#Escape Siren Cop's Prison! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yjano · 1 year

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All of me.

Part 8.

Pairing: Jake x Mc.

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, angst, a little fluff, smut, violence and other pairings.

Words: 5k

Author's note: Although this story is not related to the Duskwood game, I will add some of our beloved characters. Please read it only if you're into angst prison stories, slow burns, etc. A little hint: You will get to see some similarities to Jake and his gang from "Never The Same" fic.

Mc focus.

Chaos was the one and only word that could describe the situation right now. The girl behind the wheel turned corners like crazy, dodged whatever came across her path, and sped way above the speed limit. My whole body got thrown around in my seat, and I was pretty sure that a few nasty bruises would start to form on my arms in a few days.

The girl behind the wheel wasn't the only one who created complete chaos, though. The guy in the passenger seat was even worse. He kept screaming orders at the girl who was driving, while he kept looking in the side mirrors to inform the others inside the car about what was happening behind them.

Apparently, we were being chased by four police cars, and judging from the volume of the sirens, they were getting pretty close towards us.

"For fucks sake, drive faster Jessy!" The guy in the passenger seat screamed again and with a quick movement he turned around towards Jake and the others.

"I hope you still know how to shoot a gun, Jake, because we're gonna need you and Kaden to clean this mess up!"

Without a second thought, Jake turned towards Kaden, their eyes locking for a short moment while Kaden handed Jake a small handgun.

"Took you long enough, brother."

Jake snatched the gun from Kaden's hand and walked towards one of the windows.

"Shut up. I would have been out sooner if your girlfriend had worked a little faster, you know. It's not my fault that she-"

Kaden pushed Jake with a loud crash against the side of the window, bringing his face close towards Jake's ear.

"I give you two seconds to shut the fuck up before I lose it bro. Lex did everything she could and you have no right to blame all this on her. She worked her ass off while you were playing sleeping geauty inside those walls."

My eyes widened at the sight in front of me, my heart beating rapidly and my body shaking a little. Firstly, there were freaking guns inside their hands, and secondly, they were about to fight inside the car right in front of my face. Where had I thrown myself into, and who were these people?

A guy with dark red hair pushed himself between the two fighting guys, and within two seconds, both of them stood on opposite sides of the car.

"Stop this bullshit and release your anger on those cars that are chasing us instead of on each other!" The red-haired guy looked from one guy to another, fixing both of them in place with just one look. "Now!"

As if on cue, both guys rolled down the windows on their side of the car. Both of them readied their guns, and with a soft nod towards each other, the guys threw their head and arms outside the window. Shots could be heard almost immediately, and by the slight shake that I could see in Jake's body, I was pretty sure that the shots came from his gun.

I crawled a little further in my seat, everything but happy with the situation I was currently in. When Jake offered me the chance to escape, this wasn't what I had expected at all. My understanding of escaping was camping in the woods while staying away from the cops, something thoughtful while keeping a low profile. Being part of a real-life action movie wasn't in my plans at all, and I didn't like it one bit.

"Go, Jessy, go! You need to move faster!" The guy from the passenger seat yelled again, his vision darting between all the mirrors in the car and the ginger haired girl. The girl behind the wheel turned her face for a short second towards the passenger seat.

"God, Dan, shut up! I got this okay!" Her vision changed back towards the road, and she made another sharp turn to shake off the police cars.

My eyes darted through the car, and I could only scream for help at the sight in front of me. The girl behind the wheel I knew as Jessy kept driving like a complete lunatic while the dark browned haired guy next to her kept screaming her name to alert her of her surroundings.

Jake and the guy I knew as Kaden kept shooting on the cars behind us. The continuous shooting terrified me more than anything. I had never seen a real gun up close in my life, and now there were two being used to shoot the police cars chasing us right beside me.

In front of me was a small girl who kept typing away on her high-tech computer, fast breaths left her mouth, and her hands kept shaking. It was more than clear that besides me, this girl wasn't fond of the whole situation, too. The one who terrified me the most, though, was the last guy, the red-haired one.

Ever since the redhead had managed to stop Jake and Kaden from fighting, his eyes had fallen on me, making him the only one who was aware of my presence. The guy's eyes kept staring at me like I was some kind of enemy, and the whole scene made me more uncomfortable than ever. I felt like the guy was going to throw me out at any moment, and I wasn't ready for that scenario to happen at all.

"Jessy! Go faster they're closing on you!" Kaden suddenly yelled, and without any warning, Jessy turned the car 90 degrees, throwing everyone off their balance. My head and shoulder hit the side of the car with a huge smack.

Small tears started to form in my eyes from the sudden impact. A loud crash sounded from behind the car, and Kaden came shorty inside the car to reload his gun.

"One down! Three to go! Nice one, Jessy!" With lightning speed, Kaden reloaded his gun and threw his head and arms back out the window to shoot at the cars once more.

I didn't know what kind of road Jessy chose to turn on, but judging from the many bumps and shaking of the car it felt like Jessy had thrown the car into a meadow filled with unsteady ground. I pushed myself even further in my seat, hoping to stop my body from all the shaking that was starting to make me nauseous and hurt my body.

All this time, the red-haired guy still kept an eye on me while the girl in front of me kept typing like crazy on her laptop, both of them completely unbothered by the shaking and bumping.

"For fucks sake...Lex how much longer!?" Jake suddenly yelled while a second crash could be heard behind the vehicle.

"Hurry the fuck up girl!"

The girl I assumed was Lex typed even faster on her hightech laptop, little droplets of sweat dropping down from her head while her eyes darted over the numbers on the screen in front of her.

"Almost there, a few more seconds..."

Jake turned his head inside the car, anger radiating from every pore in his body.

"You take too much time Lex, hurry the fuck up you-"

Within a second, Kaden was back up in Jake's face, grabbing him by his collar and pushing him against the side of the car once again.

"Last warning, brother. Leave. Her. Alone." Kaden whispered dangerously low through his teeth, his eyes throwing daggers at the guy before him.

Both guys kept staring with eyes full of anger towards each other, both of them refusing to give up and admit defeat. Within an instant, the red-haired boy had ripped his eyes away from me and maneuvered himself between Jake and Kaden for a second time that day. He pushed Kaden away from Jake, breaking their eye contact.

"You two seriously need to stop this shit!" Dan yelled from the passenger seat while his eyes darted between the two males. He turned back around, and his eyes immediately blew up at the sight in his mirror.

"Oh my god baby, drive faster! They're getting closer."

Jessy turned her eyes towards Dan, and with a deep glare, she shut him up.

"For the last time, I got this. Stop ordering me around! I know what I'm doing, okay!?"

The tension in the air was almost unbearable, and it made the panic in my veins only higher. If the police cars didn't catch up to us, I was pretty sure that the people inside the car were going to be the death of me. There was no way I was gonna make it with people who preferred to fight against each other instead of teaming up against the cops.

I should have never gone with Jake. This whole idea was terrible from the beginning. I was pretty sure that I was going to die right there at the spot, and this was the end...

"It's done!" Lex suddenly yelled, and the whole car fell silent. Kaden and Jake crossed eyes again, and with a quick nod from Jake, Kaden started to smirk at Lex.

"Hit it blue!"

With a soft nod, Lex pushed a button on her laptop, and Jake, together with Kaden, threw their heads out of the window to look at whatever was going to happen outside.

One second passed by without anything happening. Two seconds passed by... Three seconds...Four sec- Boom!

A crash much more louder than the last two suddenly sounded through the car, and a huge smirk fell on the faces of the people inside the car. Both police cars had been blown up at the same time, creating a massive fire explosion that made it impossible for any following cars to chase after us anymore.

"Hell yeah! Nice one, blue! 10 out of 10, I would recommend you do that again!" Dan yelled, and a small smile fell on Lex's face.

Jake and Kaden got back in the car and started to high five every one of them. Everyone except for me. I was still sitting as far as possible in my seat in the corner of the car, completely forgotten by everyone except for the red-haired guy who threw suspicious glances at me once in a while.

I could only hope that these murderers had all forgotten about me and that I could run away from them as far as possible and as soon as possible.

My breathing had become uneven, and I looked with big eyes at the people before me. I saw how everybody started to high-five each other, celebrating their victory while still not noticing me.

"That was fucking awesome, well done Lex!" Dan yelled again while he sat back in his seat, throwing his head back and placing his feet on the dashboard in front of him.

Kaden and Jake both hung against the sides of the car, cleaning out their weapons to get rid of any form of dust or gunpowder. Lex closed her laptop and placed her head in her hands after, clearly stressed about the whole thing. Jessy slowed the pace of the car down, and with somewhat of a more normal speed, she drove away from the whole scene that happened behind us.

The redhead was a whole different story, though. He didn't seem bothered by the whole ordeal that just happened. He could only look at me with those soul piercing eyes of him. Eyes that freaked me out the longer they were on me and made me push myself even further in the seat I was currently occupying. A short silence fell over the car before Jake was the first to speak again.

"Dan, update me."

A smirk fell over Dan's face, and he slightly turned around so he could look at Jake.

"With pleasure." All eyes were immediately on Dan. "The business has been quite the same, still the same people and still the same problems. There were some changes, though..." Dan shortly fell silent.

"Uh guys-" Redhead started but got cut off immediately by Kaden.

"We arranged a huge deal with a weapon dealer. If everything has gone according to plan, the weapons should have arrived by now." Jake gave both guys a nod.

"Guys-" Redhead tried again, but again got cut off by Jessy.

"Thanks to Lex, we intercepted a huge cargo of cocaine that we used as trade for the weapon deal." Jessy amplified, creating a small smile on Lex's face.

"Guys, who is-" Redhead tried for a third time, but nobody seemed to listen to him.

"Nobody got badly wounded, some small cuts and stuff, but Jessy took care of it right after." Dan spoke again. "We've already planned out our next mission-" But before Dan could finish his next sentence, redhead suddenly yelled to get everybody's attention.

"Guys!"

The five people all turned their heads towards redhead, an irritated look on their faces.

"What do you want? This isn't the time for stupid questions, Sam." Kaden blurred at the redhead, his eyes squinted together and his lips in a fine line.

"I-I know that, but-" Sam stammered softly, clearly intimidated by the other five.

"For fucks sake get on with it!" Kaden now full on yelled and within an instant Sam had grabbed me by my arm, pushing me towards the middle of the car.

"Who the fuck is this!?"

The whole car fell silent, all eyes on me when I stood between them all. My eyes were big, my skin getting pale and my body shaking like a leaf. I felt like dying right at that moment, I had seen how dangerous these people were, and I felt everything except from safe now that I stood in between them all. These people were gonna murder me, and I was sure of it. There was no way I was getting out of this alive. There was-

Before I could even finish my thoughts, complete chaos erupted in the car. I heard how Dan started to yell at Jessy to watch out for a tree they were going to crash into due to Jessy sitting backward and looking at me. The car made a sharp turn to avoid the tree, Jessy started to yell back that Dan had to leave her alone and that she knew what she was doing.

Dan defended himself, and Jessy yelled back. The two kept going back and forward like an old married couple, completely ignoring what was in the back.

The back of the van was a whole different story, though. The moment Jessy had made the sharp turn to avoid the tree, Kaden had taken it upon himself to push me against the side of the car. His hand around my throat, his arm against my chest and his face right before mine.

I had tears dripping down my face, and my breathing had become to start even more uneven than it already was. My legs felt weak, but I had to keep myself up to prevent myself from being strangled by Kaden.

"Who are you? What do you want-" Kaden started, but he got ripped away by Jake almost instantly.

"Stop that, you fucking idiot!" Jake yelled at Kaden and he pushed him away from me. Without giving it a second thought I lunged myself at Jake, grabbing the front of his shirt for dear life.

Jake focus.

I immediately engulfed the girl in a hug, bringing her towards the seat next to Lex. I sat down with her in my lap and slowly stroked her through her hair to try to calm her down a little.

"What the fuck." Kaden whispered, looking at the two of us when we sat next to his own girlfriend.

"This..." I motioned to the girl in my lap while I looked at Kaden and the others. "This is Mc. She was my cellmate back in the prison, and I brought her with me. She can be useful." I slowly lifted Mc's head, wiping away the tears and turning her towards the others.

"You're okay. They won't hurt you while I'm here. Calm down." I whispered in her ear, and she slowly started to calm down by my words and my soft touch.

"And she is good for what exactly?" Kaden started out, giving Mc a foul look. I glared back at my brother and protectively placed my arms around Mc.

"She was studying to become a nurse. She could help Jessy out in the hospital."

Kaden suddenly started laughing, and Mc pushed herself even harder against me. Mc seemed to be more and more frightened of Kaden.

"You're joking, right? Do you want to put this one in the business? She looks like she couldn't even hurt a fly if you asked her to! Why the fuck was she even in that prison? Did she kill an ant or something!?"

I gave Kaden another glare, and I flipped him off instantly.

Mc focus.

I looked up at Kaden, knowing that if I wanted to impress the crazy guy, this would probably be my only chance. Murder was something to impress people with, right? Maybe by telling Kaden the reason why I was in prison, he would get somewhat frightened and leave me alone.

"I killed my sister." I whispered almost inaudible. The whole car fell silent, and a new wave of anxiety took over my body. Maybe this wasn't as good of an idea as I had first thought.

"You did what?" Kaden whispered back, his eyes squinted and his eyebrow raised.

"I killed my sister." I whispered a little louder, casting my eyes downward to avoid eye contact with the guy before me.

"You... You killed a person?" Kaden dragged out slowly, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Was your judge an idiot or something?This must be the joke of the century, right?"

I kept silent while Kaden, on the other hand, started to laugh again.

"They put you... A girl who started crying the moment I pushed you against a wall in a prison for killing a person?"

I gave him a small nod, and another set of laughs erupted from Kaden's mouth.

"You sure are a funny one, crying baby. But you didn't kill a person. You couldn't even kill an ant if I asked you with my gun against your head. What a fucking joke... Killing a person."

Jake tightened his arms around me, and he gave Kaden a stern glare.

"Shut the fuck up, leave her alone. It shouldn't even matter why she was there and why she is coming with us. This isn't your choice first of all, it's mine and I'm taking her with us! Deal with it!"

Kaden fell silent at that and with one last foul look he pushed past the people and took a seat next to Sam in the back, muttering something in the words of 'Unbelievable' and 'Idiot'.

Jessy on the other hand was a lot more enthusiastic about me, she immediately started to welcome me and tell me how she could use my help pretty badly at the moment, how she would show me around and how we would have lots of fun working together.

Dan, Lex, and Sam all kept silent, not knowing what to do with the whole situation. Bringing Jake back home was one thing, but bringing someone else with them was a whole other thing.

Jake softly started to whisper to me how there was nothing to be afraid of and that once we got home, he would make sure to give me some new clothes and a soft bed to sleep in. I could only softly nod at him.

I had no idea how long we drove in the car, but it felt like an eternity to me. The whole ride, everybody spoke about stuff I didn't understand, and all of them ignored me completely. Jake was the only person who said something once in a while, but even he had almost no attention for me.

The only thing that made me smile a little that whole ride was the fact that Lex had looked at me once while giving me a small smile. Just the fact that someone had actually noticed me had been enough for me to smile, even if it was just for two seconds.

I wasn't part of this group, and that feeling took me over more and more. I was a burden to them, and they didn't want me here. Jake had taken me out of spite, but not because he wanted to. I was alone in this, and I hated every last bit of it.

The car finally came to a hold, and within an instant, everybody except from me had jumped out of the car. I looked with big eyes at the exit of the car, not sure if I wanted to get out or not. Once I got out, there was no way back, and I was more than aware of that fact. Jake popped his head back in the car, and he reached out towards me.

"You coming? I promise you that nobody is gonna hurt you. There's nothing to be afraid of."

With some hesitation, I reached out towards Jake's hand, knowing that staying in the car by myself was also not an option. My whole body felt stiff and cold, I was shaking, and the color had drained from my face. I didn't like this one bit. With some difficulty, I got out of the car, still holding on to Jake's hand like my life depended on it.

"Welcome to our humble home." Jake whispered, and slowly, I looked up at the building before me.

To say I was shocked was an understatement. I had expected a lot, but this wasn't on my list of options. An abandoned warehouse that looked like it was going to collapse in the middle of nowhere was definitely not on my list of options. The building looked terrible. Twigs of ivy surrounded one side of the building, huge patches of rust affected the metal windows and walls, and the rooftop had multiple holes it in.

The whole building looked unsteady and ready to break down at any moment. If I had come across this building any other day, I would for sure have marked it as one of those abandoned haunted houses you see in horror movies. It looked that bad.

I kept shaking like a leaf, the sight in front of me making it even worse than it already was. The others didn't seem fazed at all, though. Lex and Kaden walked a little bit in front of us. Kaden's arm thrown over Lex's shoulder, while Sam walked next to them and kept chatting about something random I didn't quite understand.

Dan and Jessy were a bit closer to me. The two of them stood a little to my right, still bickering about the car ride. Dan was still not happy with the fact that Jessy almost crashed into a tree while Jessy kept going about the fact that Dan didn't need to treat her like a child and that she knew what she was doing.

Jake grabbed my hand, and we slowly made our way over to the bickering couple, grabbing their attention immediately. He slowly rubbed his thumb a little over my hand to calm me down. I gave him a soft smile in the meantime.

"Jessica?" Jake started. "Could you show Mc around while I fix some business with Dan?"

My anxiety grew even more with that statement. The only person I somewhat trusted in here was going to leave me, too, and I didn't like that thought at all.

"Will you be okay with that, Mc?" Jake spoke again, but before I could shake my head and disagree with the idea. Jessy had already grabbed my hand and started to drag me to the building.

"Make sure to keep an eye on her the whole time, Jessica! Bring her to your chamber when you're done with the tour! I will pick her up there after I'm done!" Jake yelled after us before the both of us would be out of sight.

I looked a little panicked at the girl next to me, not trusting the situation at all. With a wide smile on her face, she dragged me inside the building, following the other three others with a little skip in her step.

"First thing, let's get some food before we start with this tour. I'm sure you're hungry, right?" She gave me another smile, and she tightened her grip on my hand.

"I'm Jessy, by the way, but I guess you've figured that out by now. Jake calls me Jessica, though, but please call me Jessy. I don't know why he brought you here, but I'm happy that he did. I could use some help in the hospital wing."

