissed you once more, your middle fingers still in the air.

“You’re fucking incredible.” JJ muttered once you broke yet another kiss.

“I know.” You smirked.

Once JJ helped you off the hammock, with a lot of wincing and you telling him his kissing made your bruised lip hurt, you made your way back over to your friends, an unmistakable feeling of joy filling everyone’s hearts.

John B handed you and JJ a beer, which you had to decline because of your concussion, much to your dismay, but you gladly took the joint that Kie offered you, blowing out the smoke into JJ’s mouth before taking the hit for yourself. The sun started to set on the Chateau, so Pope and John B set up a fire and Kie brought out her ukulele, her and Sarah singing in harmony to Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. Your heart swelled in your chest listening to JJ quietly singing along with his arm slung around your shoulders, his face was tinted the slightest shade of pink from being in the sun all day, making his eyes look impossibly more blue. You knew tomorrow brought troubles and anxiety, but you pushed them to the back of your mind, enjoying this beautiful moment with your friends. You rested your head on JJ’s shoulder, your hand coming up to hold his that was around your shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on his hand. JJ blushed and squeezed you just a little bit tighter.

“(Y/n), you staying the night?”

You smiled and nodded, your eyes a bit droopy from the weed. You had texted Christine already, telling her you were staying the night and assuring her that everyone was staying the night and you were safe.

“Yes!” Sarah exclaimed, getting up from her spot next to John B. “More beer?” Everyone apart from you nodded as Sarah made her way inside the house to grab more cold beer.

“Aw, well if it isn’t the goonies.”

That voice.

Tyler approached the Chateau, Topper, Kelce and Rafe hot on his heels.

Everyone stood up immediately, JJ pushed you behind him without a second thought.

“Heard my baby sister wanted to meet up tonight, thought I’d come to her, spare her the trouble.” Tyler said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were appreciative of JJ’s protectiveness over you, but this was your fight. “I know what you did, Tyler.” You said, trying your hardest to hide the shakiness in your voice as you pushed JJ out of your way, taking a couple steps forward.

“There she is!” Tyler exclaimed, gesturing his arms to you. “You don’t know shit, dumbass.”

“You killed my mom and sister.”

“Me?” Tyler raised a hand to his chest in shock and turned to his friends, who all shook their heads like you were crazy. “I would never do such a thing.” “You said-”

“Did you hit your head too hard the other day? Sounds to me like you’re making things up.”

He was trying to make you feel crazy, and you weren’t putting up with it.

“What was your plan, huh?” You asked, standing your ground. “Hit my mom and my little sister with your car, devastating my family so my dad could go running into your unknowing mother’s arms. Were you gonna kill all of us next so you could get the money? How exactly did you plan on doing that?”

Tyler’s chest was heaving up and down, sharp breaths coming in and out of his nose.

“Layla was 12 years old, you psychopath.”

“I never meant to kill your fucking sister!”

And there it was. Eerie silence fell over the Chateau like a heavy blanket.

“You motherfucker.” You shrieked, stomping forward and sending your hand flying across his cheek. Before you could even blink, Tyler had his hand around your throat and the barrel of a gun pressed to your jaw. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. You could see the pogues, Kiara with a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes, hugging Sarah close to her, John B and Pope holding JJ back, his eyes wild with anger and fear. You could see Topper and Kelce with wide eyes, obviously unaware of the gun in your step brother's possession. You could see Rafe with a knowing grin on his face. Bastard.

You were terrified, panic surging through your body as you tried to stay still so you wouldn’t anger him with any sudden movements.

“Any of you even think about moving and I kill her!” He screamed.

“Tyler, put the gun down man, what the fuck?” Topper said, his voice calm, trying to talk him down.

“Fuck you!”

And suddenly Tyler was on the ground, the gun flying into the darkness. JJ wasted no time running to your step brother, grabbing him by his shirt collar and beating his face with his fists. You and Rafe made eye contact before both of you made a break for the gun, scrambling through the darkness. Rafe tackled you down and tried to reach for it, but you kneed him in the crotch, hoping to buy you a couple seconds. The Cameron boy groaned and held his area, toppling over and whining in a fetal position.

“Pussy boy.” You rolled your eyes and crawled toward the gun, smiling once it was in your grip before Rafe pulled you back by your ankle. You flipped over onto your back and pointed the gun at him.

“You don’t have the guts.”

“Self defense, bitch. Now get off of me.”

Rafe backed up with his hands in the air and you made your way back to the group, gun in hand, still pointed at Rafe. Tyler and JJ were going at it, both throwing punches and kicks, the rest of the group fighting off Topper and Kelce.

“Back off my friends or I'll shoot!” You yelled, and everyone stopped and turned to you with your gun pointed at Rafe. The three kooks backed off with their hands up in surrender.

“You won’t shoot me, Little Red.” Tyler said, walking closer to you.

“I will if you try anything.” You responded, taking the gun off of Rafe and shoving him forward so he was still in your eyesight, now pointing it at Tyler.

“You stay away from her!” JJ yelled, charging towards Tyler but quickly being held back by Rafe and Topper.

Tyler got so close to you that the gun was touching his t-shirt.

Why was he testing you? He had to have something up his sleeve.

The motherfucker literally had something up his sleeve.

Tyler tore a switchblade out of his jacket sleeve and jabbed it into your collarbone, and in the same second you fired the gun.

Your brain felt fuzzy, you couldn’t even feel the knife in your collarbone, the only way you knew it was there was because you could see it sticking out of the corner of your eye.

You heard screams, multiple screams.

Footsteps running away.

Was someone crying?

Were you crying?

Everyone ran to you, JJ leading the group, so he got to you first. He immediately put his hands on your face, frantically searching your eyes before you dropped to your knees, JJ following suit.

“Baby, look at me.” He said firmly. Someone gently took the gun from your hands, why were you still holding it? You brought your hand up to touch the knife, crying out in pain from the smallest touch.

“No, don’t touch it, okay? Leave it alone, paramedics are on their way okay?”

You still didn’t look at him, your eyes were wide as you stared at everyone around you, their faces full of concern.

“She’s in shock.” Pope stated. He was crouched in front of you, next to JJ. “Try to bring her back to reality.”

“How the fuck do I do that?” JJ snapped.

“Chill, JJ! Talk to her, touch her, anything!”

JJ’s left hand continued to cradle your face and you leaned into his touch as his right hand threaded through your hair. “You’re okay, okay? Can you talk to me?” His voice broke, tears beginning to fill his blue eyes.

Your eyes wandered away from the group and landed on Tyler’s body, lifeless. You let out a gasp as if all of the wind had been knocked out of your body.

“I killed him.” You rasped.

JJ quickly moved in front of the body, blocking your view of him. Your breathing was shallow as you brought your hands up to your neck, trying to claw at the skin to make way for you to breathe. Pope’s hands gently grabbed yours, moving them away from your neck and holding them in your lap. JJ gave him a thankful nod and he situated himself in front of you.

“Christine-” Your body flooded with guilt and sadness for your stepmom, that was her son. He may have done unspeakable things to you and her family but that was her son. And you killed him.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhh,” JJ was quick to stop the terrible thought. “You had to, okay? She’ll understand. Just focus on me, baby.”

You nodded and squeezed Pope’s hands, focusing your eyes on JJ’s.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl. Just a couple more minutes, okay?”

You nodded again. The pain in your collarbone was beginning to worsen as your shock wore off and you whimpered.

Great, you thought, another fucking injury to make my life even better.

Really your whole body hurt, your concussion and bruises worsening and stitches ripping open from Rafe tackling you to the ground.

“It hurts.” You whine, a single tear escaping from your eye, JJ wiped it before it could run down your face. “I know.” He whispered. “I know, my love, I’m so sorry.” He rested his forehead on yours, trying his best to give you as much comfort as he could without pulling you against him and driving the blade further in.

“Fuck, you guys. We didn’t get a recording.” Kie said, slapping her palm against her forehead. You removed one hand from Pope’s and worked through your pain and brought your phone out of your back pocket, tossing it on the ground, not having enough strength to hand it to her.

John B picked it up and smiled, your phone had been recording the entire time, starting just a minute after Tyler made himself known at the Chateau.

“(Y/n), you magnificent kook.” John B said, giving your arm a squeeze. You had moved your forehead to rest on JJ’s shoulder, your body posed awkwardly to avoid the knife being touched, one hand still in Pope’s.

Everyone was relieved, but the dead body in their presence and the knife in your body made it hard to be completely relieved. Once the paramedics and police arrived, JJ had to release you from his hold, watching the paramedics put you on the gurney and load you in the back of the ambulance, by yourself, for the second time.

Kiara and Pope were talking to the police, showing them the proof on your phone and the gun and walking them through everything that happened while JJ watched the ambulance drive away, as soon as it was out of sight he broke down, John B quick to pull his friend into his arms, Sarah gently leaned her head on his back, her hand coming up to stroke his back

“She doesn’t deserve any of this.” JJ cried, holding onto his best friend. He knew you were gonna be okay, the paramedics said the knife would be easy to remove and they could stitch up the wound easily, but he was worried about you. You would never be the same.

“She doesn’t.” John B agreed.

“I just want her to be okay.”

“I know, bubba, me too.” John B replied, his own tears brimming in his eyes, “She will be.”

JJ could feel Sarah shaking against him, her tears wetting his shirt and he unravelved in arm from John B to bring her into the hug. “Get in here, kook princess.” JJ teased through his tears. Pope and Kiara soon joined the group hug, comforting their friends through touch.

“What did Shoupe say?” JJ asked once they all pulled away, wiping at his tears.

“They said (Y/n)’s okay, a very obvious case of self defense, but they’re still going to ask her a couple questions once she’s of sound mind.” Pope answered and Kiara nodded.

“Thank God.” Sarah breathed out and JJ’s shoulders relaxed in relief, one less thing to worry about.

“Well why are we all just standing here?” John B asked after a couple moments of silence. “Let’s go see our girl.”

“I am still meeeeee you are still youuuuu” I couldn’t get that damn song out of my head while I was writing this

my masterlist

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364 notes · View notes

bottoms-movie · 4 years ago

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SAMBUCKY FIC RECS PT. 2

The first part did really really so I decided to make a second part of sambucky fic recs. Just as the last one: the fics are split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. CHECK OUT PART ONE HERE All fics are completed and all are on AO3.

BASED ON TFATWS

The Truths Beneath Our Ribs | Mature | 6,742 words

5 times Bucky wears Sam's things +1 time Sam wears something of Bucky's

anything you can do, i’ll do you better | Explicit | 5,526 words

Steve is going to kill them if they don't learn to get along, but did they have to take it so far?

making amends | Explicit | 8,645 words

“Not Cap yet,” Sam said. He looked a little ruefully at his hands, which were covered in nicks and cuts. He could already feel his palms bruising from that last shield catch, but at least nothing was broken this time.

“I respect that,” Bucky said slowly. Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. Bucky flexed and unflexed the vibranium fingers of his left hand, a nervous habit that Sam had clocked ages ago. “And you’re right.”

“Thanks, I know.” Sam waited a beat. “About what?”

Barnes sighs, and it’s a deep, soul-weary thing. “Maybe no one ever told you this, but I’m telling you right now. You don’t have any obligation to care about me because Steve did. You don’t have to pretend.”

Sam blinks, taken aback. He has to think, really think, about what he says next, because it’s - it’s either going to build or break something.

You’re My World | Explicit | 6,585 words

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

Call Me By Your (Pet) Name | Teen | 6,928 words

“You got a list of the nicknames available to us lesser mortals?” Sam continued, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of him. “The ‘you’re not Steve Rogers, so don’t even think about it’ collection?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a list,” Bucky replied, pausing long enough to draw a pointed look from Sam. “Bucky,” he finished, gesturing broadly with his arm to convey the obviousness of the answer.

5 times Sam and Bucky used pet names as a joke + 1 time they used them in earnest

That’s not very gunkle of you | 2 parts | 4,325 words part 1: Bestie Vibes Only | Teen | 1,822 words

“What’s buzzin’ cousin?” Says Bucky, sitting down next to Sam on the docks.

That’s the moment that Sam realizes he needs to change tactics, no more subtly looking up definitions for his weird old person slang, it’s time to fight fire with fire.

“Not much bro, this view is highkey just hitting different TBH” he says, casually looking out at the water.

There’s a beat of silence and then,

“That’s swell doll, I just ate some four-o cackle jelly with side arms, and I’m looking for some kicks, you dig?

Oh, this means war.

misunderstandings | Not Rated | 3,167 words

Sam thinks Sarah and Bucky had a date, and he's Not Okay

you walked into my life to offer me a better view | Teen | 2,534 words

He was standing twenty feet away at the edge of the docks, chatting with Sarah, and Sam couldn't take his eyes away. Bucky's smile was warm, wide, and when he tipped his head back and laughed, his nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners, Sam could feel it vibrate straight to his heart.

falling, falling, flying | Teen | 2,778 words

Bucky had kissed him.

And Sam had pulled away, because that beautiful golden sunset made Bucky’s hair gleam with the faintest touch of blond, that rare summer breeze hissed like a dying missile past Sam’s ears, the kiss was so familiar, too familiar, and Sam was falling, falling—

(“Let yourself be happy, Sam. Please.”)

lonely boy, you are my world (and i could be anything you need) | Teen | 5,747 words

It all starts with Sam, a shelter, and this sweet kitten that reminded him far too much of a certain century-old, grouchy super soldier.

too dangerous to fall | Explicit | 3,466 words

Bucky Barnes is a one-armed menace. He has murder eyes and no care for basic safety protocols. His jokes are terrible and his bad moods are worse. He’s a godawful roommate who leaves his wet towels on the floor and his combat knives in the linen cabinet. Sam can’t stand the sight of him.

What happens in Louisiana | General | 3,478 words

But just then, in the engine room of the Wilson family boat, away from prying eyes, it felt like something they both needed. The closeness. The warmth.

Steve would laugh at them. Two grown men not being able to get it together. He would roll his eyes at Buck, nudge him with his elbow and tell him “you’re sweet on Sam Wilson so make a move already, punk.”

keep the ashes from my heart (and walk away) | Explicit | 4,412 words

“Jamie asked me out on a date,” Sam says. Bucky swallows. “Took him long enough,” he says, keeping his tone light. He bumps their shoulders together for good measure. “You should go for it.” “You really think so?” Sam asks, looking at him. “Yeah, man,” Bucky says. He fixes his gaze on Torres, high up in the sky, sunlight glinting off his wings. It hurts Bucky’s eyes. He blinks, rapidly. “You should be with somebody who can make you happy.”

(In which Sam starts dating someone who is not Bucky, and Bucky pines, gets seriously injured, and proves himself wrong.)

Hey Samuel | Teen | 3,223 words

"Bucky."

"Yeah?" He looked up eyes wide. Did he say something out loud?

"We're walking the wrong way."

"Oh." Right. Um. "Let's get ice cream."

"I don't know about you, man, but if I eat ice cream in this weather I will get sick."

Bucky was at a loss for words. What now?

OR Ride along Bucky's journey of figuring out when exactly did he fall for Sam Wilson.

Anyday, everyday | General | 6,735 words

He moved his head and locked eyes with Sam. "D'you- can you.. help me cut my hair?" He asked. He forced himself to look away, feeling embarrassed for asking him to come all this way just to give him a haircut.

His stomach dropped when he felt Sam let go of his hand to stand up. Of course he was about to leave. Who wouldn't want to leave Bucky?

"C'mon, Buck. Let me cut your hair." Bucky's eyes snapped up to Sam's. He had a small smile on his face and his hand was reaching out, waiting for Bucky to take it.

Or; the five times Bucky fell more and more in love with Sam, and the one time he finally got the guts to tell him.