My anxiety reduced a little at that statement. Jessy didn't seem that scary on second thought. She had a very motherly vibe around herself, and she didn't look like someone who would bring any harm to me. To say I trusted her was a bridge too far, but I wasn't as frightened anymore. Jessy looked like a happy and caring girl, a vibe I could connect with easily.

The inside of the building looked somewhat better than the outside. It didn't feel like a home or something, but it didn't look that bad either. It was cold and empty looking, but contrary to the outside, it didn't look like it was gonna fall apart at any moment. We walked through three long hallways before we reached two big double doors with a lot of noise coming from behind them.

"This is the canteen. The food isn't that good, to be honest, but it keeps us alive." Jessy opened the doors, and the sight before me frightened me completely. There were about one hundred people sitting in groups on long straight tables. It looked like the prison all over again, and that fact alone made me hate it completely.

"It gets a little crowded over here every once in a while. Feel free to come by our apartment if you ever want to eat something more delicate and in peace. We usually eat apart from the crowds, and you're welcome to join us anytime, okay?"

I nodded softly at the girl beside me, still in shock about the sight in front of me.

"Does everybody have an apartment?" I asked, still eyeing the room before my eyes. Jessy started to chuckle, closing the doors and walking further into the hallway.

"I bet they wished they had, but no. Only the people who are close to Jake have their own. The others share rooms in little groups on the opposite side of the building."

I jogged after Jessy to catch back up with her. If there was one thing I didn't want right now. It would be losing Jessy and getting lost in here. The girl kept walking while giving me little bits of information about the building and the rooms we passed on our way.

Information I tried to memorise as best as I could. Jessy took a left before she opened another door, motioning me to walk inside before her.

"Welcome to my ward." Her voice sounded from behind me. A soft smile fell on my face. In front of me was a small hospital wing filled with stuff I knew from my days as a nursing student. On the left side were around twenty beds, none of them occupied at the moment.

White blankets are neatly thrown over them and small nightstands between every two beds. Compared to the rest of the building, the room looked neat and clean, almost too clean. Without knowing there was no way, you would guess that the building would hold such a nice room inside of it.

Jessy walked a little inside the room, pushing away some curtains to show me the whole room properly. Her action revealed a small desk in the middle of the room with two huge metal lockers behind it.

"This is where I work if I'm not busy with the patients. One of the lockers holds all my paperwork while the other holds everything you could possibly need around here. Medicins, operation tools, you name it, and it's probably there."

Jessy removed another curtain, revealing a white wall with a small window in it and a door.

"May I introduce you to my operation room?" Jessy opened the door and motioned me to follow her inside. With small steps, I made my way over to her, stepping through the door while Jessy turned on the lights.

My eyes widened immediately at the sight, in front of me was, in fact, a small operation room. It's just big enough to do any kind of operation that didn't need too many people.

"I'm glad Jake took you with him, you know. I was dying to finally get some help around here." Jessy put her hand on my shoulder and walked back inside the bigger room.

"It gets a little lonely in here sometimes, but I'm sure that won't be much of a problem anymore now that there are two of us." A small smile fell on both of our faces. Jessy closed all the curtains back up, and with another motion of her hand, she took me back into the hallway.

Jessy showed me everything we came across on our path, telling little stories on the way about funny things that happened in certain places. It didn't take us long to reach the hallway filled with private rooms, as Jessy called them while she led me to her own. She opened the door for me, and a soft gasp left my mouth.

"Welcome to my and Dan's apartment. I hope you like it."

I could only look around myself, taking in the beauty before my eyes. Completely agreeing with the fact that I indeed liked it.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood family #duskwood fandom #jake x mc #mc and jake #duskwood fanfiction #everybyte studio

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madssaunders111 · 6 months

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The Acid Shower Trap and The Tightrope Trap (I made up my own traps because I’m weird as hell)

!Saw fic!

JUST AN FYI, THESE AREN’T ACTUAL TRAPS! I JUST CAME UP WITH THEM (THESE SHOULD BE IN SAW XI)

This fic takes place in the events after Saw X but before Saw III

Long ass backstory but it’ll be worth it

Content warnings: Mentions of drug use, mentions of death, torture, cursing (lots of it), mentions of reckless endangerment, usage of a weapon, threatening hostages, prank gone wrong, mentions of psychiatric help, mentions of suicide, mentions of vomiting (emetophobia)

Characters included: Amanda Young, Adam Stanheight (obviously, who else is going to take the pictures?) Mark Hoffman, Lawrence Gordon, Kelsey Marrow (my own character) Noel Marrow (my own character) Leo (my own character) Detective Nelson Danson (my own character) Noel’s friends (my own characters, Nicholas, Edwin, Joey and Toby)

Yes I made Kelsey and Noel siblings. We don’t ever see siblings in the saw franchise, and plus I cannot come up with my own names

Soft Amanda because why not. She’s also 21 years old

Synopsis: Two siblings: one man, one woman, two different traps, one a criminal, the other a reckless prankster. One escapable trap, the other rigged (I can imagine it being rigged, need another or more opinions on it)

Word count: 4.2K

~•~

Kelsey Marrow ran down the street clutching a duffel bag. The bag scraped against her as she ran into a deserted alleyway and jumped over a tall fence. The sound of police sirens rang in the street as multiple cars drove at once.

Her black heeled boots clicked on the cement as she ran farther away from the cops and into a bank. She put a bandana over her face and stormed in. She held a gun up and shouted.

“Nobody fucking move!” She then turned to the panicked tellers at the desk in front of her. “Give me the damn money or you’ll all have this place painted with your fucking brains! And I will not hesitate!” She shouted as she held the gun up to each of the bank tellers’ heads. The tellers panicked and shoved the money onto the counter and into her duffel. “I know you have more! Give it to me!” Kelsey shouted as she paced around the bank aiming her gun at random people in the building.

The alarm went off. She cursed, snatched the money, zipped up the bag and started to run.

“Damn it!” The police sirens became louder. She shot the gun up into the air and disappeared down a dark alley. She stopped and leaned over gasping for breath. Kelsey opened the bag and saw the multiple bundles of cash laying before her. “Oh baby, you’re going to be rich.” She muttered to herself.

She walked into a building where a tall man leaned against a table. He looked up at Kelsey. “Hey, Kelsey.” The man greeted.

“Hey, Leo. Guess who went big tonight.” She opened the bag and poured it onto the table. Leo picked up the bundles and his eyes widened.

“Holy shit Kelsey!” He exclaimed. “You got all of this just from the bank?”

“Nope, I stole from the jewelry store, and that strange bookshop where my mother goes.” Kelsey pawed through the wads of cash excitement in her eyes. “I even stole a little souvenir for you.” She fished out a ring and threw it in Leo’s direction. She then pulled a diamond necklace out of the bag and placed it on her neck.

“Oh, wow. It’s even in my style palette.” Leo fawned over the ring. He held his hand up under the fluorescent lights.

“See. I practically know everything about you.” Kelsey walked to the window and peeked out of it. “Sooner or later the cops will find us. One of us will be far out of town and the other will be rotting in a prison cell.”

Leo turned on the tv and the channel was set to the news. A male reporter was talking to the screen.

“We have a latest update on the Jigsaw murders. It seems although three bodies were found at a desolate warehouse in Mexico City, we have found four survivors, although one is in very critical condition.”

“Jesus.” Leo muttered. “Jigsaw back at it again?”

“Can’t be. Jigsaw’s dead.” Kelsey rotated and cracked her neck as she looked at the tv. On the screen to the left was a picture of John, a woman and a little boy. The boy and John was covered in blood while the woman, who had a bowlcut stood in between them, her arms wrapped around their shoulders.

Suddenly, the doors to the warehouse opened and multiple cops walked in holding their guns.

“Put your hands up where we can see them!” One of the male officers ordered.

Kelsey and Leo turned to face the officers with confident smirks on their faces. Their hands rose up high. A man wearing a black suit with a badge near his heart walked over.

“Holy hell, Kelsey Marrow.”

“Detective Assface Danson.” Kelsey twitted.

~•~

Meanwhile, in the interrogation room, Kelsey kept her arms crossed and her eyes low but maintaining eye contact with Detective Danson.

“Well, well. Never thought I’d see Kelsey Marrow in here yet again.” Detective Nelson Danson set a file down on the table and leaned against the wall. He threw his hands up in defeat. “So, Kelsey, why are you back here?”

“I think you damn well why I’m back here Assface!” Kelsey snarled.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Officer Danson asked. “Especially since I’m an officer of the law.”

“Whatever.” Kelsey sighed before slouching down in the chair. Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. “And you’re a detective. That’s a downgrade if you ask me.”

“Look, I don’t ever see Noel in here, just you. What the hell is just going on?” Nelson asked as he sat down in front of Kelsey.

“Yeah, Noel changed! I haven’t!” Kelsey slammed her fists down on the long white table. “Besides, he only does pranks now.”

“Yeah, pranks that have killed people.” Detective Danson reached into a cupboard and pulled out another file. He opened it on the table. “See? Your brother is not innocent but he knows how to play the game.”

Kelsey scoffed.

“Oh please.” She said. “I’m better at him for sure.”

Detective Danson leaned closer. His eyes narrowed as he spoke.

“Then why are you here for the third time this week Kelsey?” He then backed away taking the files and putting them back in their designated spots on the cupboard. “Teens and even adults with wild criminal records like yours wind up in prison, juvie or hell, even receive the death sentence, punishable by law.”

“Oh please. You wouldn’t kill me.” Kelsey crossed her arms and leaned back. “You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself.”

“Well lucky for you.” Detective Danson let out a tsk sound. “If it comes to it, I wouldn’t be performing the deed. That would be up to the prison warden.”

Suddenly an officer ran in. His face reflected panic and sheer fear. “Danson.” He shouted.

“Yeah?”

“There’s multiple bodies down at Erie University.” The officer then ran out of the room.

“Son of a bitch.” Danson muttered. “Alright, I’m on my way.”

As Danson leaves, another officer; Officer Leroy walks into the interrogation room and shuts the door.

~•~

As Detective Danson and other officers arrive at the Erie University campus, multiple police cars surrounded one of the many frat houses.

Parts of the house were burnt and crumbled. Coroners loaded many bodies out of the house, bodies that were severely burnt.

“Well, things have changed since I’ve been here.” Danson muttered.

“You used to go here boss?” Officer Leroy asked.

“Yes. I was known as the Ted Danson of the university.” Danson flicked open a notepad and walked towards the scene.

“Because you were oh so handsome?”

“No, well yeah, but because I looked exactly like him.” Danson smirked. “Oh man, the girls in the Phi Gamma sorority house were in love with me.”

Another detective lifted up the crime scene tape for Danson and Leroy to walk through.

“James! What the fuck is going on?” Danson asked.

“Multiple bodies, severely burnt, and obviously dead.” Detective James stated as more bodies continued being wheeled out in body bags.

“We did manage to see security camera footage. Multiple teenage boys holding fireworks, firecrackers, you name it.” James held a tape and placed it in Danson’s hands.

“Excellent! Excellent work James!” Danson praised as he and Leroy walked into the sorority house.

“Oh yeah, the Phi Gamma sorority house. This was where the love of my life pledged.” Danson walked around the burnt house.

“You had a girlfriend boss?” Leroy followed behind him.

“She was more of a crush, but we did go out a few times.”

“What was her name?”

“Jane Horditch. Man, she was beautiful.” Danson saw a picture frame of multiple women posing in front of the house wearing bunny costumes.

“What happened to her?” Leroy asked as he looked at the picture as well.

“She was killed. A majority of the girls in this house were killed in a slashing.” Danson explained. “And those who did survive were either in a facility, or couldn’t take it and ended their lives.”

“Like, killed themselves?”

“Yep.” Danson continued looking at the picture.

“Was Jane in this picture?”

“Yes. She was right there.” He pointed a blonde girl in the middle of the group.

“Wow, she was gorgeous.” Leroy fawned.

“Well she’s dead. And the killer was eventually caught and given the death sentence so that gave me some closure at least.” Danson out the picture down on the burnt table and walked out of the house. “I think we have everything we need for this case.”

~•~

Noel Marrow and his friends were running on the road laughing and throwing firecrackers everywhere.

“Dude, I could get used to this. Hanging out, fucking around.” Noel laughed.

“Definitely.” One of his best friends, and frat house member, Nicholas said as he threw a firecracker directly over Noel’s head while laughing.

The group of five stopped in front of the Phi Gamma sorority house crime scene. Their faces paled.

“Shit, look what we did.” Another frat member, and friend, Joey said as a piece of the house tumbled down onto the cement with an echoing thump.

“Joe, man, relax. No one knows we did it.” Noel flaunted as he continued throwing firecrackers.

“Guys, I don’t like this.” Toby, another one of the boys said as he ran a hand up and down his arm nervously.

“Toby, man, relax, breathe.” Nicholas placed his hand on Tony’s arm. “You’re okay, besides you’re not holding firecrackers so you’re okay.”

“Oh shit, there’s a cop coming out way.” Another of the boys, Edwin, said as Detective Danson walked over.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Nolan Marrow.” Danson crossed his arms.

“Well, well, if it isn’t knockoff Ted Danson.” Noel gave back the same attitude and crossed his arms as well.

“I would like to ask you some boys some questions, if that’s alright.” Danson observed the firecrackers in the boys’ arms.

Toby let out a quiet whimper earning a dirty look from Noel. Noel then cleared his throat. “All jokes aside, what can we do for you Detective Danson?”

“I have reason to believe that you boys were involved in the murders of multiple sorority girls at the Phi Gamma house tonight.”

“Sir, I-I would like to say t-that, I wasn’t even there.” Toby stuttered. “I was in my dorm working on my English project.” Toby bit his nails nervously.

Danson glanced at the very nervous Toby. “What’s your name son?”

“T-Toby sir.” Toby replied.

“Well, Toby, perhaps I can speak to you first?”

“S-sure Sir.” Toby followed Danson to a tree. He looked up at the detective nervously.

“Look, son, I know how college works, especially frat boys. They like to manipulate innocent people into doing sorority and frat pranks, and hurt others.” Danson began. “I just want to know if they’re doing the same to you.”

“W-will I be in trouble?” Toby stuttered.

“You won’t, but if you’re hiding something, or you’re involved in the death of those multiple sorority girls, then you could.” Danson tapped his pen against the notepad.

“I used to be a straight A student before I met them. They said I can be popular and respected.” Toby pushed up his falling glasses. “But now, I can never do my work because Noel and his friends are always dragging me to frat parties and making me into a bad boy.”

“Toby, have they ever physically harmed you, or threatened to harm you if you didn’t comply by their rules?” Danson asked.

Toby glanced at the others before nodding quickly. His cheeks turned red and tears welled in his eyes. Danson noticed right away.

“Hey, hey Toby.” Danson placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look, you’re not in trouble. I just want you to answer this one question and I can send an escort with you back to your dorm okay?”

Toby nodded.

“Did you know any of the girls personally?”

“No. But I did see a few in my classes.”

“And you never talked to any of them?”

“No. I’m too shy to talk to anyone.”

“Okay. Thank you Toby.” Danson held his wallow talkie to his mouth.

Meanwhile, the other boys were watching.

“Shit, I wonder what’s going to happen to little Toby.” Joey commented as another officer walked over.

“Probably cracking as we speak.” Edwin shook his head. “I knew he’s too weak.”

“Hey! You don’t talk about my damn brother like that!” Nicholas whacked Edwin on the shoulder.

“Dude chill.” Edwin held up his hands. Nicholas took a deep breath and saw an officer place their hands on Toby. He ran over to the cop.

“Hey! What are you doing with my brother?” Nicholas asked.

“Just taking him back to his dorm. Danson’s orders.” The officer replied as he and Toby walked away.

Nicholas exhaled a sigh and walked back to his friends.

“So, what’s happening?” Noel asked.

“He’s going back to his dorm. Poor fella.” Nicholas ran his hand through his hair. Danson walked over.

“Let’s go to the station so I can interview you each individually.” Danson led to the group to two different squad cars and drove to the station.

~•~

Kelsey sat in the interrogation room bored. Her feet were up on the table.

“When can I leave?” She shouted at the cop who was watching her across the table.

“As soon as Danson gives me the heads up.” The officer replied. Kelsey groaned and leaned back on her chair.

She looked around the white nearly empty room dwindling her fingers on the desk.

The door opened and Danson walked in. “We have four boys here who might’ve been involved in the Phi Gamma homicide.”

“Bring them in.” The officer then turned to Kelsey. “You and Mr. Smith can leave.” He was referring to Leo.

“Great.” Kelsey walked down the hall until she spotted Leo walking out of another interrogation room.

“They let you go too?” She asked.

“Yeah. They said I was only aiding and abetting which wasn’t as bad as committing the crime itself.”

“Well, Danson found the suspects for a homicide at the Erie University Phi Gamma sorority house.”

Leo let out a whistle through his lips. “Shit, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah. Apparently multiple bodies were found, severely burnt and dead.”

As Kelsey and Leo were talking, the power suddenly goes out all over the station.

“What the hell?” Kelsey asked. Suddenly she and Leo felt pricks in their necks and fell unconscious.

~•~

Nicholas, Edwin, Noel and Joey felt pricks in their necks and also fell unconscious onto the interrogation room floor.

~•~

At the dorm, Toby was doing homework until the room grew pitch black.

“Hello?” Toby asked nervously as he walked around the dark room with his hands out. He felt plastic in front of him.

The plastic of a mask.

“Hello?” Toby asked again before falling unconscious.

~•~

A few minutes later, Noel woke up in a minuscule glass shower with multiple spouts. He laid on the uncomfortable shower floor.

“Mm?” He groaned as he opened his eyes. He saw the shower and panicked. In front of him, he saw Nicholas, Edwin, Joey, and even Toby tied in chairs in front of him.

“What the fuck is this?” Noel shouted.

“Why is Toby here?” Nicholas asked. “He didn’t do anything!”

As the group shouted in panic, a door opened and a woman with brown hair, wearing a red shirt, cargo pants, and black boots walked over to the group.

“Hello gentlemen.” The woman, Amanda, greeted.

“Who the fuck are you?” Noel shouted from the open shower. He noticed a monitor inside the shower. Kelsey and Leo were on it unconscious still. “What is my sister doing there?”

“Well, I’m Amanda.” She adjusted her hair. “And this is your punishment.” Her tone turned dark. “I knew you were responsible for the Phi Gamma homicide. My associate and close friend Adam caught you all.” She then turned to Noel. “Your sister’s also facing her own test. A punishment for her actions.”

Adam Stanheight walked in holding his camera and pointed to the photos surrounding the walls of the room.

Amanda walked over to Toby and crouched in front of him. Toby whimpered in fear. “Don’t be afraid.” She whispered. “I know you’re too much of an innocent boy to do this. That’s why you’re not in the pictures.” Amanda then stood up and faced the boys.

“Do we all die?” Joey asked.

“Not all of you.” Amanda smirked. “But let’s find out.” She flipped a switch and she and Adam left the room. The tape recorder on the wall beside Toby activated.

“Hello gentlemen.” The unsettling voice of John Kramer, The Jigsaw Killer, echoed through the recorder. “The reason why you’re here is because you have used your reckless personalities and took them too far, resulting in the deaths of innocent people, especially the Phi Gamma homicide at Erie University where you all attend. As well as the deaths of your reputations. However I do know that one of you is innocent, and we all know who it is.” Everyone glared at Toby. “But, let’s just say, Noel, you would be cleansed of your sins, but have constant reminders. If you can manage to confess to your sins before the timer is up, then you and your friends can be free. If you don’t, well, sin will catch up and you will be no more. Live or die, make your choice.”

The shower spouts activated one at a time and water splashed down on Noel. “What the hell?” He asked.

Suddenly the water changed and his skin started to burn. “Oh fuck!” He shouted.

“It’s acid!” Toby shouted. “Hydrochloric acid! That stuff eats through human flesh in seconds!”

“Fuck!” Noel shouted. His skin started showing red splotches.

“Confess! You have to confess!” Edwin shouted.

~•~

Kelsey woke up in a dark room on top of a high platform. She groaned as she regained consciousness “What the fuck is this?” She shouted in the dark space.

“Kelsey? Is that you?” Leo shouted.

“Leo?! You’re here too?”

“Yeah! It’s dark in here! I can’t see or move!” Leo whimpered as the lights suddenly turned on.

Kelsey had a collar on her head with a wire that connected around her head. In front of her was a thin tightrope.

Leo sat on the other side of the tightrope tied to a chair with multiple bits of barbed wire around him.

A recording turned on, once again John Kramer’s voice echoing.

“Hello, Kelsey. In front of you is a tightrope. Like all circus performers, you must cross it under the time limit or else your associate will perish. If you fall, the rope around your neck will tighten. The rope is incredibly thin, so this challenge will be harder. But back to to the subject, you’re here because of your history of breaking the law. Your associate has never committed any crimes himself, except help you, which by definition of law, is called aiding and abetting. You’re guilty of many things Kelsey Marrow.” The recording paused. “If you look at the monitor to your right, you will see your brother Noel Marrow and his friends in a challenge of their own. Noel’s history of pranks and negligence has led him here, you two are not innocent as people has perceived you to be. Now, Kelsey, you will have sixty seconds to cross this long tightrope or else you and your associate will be left here to rot. Live or die, make your choice.”

The recording ended and a timer ticked down.

“This is insane.” Kelsey stepped onto the rope and her body started tipping to the left.

“Even out your body weight Kelsey!” Leo shouted.

“That’s what I’m fucking doing!” Kelsey shouted as she leaned forward, with her arms out wide to her sides.

The timer ticks echoed through the room increasing the tension.

“Leo, oh my God!” Kelsey walked a bit more down the rope. The rope creaked and bounced under her weight. “I can’t do this!”

“Kelsey, yes you can. You used to pretend to do this all the time!” Leo wriggled in the chair. The barbed wire pierced deeper into his skin. “Don’t go fast, but also hurry!”

As Kelsey walked faster on the tightrope, her feet slipped and she fell. Her hands gripped onto the rope and her body was suspended above the floor.

“Use your muscles to hold yourself up!” Leo shouted. “Come on Kelsey! Use your damn muscles!” The timer then ticked down to 30 seconds.

“Oh fuck!” Kelsey finally made it onto the rope and took a deep breath. “Fuck this!” She started to run.

Her feet slipped and she fell off the rope. Her hands didn’t grip the rope in time, and the rope around her neck tightened snapping it.

The timer ticked down and her body limped.

“Oh my God, Kelsey!” Leo sobbed as the timer ended and an alarm echoed. The wire twisted around his body crumbling the skin and bones.

~•~

In the shower room, Noel screamed as bits of his flesh peeled off and onto the shower floor. He also heard the sound of a neck snapping on the monitor. “Oh God, Kelsey!” He shouted and sobbed. His sister was dead, as well as Leo.

“Fuck, Noel! Confess damnit!” Joey shouted.

“I did it. My friends and I, minus Toby, killed the girls of the Phi Gamma sorority house! It was us!” Noel shouted as he started to sob. “We also did stupid shit! I killed an innocent guy in a recent hit and run. I was drunk, please! Turn the shower off!”

The spouts turned off. Noel looked down at his body and sank down to the shower floor. His intenstines were all over the floor and blood was everywhere.

“Fuck! Noel’s dead!” Nicholas shouted.

Toby started sobbing and covered his eyes.

Edwin and Joey cursed and screamed. The doors opened and Amanda walked back in with two men. “Congratulations. You’ve confessed, but unfortunately Noel wasn’t so lucky. Kelsey and Leo weren’t either.”

The men, and Amanda, walked over to the boys and untied them. “Have you learned your lesson?” The brunette man, Mark, asked.

The boys nodded quickly.

“Y-yes.” They all said.

“Good.” Mark said in a Greek accent. “If you ever do anything like this again, you won’t like the outcome.”

The blonde, Lawrence, walked over to Toby and wiped his soaked tear-stained glasses.

Toby stood and shakily walked to a wall and leaned against it. He leaned down and vomited onto the floor as he sobbed.

“Toby!” Nicholas shouted as he ran to his brother.

Amanda ran over and held Toby up. “Hey. Here, I’ll handle him okay?” She faced Nicholas and then to Toby. “I got you.” She whispered in his ear.

~•~

She led Toby to a private room and sat him down on a bench. Toby’s head hung down as his glasses swooped off his nose.

“Hey, Toby.” Amanda placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, Amanda?” Toby muttered.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” Toby started sobbing. “I witnessed a man die and I snitched on my brother and friends to a cop!” He started blubbering and stuttering. “I-I’m the w-worst brother ever!”

Amanda crouched down and held a wipe to Toby’s mouth and wiped him clean. “You’re okay Toby. You’re okay.” Amanda kissed his head and held him tightly.

“I-I cracked under the pressure.” Toby’s shaky hands reached up to his glasses.

“It’s okay, Toby.” Amanda hugged him again. “I’ll take you back to your dorm, okay? You’ll just have to show me where it is.”

~•~

The detectives ran into the warehouse and entered the tightrope room first. They saw Kelsey’s hanging body and Leo’s bloodied body on the chair.

“Jesus.” Danson muttered as the detectives took pictures around the room.

As he paced around, Leroy ran in. “Danson, there’s another body in the next room.”

“Son of a bitch!” Danson cursed under his breath as he walked into the other room where the acid shower was. He walked over to the open shower and took pictures of Noel’s body. “Shit.”

Other detectives walked in and observed the scene. “This has to be a jigsaw crime, Danson.”

“Jigsaw is dead!” Danson slapped his sides. “This has to be something else!”

~•~

Nicholas, Edwin and Joey were sitting in an interrogation room. “Do you think Toby’s okay?” Nicholas asked.

“Yeah. Besides, that hottie Amanda is taking care of him.” Joey smirked.

“You guys are fucking weird.” Nicholas snarled as the door opened revealing three cops.

“You guys are under arrest for the murders of Cassie, Ashley, Constance, Alesia’s and Layla Malone.” The cop said as they tied handcuffs around each of the boys’ wrists.

#saw #saw trap #shitty saw traps #trap #tightrope #acid shower #acid #tightropetrap #acidshowertrap

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peachmuses · 1 year

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@sociieties asked: this is worse than the time he was lost in america — running from cops and sirens and all the chaos jyugo left behind when he broke out of another prison. hiding is easy / making himself small and vanishing into tight corners people don’t bother looking into, then something happens and he has to run again. ( he’s just glad that here, at least there’s no guns / no dogs. ) a heavy hunger falls over him as he leaves another hiding spot, walking out after checking to see if the coast was clear. save for the few lingering citizens, it was, but a mild recognition causes him to wander over to a group of four. “ …. hey—”

they've just gotten done eating -- and are walking out of red lobster, when the group is approached, by someone foreign. it's silent for a moment as the other speaks and everyone looks at each other - and then at shuuzou / who has a dawning look of recognition on his face. " jyugo ? " a pause as he feels the rest of pandora's box side-eye him for a moment. shuuzou ignores them, stepping away from kazuya to look over his friend. " man what are you doing in japan ? " he's walking around him now, " did you escape prison again ? " another question as gaze, critical roams over his friend to check his condition. tatsuya's head tilts, " you -- look familiar. do i know you ? " shuuzou waves off tatsuya, " this is jyugo, everyone. a friend from america. " " a friend or a friend ? " tatsuya asks cheekily, and shuuzou's rolling his eyes. " a friend, tatsu. " attention back on jyugo, as he all but ignores makoto and kazuya that steps next to him, " okay so you know me, and that's kazuya, and that's makoto, and the asshole over there that was asking questions, is tatsuya. have you been eating, you still look thin as a bone. " attention moves towards the rest of his circle, " i met jyugo in la. he broke into ma's car once to sleep. " " you adopted him. " tatsuya says. " i did not. "

#sociieties #sociieties: jyugo #character ⸺ shuuzou.#character ⸺ himuro.#verse ⸺ mysz alt.

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sleepless-nightmarez · 2 years

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Lucky One.

This isn't your typical food or lifestyle blog. it's a bit eerie and uncommon. It's not real life but real dreams I've unfortunately have seen in my sleep.

Enjoy my twisted dreams

Sirens blaring in the distance but near enough to hurt my ears. I'm in a dizzy haze but open my eyes and try to lift my head anyway. It seemed like I was moving in slow motion, because when I got a clear shot of what I was seeing at, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I stumbled down a metal framed hallway with red flashing lights. The woman with a gas mask as a mouth and a scalped head running towards me. Screaming at me not to get away. I dodged every low ceiling pipe that could slow me down. It felt as I was in a fun house, every room was different. Almost like a maze. I had to use fast thinking to stay alive. She's getting closer, I hear her stomping through the fun house.

I'm stuck in one room. 'What the fuck?? dead end? should I go back? Have I missed the exit?' My anxiety is making me shake. 'God, my back hurts too,' I thought to myself. I put my hands on my lower back to crack it. Both of my hands are red when I returned them. Bloody red. I turn to a mirrored wall to see an axe on my back. 'No wonder why my back hurts'

The woman busted in the same room I was. I ripped out the axe off my back, I raised it above my head. Ready to slice her body in half. She ran towards me. I held my breathe as a long pair of poisonous nails pierced through her hands. I stepped into her and sliced her stomach out, I repeated with motion a few times until I seen that I was safe. She slashed my arms with her nails sometime in between the attack. I need stuck all of the poison out before I die. As painful as it was, it needed to be done. I lost so much blood I began to feel weary. I look down at both of my arms to see how bad the damage was. They were deep, I knew I would need stitches.

Was she dead? Was she playing dead? I wanted to know but I didn't want waste any more time in this fucking fun house anymore. I turned around and went to the front of house. Turns out there was only one door. What if I didn't think to go back through the house? Who know what could have happened to me. I walked out the front door and flagged a car down. The kind mother of 2 dropped me to the ER. I got over 100 stitches, including my back.

I went to the cops with my bizarre story. Their faces dropped and lit up. The woman I just killed had been missing for nearly 5 years. "Who is she?" I asked "She escaped from a underground mental hospital and asylum. She killed the kids she was babysitting for and then the parents when they came home from date night. She began to hear voices in her head so she scalped her own head. Rumors said she had been possessed, and the demon in her would kill their victims with their nails." the officer explained. I guess the rumors were true. 'How does that explain having the gas mask sewed to her mouth?', I asked " She also did that to myself it's to keep the demon inside" He said back.

I went back to fun house with the cops so They could start their investigation and put an end to the missing prisoner. A few days later, The police revealed that she put cameras around the fun house she took over to live in after the carnival abandoned some of their attractions. She video taped every single murder and edited them into her personal horror movies. Almost 5 years and 42 victims later. There was 6 movie in total and one unfinished. I was the lucky one.

#horror #short story #dark writing #red light #nightmare #creepy #axe throwing #fun house #escape #lucky ones #lucky7 #home movies #horror movies #personal

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scarlets-soldier · 2 years

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Wanted Dead or Alive Chapter Two

Part one here

Second chapter is here! It ends kinda abruptly because I wasn’t planning on ending it then but it seemed like a good ending. It ends on more of a cliff hanger than chapter one

Summary: Bucky and Wanda flee to escape the authorities. Wanda begins to learn more about Bucky and his past

Word count: 1002

Warnings: dark!Bucky, dark!Wanda (she will get more dark in later chapters), murder, unhealthy relationship, Bucky starts to become a little abusive and manipulative in this chapter

Wanda wakes up to Bucky furiously packing. She rolls over, grabs his wrist as he’s shoving shirts into a duffel bag.

“What are you doing?” She asks, “You’re not… You’re not leaving me, are you?”

“No!” Bucky crawls onto the bed and cups Wanda’s cheek, “No of course not, but baby, they know.”

“Who?”

“The cops, they know it was us,” Bucky goes back to packing, “We have to go. If we stay they’ll catch us.”

“Where are we supposed to go?”

“Out of state, we’ll get new IDs, lay low until the heat dies down.”

Wanda wonders if this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

She sits up and sees a suitcase at the end of the bed. She looks around the room, it’s almost bare. The closet doors are thrown open and the hangars are empty. Everything, Wanda’s books, her picture albums, DVDs, everything’s gone.

“I packed your stuff while you were asleep, I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Yeah,” Wanda whispers, “It’s okay.”

“I have a car outside, you don’t have to think about it, just get in the car and I’ll drive. We’re not gonna stop for anyone.”

“Your car?” Wanda asks. Bucky’s car isn’t exactly noticeable, but it isn’t exactly inconspicuous either. Not many civilians own bulky SUVs with bulletproof glass. “Can’t they track your license plate?” Wanda’s grateful for all the episodes of Criminal Minds Pietro made her watch. Bucky’s taking charge but she’s not completely useless.

“We’re not taking my car. We’re taking a different one. It’s not registered in my name.”

“Whose it registered to?”

“Steve Rogers.”

The name is familiar to her. She concentrates for a moment and blond hair and blue eyes come into her mind, along with broad shoulders and the police badge he wears on his chest.

“The chief of police?” Wanda asks, “Why the hell did you steal the chief of police’s car if we’re supposed to lay low?!”

“I didn’t steal it,” Bucky zips his duffel bag, “I’m borrowing it.”

“Bucky!” Wanda feels hysterical now. She doesn’t want to go to prison. “You can’t just steal the chief of police’s car and expect us to just drive away in it! I can’t go to prison! I can’t! They’ll eat me alive, I’ll probably get deported and Sokovian prisons are even worse than here!”

“Wanda!” Bucky rushes over and grabs Wanda’s wrists tight, “Will you just shut your fucking mouth? I didn’t steal his car, he’s letting me borrow it. He’s my friend and he’s covering for us. Stop freaking out, you’ll get us caught if you can’t calm down.” Wanda nods and Bucky lets her go. She pulls her hands to her chest, rubbing the red marks on her wrists that are already starting to bruise. Bucky sighs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you. Are you okay?” Wanda nods again. “Good. Let’s go, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Wanda lets Bucky lead her to a car she’s never seen before. The windows are tinted but Bucky still tugs a ballcap on over his hair. Wanda gulps and tugs her hood over her head. They pull out of the parking lot and Wanda doesn’t know what she was expecting. Bucky doesn’t panic, he doesn’t speed down the road, taking sharp turns and constantly checking behind him. He drives… normal. A little over the speed limit but not enough to get pulled over, he signals every turn and lane change they make. Wanda really thinks he’s done this before.

They drive past a cop car and Wanda gasps and starts moving her seat. She tries to duck down, then to turn and look if they’d seen her, if they’re turning around and putting their siren on. Bucky grabs her arm and pulls her back normal in her seat.

“I thought you trusted me,” He grunts, “Stay still.”

Wanda does her best, but she still can’t help but sink down in her seat every time it feels like someone is looking at them.

They drive for a long time, and the further they get out of the city, the more relaxed Wanda gets. She’s surprised when she jerks awake to the car coming to a sudden stop. She gasps and sits up, thinking the worst. Bucky glances at her with an amused expression.

“Well, good afternoon Sleeping Beauty,” He says, “Relax, we’re just getting gas. You want anything from the convenience store?”

Wanda shakes her head. Bucky nods and gets out of the car. Wanda’s more nervous to be stopping. Even if they’re far away from the city, Bucky is still recognizable. His metal arm stands out like a sore thumb. It certainly doesn’t help that he tends to stand a head taller than most men. Add to that Wanda and “murdering couple traveling alone” becomes a flashing sign above their heads.

A car pulls up to the pump beside them and a man gets out of the car. He looks over and Wanda thinks for a moment that he sees her and recognizes her. He’s not familiar to her, but she doesn’t know if the police have plastered her and Bucky’s faces on the news. She doesn’t know how many people are looking for them. He’s still looking over and Wanda panics. She takes out her phone and searches news sites. She’s looking for any mention of her and Bucky or the man they murdered. No, not them. The man she murdered. She clicks a link and is bombarded with her face. It’s a picture of her and Bucky, one she posted on her Instagram days before Pietro was killed. She reads the article. Her brain catches on certain sentences. Sentences like “Refugee from Sokovia” and “Presumed to be on the run” and “Police are looking for anyone with information,” but what sticks out most is “James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes, aliases The Winter Soldier, Jim Barnes, and White Wolf.”

Aliases?

Why does Bucky have aliases?

Who did Wanda fall in love with?

#wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x wanda maximoff #winterwitch #dark!bucky barnes #dark!wanda maximoff

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captains-simp · 3 years

Note

Alrighty, my friend, whenever you get the chance, I would like a HeroxVillian AU with Carol, where somehow the reader ends up a villain and Carol is hesitant to fight them. Trying to reason with them. With the prompt(s) 3. “It wasn’t meant to go like this,” and 6. “You can't fix this,”

Obviously, I don’t want to rush you, so take all the time you need my love. 💜💜

Ilovethis ilovethis ilovethis. I'm getting some major FATWS vibes here. Thank you for being so patient with me, I hope it's as good as you deserve

Alexa, play Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley

"It wasn't meant to go like this."