If You’ll Have Me | Teen | 4,779 words

Sam casually shrugged, although there was an intent look in his eyes, "Yeah, well it's getting late and I didn't feel like flying anymore so I was wondering if your old man self is okay with-"

"You can stay here." Bucky quickly finished for him.

I like Bucky, Sam I am | Not Rated | 2,653 words

"I would kiss you on the boat. Or in Wakanda by your goats."

Static in the Dark | Teen | 4,989 words

So prompt idea, some bad guy follows Bucky to the docks for revenge (over whatever you can decide) and Sarah gets to see how protective Bucky really is over Sam when he gets in the line of fire

CANON DIVERGENCE

A Different Kind of Problem | Explicit | 7,616 words

“Do you know what it feels like to be insatiable?”

Two months ago, an interrogation gone wrong left Sam with Bucky’s explicit words seared into his brain and body.

Now, Bucky is living in the Avengers Compound, making pancakes and wearing Steve’s huge sweatshirts, fluffy haired and a little shy, seemingly completely content to be on house arrest — and Sam has never been more confused. Whatever Steve thinks, Sam doesn’t have a problem with Bucky. This domesticity is just so at odds with the feral sexuality Bucky had used to rattle Sam during his interrogation. Where did that side of Bucky go? And why can’t Sam stop thinking about finding it? Maybe Sam does have a problem with Bucky… it’s just not the problem Steve thinks it is.

Bucky’s Choice | Not Rated | 4,753 words

When Bucky enters Westview to try to help Wanda Maximoff, he is confronted with something he never expected- Steve Rogers, back from the dead and ready to start a life with Bucky in Westview. It's everything that Bucky ever wanted, everything that Steve abandoned when he went back in time to live his life with Peggy Carter. But Bucky and Sam have been involved for months, and Sam is waiting for Bucky outside of the Hex. Bucky has to make a choice- the life he always wanted with Steve, or a new start with Sam?

tonight i’ll need you to stay | General | 2,227 words

For once, Bucky wants to stop leaving when things are finally looking up. And he wants people to stay with him, too.

(or, 3 times bucky needed an excuse to stay with sam, and the one time he didn't)

How to Win a Supersoldier in Ten Days | Explicit | 14,901 words

When they realize that all the Winter Soldier's interactions with Sam are just him trying to Awkward MurderBot Flirt (TM) with the sexy man, Steve, Tony, and Nat convince Sam to play the honeypot and bring Bucky in.

Sam's pretty sure the honeypot isn't supposed to fall in love with the target, but what can you do?

at the end of the war (what’s mine is yours) | Mature | 4,290 words

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

warm blood (feels good, i can’t control it anymore) | Explicit | 4,492 words

Sam's just chilling watching TV one evening when Bucky comes in and stares at him silently for a minute or two before sitting down on the couch. He's pretty close to Sam.

Okay, he's really close to Sam. Like, Sam would be using the word 'cuddling' if it wasn't so bizarre.

"What," he says, carefully not looking at Bucky, and Bucky huffs a sigh.

"Steve's not here," he says as if it's obvious. "Don't make it weird. Just- shut up."

Caught With Their Pants Down | Explicit | 3,539 words

“Sam, this guy is not coming, the intel was false,” Bucky replied. “I get this whole ticking boxes and what not, but Rogers got it wrong, and for the love of God I need a fucking toilet.”

“You need to learn to plan your water intake better, is what you need. You’re a damn fool and I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” Bucky replied, and Sam could hear the smile in his voice.

“In your damn dreams, Barnes.”

They’d been fucking for about six months, but Sam didn’t want Bucky to go getting a big head about it.

sharp teeth, soft heart | 3 parts | 17,866 words part 1: you touch me within and so i (know i could be human once again) | Explicit | 12,444 words

It’s inevitable, the way it goes. He’s my friend, Steve says, and he is, he is, he must be. Sam’s best friend is Steve, and Steve’s best friend is a werewolf, that’s just how Sam’s life works now.

But once he realizes he’s attracted to Bucky and Bucky can tell, everything becomes, like, a thousand percent more difficult to negotiate. Sam’s just trying to live his life, that’s all, and he keeps getting confronted by Bucky Barnes in a soft flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair all soft and shiny. Bucky glances over at him and smirks, and this is really very embarrassing, how Sam can’t hide his attraction even if he keeps a totally straight face.

I’m so into you I can barely breathe | Explicit | 6,515 words

Sam Wilson had a long day dealing with morons, so he decided to finally go to the famous club in town. There he meets someone who just might get him back in a good mood. And then some.

twelve ounce steak (boxers in briefs) | Explicit | 3,753 words

Sam has pretty lips. Bucky seems to think so, too.

caught it bad (i’ll be on the way) | Mature | 4,830 words

Sam constantly gets roped into doing dumb things with Steve, but this time, it works out perfectly for him.

meet me in the a.m. | Teen | 3,147 words

Steve accidently starts a fire and Bucky's tired. When unbelievably hot firefighter Sam saves the day, though, he can't really be that mad.

i wanna savour, save it for later | Not Rated | 6,419 words

"It's his damn ratings, man," Sam says. "It's weird 'cause when you read the reviews, he seems to like our food and all. Nothing but praise for days. And then you get to the rating, and it's always the same. Three goddamn stars."

Bucky tips his beer bottle from side to side, lips pursing slightly. "I see. And that's… a bad thing?"

"We are not a three-star joint," Sam says flatly.

Or, the one where food truck owner Sam gets caught up in his quest to unmask an anonymous food blogger. Falling for one of his regulars was never on the menu.

we were a fire with no smoke | Explicit | 15,295 words

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

my house of stone, your ivy grows | Teen | 9,042 words

When Sam Wilson inherits the manor of the old man he once took care of, it feels like his luck is finally looking up. It's an opportunity for a fresh start, something he's in desperate need of. When he arrives, however, it becomes clear that an easy transition into estate living is not exactly a possibility. The house is run-down, nothing like Sam remembers it, and the groundskeeper — who Sam apparently has to share the house with, wants nothing to do with him.

You Smiled Because You Knew | Teen | 3,754 words

"You've got the wrong address," the man who'd answered growled. He had long, scraggly hair that had mostly escaped his attempts to pull it away from his face. He had nice eyes, and wouldn't have been unattractive, especially with a shave, except for the scowl. "Nobody here wants or needs your . . . services."

It was apparent by the tone the man did not appreciate Sam's hard work.

Well, that was tough shit.

#marvel #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #tfatws #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fic rec #fic recs #usermarcy #usersof #usersmile #usersamanne #sambucky fanfic #tusersammy #tusernini #my fic recs

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whump-mania · 3 years ago

Text

The Pet Program: Part 3

Night Lesson

(tw: knives/cutting, kidnapping, intimate/creepy whumper)

Sawyer stared up at the dark ceiling of the freezing bedroom, shifting around to try and get comfortable on the poor excuse for a mattress that they were given to sleep on.

They were bewildered with how…okay the other two were with everything. That they weren’t trying to escape at every chance. The one that had showed them around, they thought his name was Ace, seemed smart enough. The other one seemed hopeless. She sounded so devoted to their captor. Sawyer didn’t think any changes could happen there.

They stared at the ceiling, believing that if they stared hard enough that they could break through it. They’d already tried the door. It had locked after they’d closed it for the night. They remembered the feeling of Ace’s strong hands pulling them away when they tried to break the door down. “Don’t fight it,” he had said. “It’ll only make things worse.”

They finally closed their eyes and tried to imagine they were back in their own bed. Back in their shitty apartment with their four other dirty roommates that they knew secretly hated them. Back to the weird mold smell coming from the walls, back to the sound of the coffee machine breaking in the morning, back to all the things they used to hate. Nothing could be worse than this.

Sawyer could hear someone snoring softly. Under closer inspection, they realized it was Farrah. They’d picked up a lot of little things about her while she had been getting ready for bed. The way she hummed a little when brushing her hair, the way she complained when the makeup wipes stung her eyes, the way she couldn’t get her contacts out the first try. Sawyer swore they could still see a person in there. But the second she opened her mouth, all that came out was praise. Praise for “Mr. James”. It disturbed them. Would that be what they would turn into?

No. No, Sawyer wouldn’t turn out like her, because there was Ace. Ace wasn’t like her, right? He seemed level headed. He didn’t pray to their captor or wish for his return like Farrah did.

But again, the little things—the desperation in his voice when he told Sawyer to stop fighting. The way he folded his clothes perfectly so they wouldn’t be wrinkled. Ace was still devoted to him, wasn’t he?

Sawyer had only met Mr. James once and they hated him with everything they had. If anyone could be sick enough to buy a human being, let alone three, there was something deeply wrong with them. They’d find some way to get out, to escape him. They would—

Click.

Sawyer’s eyes shot open. They quickly sat up and looked around the room for the source of the noise, and froze when they saw the door cracked open. Standing there in the doorway, with the same suit from before, was Mr. James.

Sawyer backed away and opened their mouth to question why he was there, but Mr. James quickly shushed them.

“Shh…be quiet. Don’t wake them,” he whispered. As Sawyer’s eyes adjusted, they could see that he was smiling.

They looked around at Ace and Farrah. Both of them were still fast asleep. They were practically alone with this man, and they didn’t want to admit how afraid that made them feel.

“Wow…” The man let out a breathy laugh and knelt down next to them. “I knew buying you was a good idea. The fear in your eyes…” He reached out a hand to touch Sawyer’s face lightly. “…It’s intoxicating.”

Sawyer flinched away and was about to curse at the man but a hand was quickly clapped against their face. Mr. James’s expression darkened a little.

“Not a sound out of you,” he whispered. He kept his hand there for a while, just taking in the look in Sawyer’s eyes. Raw fear. It was one of his favorites.

“I wanted to come and have a little…chat with you,” Mr. James said, loud enough for Sawyer to hear but quiet enough not to wake Farrah or Ace. “Just the two of us.”

Sawyer just kept staring into Mr. James’s dark eyes, breathing heavily through their nose. They didn’t have much of a choice: the man’s presence was enough to make them feel paralyzed.

“Your little fit of…disobedience…has really stuck with me today,” Mr. James began. “I think you need to learn what happens when you disrespect me.”

Sawyer watched with wide eyes as Mr. James reached into his pocket. They whimpered and shook their head when they saw that it was a knife.

Mr. James grinned at Sawyer’s fear. “Oh, you poor thing.” He trailed the blunt end of the knife along their cheek. “You have no idea how to be a pet, do you?”

Sawyer was frozen with fear. Their brain screamed at them to fight back, to punch this guy in the face, but they couldn’t move.

Before they could even react, Mr. James turned the knife over and cut a small line on Sawyer’s collarbone. Sawyer let out a muffled scream and tried to squirm away, but Mr. James placed a sturdy hand on their shoulder, keeping them down.

He leaned in close and took one more look at Sawyer’s horrified expression before letting go of them and standing. “There’ll be more where that came from if you keep disobeying me,” he whispered before quickly leaving the room.

Sawyer felt their last shred of hope fade away when the door clicked shut.

@cuddlyhawk @villainsvictim @mylifeisonthebookshelf @whumptakesthecake @yesthisiswhump

#whump blog #whump #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #tw kidnapping #creepy whumper #the pet program #tw knives

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

Text

Canary, Part 1

It was a good day. Why did stuff always have to go wrong on ‘good days’, Marinette thought bitterly as she rushed through the city, the rough edges of her phone digging into her palm. The message she’d been sent was burned into her eyelids.

She pushed the spiraling thoughts from her mind as she stared at the street sign nearest her. Only a minute and she’d be there and her fears would be either confirmed or denied.

She leaned against the wall to gather her thoughts. If she had messed up it had to have been today because, otherwise, he would have done something earlier. Did she mess up? She allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she thought back.

She’d woken up on an uncomfortable mattress on the floor and rolled off of it, the sheets sticking to her sweaty skin. It had been a particularly hot day for Gotham and she had been too concentrated on typing up a report for work to turn up the AC before her impromptu nap (translation: she’d passed out).

She rubbed her eyes until she managed to get her brown contacts out and set them in the weird not-quite-water that she had never bothered to learn the name for so her eyes could rest while she took a quick shower and changed.

Then, she’d waited. She sat in the window, eyes barely poking over the sill as she watched the building across the street. She didn’t feel like moving for a long while but, alas, the meeting was supposed to be that day and she was running out of time for that thing with Calendar Man and… yeah. Unfortunately, Marinette had to be productive that day unless she wanted more enemies.

She saw movement and her face lit up. She might get everything done soon, at least, and then she could pass out for a hundred years like she oh-so-desperately wanted to.

She checked that her gloves were firmly in place, pulled on the plague doctor (gas) mask that had accidentally become her trademark, and toed on her boots.

Then, she made her way up to the alleyway next to the building she had been watching. She’d been lucky enough to have a job right next to one of her safe houses and she kinda wished that it would happen again. It was nice to not have to travel a half-hour or more just to listen in on one boring conversation.

She pulled out her knives and, after testing to make sure they were still strong enough to hold her weight, began picking her way up to the roof.

She set everything up for the thing with Calendar Man. It took approximately five seconds. Yay her.

Alright, next thing: listening in on a boring conversation that, if she was lucky, would end in someone getting shot so it wouldn’t last too long. It was going to be even hotter inside the vent and she did not want to end up cooked. That would be embarrassing.

She crawled into the vents and dutifully wrote down everything they said on a notepad. They were negotiating a drug deal and her client wanted to intercept it to try and get both the money and the (… Big D? What the fuck is Big D?) drugs. From the sounds of it, it wasn’t possible but, hey, her job wasn’t anything more than gathering intel. If her clients wanted to die stupidly that was on them.

… maybe she’d kill her client herself, she thought angrily as she readjusted in the vent in hopes of not getting stuck to the metal. It was easy money but wow was it awful.

Or, at least, it was awful until a hand grabbed her by the hood of her leather jacket and started dragging her out. She tipped her head back, grin on her face in seconds.

“Signal. Hi.”

He sighed and pulled her the rest of the way out. She let herself hang from his grip like a reprimanded cat.

“So, what’s up?” She asked brightly, as if hadn’t just caught her listening in on a private conversation.

“Great, thanks for asking,” he said. “Even better now that I’m taking the famed Canary to Arkham.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen.”

He leveled her with a cold look for a few more seconds before splitting into a grin. “Yeah. Probably not. Got a backup plan?”

“Of course.”

“Is it even worth trying?”

“Probably not. But who knows? You could get lucky.”

She waited for a minute as he mulled over the idea in his head before he sighed. “I gotta ask: what’s with the egg?”

She swatted at his hand until he let her down and then led him over to her science experiment. “Know how there’s that expression that says ‘it’s so hot out you could make eggs on the sidewalk’ or something?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, the pavement physically can’t get hot enough to do that and also we’re up north so: aluminum foil to try and get the process to work a little better.”

He stared at her for a while before snickering. “Need a magnifying glass? We can ‘kid with an anthill’ this.”

“Sure.”

He reached into his tool belt and started looking for his spare. Unfortunately for him, it seemed to be gone.

She could feel his sharp gaze turn on her even if she couldn’t see his eyes behind his helmet. He wasn’t stupid and magnifying glasses don’t usually just disappear into thin air unless they’re Plastic Man in disguise. She held up her hands for a quick search but, when he couldn’t find it on her, he just sighed and looked down at the science experiment. It didn’t seem to be going well. The egg was still distinctly not cooked.

Eventually, he groaned and sat down. The light around him flickered and started to move at his will. Marinette watched intently.

Ten minutes later, they had a cooked egg. They high-fived, delighted. They weren’t going to taste it, obviously, it had been out for a while without supervision and who knows what could have happened to it… but it was an egg! Yay them!