"You can't fix this."

Warnings: corrupt reader and violence

2k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You remember the day you took the super soldier serum better than any other. It had changed you in more ways than one. It had changed your world view. It had changed the relationships that had taken years to build.

Carol was in danger. She had been hurt, rendered powerless. Someone had shot her with a specialised bullet made just for her to temporarily disable the hero's powers. You had been terrified you were going to loose her.

Fortunately, the same people who had made the bullet had been working on a super soldier serum. You were meant to take it back to the lab. It was meant to be destroyed. But you had no powers prior and in that moment you knew the only way you could save the love of your life was by taking that serum.

You had gotten Carol back safely just in time for the side effects of the serum to kick in. It wasn't completed and it sure as hell wasn't safe. You had spent weeks in the medical ward in the tower, right next to Carol.

You did a good job with your newfound powers at first. As soon as you were able to fight again you did just that, better than you ever had in your life. The lives you saved doubled maybe even tripled. You could go on more dangerous missions and fight worse people. You thrived off of your powers, eager to do anything and everything you could to help.

Everyone became so blinded by your eagerness no one ever stopped to think about what else it would do to you. It wasn't like you had ever shown any signs of what was to come.

After a while, it slowly began to twist your world view. Carol picked up on that. Your silent and suppressed nature troubled her. Deeply. She never knew exactly what it was you were thinking. She never understood the things you convinced yourself.

Eventually it was something that couldn't be contained to just some in the moment thoughts. You wanted to accomplish all of the things you wished were real.

As an Avenger you had seen the injustice in the world. It wasn't new. But when the power went to your head you convinced yourself you could change things. For the better. Get rid of all the dirty cops, corrupt judges, sadistic governments. You thought you could change it all. What you never understood was that there were limits.

Changes like that couldn't happen over night. They shouldn't. The world wouldn't be able to adjust fast enough. You never considered the effort it would take to rebuild, because that wasn't your role.

You managed to talk to people who believed the same things you did. People who wanted to put the world right. Your convosations were limited to online and the times you knew you wouldn't be discovered. Then it was rare meetings. Then covert operations. But those things didn't make a difference. You needed to do more. However you couldn't do that while you were an Avenger. They wouldn't understand you. They would try to stop you. So you left.

You loved Carol. That was the hardest thing about leaving. You never wanted to hurt her, only protect her. You convinced yourself that was the ultimate way to protect her, to do what you needed to.

That night you held her close to you as she slept. She knew something was wrong because of that. In growing distant it was a rare act of affection that you had always felt for her and always would. She asked you to talk to her, begged you to tell her what had been consuming every inch of your mind. You never did. You held her until you were certain she was asleep, then you held her some more.

Then you left and never returned. The next time she saw you was on the news. You had broken wrong convicted inmates out of prison. You and a large group. It was the first of many attacks.

Every single one she missed. So did the Avengers. Everything was planned so precisely your operations were done and you were long gone by the time the Avengers showed up. It was hard to catch someone who knew how they worked.

Carol always told herself she would be able to talk you out of it, even when the attacks got worse. Things progressed rapidly and the whole world was there to watch it.

Buildings were set aflame and destroyed. The people you wanted gone from the world were killed without mercy or trial. You assigned yourself the role of judge, jury and executioner with no one stopping you. The group you worked closely with encouraged it all, respected it. Even when innocent people got hurt.

Without even knowing it, you became one of the people you had once sworn to protect the world from.

By the time Carol finally found you it was too late. You weren't the person she once knew. And yet Carol still looked in your eyes and saw the woman she loved, even if no one else recognised you.

Your final operation had been an overall success, but your escape had been delayed. Hence bringing you face to face with Captain Marvel herself.

"Y/n." She whispered, calling to you like an abandoned puppy. You narrowed your eyes at Carol, knowing she wasn't just going to let you go and say 'keep up the good work'. No. You would have to fight your way out.

There was a few feet between you. You were in a now abandoned warehouse alone, only the distant sound of sirens somewhere else, chasing down anyone from your group that remained.

"This isn't you." Carol continued. You still didn't speak. "Please y/n, people are getting hurt."

"Only what's necessary." You finally said, eyes flicking to to the doors behind Carol.

"Innocent people." Carol pleaded, her eyes widening. She may have been in her suit, but Carol didn't show any signs of fighting you anytime soon. Her stance wasn't defensive, it was cautious.

"I need you to get out of my way." You had never wanted to say something in such a cold tone to Carol. You still loved her, she just didn't understand.

"The others wanted to take a different approach to this...to you. Just corporate and and I'll make everything okay." So they wanted you dead, you guessed it would get to that point eventually.

"You can't fix this." You said defiantly. Did Carol really expect people to eventually welcome you back with open arms?

"I'm not going to give up on you. Ever."

"Get out of my way." You said firmly, not wanting to continue the convosation any longer.

"I don't want to fight you." Carol protested, still not becoming defensive. Her voice sounded like it was on the verge of breaking, you tried to ignore that. It was hard.

You took a testing step forward. Still nothing from Carol.

"Please don't make me." She pleaded.

"I'm not making you do anything. Let me walk away."

"You know I can't do that."

You decided you wouldn't wait around any longer, every moment you talked to Carol pulled on your heart strings. You couldn't let that weaken you.

You ran at Carol and jumped into the air a couple of meters to drive yourself down. Carol caught your attempted attack and pushed you back firmly, still giving you a hopeful look.

"Stop." She attempted, but you came back at her from another angle to try and swipe her off her feet which she was able to dodge swiftly.

"Get out of my way." You grunted, quickly growing frustrated.

"I can't." You ran directly on this time and delivered several short and powerful blows that Carol struggled to avoid. You kept going, trying punch after punch after every short range attack Natasha had taught you that was driving Carol back towards the door.

"Stop!" She tried again, sounding more desperate this time. Even when your attacks came dangerously close to being successful Carol refused to use her powers. You could handle them to some extent, the serum could tolerate some of it's force. But Carol refused to do it.

You finally landed a kick to her stomach that made her stumble back a few paces. You pushed aside the feeling of guilt and instead made a break for the door, using every bit of self control you had not to look back at those brown eyes.

Carol had been dazed and didn't realise until you were too close to the exit. She could have stopped you if she used her powers. It would have been efficient and easy. You thought she did.

An indescribable feeling of pain shot up through your back for a mere second but was enough to make you fall straight to the floor. Your back stung as though you had been attacked by a sworm of bees and made your whole body feel suddenly very fragile, like it was only made of thin needles. Your whole body was shaking as you tried to comprehend what had happened.

Carol's powers didn't do that. You knew something else that did.

Natasha? Had you just been on the recieving end of a widow bite? You could faintly hear steady footsteps approaching you that made you sure you were right.

You breathed in deeply and tried to get to your feet, reminding yourself exactly what would happen of you were caught.

I will not be put in a cage. You hissed internally.

You were barely on your knees when you gave a strangled cry at the feeling returning with more power. You fell down onto your stomach again and tried to reach around to get the device off but you were faced with the terrifying realisation that you couldn't move. Natasha had told you all about that widow bite. It meant she had used the highest setting on you. It would have killed anyone who didn't have that super soldier serum.

"Stop!" Carol shouted again, except this time it clearly wasn't at you. "That's enough."

The blonde kneeled down at your side and instantly brought you close to her, cradling your head in her lap as she combed her soft fingers through your hair in the comforting way you remembered so clearly and missed. A tear finally fell down her cheek as she watched you gasping, eyes wide.

Carol was all you could feel and focus on as you slowly lost consciousness. No matter how much of a fight you tried to put up you couldn't move an inch of your body and you couldn't run from the looming darkness that was gradually gaining on you.

You dreaded where you were going to end up. What would happen to your group. Mostly, you dreaded the impact it would have on the blonde you once planned to spend the rest of your life with.

"It wasn't meant to go like this." Was the last thing you heard as the darkness enveloped you entirely.

#brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers x reader #marvel

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red-wolf-youtube · 3 months

Video

youtube

Escape Siren Cop's Prison! //Part 1//

#youtube #Escape #Siren #Cop's #Prison #!#Part #1 #Roblox #Escape Siren Cop's Prison!#Part 1 #Red-Wolf16 #Red_Wolf16GH

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

25 To Life

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter deals with the repercussions of his identity being revealed

Masterlist

It all happened so fast.

That's what Pepper and Tony’s legal team told to say.

That it all happened so fast.

You didn't see it. You didn't hear it. You can't make out a face. You have no idea who would do this, Officer.

It all happened so fast.

For you, it seemed more like slow motion. You weren’t there to witness Mysterio’s death. Peter had told you Mysterio tried to shot him but ended up shooting himself. That’s what you were told and that’s what you believed.

But the video told a different story.

It was all there: Mysterio saying Spiderman had gone crazy, Spiderman ordering everyone to be executed, and Mysterio dying. The video made it seem like the London drone attack was the work of Spiderman, but you knew the truth.

Right?

To the media, Spiderman had gone rogue following Tony’s death and killed Mysterio. To the media, Spiderman was a murderer.

And to the public, Spiderman was Peter Parker.

You watched the screen, paralyzed with shock, as your boyfriends identity was revealed. You dropped the remote, not bothering to look back as the batteries flew out and hit the ground, and ran to Peter’s apartment.

The cops arrived Peter’s apartment the same time you did, baracading the entrance with their cars. All the flashing lights and sirens made you sick to your stomach. There were officers everywhere, some talking amongst themselves and others turning the nosey public away. Did they really think your Peter did soemthing that warrrented that many officers? You dodged a few officers by the doorway and snuck up the fire escape to climb into Peters window. He and May were already in there, faces pale and haunted. May locked the window behind you and quickly drew the shades. You approached Peter slowly like he was a frightened animal, just in case he was skiddish. As soon as he saw you, Peter ran to you and threw himself into your arms in a desperate search for comfort. You combed your fingers through his hair to soothe him as his body shook with terror. He cried into your shoulder, his tears seeping through your shirt within seconds. You whispered comfort in his ear until his sobs became silent.

“You have to get out of here. I don’t want you to see this.” Peter sobbed as he cradled your face.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You shook your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But the video.” Peter whimpered. “It looks like I killed him. People are going to think I’m a murderer.”

You laid his head back on your chest and shushed him. You didn’t have to heart to tell him that people already thought he was a murderer. He didn’t need to hear that. He just needed comfort.

“My identity is out. They’re gonna arrest me.” Peter sobbed. Before you could respond, there was a heavy pounding on the door.

“NYPD. We have a warrant. Open up.”

Peter held you tighter and you backed up towards the closet together. You clung to him, hiding his face from view and looked at May for help.

“It’s all right, kids. I’ll go talk to the police. Stay here.” May said calmly. You shared a sympathetic look before she left the room. You held Peter tightly and kissed every part of him that you could reach as he shook with fear.

“It’s okay.” You whispered as you fought back tears of your own. “It’s going to be okay.”

You clamped your hands over his ears, not wanting him to hear what the police were saying and began to sing to him softly.

You knew Peter was innocent, but that video was incredibly convincing.

And incriminating.

How were you going to explain it to the cops? 'No sir, it wasn't Peter. Mysterio pretended to be a warrior soilder from another planet and gained Peters trust so he could pretend London was being attacked by a giant smoke monsters using special sunglasses called EDITH. Peter didn’t kill Mysterio, you see, Mysterio projected a fake version of himself using a drone and shot it on accident when he tried to shoot Peter. No, there’s no evidence of this. Yes, he was invisible when Peter grabbed the gun. He knew he was there because of his Peter Tingle, silly. Can't you tell?'

Is that what you were supposed to say? They would never believe it.

“Please, be gentle. His uncle was shot. He’s scared of guns, please.” May was hanging on the arm of one of the police officers as they burst into Peters room. You and Peter looked up fearfully as three police officers pointed their guns at you, clutching to each other for dear life.

“Peter Parker, you are under arrest for the murder of Quentin Beck.” An Officer stated as she pulled you and Peter apart. You and Peter reached for each other until only your hands could touch, crying out for each other the whole time. Peters hands were brought behind his back as an officer handcuffed him. You were restrained by an officer and squirmed in the his embrace, kicking and writhing to break free as you screamed Peters name. He was lead out of the room, locking eyes with you the whole time until he was out of sight. May followed them out as she wiped the tears from her face, pleading with them to be gentle. The room fell silent, the only sounds coming from the police sirens, slowing fading as they drove to the station.

You lost time from being at Peters house to arriving at the station. The car ride with May was silent as you tailed the police car Peter was in. Once inside, you were lead to a winess interrogation room and May was brought to the chief. You bounced your leg up and down as an officer went over the day Mysterio died, barely listening to what she was saying. The florescent lighting of the room made you feel nauseous as she questioned you.

"Can you tell me what happened?" The officer looked up from her notepad to look at you. You came back into yourself and blinked a few times.

“No, I'm sorry.” You said robotically as you smoothed your hand over your leg to keep it from bouncing. “It all happened so fast."

They held Peter in a cell until the day of his court hearing to determine his sentence. You sat next to May in the courtroom and tried to follow what the Judge was saying, a lot of legal jargon was spoken that frustrated you when you couldn’t understand it. Your eyes drifted to Peter, who looked exhausted and frightened in his baggy orange jumpsuit. He made eye contact with you gave you a weak smile, rasing his handcuffed hands to wave. You both jolted out of your gaze when the judge banged his gavel.

"I hereby sentence Peter Parker 25 years to life for the first degree murder of Quentin Beck.” The judge spoke. The silence in the room was so deafening that your ears buzzed and rang. Officers arrived to handcuff Peter and take him away as surprise murmurs emitted from the crowd. You felt paralyzed as Peters terrified eyes met yours.

And then everything happened so fast.

You remembered standing up and screaming.

You remembered saying he was innocent, that he was framed.

You remembered May putting her head in her hands and sobbing as she lost her last family member.

And you remembered Peter looking back at you and mouthing that he loved you before they lead him out of the room.

Everything else was a blur.

You visited Peter the first day you could.

“Inmates are allowed two hugs; one on arrival and one when leaving.” Rang over the loudspeaker every five minutes.

It took a few weeks to get your name added to his visitors list. The judge had tried Peter as an adult, so he was put in minimum security federal prison to serve his sentence. You sat and waited at the table for Peter to come, looking around at the other inmates to distract yourselves from your nerves. Everyone was separated by a small table, some people with little kids on their laps and some alone. You smoothed your skirt for the hundredth time and rubbed your lips together.

Peter was lead into the room by a guard, his face lighting up when he saw you. He walked over to you and threw his arms around you and you hugged him tightly. His orange scrubs were rough against your skin as you buried your face in his chest.

"No contact." A guard barked and he jumped out of your arms. You gave Peter a sympathetic smile and sat down.

"How are you?" You asked despite his appearance telling you that the answer wasn’t good. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, with his eyes sunken in and his skin pale. His uniform was ill fitting, unless he had lost a lot of weight.

"I'm getting by." Peter nodded, both of you knowing it was better if he kept the truth to himself.

"Are the people here nice?" You asked hopefully.

"This is a federal prison, darling." He said shortly. You realized it was a dumb question and gave him a tight smile. Your fingers twitched, desperate to hold his hand but not wanting to get him in trouble.

"I know. I just hoped you had found some friends to protect you." You nodded and looked down. Both of you could tell how awkward it was between you. Neither of you were your usual selves, as you were guilt ridden and Peter was exhausted.

"I'll be okay.” He said, and neither of you knew if it was true. An uncomfortable silence returned and you kept your eyes down.A small smile tugged on your lips as you got an idea.

“Excuse me, guard?” You piped up and looked at a correctional officer. “Could you tell me what time it is? I can read the clock from here.”

Peter looked at you in confusion as his eyes darted to the watch on your wrist. As soon as the guard turned around to look at the clock, you leaned across the table and gave Peter a quick kiss. He smiled shyly as you quickly sat back down, pretending nothing had happened.

“12:34.” The officer answered you and you gave her a tight smile. You cocked an eyebrow at Peter and he chuckled for the first time in weeks.

“How are you holding up?" He asked you and you shrugged.

"I haven't been sleeping well.” You answered honestly. “I'm just so worried about you."

"I know." He said simply. He had no way to assuage you, and you knew it.

"We’re doing everything we can to prove your innocence.” You assured him and Peter fake you a fake smile. “All of us. Scott, Rhodey, Sam, Banner, May, everyone. Even Bucky is trying to help. Maybe there's a way to tell the cops about your Peter Tingle without them thinking we're crazy."

You looked so hopeful that it pained Peter. He reached for your hands and took them in his before he did what he came to do.

“No contact.” The guard repeated and Peter stared at him for a long time. He retracted his hands and folded them on his lap, swallowing thickly as he composed himself.

"You don't have to do that, Y/n.” Peter said quietly. He knew what this was, what he was about to do.

This was the calm before the storm.

"Yes we do.” You blinked in confusion. “You're innocent, Peter. You shouldn't be in here."

"Maybe I should be.” Peters voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Baby, I killed Beck. I moved the gun. That’s why it hit him. And I’m the one who gave him EDITH in the first place. Who knows what else he could've done. What if he killed you too?” Peter whispered in pain.

“This isn’t your fault, Peter.” You shook your head stubbornly. “And as soon as the police realize that, they’re gonna let you out of here. I promise, the second you’re free we can go right back to the way things were. We can be together and we’ll be happy again.” You smiled hopefully. “But until then, I'll visit you every single day, from the start of visiting hours to the end."

You thought he’d be happy, but Peter looked pained by your statement.

“Whats wrong?” You worried when he didn’t look like your plan.

"That's not a good idea, Y/n.” He said softly. “You can't spend everyday waiting for someone who isn't gonna come home. You need to get on with your life.” He said abruptly. You were taken back by his response and let out a nervous laugh.

"What are you saying?"

Peter looked at you for a moment and his bottom lip began to tremble.

"I'm saying you need to forget about me.” Peter stated as tears came to his eyes. “Go find another boy. Someone who isn't in prison can be there for you when you need him. Marry him and start a family with him. You can't wait for me to get out of here, Y/n. That day might never come." He cried. You looked at him in bewilderment and tried to process what he had said.