“My old science teacher would be so proud of me,” Marinette joked.

“My current science teacher would be proud of me.”

“Oooooh, going back to school?”

He smiled. “Yep! Robin is finally in college and Red Hood convinced me to go with him. You should, too, it’s actually not that bad.”

“Please. If I was going to do that I’d go back to my home country. American school is expensive and not all of us are sponsored by billionaires.”

“... aren’t you a millionaire?”

She grinned. “Of course. But why would I want to spend that much of my own money?”

He hummed his understanding. Then, she pushed herself up with a groan. “Right, we both have jobs. See you later.”

He hesitated and then held a hand out for her notepad. “Is it bad?”

She held it out of reach with ease. “Nah, just drugs. Unless someone got shot while I was gone but I doubt it. They’d been almost as bored as me last I heard.”

“If it’s nothing then let me see.”

“Ugh, do you really want to fight? It’s too hot for that,” Marinette complained. He started to square up and she, after a second’s thought, added a little something to convince him: “Also, there’s going to be a breakout today so you should really save your energy.”

“... really think I’m going to fall for that?”

There was an explosion in the distance.

“Yeah. I’d hurry. I’m pretty sure it’s Joker’s turn to get out.”

She waved him off with a smile… only for her smile to drop when she remembered her other job. She groaned again and stretched out while she still could.

Tikki floated over the side of the building, a magnifying glass as big as her head in her tiny paws.

Marinette rubbed the kwami’s head. “You’re the best.”

Her kwami sighed. “That I am,” she said.

Marinette grinned and sent the film of Signal using his powers to her computer so she could give it to Calendar Man when it was due.

People were always so predictable in Gotham.

She supposed she really had been tempting fate when she’d thought that. Still, that didn’t mean she liked it that Fate had called her bluff.

But, actually, it seemed that Fate was the one that was bluffing. That had been her entire day. She had finished up her work and then went to one of her more stocked safehouses for a nap. She’d woken up to the buzzing of her phone when she’d gotten the message. She didn’t think she had messed up anywhere…

Her shoulders relaxed. She was probably fine. Which meant it was just Oswald Cobblepot being annoying. As usual.

Marinette flung the doors to the Iceberg Lounge open. Every eye in the room fell on her, but she only cared about the eyes of one person.

She stalked through the lounge, pulling one of her twin karambits from its sheath and pointing the curved blade towards him.

“What the fuck do you want? You really think that, after almost seven whole years of rejecting your wrinkly ass, I’m suddenly going to say ‘oh, yeah, I guess I’ll work for him now’? Leave me alone!”

Cobblepot wasn’t concerned even as her knife came to rest under his chin.

“Canary,” he greeted, regarding her cooly through his monocle.

Guards surrounded them. Marinette somehow managed to look unimpressed without anyone being able to see her face.

Everyone present held their breath… except for the two with weapons pointed at themselves. They knew that they would never follow through with it, especially not in a place as public as this. It was little more than a warning, a reminder, that either of them could kill each other at any given moment and chose not to.

For now, at least.

Cobblepot dismissed the guards with a wave of a gloved hand and she, after a few seconds, lowered her knife.

“What do you want?”

“Currently? For you to get off my table,” said Cobblepot.

She snorted but hopped down with ease. “I meant: why did you call me here?”

“... we should go somewhere else to discuss this. I assume you don’t do all of your business meetings in public?”

“Only if I know ahead of time that I’m going to say no,” she said.

He motioned for her to walk with him to a private room and, reluctantly, she followed. He had to think he had something on her, otherwise he wouldn’t have tried calling her there. She was curious.

They came to a room with a metal door and she cringed a little. Fun.

She dropped eight knives down into a tray and Cobblepot put down a gun, a knife, and his umbrella. She let a female goon pat her down and then checked Cobblepot over herself. Nothing she could find, but she was sure he had found some way to hide one somewhere.

They stepped inside as a pair and each took a seat on opposing ends of the wooden table stationed awkwardly in the middle of the room. She leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up.

“So, what’s the job?”

“I’m surprised you’re even going to hear it.”

She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

He nodded slowly before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

“Power poses don’t actually work, you know, that’s just lies so companies don’t actually have to deal with all the discrimination.”

“Is that true?” He asked.

She shrugged again. “Probably. I’ve never worked for anyone, so…”

He chuckled. She didn’t like that.

But he didn’t say anything on that subject. Instead, he just smiled a smile that looked weird on his face and gave her her mission briefing: “I want you to figure out the bats’ identities for me.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute before breaking out into laughter. She couldn’t seem to stop. She stood up to leave, still giggling. Really? Did he really think that would work? People had asked many times, of course, and the bats’ identities weren’t common knowledge so she had to have said no. Why would she suddenly do it for him? She didn’t even like him.

She rested her hand on the knob but held off on leaving for just a second. She flashed a grin at Cobblepot. “Interesting offer. Bold. But no. Couldn’t pay me enough to do that.”

“Good thing I have no intentions of paying you, Marinette.”

~~~

And behold a new section I call ‘Marinette is a menace to society why would anyone let her on twitter’

(… the name may need a little work)

OliverQueenOfficial: Why does that one Gotham villain go by Canary? Black Canary already exists.

TheBetterCanary: if youre gonna vague tweet maybe dont put my name in it

TheBetterCanary: but anyways someone else named me that and it stuck before i could think of something to change it to

ScareCrane:… @/RiddleMeThis she’s dissing you

RiddleMeThis: LISTEN UP. IT WAS THEMATIC. DON’T ANY OF YOU KNOW ANYTHING OF DRAMA? EVER HEAR ABOUT CANARIES IN COAL MINES? FUCK ALL OF YOU AND YOUR UNCULTURED, UNEDUCATED ASSES. NOT TO MENTION IT WAS MAKING FUN OF THE BIRD THEME ALL THE VIGILANTES HER AGE SEEM TO HAVE. (1/14)

TheBetterCanary: @/ScareCrane why would you do that you knew he was going to do this

ScareCrane: Joker just broke out so Arkham is boring… needed to entertain myself somehow

TheBetterCanary: fuck you im not visiting this weekend

OliverQueenOfficial: Wow do I regret asking. I didn’t need all this family drama in my comments.

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

#alright strap in babes it's another longfic #no one is surprised #why do i change my format with every fic?#no clue #im dumb #anyways ive finally started writing this #canary #maribat #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #i like timinette best as a ship name #idk why

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reidsmemory · 4 years ago

Text

Echo

Spencer Reid

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N is abducted while working a case and the team has to find her before it’s too late.

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst

Warnings: Mention of death of minor character, torture

not my gif!

The team had been looking into case that had targeted girls with Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes. All had looks strikingly similar to you and if anyone were to see either one of the victims in a room with you, they would say you were related. You all had been on the case for about a week now and you were still no where close to catching this guy.

“Agent Y/L/N,” a voice called as you whipped your head to face them, “these came in for you,” the officer was holding a bouquet of red roses with a small white card on the top of it.

“Do you know who these are from?” you asked as he shook his head and walked away.

“What does the note say?” Emily asked as the whole team had watched the interaction.

You opened the envelope and read the note as you furrowed your brows, “echo.” The team looked at each other with puzzled faces, “what the hell is that suppose to mean? Have we already dealt with this unsub?” The rest of team began theorizing as the same officer walked up to you again.

“Agent, we’ve got someone that say he needs to speak to you.”

“Can’t they come here?” Hotch asked, getting defensive.

“He says that he won’t go into a place of justice, whatever that means,” the officer began to lead you as the rest of the team followed. You began walking towards the entrance of the station as the officer looked around for the mystery man. “He was just here,” the man spoke.

“Spence,” you spoke out as your boyfriend looked to you before you collapsed on the ground. You head hit the flooring as a ringing sounded in your ears as well as their being two of everything. Two Spencer’s holding your head, two Hotch’s yelling and pointing fingers, two lights blinding you from seeing anything.

What felt like hours later you were being lifted onto a bed. Two men had arrived with an ambulance as shouting and yelling was all that was heard. “Are you family, sir?” the first responder asked as Spencer opened him mouth and closed it again, “I didn’t think so, you all can follow in cars.” The man said as his colleague gave him as weird look as the both of them lifted you into the ambulance as the rest of the team rushed to get their keys and get into the SUVs.

The ambulance sped off as the sirens wailed and your team rushed to the cars. “What in the fresh hell?” Derek said as he looked at the tires on one of the SUVs. “My tires are popped, what about you, Hotch?”

“Same here,” the raven haired man said.

“It’s a set up,” Reid spoke as fear flooded his face.

***

You awoke in a cabin where you had been tired to a chair and had a gag on your mouth. Your vision still hazy and your thoughts even hazier.

“Oh good, you’re up,” a male voice said from the corner of the room. You tried to get a good look at him, but he stayed in the shadows. “Ben Cyrus,” he said as you furrowed your eyebrows. The name sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t quite remember where you had heard it before.

“Who are you?” you asked as the man chuckled. “Let me go, I’ll talk to my team and we can work this out.” He scoffed at your words and began to walk towards you.

“Ben Cyrus. He ran the greatest church known to man and you,” his face was hardened and his eyes had a crazed look in them, “took away our faith!” He struck his hand across your face as a burning sensation filled your cheek.

It all rushed back to you. A few year back you, Prentiss, and Reid had all gone undercover in a cult-like church. The leader, Benjamin Cyrus, had been suspected of child abuse and sexual harassment and the government had wanted the BAU to get involved.

“I remember,” you said as the man smiled.

“Good, Agent,” he grabbed a chair from the side of the room and brought it over to sit across from you. “Now,” he started again, “you might not know me. My name is Joey Cyrus and I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’d be lyin’,” he studied you as you did the same.

“What do you want, Joey?”

“Well my daddy would be nice for one, but I don’t believe you have the power to do that. So you’ll do just fine,” he got up from his chair and walked over to the bag that you had seen from the corner of your eye. He dumped the contents on the ground in front of you and a spill of tools came out. A hammer, pliers, a baseball bat, a few knives, and other things that could do damage. “Let’s get to know each other.”

***

Back at the station, Spencer was frantically trying to figure out who had taken you and why. The note on the roses had been laced with a medicinal herb that had knocked you out and the ambulance had been found in a ditch on the highway with all but one of the first responders on it. The medics had been killed in a brutal way that even made Spencer sick to his stomach as he thought about what this guy was doing to you.

“Reid,” Hotch’s voice broke his train of thought as he met eyes with the older man. “Go ahead, Garcia.”

“Alright. Our mystery medic is Joseph Mulgrew , he moved to Utah just a few years ago and before that he has been off the map,” Garcia told the team. “This guy, he’s like a ghost. No records of his name anywhere else and no former address of any kind.”

“Did you say Mulgrew?” Spencer said as the team looked at him.

“Yes I did Doctor, what about it?”

“Look up Joseph Cyrus,” Spencer told her as they heard the taps of Garcia’s keyboard. The team looked at him for an explanation, “Benjamin Cyrus, he was an unsub we had.”

“Yeah,” Emily started, “he was that guy that ran that church and...” she trailed off as the team got the gist of what she was saying.

“He was Charles Mulgrew before he made a come back at the church. It could be possible that he has unknown family, considering what he was really doing all those years,” Spencer explained, “Garcia, how old is Joseph?”

“He is 27 years of age and the good doctor is right. Joey here changed his name like dear old dad and oh...” Penny trailed off.

“Penny?” JJ asked.

“Joseph has been in and out of jail and juvie for as long as I can see. Charged with assault, petty theft, and oh my. Domestic abuse filed by his ex-wife who looks a lot like our Y/N,” a sounding on their tablets was heard as they opened it and saw a woman very similar to you.

“But Spencer and I went undercover too, why would he pick Y/N?” Emily said as she immediately started to solve the puzzle, “you think it’s because of the looks of the ex-wife?”

“I think so,” Rossi mumbled, “Penelope pull up the most current address to Joe and anything that could be used to store Y/N.”

“I’ve got a home address and a storage unit and they have all been sent to your phones! Go crime fighters and get our princess back!” Penelope told them.

“Thanks, Baby Girl,” Morgan hung up the phone.

“Reid with me and JJ. Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss take the storage. We’ll have to use squad cars until the SUVs are fixed so lets go get Y/L/N,” Hotch ordered as they all nodded ad went to the parking lot.

***

You muffled your screams and grunts as Joey had began to carve into your stomach. He laughed as you clenched your teeth and held your hands in fists, surely four crescent shaped cuts were to be found on the inside of your palms if you opened them. “You son of a bitch,” you struggled to get out as Joey wiped the knife off on your pants.

“Don’t you talk about my mama that way, girl. I’ll make sure you regret it.” You received at blow to the side of your face. You spit out the blood that formed in your mouth as Joey began to take the other tools out from his collection. “These look nice, don’t they, girl?” He held up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter as he popped one in his mouth.

“Those things kill,” you said remembering Spencer tell you countless facts about the ‘cancer sticks’ as both of you had nicknamed them. “On second thought, why don’t you just keep smoking them.”

He laughed, “you are a firecracker. My daddy always said the young ones are.” He stroked your hair as you tried to move back.

“Your dad was sick in the head and you are too,” you spoke with such tenacity.

He looked at you blankly, “I thought I said you don’t speak of my family like that,” he took the cigarette from his mouth and stuck it on your exposed collar bone.

You grunted as he held your face in free hand. He leaned into your ear and whispered, “I want to hear those screams, girl.” He press the cigarette into your skin further, finally inciting a small scream to slip past your lips. “Good.”

***

The team had arrived at both locations and there was no sign that you were there. Spencer paced around with his hands in is hair as the rest of the team was now even more worried than before, if that was possible. The team had no idea where you could be and if you were even alive. It had been at least 13 hours since you had dropped in the lobby and it was eating Spencer and the team alive.

“You have nothing?” JJ asked Garcia over the phone,.

“No, i’m sorry. I’ll keep looking and-” she was cut off by Spencer who had just had a revelation.