"What are you talking about? I don't want another boy. I want you.” You sputtered as you leaned forward on the table to really look at him. “Only you. I'm going to wait as long as I have to."

"I can't ask you to wait 25 years." Peter shook his head sadly.

"You're not asking. I'm making the decision by myself." You snapped.

"That means you'll have to wait 25 years to get married and have children. You probably won't even be able to have children at that time." Peter reasoned.

"So we'll adopt." You shrugged in dismissal.

"Is that really what you want?" Peter asked skeptically.

"No. But I want you.” You said definitively. “That's all that matters. If you can wait 25 years, so can I."

"But I don't have a choice." He reminded you.

"But I do.” You sniffled. “And I choose you.“

"Our only interaction will be these short meetings. I'm not even allowed to touch you.” Peter cried. “Don't you think you'll fall out of love with me?"

You reached out to wipe his face but a guard shook his head. You balled your hand into a fist and slammed it on the table.

"Of course not. How could I? It's you.” You laughed sadly. “Every single time, it's you. You’re the only one I’m ever gonna want, Peter.”

Peters face scrunched up as he cried and looked away. He couldn’t look at you when he knew he was hurting you.

"Y/n, you're making this impossible." He sobbed and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Please don't do this, Peter.” You begged.

"You know I love you. So much." He said sincerely.

"Then stop breaking me." You whispered.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to do this.” Peter protested as he slammed his fist on the table. “I can't have you wasting away while you wait for me to be free. I got 25 years to life, baby.” He whimpered. “That means I'll only get a chance for parole in 25 years. And even then, they could deny me and keep me in here. Everyone has seen that video of me. That’s enough evidence to keep me in here as long as they want, even if it’s fake. I'm never getting out of here.” He shook his head. “Just because my life is over doesn’t mean yours has to be over too. There’s still a chance for you, angel.”

“I could never be happy without you.” You cried, fingers twitching as you fought the urge to reach for him.

“Yes you can. And you will.” He decided. “I can’t let you die unloved. You need to forget about me. Guard!”

It all happened so fast.

You were escorted out of the visitation room, kicking and screaming Peter’s name. He was lead away by a correctional officer, mouthing that he loved you before he disappeared behind a wall.

For the next four years, you went to that prison every week.

And every week, Peter refused to see you.

The guards stopped asking for your name eventually and who you were there to see.

They knew why you were there.

It became somewhat of a routine. They'd call the guard outside Peter’s cell and ask if Peter wanted to see you, Peter would say no and you would go home. He thought that by not allowing you to visit him, you’d eventually move on.

He was wrong.

You never did move on. Even after Peter was killed in prison by Adrian Toomes after four years of being locked up, you didn't move on.

You asked the guard how an inmate could be killed in a prison full of guards. The guard answered simply, "it all happened so fast."

At least he's free now. At least you can visit him.

Even if all you were visiting was a grave.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @damnyoudameron @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @silteplaittais-toi @kickingn-ames @purefluff @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @ohnothezombies @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @gninwodacrie @quacksonfics @marshxx @themmmelissa

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #marvel #dan and phil #mysterio #spiderman far from home #spiderman: far from home

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cricketchaology · 3 years

Text

the bile of the beast

this fic includes discussion of the symptoms of PTSD, especially as it relates to eliot's past with violence (including allusions to sexual violence). if these topics are triggering for you, please proceed with caution.

READ ON AO3

it's san lorenzo (again, but different than it used to be) , and it's sweeter this time. it's fake blood on sophie's dress and damien's smirk melting off his face, a president's hands on nate's lapel. it's righting a wrong, but it's also a burning warehouse a country or so away, cops called and infiltrating, and they won't find who did it because eliot is a professional, always has been. they'll find a room full of messy corpses, turning in the evening sun, each as nameless as the last. moreau likes his men to be nothing (outside of him).

it's something eliot knows intimately: the way moreau can sink his teeth in so slowly you don't release you are nothing but a chew toy. and it's an odd thought when you are the dog, that your hide is flea-ridden and blank. that you are the soft toy he humps in the yard, not the doberman across the street that bears its teeth behind the screen door of close-cropped control. that, sometimes, you aren't even the weapon. sometimes you are the display: the show dog, heeling at the hand that no longer bears a treat. that your ribs are the home of boot-toes, breaking you down to the red dust you thought you escaped when you took up the mantle of a flag all those years ago.

so he holds the bottleneck. he clinks the right glasses, smiles appropriately in a way he prays reaches his eyes because sophie will notice if it doesn't and he can't. he's not feeling the happiness he knows is supposed to rise in his stomach at revenge because this isn't, the shapes are all pulled too long, too neat. it's moreau, it's messy by nature, it’s bloodied hands and broken chairs and little bits being removed from base-spine with even tweezers, folding on the floor like christ in the tomb, listening the tut-tut-tut of a man who doesn't love, but he loves you , or you think he does. eliot's grip tightens at the notion.

cause he knows moreau. he knows moreau like the back of his hand. knows how many times each knuckle's been busted and finger broken, constellation tracing each freckle. he knows moreau like a typewriter knows the author's touch, pounding away till the letters are worn. he knows moreau, which he means he knows it's not over, which means he can't stop running because he never, ever could, and it's why he's here now, with a team that knows him too much for him to stay. who will act like tomorrow is a new day, a free one. like with the italian off their backs, nothing is hanging over their heads.

tomorrow is day one of post-post moreau. it's not the first time he's escaped, and it won't be the last. it is a fact he knows the team won't understand- not when they got off easy, this time. last time it was by the skin of eliot's teeth, shoulder bullet-lodged and airplanes unnamed as he crossed ocean after ocean just to put enough distance between him and the hammer so that he could avoid being the next nail. he wasn't free then. wasn't free a day after moreau, wasn't even free before, because when moreau wants something, he gets it. and he wanted eliot spencer less then than he wants him now. the thought makes his skin crawl, remembering the heat of the brand as it grew closer to his inner thigh, kissing the hairs near his groin before drawing away. because moreau doesn't even need to lay claim to own you, just has to say he did. just has to release that wolf-grin and hold your collar like its always been his.

eliot's spent years clawing at that loop, the necklace that bites too tight around his skin even when no one else knows. he cooks, and he smiles, but it's always there, always weighing on the nape like a hand, skin pinching. he's spent years scratching and howling, enough that the red ring is more evident than the too-tight collar itself. enough that he knows it doesn't come off. to know even a moreau locked in a hole in san lorenzo is still the one he remembers, even if the shape is different.

so when nate offers up a glass of whiskey, raised high by an unshaking hand, it takes everything in eliot to smile, lift his beer bottle, and cheer.

///

he does not remember much of the first day post-post moreau, which is something that scares him. he's not sure how it passed him by; he remembers waking up in the hotel, turning in sunbeams as they scrape past the window screen. he remembers the panic of nate not answering the door when he knocked, and he remembers slamming his body into it until he saw nate alive and well, but he doesn't remember the conversation that followed. he doesn't remember what comes between the elevator and the airport, or what movie hardison played on the flight, or how many seats were unfilled. they're the kind of lapses that could get him- get all of them, he amends, wondering how he could forget- killed. because what eliot lacks in computer skills or acting ability he makes up for in counting hats, mapping exits. he pays his stay in blood.

except he doesn't now, or he's not supposed to. the thought haunts him the rest of the flight. he's barely conscious when they arrive back in boston, his head swimming between the then and the now, post and post-post. he doesn't even realize they've landed till the seatbelt light flickers off, and his hands go to help sophie carry all the luggage she packed in place of the carryon he didn't need.

because eliot never travels with a suitcase. when he arrives, the clothes will be laid out on the bed that’s been paid off for the next few nights. the most that ever belongs to him are the shoes, but even that is a danger- particulates are easily traced, so the red dirt is disposed of every other week, burying the people he isn't supposed to say he's been. disoriented as he is, he winds up picking up a stranger's briefcase before he realizes it's the weight of paperwork-filled folders and not a sniper rifle nestled intimately inside.

he drops it like the handle burns. the movement is abrupt enough that his elbow nudges nate's side. his furrowed brows say we need to talk.

eliot wants to meet his eyes but can't. instead, he grounds himself, taking enough of the team's bags that the straps start to wear into his skin, pulling him from the nothing that's begun to spread from post to post-post. he's silent on the drive home, oddly unperturbed by the fact that parker insists on driving (something about how airplanes don't feel fast, and she wants to feel fast, and everyone being too tired to argue) . he doesn't so much as grumble as he makes a roundabout the vehicle, jabbing each tire with the tip of his toe. he stares at the license plate for a moment too long, trying to remember why he's in boston before nate shouts something along the lines of "come on, let's get home."

it's raining; something eliot doesn't register till they've arrived at the office and are piling out of the car. his arms are loaded with bags by the time he hears someone say, "we'll worry about the luggage later," which they surely said before he loaded up. by the time he makes it inside, his hair is curling at the ends in a way it never did in the before- cropped too short then for even damien to find much comfort in running fingers through, though he'd do it anyway. petting more than soothing, and the difference was something eliot learned to sense before the hand was even laid down, the way a knee aches before a storm.

the thought must show on his face, or maybe his disheveled appearance is enough to earn the concern coloring his team as they stare at him, dripping in the doorway with their luggage draped across his body all pack-mule-like. he's shivering, though he isn't exactly sure why, by the time they pull the bags from him, ushering him upstairs as the bar staff eyes them no more curiously but perhaps more timidly than usual. the soles of his shoes squeak against the vinyl, and he flinches, thinking about all the ways a wrong sound could get him killed. moreau is tut-tut-tutting in his ear again, like before, in the during .

the whole team is talking, mumbling mercies and platitudes, and his heart is racing in his chest, pounding like heels on rooftops and down staircases in foreign countries. the rain beats down on the window like fists, like prisoners you knew before they were prisoners and allies you used to trust, and he's not really breathing; the air in the crawlspace is too thin. his hands are shaking, and his CO is saying “steady, steady,” whispering it like a mother to her babe, and the shot rings out with that familiar flashbang of lighting.

"stop," he mutters, and it feels like too much noise, too much noise (surely, they're going to catch him this time). "please, stop. stop."

the air falls quiet, like new york news as the death of osama bin laden is broadcast, like hushed last phone calls on the plane going down, army basecamps right before the armada. it's quiet like death is- like two lovers who don't know each other yet. like hair coiling, blackening, burning in the heat. his breath hitches like he can remember it.

"...eliot?" parker asks, because she's parker, crazy by design, but even now, she isn't touching him, though her hands are outstretched like she wants to. hardison looks at her like she has horns, like she's breaking a vault while the sirens scream, and she is, in every conceivable way. it makes eliot ache in a way he didn't know he could still feel. it makes him want to be the person she thinks him to be.

he meets parker's gaze like he's staring down the business end of a gun. like being the fish in the barrel. he averts her gaze, transfixed on the city skyline behind her, peering through beating rain. he's scanning for men laying belly-down on balconies, sniper's trained and at the ready. he struggles to make out the horizon through obscuring strands of hair he doesn't remember growing out. he swallows, fingers flexing with a familiar hunger for hurt.

before he's aware of it, he's being lead to the couch, his soaking jacket somehow shed without his knowledge (he was too busy counting hats, mapping exits. moreau wants to know how many hats). the sofa is soft beneath him, swallowing him in warmth better than his standard-issue sleeping bag, and he's helpless against the hands on his shoulders pushing him purposefully deeper. the nails are enough for him to know it's sophie, even though he can't fully see her in front of him. the hair is tucked behind his ear with a tenderness he didn't know still existed. that he doesn't think he can deserve.

he isn't sure how long he sits there, his hands shaking in his lap. he isn't sure how long the silence permeates till it's replaced with the sound of knife striking board, and he comes to understand that Chopped reruns have been playing on the screens ahead, and it's sweet because they think he'd like it, not because he does. his boots have been unlaced, pulled from his feet (now bare, like christ folding on the floor in front of the disciples, moreau saying "wash my feet, eliot") and set gently near the end of the sofa. the thermostat has been turned to a temperature he lovingly calls "oklahoma august," which the rest of the team always whines is too hot, and the smell of thai food from his favorite food truck seeps into the air. he hangs on the scent like a cartoon character to fresh pie on the window.

it's too much like post , rather than post-post, the way they smile at him shambling to the island. the ache of the fights from the past weeks are starting to catch up to him; without a fresh neck in his hands, it's easier to remember the skin peeled from his knees. seeing him, nate holds out a steaming plate of his favorite and eliot takes it slowly. he stares down at it, enchanted by the authenticity of it even after it's pulled from a takeout box.

but you don't eat things you didn't see prepared; it's a lesson he learned after being poisoned in some hole in south america, and that he risked with every hors d'oeuvre moreau would hold to his lips, saying taste this, meaning die for me, like the sound of vultures overhead. something must change in his eyes because nate isn't smiling anymore. because nate is reaching out, taking the plate back, and it's clear that he doesn't understand what he's done wrong, no one does, not even sophie, if the way her gaze fluctuating between eliot and nate is to say anything.

"i'm not supposed to eat anything i didn't cook," he instinctively explains (this must be a test), wanting the sad look to leave hardison's eyes. "you either. i'm not supposed to let you eat anything i didn't prepare- that i didn't taste."

a beat of silence follows, heavy like the snow piling on slates, like soot on a seven-year-old brow. nate breaks it hesitantly.

"eliot-"

"let me taste your food," eliot says, all too much like the during and unlike post or post-post; it's too soft and ungrowled, too eliot and not enough spencer .

the look sophie shares with nate is deadly- like hiroshima at ground zero or kitum cave circa 1980. there's a silent battle wagging there, one eliot can't find the energy to care about because, without even a second of hesitation, parker hands him her plate of too-sweet noodles. she smiles at him, strange in that way parker always is, like a rat taking trap-bound cheese.

eliot takes care, inspecting the color, the smell, and though all of it is wrong, it's parker's, and it smells like how parker likes pad woon sen, which a post , but not post-post, eliot would have the energy to despise tenderly. but that's not who he is now, twirling noodles up on the fork, chewing garishly until he can gulp them down with confidence, like swallowing a key and knowing they can't beat it out of you. like downing the rations before the taste of them reaches your brain. he hands the plate back, feeling lighter, and hardison must be able to tell because he offers his dish up next. he watches as eliot inspects it thoroughly like a jeweler counting carats. the process doesn't take long, and, after a few minutes, each takeout box has been combed through for error, and eliot has determined they are safe enough to settle at the bar for the meal.

he doesn't sit down though, isn't supposed to. he goes to check exits, to stand by the door. he thinks about meetings in moreau's office, thinks about clubs and bars and women in bikinis that moreau never wanted to touch. because women were shows- because if moreau wanted something, he got it, and eliot knows this, so he knows moreau didn't want the women. he knows that moreau hungered for something different- not younger, but meaner. harder. he thinks about moreau in the sauna, beckoning eliot over, saying dismiss your post and meaning drop to your knees, folding before him like christ, like washing feet, like intimacy anew. he thinks about hardison, tied to the chair, and about chapman and his gun and moreau towel-drying sweat from his skin. he thinks about the kick, the move he invented, and hardison sucking air from the pneumatic, thinks about sucking air and-

///

"pause the show," sophie says, right before eliot goes from nervously checking the locks for the dozenth time to crumpling to the floor, his fingers digging claw-like into the edge of the doorframe. his breaths are too quick, huffing in and out, in and out, fast as chopper blades overhead screaming against wind. his whole body is vibrating by the time ted's voice is cut off, hand closing over the cloche in slow motion.

parker is the first to him, light on her feet and perching in front. she observes him like a cat might a dead bird; curiosity and hunger, unfamiliar yet innate. but then that hunger fades, is sated, and she's tucking her knees beneath her body and folding herself by eliot, kneeling. she surrounds him, skin heavy like a blanket, and eliot melts into her like one fades into the air after jumping from a plane- the way the heat melds to your back as an explosion follows you out the door.

with only slightly more hesitance, hardison joins them on the floor, his long arms enveloping them. eliot's hair tickles his nose, hardison's soft breaths blowing them away, then pulling them back like the ebb and flow of waves lapping a shoreline. he closes his eyes for a long moment, batting away the thought of water filling his lungs, and reopens them to find nate staring down awestruckenly.

sophie smiles softly in a way that means she knows something no one else does, cracking the mark open like a pistachio shell. hardison squints, searching for an answer, but she gives none. instead, she pulls nate away by his wrist, casting a look across the room before quietly trailing up the staircase, leaving eliot, parker, and hardison tucked tightly into the corner.

///

the seconds evade him while he sits there, sobbing on the floor. it feels like a weakness, something he should be hiding- he hasn't cried like this since the night his momma died (not in his pristine funeral suit. his father has pulled his tie-tight and said, "now don't you embarrass me," and he didn't then- made sure he never did again.) he hadn't cried like that the entire time during , or post , but now it was post-post and here he was, broken to bits on the wooden floor of a dingy bars' loft in boston.

not for the first time, he finds himself wondering how the hell he ended up here. how he escaped the during , how he made it to post-post. because, really, he's seen greater men die on their first tour. he's been in the hellholes they strung soldiers up in, purple heart wearers bleeding nothing but red, red, red- and he's been that man, russian roulette spun and against the odds making it a baker's dozen rounds before the tortures tired of threats and moved onto toenails. even then, he didn't cry like this- if he did cry, well, that was sweat in his eyes. that was him praying to a lord he stopped believing in at 18, saying, "if you get me out of this one alive, i'll get better" and it never, ever being true.

he isn't aware that parker and hardison have been whispering a mantra of "it's okay, it's okay, eliot, you are here, you are ours" until they pause for breath until parker's voice is addressing hardison, asking, "hey- hey, if it's too much, it's okay. you can take a break."

it's then that he realizes he isn't the only one praying then; they all are, the shoulders of his shirt on either side soaked through, not by the unrelenting rain but by the two closest things he has to family. that hardison's voice has gone from soft and strong to shaky: a leaf resisting those oklahoma winds rising from 40 to 50, from cold fronts and warm one crashing and crushing everything in their path as they war with one another. that parker's body has cooled as she gifted her warmth to eliot's still rain-frozen form.

it's then that he realizes he's lucky. that san lorenzo is sweeter because parker dashed it with maple syrup when he wasn't looking- that hardison replaced the whiskey sours with sodas. that post-post doesn't fit any of the characters sophie has taught him to play, and that he doesn't need to count the hats because nate already has; he knows each shape and each color, the brand names printed on the bill.

the next breath is a little deeper as hardison whispers, "i'm good, i'm good," across him to parker, and eliot feels the rattle of her head against his neck more than he sees it. the way they draw in a little closer, the way parker subconsciously syncs their breathing like sophie's taught her to do with marks, but it's different because eliot isn't a mark- because it isn't post-post, it's something different entirely.

it's the scent of his favorite thai food crusted in the corners of an unwiped mouth. it's his closet being reorganized by color, his go-bag packed with money he didn't put there. it's in-jokes and damnits and distinctive sounds. it's not explaining because they won't make him.

when his breathing is finally stable, he feels them pull back- not entirely, but enough that there's an instant ache in eliot's gut for them to come back to him. hardison's brows are knit, all the anger of the week prior washed away and replaced with nothing but care. parker is smiling gently with that even present lilt to her eye- like she's stolen his watch and is waiting for him to notice.

with slowly re-steadying hands, eliot brushes the last remnants of tears from his face, feeling his cheeks flush slightly when his father's voice tries to rise from somewhere within him. as though feeling the demon climbing up, hardison places a hand on the outskirts of eliot's bicep, holding him gently- grounding him.