“Garcia, make sure the jet is ready. I think I know where Y/N is.”

***

On the jet Spencer had explained the note and how it read ‘echo’ as saying that Joey might want to recreate the explosion at the church and now the team had touched down in Colorado where they got in SUVs to go to the church’s location.

A swat team followed them along the dirt roads that were bumpy and the night sky that was dark. The sun was starting to rise in the distance. Spencer remembered you always saying, ‘the same beams but a new day,’ and that made him the tiniest bit hopeful that they would find you in this new day.

The church came into view as they could see it was now a smaller wooden building. “What the hell,” Morgan said from the drivers seat as he say the building, “this guy built up a whole new structure to what? Avenge his father’s death?” The car came to a stop as the team hopped out of the car and Hotch began to go over the plan with the others.

“From the front-” he was cut off by a ear piercing scream that came from no one other than you. Spencer looked at his boss in worry as Hotch returned the look and started again, “let’s go.”

Joey drove a knife into your stomach as you screamed loudly. He left it in your body and quickly grabbed another knife from the ground. “You have got to work out your daddy issues another way,” you told him as he dragged the new knife down the side of your face as it cut into your skin.

“You wanna try something different, girl?” You immediately regretted your words and recalled Spence always telling you that your smart mouth was going to get you in trouble some day. He began to unbutton the top of his flannel, but quickly stopped as he heard footsteps in the distance. You heard them too.

“Spencer!” you yelled as loud as you could as Joey came over to you and cut the ropes on your ankles and arms as he quickly grabbed you and put a knife to your neck.

From the front of the house Spencer could hear your cries as his ears perked up as his heart rate grew faster and Hotch nodded as Morgan kicked the door down. The team moved through the structure and finally Spencer came face to face with you, “Y/N,” he said as you locked eyes with your boyfriend and smiled lightly, despite the situation at hand.

“Joseph, put the knife down,” Hotch told the man as the knife just dug deeper into your skin.

“I don’t think so,” he took grip on you and made it tighter. “You killed my family. He never did anything but help people in need of his guidance.”

“Your father ruined the lives of young girls,” Spencer said matter-o-factly.

“No! He did them a favor, he gave them the greatest gift he could,” Joey said as he began to move his hand without the knife a bit more. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried see what he was hold and finally saw a small remote concealed in his hand.

You moved your eyes to Hotch’s and blinked rapidly. You just hoped he would pick up on the Morse Code and get everyone out of the building.

“Let’s just talk this out, Joey,” Hotch started, “JJ get everyone out, I want to talk to Joey alone.” JJ furrowed her eyebrows at the man but he gave he a stern look as she understood and began to move the team out.

“No! Bring them back!” Joey yelled, “or she dies.” Spencer looked at JJ as she tried to get him to leave the building, but he refused to move so she quickly called Morgan who grabbed Reid as he struggled against him.

“I can’t leave her!” he told them and Morgan ignored his pleas and called a couple SWAT members to help him with the genius.

“As much as I like her, I’ll do it,” Joey said as he continued to watch the men and women exist the building. “Bring them back!” Joey yelled as his grip on you faltered for a second which you took advantage of as you got out from his grasp and struggled to take the device from his hand.

“Go!” you yelled at Hotch but he jumped in and started to help you as the three of you wrestled and quickly the device was flung across the doorway to another room. You all freezed before you grabbed Hotch’s hand and dragged him towards the back of the building.

The team waited outside for Hotch and you as Reid screamed at Morgan, “you have to let me go back in there!”

“You can’t Kid, you heard Hotch!” Morgan yelled back as the rest of the team cringed at the fight. “I know all of us want to go back in there, but we can’t! You gotta understand that, Kid!”

“No! You don’t understand!” Spencer screamed, “she’s all I have! I didn’t even get to tell her that I love her! That I have been in love with her since that stupid dinner at that Thai restaurant in California!”

“That was two years ago...” JJ mumbled.

“Yeah! Two years! I’ve only been with with her for a couple months now and I haven’t even told her!” Everyone’s hearts pained as they heard Spencer’s cries and saw the liquid that dripped down his cheeks. “I can’t-”

All head turned as the house exploded a safe distance away from them. The orange flames roared as the team had their mouths’ open in shock.

“No,” Rossi and JJ whispered at the same time.

Morgan’s grip on Reid was gone as he watched the flames and turned to Emily who had had disbelief and horror over her face.

Spencer’s mind raced a mile every second and now his mind was completely blank of everything but you. Your face, your smile, your eyes, your lips, your laugh, your touch, your everything. Spencer ran towards the flames as the team yelled after him.

“Spencer,” JJ’s voice breaking as she leaned into Rossi’s embrace.

“Kid. Come on, don’t do this,” Morgan called as Emily just watched in disbelief with a gaping mouth and teary eyes.

Spencer didn’t care about their calls, he needed to find you. He scanned the firery rubble for any sign of you or Hotch, but there wasn’t any. Just ash and fallen wood covered in sweltering heat. “Y/N!” he yelled out, “Y/N! Hotch!” Spence continued to look through the wall of intense heat and for a second he saw a delicate hand reach up through the burning wood. “Y/N,” he whispered to himself as he began to walk through the blazing fire that threatened to burn his body and ruin his lungs.

He moved a piece of wood off of where he saw your hand and saw you and Hotch laying side by side. “Guys!” he screamed at his friends, “help!” The team gave each other confused faces before coming over to Spencer. JJ gasped as she saw your form next to Hotch’s as tears of joy spilled from her faces. Her and Emily joined hands as they worked to get the wood off of you.

“Medic!” Rossi yelled as people began to rush over to help.

Morgan and Reid worked to get a big piece of debris off of the two of you. Hotch’s eyes opened and he immediately looked to his side where you had been, holding his hand tightly. He coughed violently as the medics lifted him up and brought him to the ambulance. You blinked a few times and saw Spencer standing over you.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he asked as you gave him a thumbs up and he laughed at the simple gesture. He brought you up for and embrace as you struggled to keep your eyes open. The medic came over to you and began to carry you away as Spencer and the team followed you and Hotch to the ambulance.

“Can I?” he asked one of the nurses as she nodded and he climbed into the ambulance and held your hand as you drifted off to sleep.

***

When you woke up, blinding lights had been the first thing you saw. The second was Spencer who was asleep in a chair next to your bed, his head resting on the bed and his fingers interlaced with your own. You blinked a few times and saw the rest of the team in the room with you. Hotch was in bed identical to yours, but he was up and had his eye focused on the TV in front of him. By his side was JJ and Morgan as the conversed with each other in hushed voices. Penny was writing in a card with a sparkling pink pen as she handed it off to Rossi who smiled lightly at her. Emily was just outside your room as you saw her talking with a nurse or doctor; rather it looked more like arguing.

Derek glanced over to you briefly as he then turned back to JJ and then back to you. “You’re up,” he said quietly, a contrast to his usual booming voice. Everyone looked to you as you smiled.

“You gave us quite a scare, Y/L/N,” Hotch said as you laughed quietly which then turned into a cough.

“Em! Get a nurse or doctor!” Penny exclaimed as Emily rushed and called a nurse in the hallway. JJ got up from her seat and made her way over to your bed.

She examined your face before hugging you tightly. “God, you can never do that to us again,” she chuckled as you rubbed her back. You felt a few tears fall on your shoulders as JJ pulled away and wiped her cheeks. “He’ll be happy to see you,” she gestured to Spencer.

“Glad to have you back, kiddo,” Rossi told you with a smile, “you need anything?” As soon as he said that a doctor walked into your room and started to go over your condition.

“You are very lucky, Agent Y/L/N” she started, “you have a mild concussion and that wound on your abdomen will take some time to heal over. You received first and second degree burns all over your legs, arms, and torso, just like Agent Hotchner. Your eardrums are very fragile and I recommend no flying for at least 3 weeks. Your face has some minor bruising and cuts that should heal over time.” She set her chart down. “The both of you should be able to leave in a few days time, but for now just relax.”

“Thank you,” you said as she smiled.

“Dinner will be up in a few minutes,” with that she left and Morgan was seen grinning widely.

“What?” you said.

“She didn’t mention one thing.” You furrowed your brows at his words and he started to rub his head which just made you more confused.

“I have a concussion, you’re going to have to actually say it.” He laughed at your words.

“Do you think pretty boy will like the new haircut?” he asked as it finally clicked and you ran your fingers through your hair.

“Oh my, God,” you said as everyone laughed. “Oh my, God!” you repeated as Emily handed you a mirror and as you brought it up to your face your jaw dropped. Your hair was cut in jagged parts, but none shorter than your chin. The team laughed as you continued to gape at your reflection.

“Some of your hair ended up burning off, just a bit,” Emily said as you looked at her with wide eyes. She laughed as you began to laugh too and soon everyone joined in as you all smiled at your stupidly, funny haircut.

Spencer rubbed his eyes as he saw your smiling face and immediately hugged you tightly. “Thank Goodness,” he whispered as he pulled back from the embrace. “Why are we laughing?” he asked as you gestured towards your hair and smiled widely at the tall man.

“Is this gonna be a deal breaker, babe?” his cheeks flushed at the nickname.

He laughed a bit, “no, I still love you,” he said as the team froze at what he said as did he.

“Awh, I love you more, Spence,” you told him without skipping a beat as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Even if you do kinda look like David Bowie,” he said as you opened your mouth and smacked his arm playfully.

“Spencer Reid!”

4K notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 3 years ago

Text

Old Friends ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2k

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

GENRE: old friends to lovers, angst (not involving Jungkook) fluffy ending

WARNING: Mentions of knives, life endangerment, blood

All anyone ever wanted from you was your money, all they ever wanted to do was use you for what you had. It was exhausting constantly having to watch your back for someone who might double-cross you.

"We'll see you Monday," Your lawyer announced as you began to walk out of your home office with him. They were there to help you with a problem, one of your so-called friends had been stealing money from you and the businesses that you ran. There was a reason never to hire friends to work for you.

"You look tired, you should get some sleep." Your live-in maid said as she saw you walking towards the staircase of your home. Glancing over at her you smiled weakly,

"I will. I just need something to eat first." You mumbled before walking down the spiral staircase to see your lawyer out and finally have something to it. You felt as though you hadn't eaten all day. You'd been in and out of business meetings at the office and when you finally got home you were doing the same thing all over again.

Strolling down the corridor toward the kitchen you froze when you saw one of the guest bedroom doors were open. It wouldn't have been Roseanne as she shut and locked every door that she entered.

Slowly pushing it open you frowned seeing the state of the room, clothes were strewn about all over the floor. It looked as if someone had been living in the room without you knowing about it.

As you were about to turn around to find Roseanne someone came out of the bathroom door and you screamed.

"Shit! Miss Y/L/n," Jungkook, one of the men that worked inside of your house began to blush and apologise over and over again. Jungkook had been working for you for almost 12 years, he'd started working in your family when you were 18 and continued to work with you when the rest of your family had passed.

"Jungkook. What are you doing?" You questioned as you covered your eyes and began to head for the exit. Though he was covered by a towel you weren't going to stare at him the entire time.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't have anywhere to go, I thought it would-"

"Just...Just get changed and talk to me outside," You giggled a little at the thought of him stammering over his words around you. The two of you had practically known each other your whole lives. Even when he didn't work for your family his mother and father did.

"Here," You pushed some food in front of Jungkook with a mug of hot chocolate and sat down at the table. The two of you hadn't sat down to talk like this in almost five years, it felt weird to you doing it now.

"I needed a place to stay," He told you as he looked at the food, debating whether or not to eat it.

"You could have told me. I would have given you a better room than the smaller guest bedroom." Jungkook knew that you were kind to him but he never wanted to impose himself upon you,

"Y/n, I never wanted you to think-"

"That you were using me?" You questioned as you looked up at him. Taking a chip from his plate and giving it to yourself.

"You know I would never accuse you of something like that Kookie," A blush began to creep up on Jungkook's cheeks as he heard the nickname you used to use for him. It had been too long since he had the name fall from your lips.

"You haven't called me that in years," He laughed softly as he looked up at you. The first time he'd really looked at you and taken in your appearance for a while.

You'd changed so much from the last time he'd sat down with you like this. You were matured, beautiful but you still had that goofy smile that he loved so much.

"I haven't seen you in years...You're always too busy." You laughed as you sipped on your drink. The two of you had barely seen one another since both of your families passed away.

"I'm too busy? I think the woman who runs multiple businesses and manages an empire is busier than me." He scoffed shaking his head at you,

"I do not manage an empire and they're not my businesses, they were my fathers." You reminded him as you began to play with the cup in front of you. The subject of your father was always a tricky one between the two of you. He'd always hated Jungkook because he knew of your strong feelings toward him and forbade you from ever pursuing them.

"I'm sorry about that...Again," Jungkook whispered as he remembered when your dad had passed away. The man had left everything to you in his will which you hated him for.

Everything he knew that you didn't want he gave to you. This was never the life you wanted. Always having to watch your back in case someone was going to stab you in it. You'd seen how crazy it had driven your father and it was as if this was all some kind of sick joke to him to make you deal with it.

"It's not your fault he died." You mumbled as you looked up at him. He'd gotten so skinny it was a wonder why you had never noticed it before. You'd wondered why he never tried to come to you for help in the first place.

"You're going to stay in the guest room upstairs," You ordered him as you began to eat casually. Jungkook knew never to disobey you, you always won arguments with him anyway.

"Fine, but you have to take money for rent out of my payments." You shook your head at him.

"No, because then how are you going to find your own place?" He glared at you playfully throwing a chip at your forehead as you screamed out.

"Hey!" You laughed picking up a chip from your own plate and throwing it back at him,

"No fair." He chuckled doing it again.

The two of you sat throwing food back and forth at one another until Roseanne came into the kitchen. Laughing to herself when she saw the two of you together for the first time in a long time.

"Having fun?" She laughed when she saw you both giggling with one another.

"Too much fun, I'm sorry about the mess. Let me help," You told her as you began to go over to the mess you had left around the kitchen.

"No, no, both of you should go and wash up and go to sleep. It's late." Smiling at her you and Jungkook began to head up the stairs toward the guest bedrooms and your own.

The longer Jungkook stayed with you the more you began to feel young again. Everything felt as though you had gone back in time to when you were 18 and having fun. With Jungkook around, you didn't have to worry about him using you for money or only being there because you paid him to. The two of you genuinely enjoyed being around one another.

"Hey I made us popcorn withmelted chocolate," You called out from the kitchen to who you thought was Jungkook coming into the house.

"Kookie?" You laughed moving out from the kitchen to greet him when you saw your ex-boyfriend. The bowl dropped from your hand smashing against the hardwood floor.

"It's a pleasure to see you too," He smirked as he walked over to you, taking your body into his and hugged you tightly. You froze in place. Terrified to even move an inch as you felt his arms around you.

"Who's Kookie?" You moved away from him the second his arms released you. You scolded yourself for not keeping the panic button in your kitchen.

"Y/n! I got us a bunch of Ryan Reynold movies and I-" Jungkook stopped speaking when he saw your Ex standing there. Neither of you knew he'd gotten out of prison.

Your ex was known amongst everyone in Seoul as the Immortal Dragon and had been caught and arrested almost two years ago. Everyone feared him because he was a mafia leader. Killed people for fun and the fact that he was there made you fear everything.

"I heard the funniest rumour while I was in prison," He laughed as he began to walk towards you, picking up a knife from the knife block.

"That the woman I loved and devoted myself to helped keep me in prison." You began to back up toward Jungkook, hoping that the two of you could make it out of the house before your ex did something irrational.

"That's crazy, right? She wouldn't do that to me." The knife he was holding was stabbed into the counter and you flinched. Stepping onto some broken glass and hissing as you felt it pierce your foot.

"Whatever you want, just leave," Jungkook warned as he put you behind him to stop any immediate danger from happening to you.

"You're just the help, you might as well leave. This is between the adults." Jungkook stayed in place as he looked at you and to your ex.

"It's every bit of my business if you're hurting the one I love." He stood his ground even when your ex picked the knife up once again.

"You should leave if you want to continue living."

"You should leave if you're going to continue threatening Jungkook." You snapped as you stepped in front of Jungkook to face your ex. There was no reason you should fear him, he'd proven many times before that he would never hurt a woman.

"I just wanted to know why you turned me in," You scoffed,

"Because you killed people, what other reason is there. You're a sick, twisted mother fucker and I'm glad you got caught." The knife was raised above your head but you didn't move. You stared straight back at him.

"Get out before I call the police." You ordered as he stared back at you, throwing the knife against one of the cupboards and sticking it in place.

"Are you stupid?! What if he'd stabbed you?!" Jungkook panicked as soon as the door to your house shut and he was gone. Jungkook took you into his arms, pressing your head against his chest.

"He'd never hurt a woman," You mumbled as he began kissing the top of your head. Your hurt fluttering from each and every small kiss he gave to you.

"You don't know that, you could have been hurt," He whispered as you both sat on the sofa together.

"I'm fine Kookie," You pulled away from his chest and looked at him as he blushed. The thought of something happening to you killing him inside.

"I don't know what I would have done if he hurt you," He mumbled and you smiled reaching up to touch his cheek.

"I don't know what I would have done." You counted, kissing his lips softly. Jungkook's eyes widened before he relaxed, bringing you closer to him as he kissed you back.

"I guess that means you still have feelings," He mumbled against your lips as you pulled away for air,

"It does." You breathed out, pushing your hands into his hair and pulling him to lay down on the sofa with you.

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