"you good?" hardison asks simply, but the question makes all the raw things in eliot sore again in the way a second-day sunburn feels; not quite painful, but omnipresent. warm.

"yeah," he finds himself saying, and it's not something a post eliot would mean, but maybe a post-post eliot does. maybe a post-post eliot can. he finds himself smiling at the notion.

"yeah, i am."

#long post #leverage fanfiction #eliot spencer #thats all im gonna tag lmao i hate posting fic on tumblr #anyway hi everyone #im so tired #tw rape #tw ptsd #tw abuse #also i didnt care to mess with some of the formatting that was lost in translation sorryyyyy #no italics for u tumblr

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rizlowwritessortof · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be - Chapter 2

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start.

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 2050

Warnings: Abusive relationship and related violence, nothing graphic.

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Dean pulled on his jeans and shoved his feet into his running shoes, then grabbed his gun, clipping his badge onto his waistband before heading outside.

Jordan’s car was engulfed in flames, and the sound of one of the windows exploding from the heat made him jump. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of Darrel. He had to be close, watching, probably waiting for Jordan to come out. He heard sirens in the distance as he doubled back and went around behind the building.

He moved quickly to the other end of the structure, peering through the darkness for a sign of his prey, then moved across to the backyard of the houses that lined the east side of the block. He moved carefully, almost silent, from one yard to the next until he spotted Darrel watching the fire from behind a tree near the corner house. As he drew closer, he could hear the man mumbling, “Come on, Jordan, where the hell are you?”

Dean stepped up behind him, pressing the muzzle of his gun against the base of his skull. “She’s in her room, right where I told her to stay, dickbag.”

“Man, who the fuck are you?” Darrel blurted out in frustration as he raised his hands.

“Well, for one thing, I’m a cop. And the local boys are on the way, so let’s go meet ‘em.”

“All I wanted was for her to come out, so we could talk.”

Dean snorted and shoved the gun against Darrel’s head, urging him along. “Social skills are really not your strong suit, are they, Darrel?”

Dean marched his reluctant prisoner back to the motel parking lot, holding his badge high as the police cruiser pulled in, followed by the fire department. The officers got out, guns drawn, and Dean shoved the gun into the back of Darrel’s neck again. “Move.” He tossed his badge to one officer, who examined it and handed it back. “This guy is your arsonist. He also assaulted the woman who owns this car earlier today and tried to abduct her. Sorry, don’t have my cuffs on me, so if you’d do the honors...” He gave Darrel a push, filling the officers in on the details as they cuffed the prisoner. As he finished with his report, Jordan flew by him in a furious blur.

“You son of a bitch!” She shouted into Darrel’s face, then rocked back and punched him square in the face with everything she had. The man howled in pain, blood spurting from his nose, and Dean grabbed Jordan’s arm, pulling her away.

“Fuckin’ bitch broke my nose!” Darrel yelled, as an officer, struggling not to laugh, pressed a wad of tissues to his face. “I wanna press charges!”

“For what? I didn’t see anything. You guys see anything?” Dean asked, unable to smother the grin on his face.

“Nope. Didn’t see a thing,” the arresting officer answered with a wink at Jordan. They walked Darrel over to the rescue squad, letting them staunch the bleeding before shoving him into the back seat of the cruiser. With a nod in Dean’s direction, they backed out and headed for the police station.

As soon as they pulled away, Jordan bent over, groaning in pain, her hand shoved between her knees. “FUCK. Nobody ever told me how much that would hurt!”

Dean tried not to laugh as he reached for her injured hand. “Let me see.” He gave her hand a quick once-over, then put an arm around her shoulders and steered her back towards the room. “Nothing’s broken, at least. Come on, Sugar Ray. Let’s get some ice on it.”

He walked her around the fire truck and down to his room, ushering her in and seating her in a chair before heading to the bathroom for a towel and to the fridge for ice. She accepted the ice pack from him with a sheepish ‘Thank you’ and applied it, wincing. “I know, that was stupid. But damn, it felt good. For a minute, anyway.”

Dean laughed softly. “Yeah, I bet it did. He had it comin’.”

“So...” she glanced up, watching him pour more whiskey into cups for them both. “You didn’t tell me you were a cop.”

“You didn’t tell me you were an MMA fighter, either,” he joked, and she smiled, blushing.

“I’m not. I’ve never hit anybody before in my life.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he chuckled. “But you did a fan-fucking-tastic job of it.” He sat down across from her, sliding one of the drinks over her way.

She laughed softly. “Thanks.”

“Anyway, yeah – I’m a detective. Violent Crimes Division in Kansas City.”

“Oh. That sounds – dark.”

He geared back a little with a nod, a grim smirk on his lips. “Yeah. Sometimes,” he replied, downing a swallow of his whiskey. “So what do you do? Or did you do?”

“I worked for a local attorney. Small town, small office. Hated to leave him, he was a good boss, I’ve worked for him for years. But I needed to get the hell out of Dodge, you know?” She stared into her cup for a moment. “I don’t know what I’ll do now. My plan was to drive to Kansas City, find a cheap motel to live in until I found a job and a place to live. Can’t really drive anywhere now, thanks to that douchebag.”

“Law office, huh?”

“Yeah. I know, it sounds thrilling. But I ran the office, and I loved it. Just… finding something in the city is gonna be a lot different than working for someone I knew my whole life.”

They chatted for a while, until Jordan was yawning more than she was talking, the adrenaline gone and her exhaustion kicking in. Dean laughed softly, and she gave him a shy, sheepish smile. “Well, it is, what – 2:30 AM?? Are you kidding me?”

“Yeah, pretty late. Listen, why don’t you just crawl into the other bed and get some shut-eye. Tomorrow morning the local PD wants you to come in and give your statement, and then that’s hopefully the last you have to deal with Darrel.”

“God, I hope you’re right. But I don’t want to impose on your space...”

“Not imposing. I offered, and I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want you to. You’re barely keeping your eyes open, and we’ll both be asleep as soon as we hit our pillows.”

“Ok, I won’t argue.” Jordan stood and stretched, then headed for the extra bed, pulling the bedding back and slipping between the sheets with a sigh. Dean stopped in the doorway to the bathroom, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I’m gonna grab a quick shower. See you in the morning, Xena.” He flashed a grin and went in, laughing as a pillow flew towards him, deflected by the quickly closed door.

Jordan fell asleep still smiling.

The next morning Dean was gone when she woke, squinting at the alarm clock next to the bed. It was only a little after 6 AM, but she dragged herself out of the warm cocoon of blankets and headed out the back door to her own room. After a shower and some clean clothes, she was feeling almost human, except for the nagging need for coffee. She was just figuring out the miniscule coffee maker in the kitchenette when a knock sounded at her front door. She peeked through the peephole, then smiled as she opened it to Dean, bearing two very large coffees.

“You are a saint,” she said gratefully as he handed her one of the steaming cups and set the other on the table.

“It’s been said,” he grinned, and she laughed. “I thought we’d have a primer, then head to Molly’s for some breakfast before we go down to the police station. If you want.”

“Oh, breakfast sounds amazing. I’ll bet Molly makes fantastic pancakes.”

“And bacon.” Dean’s eyes closed in pleasure at the thought. “Maybe a couple of eggs.”

“Ooooh, and hashbrowns!” She giggled, sipping at her coffee. “You’d think we didn’t stuff our faces with bacon cheeseburgers and fries last night.”

They took their time at Molly’s, eating their fill and lingering over their coffee, then drove to the police station late that morning. It took longer than Jordan had expected, but finally she was putting her signature to the documents and breathing a sigh of relief, hoping that chapter of her life was behind her at last.

Dean dropped her off at her room, and she spent the next couple of hours on the phone with her insurance company, grateful that they would pay for a tow company to haul her burned-out car to a junk yard. Buying a new vehicle would have to wait until she was back to work.

With that depressing thought, she flopped down on the bed and started sorting through the overwhelming List of Things To Do in her head. Get a rental car, find a cheap but hopefully safe hotel to stay in until she could afford an apartment, and, the biggie… FIND A JOB. In a new city, where she didn’t know her way around.

Her mind was still going in circles as she made more notes and chewed on her pencil, and her phone ringing made her jump. She saw Dean’s name and answered with a little laugh. “Hi, Dean.”

“You doing anything important right now?”

“Not really. Just trying to figure out what’s next for me. Haven’t been making much progress.”

“Well, I kinda wanted to talk to you about something. Can you come to my room? Sam’ll be showing up pretty soon, so I hate to leave.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be right over.”

Dean was on his phone when he opened the door, and she walked in and took a seat at the table as he finished his conversation. “Okay, Sammy – see you in a while.” He grinned at her as he pulled out the chair across from her and plopped down.

“So, Dean, what’s up? There’s not a problem with the statement at the station or anything, is there?”

“No, nope, everything’s fine as far as I know. I just wanted to run something by you.”

She leaned back in her chair and looked at him, not sure what to expect. “Okay...”

“So, you’re headed to KC, right? That’s the plan?”

“Well, yeah – it was the plan before my car got torched. Now it’s getting more complicated.”

“Not really. It’s actually pretty simple. See, Sam and I are headed back there tomorrow morning. There’s no reason why you can’t just ride down with us.”

Jordan’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Why not? We live there, anyway, we’re all headed to the same place. If you want. I’m not trying to push you or anything, but – we’d be more than happy to give you a ride.”

“Is – I mean, would your brother be okay with that?”

“Okay, second thing. So, I told Sam about your former job. See, he’s an attorney, and he just lost his legal assistant about three weeks ago. He hasn’t been able to find anybody else yet, and he’s dying to meet you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m serious.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to say… The only thing is, I’ll need to rent a car so I can look for a place to live temporarily until I have a steady paycheck.”

Dean grinned. “Third thing. Talked to Donna, my partner. She lives in a two-bedroom place, and she’s been talking about getting a roomie. Not that you’d have to commit to that, but she said you’d be welcome to stay with her until you got settled down there. Or stay on as her roommate if you like it there and decide you want to, whatever.” Jordan was staring at him with her mouth open, so he continued. “Look, I know I just dumped a whole load of stuff on you, you don’t have to answer this second, but the offer – well, offers – are on the table.”

She moved her gaze to the table top and blew out an overwhelmed breath. Tears were stinging at her eyes as she looked back up at him. “Dean Winchester, where have you been my whole life?”

Chapter 3

#meant to be #chapter 2 #dean fic #dean x oc #dean x jordan

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hacked-by-jake · 3 years

Note

hi and also can you write this prompt 37 so youre just going to leave me here to die pair man without the face x mc thank you

Finally

A/n: Hi and thank you for your request. I have been waiting for this pairing, thank you! I hope you like it and please apologize the mistakes. Have a good day and stay healthy.💕

Prompt: “So you’re just going to leave me here to die alone?”

Words: 1,9k

Warnings: (Unfortunately, I am really bad when it comes to warnings, should anything be added, he will gladly tell me)

⚠️Mention of death. Use of weapons, blood.

"So you’re just going to leave me here to die alone?" choked the disgusting man lying at your feet. You really did, you shot the man who’s been making your life a living hell for months. Your life, your friends life, and all of Duskwood. The man who brought so much suffering and hatred upon you all.

Speechless, you stare at the gun in your hand, but you feel no remorse, no guilt. Honestly, you feel satisfaction. Because you didn’t shoot a man, you shot a monster. A disturbed monster that is free of any morality, any humanity.

"Yes, yes, I let you die alone, because you deserve nothing else! You attacked my family. And when you attack my family, you attack me, "you hiss with a mocking grin on your face.

You feel like you’re in a movie, the weather suits your situation. Light raindrops fall through the thick treetops around the forest. All around you you can hear ravens croaking that bring a gruesome mood. The flowers and trees look sad and let their heads hang. Further away stands a roe deer, frightened and on guard because of the loud bang as the bullet flew out of the gun. Well, and the most striking of course, the Bleeding Man. The Kidnapper. The Murderer. You snort bitterly and you get over the urge to want to kick him in his face. You had to shoot of him to defend yourself but if you kicked him then it would be another matter. You managed to stop him and everything you would do now wouldn’t make you any better than he is.

"Do you - don’t you want to take off my mask?" his hoarse voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He tries to straighten up his upper body a little by leaning on his left arm. "Stay lying down!" you growl and take a step back. You raise the gun and aim at his belly to protect yourself.

Luckily, he takes you seriously and immediately he sinks back to the ground and groans painfully from the fast movement.

"So? You have always been so curious, take off the mask," he demands and you can hear a little amusement.

"MC?" sounds a voice through the dense trees of the forest and attracts your attention. The others found you. When you made your way to the forest, you thought about informing them. You decided not to let them know until you reached the forest so that none of them could stop you. For whatever reason, you wanted to talk to the man alone first. Jessy sounded very angry on the phone and wanted to stop you from going into the woods alone. But you couldn’t listen to them, you were blind with anger and the need for revenge, and you were lucky because everything went well.

He’s on the ground, not you.

He was defeated, not you.

You won, not him.

You look back at him shaking your head, "No, I’m not gonna take that ugly sack off your head, you want to know why?" you don’t wait for his answer at all but continue talking directly. "Because you are nothing more than this ugly mask! Because you are nothing. Because I don’t care who you are! Your plan to get attention has worked out for a short time. But now, I don’t care who you are under this mask. You are disgusting and no longer relevant to this world".

"Uh outch, you hurt my feelings" he chuckles, pressing his hand on the bleeding part of his chest. "But, you played well. You have my appreciation, it was fun, a worthy opponent".

"You still think this is a game?" you spit at him with disgust.

"Yes, when you showed up, it became a fun game, before that it was almost boring. But thanks to you it really became a nice little pastime"

Your eyes narrow and you feel like you’re getting hot and cold.

You shouldn’t let him provoke you any further, not really listen to what he says, but your hatred of this monster was too great. Blinded by the rage, you kick some of the earth and the broken leaves from the ground on his damaged body .

"You’re dirt" you hiss, "Have fun dying" you give him another superior grin.

"MC where are you?" again you hear a loud voice roaring through the forest.

Without paying attention to the kidnapper again, you run in the direction from which the voice comes.

You run as fast as you can, full of adrenaline, full of joy, full of hate. So many mixed feelings rushing through a body and pounding in your ears. You’re running for your life, happy to be with your friends now.

But there is one feeling that stands out especially and drowns out everyone else. The feeling that he was finally stopped by your hand. You made the promise to stop him and you kept it. Whether he dies or not, he will never be able to hurt anyone again. And that’s all that matters.

After about 500 meters you see them all, the whole group, and additionally at least a dozen policemen with a dog squad. All worried and looking for you.

"I’m here!" you yell as loudly as you can, "here!"

Immediately, all heads turn in your direction. Jessy is the first one to run towards you. Breathlessly you fall into her arms and the first tears break out of you. Tears of joy and relief.

You know these feelings will be short-lived. Because no matter who the man is or what he did, you shot a living person. Once the adrenaline of the last 20 minutes disappears from your body, you will realize correctly what happened. And it won’t be easy to process. But the fact that he’s the man with no face will help you not feel entirely guilty.

But at this moment you cannot think about it, at the moment there is only reason to rejoice.

"Oh God MC, we were so worried about you!" Jessy sniffed at your ear.

"Oh, thank God you’re alive" you hear Richy next to you and feel him also laying his arms around you both.

The others also join your group embrace.

And so you stand here in the middle of the forest as you cry like a waterfall with the knowledge that is all good now.

You still hold the gun in your hand as you detach from each other.

A deep voice shouts, "Put the gun on the ground immediately, and move away".

Only now do you notice how the policemen’s weapons are directed at you for safety. The others quickly step away from you and obey the request of the cops.

Of course you also do what they say and put the gun on the floor to kick them to the cops. One of them takes the gun and removes the already empty magazine. Since you had no intention of shooting someone, you only had one bullet with you to save yourself when it was necessary. And it was necessary. Luckily you have at least a little idea how to shoot, even if your hit was more luck than reason. But it wasn’t very hard because the man without a face was pretty close to you when you pulled the gun and pulled the trigger without really thinking about it.

"All right, it’s not loaded," you assure.

And then you remember that maybe you should clarify that the raven man is still lying in the back of the forest, bleeding to death.

"The- the kidnapper is injured and out of action about 500 meters from here. He’s probably still alive, but he’s bleeding a lot. I had to defend myself and shoot him, but he’s gonna need help."

Four policemen set off without hesitation in the direction you showed them. One of the others reaches for his walkie- talkie and orders an ambulance.

"You shot him?" Richy asks in amazement.

"He attacked me, I couldn’t defend myself in a other way," you say.

"Never again, do you go into this forest alone! How do you get the idea to come here alone?" Jessy hisses, "Why don’t you tell us before? We would have accompanied you immediately".

"I had to do it, I heard the conversation from a policeman and Hannah, and I was afraid the officers would wait too long. So the best way, before he can escape, was to come here himself, and I wanted to talk to him before he is arrested. But then he wanted to attack me to escape. I’m sorry you had to worry about me." you look at your friends with a slight smile.

From further away you can hear sirens of the ambulance that was ordered.

"Do you think - do you think he’s dead?" Jessy asks carefully and pays attention to your reaction. She was afraid of how you’d react to that question.

"No, I’m pretty sure I can’t shoot that well. And honestly, I’d rather he rot in prison," you clench your hands into fists and tighten your jaw as his words come back into your head. 'A funny game'

"Let’s not think about it now, it’s over, we’ve done it," Cleo reassures you immediately.

"And we should talk to the police now, Hannah wants to meet her savior," Dan grins and winks at you.

"How is she?" you ask carefully.

"She has to stay in the hospital for the next few days, but she’s doing fine. Especially when we give her the message that it’s finally over," Richy looks proud at you.

Through the forest two paramedics come running towards you and at the same time they pull a stretcher behind them.

"Where do we have to go?" asks one of the helpers and at the same time you point in the right direction.

All but Dan, he’s pointing in the wrong direction, pretending there’s nothing going on. You held back a small grin and watched as the paramedics continued their way.

"Dan" hisses Jessy and has herself on her lips in a small smile.

"What? I saw about the bird in the hospital, I wouldn’t miss him," he shrugs.

"None of us would miss him," Cleo agrees.

During your conversation, some of the policemen had left and only Alan was standing a little off and waiting for your quiet moment.

"So sorry to interrupt you but we have to ask MC some questions before you can go to Hannah" slowly he came up to your group.

"Will MC get into trouble now? So, because of the gun and because she shot?" asks Jessy and clings afraid to your arm.

Yes, and then..the realization hits you like a punch.

You didn’t even think about, that you shouldn’t have that gun. And of course shooting people wasn’t legal either, but you had to defend yourself, who knows what else he would have done to you.

"Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out, I’ll make sure MC isn’t to blame. I’m standing on your side" he assures us, that we can do this together and smiles kindly.

Over time you have joined with him and found out some more details. To have Alan on your side, will become a really important plus point, in the course of time.

Relief spreads within you and you nod to him gratefully.

And as if the world had waited only for this moment, just now, the sun breaks through the treetops and shines directly on your small group.

The unpleasantly croaking ravens fall silent and are replaced by the singing of lovely birds.

The light wind warms up and the clouds fly by and leave a clear blue sky. The smell of rain and muddy forest soil is replaced by the fresh smell of flowers and bushes. Now.. now it’s finally gonna be okay.

---

🌹

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood prompt #duskwood mc #man without a face #duskwood mwaf #duskwood jessy #duskwood richy #duskwood dan #duskwood group #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios

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a-singleboat · 4 years

Text

Serious

Word Count: 3.3k

Request: can you do emily prentiss x fem!reader with some angst? Thanks! - anon

Warning(s): Reader gets kidnapped, blood, stabbing, general gore

When you first started dating Emily Prentiss, you knew the risks. It wasn’t easy dating a high-profile government employee, especially when you were roughly six years younger than her. If anything, it made it even harder especially when your lives didn’t seem to line up at all. While she was Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI, you were working toward your first pHd out of, hopefully, two.

So while she was out catching serial killers and the rest of the mortal evil in the world, you were attending classes and conducting research on “The effectiveness of rehabilitation in prisons and the criminal justice system.” It was riveting stuff, really. A pHd in forensic psychology would put you on the path to becoming a criminal researcher like you’d always dream of.

Well, technically you wanted to be a criminal profiler but you weren’t all too athletic and based on knowing what your girlfriend did, decided on a career change shortly after gaining your bachelors. What Emily did seemed exhausting, quite frankly, and you could make just as much of a change as she did out in the field by sitting in a lab.

But what made things really hard between the two of you was the fact that due to who you were as a person and what Emily did for a living, you have attracted a very adamant stalker who was twice as likely to turn violent than the rest of them simply because he’d known you earlier on in life.

Unfortunately, your oh-so-loving stalker was a man by the name of James Carlton, who’d felt slighted in the way you’d rejected him several times over the course of your high school career. Yeah, you didn’t really pick up the sentiment of “Treat People with Kindness,” until about midway through your sophomore year of college. Some could say you’d brought this on yourself.

“I’m okay,” you assured your girlfriend through the phone, crossing your arm over your torso and leaning against the wall. It reeked of cigarette smoke despite the huge sign on the wall stating that smoking was prohibited within fifty feet of the establishment. You peered through the gauze-like curtains, searching the motel parking lot for the tell-tale sign of the FBI’s arrival. “I’m just a bit shaken up. Though, I think he might have my psychology paper. I can just reprint that though.”

“Of course out of everything you’re worried about, it's your goddamn paper. You shouldn’t be worried about your grades when your life is in danger,” Emily advised, the sirens blaring in the background.

“But my grades are all I have right now, well, except for you.” You risked another glance out the window. “How long until you guys get here?”

“Five minutes, tops,” Emily assured her. “We’ve already passed the library.”

A shadow passed in front of the window as you took a step back in shock, the frightening electric blue eyes of the very man you were running from staring straight at you. He pressed a sheet of paper against the window, a sadistic grin spread over his features as he leaned into the musty glass.

In crude sharpie, the words YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER had been scrawled over the careful ink of your psychology paper. You really couldn’t pass that in for a grade now.

Smoke started to creep into your room through the vents, forcing you into the center of the room as you covered your mouth and did everything you could not to breathe in. You just had to last four more minutes.

You whimpered as you saw the door handle jiggle, James having disappeared from the window to attempt breaking down the shoddy motel room door. You could barely hear Emily asking what was going on over the thumping of your own heart as your vision blurred. It was either you stopped breathing and passed out or took a breath in and passed out anyways.

You managed to whisper, “He’s here,” into the receiver before you collapsed, gasping for air. Not even a moment later, you felt a hand at your waist as someone heaved you over their shoulder. Unfortunately for you, it probably wasn’t Emily.

By the time you came to, you were already thoroughly scared. Your dreams had been anything but pleasant, flashes of torture blinding you even before you were awake. But still, you kept your eyes closed and your breathing even as you tried to figure out where you were.

It felt dark. With nothing covering your eyes, you could tell that it was as well. The air smelled damp, like an old towel that had been left sitting for too long. It was cold as well and as far as you could tell, you were underground. You were willing to bet you were in a cellar of some sort.

Slowly, you moved your left foot only to realize your ankles had been shackled to the extremely uncomfortable bed. It felt like you were laying on hay, which was completely possible. The prickly sensation at your back was either that or hair, which would have been extremely unfortunate.

A door opened on the other side of the room, causing you to stiffen. You choked back a sob as you struggled to keep your breathing under control.

“Oh, Y/n,” James cooed, running a finger down the side of your face. You heard more footsteps before the door slammed shut, causing you to tense up once more. “You’re awake, aren’t you, baby?”

You figured there was no reason to hide anymore, flinching away from him and his use of the pet name. Emily called you baby all the time, something you’d grown to like in your relationship. You never liked the name before her.

“What?” he asked, pulling down your blindfold. “You don’t like it when I call you baby?”

Instead of focusing on him, you turned your head so you could analyze where you were. You were right, it was dark. There was a dim floor lamp in the far corner, weakly emitting an eerie glow over the room. By the lamp, barely within reach of the light, was another man. He had a gun on his hip and stood protectively in front of the door, as if he were waiting for something.87

James was a lot more prepared for your abduction than you originally thought. This would make it difficult for your rescue but to be honest, you were doubtful that you would make it to the next day.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to look up at him. You tried to sink further into the scratchy mattress but he followed you, a sadistic smile on his face as he just got closer the more you tried to shrink away. “You thought you were safe?” He got closer, chuckling. His rancid breath washed over your face and you held your breath until it subsided. “You’ll never be safe. Not as long as I’m alive. You know why?”

You really didn’t want to know why.

“Because I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, darling.” He traced a finger down the side of your face. “You’re never getting away from me again. You’re mine.”

“You’re delusional,” you managed through gritted teeth. “I’ll never be yours. I wasn’t in high school and I sure as hell am not now.”

James scoffed. “You popular girls were always the same. Always thinking you’re better than everyone just because you were well liked.” He slapped you, causing your head to whip to the side. The sting from his palm meeting your cheek hurt more than it normally would. You could already tell that it was already reddening even without the help of a mirror. “Though, I have to give you props. Ashlynn didn’t last this long before she was sobbing for her life. You really surprised me.”

“Ashlynn?” This was news to you. In high school, you’d surrounded yourself with like-minded individuals all more self-conscious than the last. Ashlynn was the “head bitch” as others put it. She was like the Regina George of your friend group. “So after me you’ll go for Georgia and Penny, is that it?”

“You always were the smart one, weren’t you?” James said, backing off. He walked over to a table just out of sight, picking up a knife and running it over a whetstone a few times. You winced at every stroke, watching as he sharpened his weapon with glee.

“You really should have saved me for last,” you said, choking down any fear. James raised the blade into the air, admiring the sharp edge before strolling back over to you. He pressed the knife against your collarbone, barely applying any pressure.

“And why’s that?”

“Because my girlfriend’s going to come for me,” you said, gasping as he forced the blade into your skin. You felt the trickle of blood slide down the side of your neck until it dripped off onto the mattress. “She’s an FBI agent, you know.”

James rolled his eyes. “And Ashlynn’s husband was a cop. She still died.” He pulled the knife back, resting the tip on your arm. “They still haven’t found her body, you know. It really shouldn’t have been too hard to find though. It’s where you and the rest of them used to hang out everyday after school.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You stiffened your arm, pushing into the mattress to escape the knife. There were two outcomes that you could see. Either Emily dramatically bursted into the cellar and managed to save you just in time or you got marked up and eventually bled out. You crossed your fingers and sent out a mental prayer that Emily would get to you in time.

The tip of the knife dragged over your arm, splitting your skin like the Red Sea. Strangely, it didn’t hurt. The knife was so sharp that you couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t know if that was a good thing or not but at least it saved you from the pain.

“Why am I telling you this…?” James brought the knife up and cut down the middle of your shirt, leaving you exposed. He traced a few letters over your stomach with his finger before turning the knife over in his hand, pressing the weapon blade-side down. It cut into your skin, the beginnings of an “M” blossoming on the right side of your stomach. “Because you’ll be dead by morning. If you refuse to be mine then there’s no point in keeping you alive. You think your idiot of an FBI agent can save you in time?” He finished carving his word into your stomach, pain blossoming across your entire midsection causing your sight to go blurry. He’d pressed harder that time which meant you actually felt each excruciating cut he made.

James took a step back, taking the moment to admire his handy work before thrusting the knife hilt-deep into your stomach.

You felt the pain, a searing white-hot pain right underneath where your belly button was. If you breathed wrong, you could feel the knife move, which was horrifying in many ways. You tried to make your breaths more shallow on purpose, not wanting to disturb the weapon jutting out from your stomach.

And, just like a movie, the door burst open a moment later. Shouts of “FBI!” and “Hands up!” could be heard. You watched through blurred vision as James put his hands up, laughing maniacally as the blood left your body. Not only could you feel the blood drip down your collarbone and arm, but you could tell that your stomach was doing a good job of acting as a waterfall, watering the mattress below you.

Unfortunately for you, your stomach’s waterfall performance was not beneficial to the cause of keeping you alive. The last thing you saw before succumbing to the darkness was your girlfriend’s extremely worried face and the muffled sounds of her beautiful voice. Too bad you didn’t stay awake long enough to hear any more.

Emily was struggling between acting as the Unit Chief her team needed her to be and playing the understandably worried girlfriend to the woman that was bleeding out in front of her not even four hours ago. Thankfully they’d gotten to you in time. You hadn’t been bleeding for too long and the knife hadn’t been taken out which improved your chances of survival by a good amount. Emily wasn’t really paying attention when Reid was prattling off your survivability rate. She was more focused on making sure you actually survived.

You’d lost a lot of blood. That wasn’t arguable. By the time they reached you, your neck was drenched as well as your arm. The pool of blood in your stomach wasn’t comforting either and the second she saw what had been carved into your skin, Emily had to excuse herself for a moment to go throw up in the bushes.

And the worst part… the worst part was that you looked dead. You looked exactly like a victim in one of the many photos she’d see in a day. Your hair was wet--from what, she didn’t know, and you looked awful. After years of looking at the photos and consoling grieving families, she never even imagined that she’d be the one to be consoled.

“The doctors are hopeful, but she lost a lot of blood,” JJ said, resting a hand on her shoulder. Emily didn’t react. She had your scarf clenched in her hands. It was the same scarf you’d given her after it started snowing on your fifth date together and you had to escape into your apartment that was nearby. You’d said that it looked better on her and smiled. God, she’d give anything to see you smile again.

It was crazy how five years of love could be erased in just a day. Five years of morning phone calls when Emily was away, five years of at-home dinners after a long case, five years of just existence with you… it hurt to think about how quickly it could all just be gone.

“This is all my fault,” Emily muttered, twisting your scarf through her hands. She let the fabric slip through her fingers, watching as it fell into a heap on her lap. “I should’ve never left her alone.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Reid was standing in front of her on her left side, his arms crossed across his chest. As much as he tried to make it seem like he hadn’t been crying, he didn’t really do a good job with hiding it. His eyes were red and his cheeks blotchy. The fact that he was sniffling didn’t help either.

Reid and Y/n were best friends for years before Emily came along. The two of you actually met through Reid. You’d brought him lunch one day and it took about five weeks of seeing you around before Emily got the guts to ask if you were single--to which Reid had smiled wide at and answered that yes, you were single.

“I was the last person to see her,” he said. “If anything, it was my fault.”

Rossi scoffed. He didn’t know you as well as Reid or Emily but after years of having you as Emily’s plus one for dinners at his mansion, he’s gotten to know you better than most. You saw him as a father figure and he saw you as one of his own. “Neither of you should be blaming yourself. Y/n is here and she’s safe, that’s all the matters now. We can’t change the past.”

Says the man who obsessed over an unsolved case from his prime, Emily wanted to say. But she held back. Arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere and as much as she hated it, Rossi was right. You were safe with six government agents plus one technical analyst and one retired government agent sitting outside the room where you were receiving surgery.

“Y/n’s tough,” Morgan said, resting his own hand on Reid’s shoulder. He’d been there a lot toward the beginning of your relationship, quickly becoming the older brother type that you never get to experience as an only child. “You both know that. She’ll pull through.”

The night passed into its eighth hour when the doctors finally emerged. Emily was the first to stand, slapping Reid’s shoulder until he woke up and stood with her. The rest of the team had either passed out or left. Alvez had gone home, as had Lewis. The only other people that remained were JJ, Morgan, Garcia and Rossi.

“Most of the injuries she’d sustained were superficial. They should heal within a week or so,” the doctor, Dr. Smith, informed them. “She’ll be in pain for a few good weeks as she heals. The stab wound to her stomach will take longer to heal, the knife having gone deep enough to penetrate her uterus. We expect she’ll make a full recovery.”

Emily frowned. “And the carving?”

“Wasn’t deep enough to scar,” Dr. Smith assured her. “In fact, most of the knife injuries should heal without scarring. Just the stab to her abdomen should scar.”

Reid nodded, thanking the doctor before turning to Emily. He looked more relieved than worried, which was a good thing. Y/n would be okay.

“I thought I was going to lose her,” Emily said. Your scarf had become a bracelet of sorts, securly tied around her wrist. It still smelled like you, though it had faded since you’d given it to her.

“Do you want to go in and see her first?” Reid offered, looking over at the Intensive Care Unit you’d been moved into. They could see you through the glass now. You were asleep, most likely exhausted, and rightfully so. You looked peaceful asleep, a familiar and welcome sight, though she usually saw you like this when she came home late from cases.

“Shouldn’t we let her sleep?” Emily asked, eyes not moving from your still frame.

Reid looked over his shoulder. “Well, I don’t think anyone’s going to go home until she’s awake. You could go sit with her until she does.”

Emily nodded but she didn’t move. She was torn between wanting to be by your side and wanting to just leave you be. Reid pushed her toward you, motioning for her to get along with it.

She crossed the threshold, closing the door behind her. Immediately, the silence was apparent. Compared to the occasional sound of chatter in the hallways, your room was completely silent. It was a welcome change, though Emily would have much rather preferred the space be filled with your laughter.

Emily pulled a chair from the wall over to where you laid, sinking into the uncomfortable faux leather. She reached for your hand, taking it in hers. Your skin was still as soft as ever thanks to the hand cream you use nearly every chance you get. The dumb little habit had things slipping from your fingers more often than not but Emily was always there to catch the occasional glass.

You had a few paper cuts from the speed at which you read, and though you were nowhere near Reid’s 20,000 WPM, Emily swore that you consumed material faster than he did. For a brief moment, Emily thought about leaving you. The world was dangerous enough as is without a constant target on your back because of her occupation. Maybe you’d fare better with someone who wasn’t as high profile.

But then she thought about what you would say--you’d reprimand her for being an absolute dumbass before telling her that dinner was ready with a smile. Emily leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your palm before settling back into the seat. She refused to let go of your hand, bringing the chair as close as possible.

Emily would wait a thousand years if it meant you’d wake up and be in her arms once again. She drifted off to sleep with your hand still firmly intertwined with her own, a reminder that you were safe and that she would never let go of you again.

TAGLIST

PERMANENT

@beautiful-holland @toms-order @starlightfound @grandmascottlang @positiveparker @bippity-boppity-boopa @caswinchester2000 @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Getaway car

Summary: A story like Bonny & Clyde that’s what you wanted with him. Sadly, life gets in between you and your Clyde…

Pairing: Criminal!Dean x Criminal!Reader; Mobster!Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, abandonment, crimes, robbery, unrequited love?, a hint of fluff

A/N: And again, Taylor Swift inspired one of my stories. This time it was ‘Getaway car’. Lyrics are taken from her song.

The first time you laid eyes on him was at the diner you were working your shift. He stalked toward the counter, ordering pie and went home with you instead.

It was crazy, dirty, and rough but he left you wanting more. Weeks later he came back, wanting more and more until you followed him…

He was the best of times, the worst of crimes

I struck a match

And blew your mind, but I didn't mean it

And you didn't see it

The ties were black, the lies were white

And shades of grey in candlelight

I wanted to leave him

I needed a reason

Three years later you lean against the wall at the bar, your smile long gone, just like the excitement and adrenaline after another successful raid.

The last bank should have been the last. Retirement, a future, that is what Dean promised to you but lately, you got the feeling you will end up like all his other partners before.

Dropped at a motel, fifty bucks on the nightstand and brokenhearted as he found a new ‘Bonnie’.

You believed him when he said you are the one. You desperately wanted this life with him, but things change – so does Dean.

Right now, he leans closer to the bartender, that million-dollar smile which once melted your heart on his plump lips. The only difference, this time he gives it to that girl - his next partner as you assume.

It pains to admit you were just that, a young girl he could corrupt and use as a distraction during his raids until you lost your usefulness; until he found a younger and sexier girl to use.

You do not know where or when you lost it, but you know it’s over when he gives the girl a wink, snickering at something she said.

One last time you glance at Dean, ignoring the ache in your chest before you turn your back on him to leave the motel bar.

X marks the spot

Where we fell apart

He poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself

I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed

We never had a shotgun shot in the dark

In a haste you count the money, leaving half of the bait, two-hundred thousand bucks, for Dean on the motel bed. The keys to his car, you take them with you to get to the next hideout.

One last deep breath and you place the note for Dean onto the pillow, placing the necklace he gave you on top of it.

“Goodbye, my Clyde…” You leave the room, not looking back, hurrying toward the getaway car Dean stole a state ago. He won’t miss the rusty car, already having another in eyesight to escape if need.

Dean’s hand trembles when he enters the motel room only to find you gone. He waited the whole evening for you to show up, the engagement ring he stole at the bank burning a hole into his pocket.

“Goodbye, my Clyde,” Dean sniffs reading the note. “How could you believe I want to replace you, sweetheart?”

Dear Dean, my beloved Clyde,

I believed you when you said this is the last time. Sadly, I had to watch you hit on the next girl to be your Bonnie. I know, I was just the next best girl you found for your heists, but I will always remember our time.

To me, you are the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I am sorry that I was not enough for you to not stray.

I left half of the bait, Dean, and took the car. You will not miss the rusty wreck, I know you will find a new one in a blink, just like a new partner.

I will try to fulfill my dream with my half of the money. Please, if you ever felt anything for me, do not go after me to get the money back. I earned it as much as you did.

I will always love you.

Your Bonnie…

Tears cloud Dean eyes re-reading the letter until he falls onto the bed, sighing deeply.

You were drivin'

The getaway car

We were flyin'

But we'd never get far

Don't pretend it's such a mystery

Think about the place where you first met me

We're ridin'

In a getaway car

There were sirens in the beat of your heart

Should've known I'd be the first to leave

Think about the place where you first met me

“So…where is your special girl, Dean?” Looking at the money onto his table Sam swallows thickly. “Dean?”

“She left, believing she’s just a random partner. I didn’t use her as bait, Sammy. She was the one, the one that got away,” Dean opens the little black box to show his brother the diamond ring.

“The money, it’s enough to get back into the business and to pay for the house,” Dean nods, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “You did all this to get dad’s business back. We should try to use what you got. I brought my half too, twenty million.”

“Got thirty, Sam. Just give me a day or two. I need a bit of time,” watching his brother leave the room, a frown on his face Sam nods, understanding the heart-wrenching pain to lose the woman you love.

“We talk tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Take your time, Dean.” Sam gives his brother as cracked smile watching Dean stuff the ring back into his pocket.

“She left, took the getaway car, and never looked back. What if I never find her, Sammy? What if she’s gone for good?”

In a getaway car, oh-oh

No, they never get far, oh-oh-ahh

No, nothing good starts

In a getaway car

5 years later … somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Rocheport, Missouri

“Y/N, I’ve seen my old dog walk faster than you serve our customers. I have to rethink your position in this diner,” your boss nags once again.

It is not as if you didn’t work 12 hours in a row to make more money or that the diner is crowded, and you are the only waitress.

“I’ll try to work faster,” you reply, biting your tongue to not lose yet another job.

This small-town is a nightmare but your car broke not 10 miles out of town, so you had no other choice but to stay here, make some money until you find another town and another shitty job.

Five years ago, you had a plan, the money and motivation to have a better life. Two months in running your shop, a bakery, someone bought the building opposite your tiny shop, destroying your dream in the blink of an eye. It did not take more than a month to lose all your customers to the impressive café.

Without money left you grabbed your stuff and fleed out of town, no dreams in your pocket this time. You drove from town to town. Worked to make a few bucks to hit the road to nowhere again.

Looking back at that night, the night you left Dean you regret that you never talked to him. Maybe, just maybe he would’ve changed his mind and kept his promise.

It was the great escape

The prison break

The light of freedom on my face

But you weren't thinkin'

And I was just drinkin'

While he was runnin' after us

I was screamin', "Go, go, go!"

But with three of us, honey, it's a side show

And a circus ain't a love story

And now we're both sorry

(We're both sorry)

“What can I bring you, Sir?” A tall man wearing an expensive suit looks up at you, a soft smile on his lips. He doesn’t quite fit in. Men like him prefer an expensive restaurant, not a shady diner.

“Coffee, black. Please,” you nod, writing his order down whilst the man glances at your nametag. “Y/N, nice name.”

“Oh-well, my mom gave it to me,” the man smiles again, taking the menu you offered to him. “If you want anything else, tell me so when I bring the coffee, Sir.”

“Sam, just call me Sam.” You mirror his smile, believing he is new in town and tries to be polite. Usually, your customers bark their order at you only to not give a tip or to spill their coffee onto your apron.

“Anything else, Sir?” Sam shakes his head, paying the coffee and take-away pie, handing you a huge tip. “Thank you.”

“Must be hard to work at this place,” you nod, giving him a cracked smile. “Why does a girl like you work at this place?”

“Had a dream years ago, but it didn’t work out. You know, I had a nice little bakery but someone else opened a better, bigger, and more colorful place. I lost,” he nods, offering an apologetic smile before he gets up.

“Sometimes things are meant to end and sometimes,” he dips his head to look at you with soft eyes, “things turn out for the better.”

X marks the spot

Where we fell apart

He poisoned the well

Every man for himself

I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed

It hit you like a shotgun shot to the heart

Your shift is almost over when the bell above the door rings again. Your boss wants to bark at the person entering the diner after closing time but oddly, he turns pale.

“Something wrong, boss?” He shakes his head, choking out the word gun. You don’t want to but you force your body to turn around only for your to look into the barrel of a shotgun.

Two large men entered the diner, wearing black clothes and masks they crowd the diner. “You, come over here!” The smaller of the men barks at you, jerking the shotgun toward the place next to him. “Hurry or I’ll give your boss a brand-new hole.”

“Do it bitch,” your boss barks and you hurry toward the man’s side, sniffling. “At least you are not useless this time. We got around five hundred in the register plus her tips in the jar under the counter.”

“Classy to tell us about her tips,” the man next to you spats. “Come here, Y/N. I need to make sure you do not try anything stupid.”

You nod, walking toward the man who immediately wraps one arm around your waist, pressing his lips to your ear.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” His deep voice, the way he husks the pet name into your ear and his cologne let your knees buckle. “I’ve missed you, Y/N. I’ll bring my Bonnie home now.”

“Got it,” Sam smirks, showing Dean the money and your tip jar. “Let’s go and buy drugs,” Dean snickers at Sam’s words, holding you flush against his firm chest.

“Okay, you son of a bitch will stay where you are and not call the cops. We will take your sweet waitress to make sure you do not try anything,” Dean leads you out of the diner whilst Sam aims his shotgun at your boss.

“Do not move or she dies…”

“How? I…” Lips quivering you watch the man you met at the diner carry your few belongings out of the motel room you inherit. “How did you find me? Will you kill me now? I…I don’t have the money…”

“Sweetheart,” Dean pecks your forehead, running his hands up and down your back to calm you. “I needed 5 years to find you, Y/N. I never wanted to replace you, my Bonnie.”

“You flirted with that girl,” you sniffle, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I thought you want to get rid of me like with the other girls before me.”

“There were no other girls before you, Y/N. I lied, okay. In the beginning, I needed a partner as my brother left me. I wanted to keep our relationship strictly professional.” You giggle, looking up at Dean.

“After you had me bare that first night? Very professional, Mr. Clyde.” Dean hums, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you, Dean. There was not a single day I didn’t think about our time together.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart. We should hit the road before the cops arrest us for stealing lousy five-hundred bucks.” Sam snickers, pointing toward your now empty tip jar.

“I left the money with the poor boy at the reception. I think he never got a larger tip before.”

“Whoa…you invested the money better than I,” your eyes round, following Dean toward the family mansion he bought five years ago.

“I got our house from the bank and my father’s business back with the money. Sammy paid his half and we are back in business.” Dean leads you inside, holding your hand the whole time. “Now I got everything I ever wanted.”

You bite your lip, glancing at the tiny black box Dean holds in his hand. “I wanted to give you this five years ago.”

“Dean…” You gasp, looking at the little handcuffs. “Did you want to arrest me?” He smirks, getting the silver keychain out of the box.

“If you prove you will not run away again,” he whispers, glancing at your lips, “I’ll give you the ring I stole for you…”

You were drivin'

The getaway car

We were flyin'

But we'd never get far

Don't pretend it's such a mystery

Think about the place where you first met me

We're ridin'

In a getaway car

There were sirens

In the beat of your heart

Should've known I'd be the first to leave

Think about the place where you first met me

In a getaway car, oh-oh

No, they never get far, oh-oh-ahh

No, nothing good starts

In a getaway car

“I don’t think I’ll need a getaway car again, Clyde,” you press your lips to Dean’s, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I am your Bonnie if you still want me…”

“Next time you need a getaway car, take me with you.” Dean deepens the kiss, not letting up until you gasp for air. “But I think, we are safe for now…”

SPN Forever Tags

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Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

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A/N: If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you.

#Getaway car #song fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #criminal!dean #criminal!dean winchester #criminal!dean x criminal!reader #MOBSTER!AU #mobster au #mobsterdean #mobster!dean x reader #angst #dean Winchester au #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester SPN

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 16: Hallucinations

CW: BIG references to parental death/grief after losing parents (seriously, if that’s a thing for you that you can’t handle, you will not want to read to the end of this). Solitary/isolation torture, auditory and tactile hallucinations, panic/anxiety, whump of a minor, emotional breakdown, reference to self-injury, reference to severe head-banging episode/negative stimming resulting in injury

Count to ten, Tris! One… two...

Her voice is so loud he jumps, but when he looks to the left, nothing’s there. Just the white walls, plain and featureless, white tiles that were smooth under his fingertips back when he was allowed to touch them.

Everything is cold, and the boy has been shivering for so long that his muscles ache from the constant tense-and-release, tense-and-release, struggling to keep him warm. Everything aches, and the cold isn’t the only reason his muscles keep tightening up around his bones, threatening to snap them apart under the pressure. The thick collar that digs and rubs into the skin of his throat is why, too.

Chilled air comes from somewhere above him, just like the flat, featureless white light. It prickles at his skin, that light, lays along with palpable weight. He can’t shake it, there’s nowhere dark or warm to escape to. Now that they’ve taken his hands away, he can’t even bury his head in his arms to find some thin sliver of softness.

No, all that’s here is hard heavy light, and air that gives him goosebumps and makes him shake, and he would draw his fingers over the little bump on his arms but he can’t do that anymore.

Three… four… five…

There’s a little-boy voice counting along with her voice now, and he hums, trying to drown it out, but the counting keeps going. He can’t stop it because it’s not a real sound, it’s not, but if it were…

If she were alive, he’d play hide-and-seek with her again, even though he’s almost grown, he should have been a junior this year if he wasn’t stuck with Aunt Jo, if she hadn’t pulled him out of school, if he was-

If she were here-

He’d play, again, if he had the chance.

He hums, hums, hums, but he can’t drown her out.

Six… seven… eight…

He rocks forward as far as he can, and back, but it’s not enough. It doesn’t help. He needs to move, to touch things, to exist in the world and he isn’t allowed, not until he signs. He doesn’t want to sign but until he signs, he’s in here, alone.

He’s going to-... he’s going crazy maybe. Is that why he can hear her? Jo thinks he’s already crazy, you’re all crazy she says, and worse than that, but he’s not, there’s a word for his brain, there’s a word that isn’t crazy-

He can’t remember it. He’s too tired. The word slips through his fingertips and slides off his tongue and away even as his mouth keeps fighting to form the ‘aw’ sound.

The light is so heavy and he wants to sleep so much but he has to sign, to sleep.

The light is so heavy…

He groans, straightening his fingers, trying desperately to stretch the muscles in the palms of his hands where his wrists cross at the small of his back. Locked into place by thick metal cuffs, they only make the cold worse.

He did this to himself, the man in the black uniform said. He wouldn’t sign his contract, which means he has to stay here until he changes his mind, but staying here is - it’s horrible, and he doesn’t want his, he couldn’t ever have wanted this.

He’s losing his mind, isn’t he?

Wait, did he think that already-

He already thought about being crazy, he is thinking in circles and loops and his thoughts crash and spark and smoke against each other, wreckage he can’t remember how to overcome. He used to think like this, when it was too loud too hot too cold too bright too many people too much.

There’s nothing here, but he knows now that nothing is just as bad as too much.

Ready or not, here I come!

The sound of footsteps, moving quick from one side of the room to the other with a soft burst of a woman’s laughter and he flinches, rattling the pole his shock collar is attached to, the one that locks him into the floor. He pulls too far to the one side and feels the sudden pop of sensors against his skin just before he lights up in pain.

Tristan’s back arcs in a nearly perfect bow as the agonizing current overtakes him, pulling as far as the pole will let him, and he screams. The scream is swallowed by the walls - they’ve eaten so many of his screams by now - and by the time he collapses forwards, slumped, with his arms jerking and twitching without his consent, the scream is gone.

Back to harsh white light and a silence broken only by his whimpering breathing. Tristan’s sore throat - each swallow is like trying to swallow around shards of glass - is all the evidence left that he ever made any noise at all.

His lip stings - he tongues at it and finds he’s bitten it open again, the coppery-sweet-salt taste of blood on his tongue.

Tristan hasn’t had food that tastes like anything in days. The blood, at least, has a taste.

He presses into the split with his top teeth, encourages it to open even more.

They tried to take his blood away from him already, when he made there be color - be something - on the walls. He imagines he can still see the smears of red, can still trace the movements of his own fingertips as he painted there, the pressed color he pulled out of his own body and ruined, however briefly, the pristine nothing white.

He made it be something, anything, any fucking thing at all.

The red had been bright, and then faded to brown before they found him, still bashing his head into the wall to make more red for the walls, to calm the shrieking chaos inside of him. To soothe the pain caused by the endless bright white light and his fear.

They found him hitting his head, moaning, low rhythmic noises deep in his throat like he used to do on his worst days, only this is worse than all of those days combined. They found him with blood smeared over his whole face from his hands, slapping his palms into the wall, speech forgotten and buried under the buzz in his brain.

They dragged him to the clinic, and did scans of his head, and whatever they found, they put him right back here in the end.

Now there’s a pole hooked to his collar that keeps him away from the walls and the floor, and they forced his hands behind his back so he can’t hurt himself, and he can’t make blood to bring color to the walls anymore. There’s a bandage on the side of his head, and it hurts but it doesn’t bleed anymore.

He wants the blood back.

There’s a needle in his arm feeding him something clear from a bag hung on the wall. He thinks the bag is why they never bring him water. He thinks the bag is why he feels woozy and strangely slow, too, why he can’t seem to get worked up enough to have a really bad day again.

He starts laughing, choked-off, and it’s nothing like his real laughter but it’s a sound, and a sound is something. But it doesn’t drown her out.

Even though she isn’t really here.

Tris? Baby? Are you in the-... where are you hiding? I give up, baby, can you come out, please?

“I’m, I’m trying,” He whispers, and his voice is raspy, hoarse. He can hear her, foggy and soft but so present, she sounds like she’s right there. If he can just see past the light, he could see her, waiting for him. Or trying to find him. If he could just see...

But it’s just him, alone in the room. She’s not trying to find him. She’s dead.

His head hurts.

His heart hurts. Hollowed out in his chest, empty and cold and full of the way she was in the world, took up space and stood between him and everything else, and now she doesn’t and it’s all his fault. Now he’s here, where he can’t even go see the place where she and his father are resting. He can’t.

He can’t get them back.

He moved when he was supposed to stay still.

You have to be good or you’ll be hurt-

Wait, no, that’s what the man in the black uniform says, not his parents. They didn’t say-... did they? Did she tell him that? No. No, man in the-... in the uniform…

He shudders, and his collar pops in anticipation, but he doesn’t pull enough to any side to set it off. His shoulders shake and he wonders if he’s trying to cry. He can’t remember.

He is full of pieces of her but she’s gone, and his father is gone, and it’s not fair, but now he’s here and is it-... is it because of what happened? Is this punishment for moving when he should have been still?

He came out of his hiding place and he just wanted her to hold him and then the red on the walls and the police sirens found him with red on his hands and his dad had lived long enough to tell them, to say what happened, that it wasn’t Tristan’s fault-

But it was.

Is this… prison? Did they put him here because he killed his parents? There wasn’t a trial. The cops said it wasn’t his fault. The doctors said it wasn’t his fault. But maybe they had a trial and nobody told him.

Did he really ask them to bring them here, like they keep saying he did? He can’t remember anymore. He had dinner with Jo and then woke up here, and there was already a needle in his arm, and…

Does he deserve this, for being the reason they died?

Baby, you scared the shit out of me! I thought you’d figured out how to unlock the door or something!

“C-can’t, Mom, you, you, you need a, a key, they h-have the key and I-I-I don’t h-have my hands.” His lips are chapped and rasp against each other when they move, the blood rubbing over his bottom lip, and he flicks his dry tongue out to wet it on the bleeding spot on his lip again. He rocks, he rocks too far and cries out as the collar goes off again, forcing him to settle back and be still.

It hurts, it hurts so much, but he has to be still or it will hurt much, much worse.

Tris...

He can’t find her - she’s here, somewhere, inside the nothing-room the nothing-walls the nothing-light, but he can’t see her. She’s dead but she’s here. She’s here and she’s not angry at him, she’s playing hide-and-seek. He hid in the closet, behind her dresses, and she couldn’t see him at first and Tristan knew how to be quiet for games, and he was so very still in the closet, and then she found him and held him up in her arms, a heavy weight on her hip, you might be six years old but I can still carry you, little boy.

His breath catches in his throat.

Don’t scare Mommy like that, baby. Please, please don’t scare Mommy like that.

His eyelids are so heavy, and he keeps slumping forward, but everytime he touches the ground his shock collar goes off and if he goes too far left or right the shock collar goes off and he’s going to die in here, he knows it. He’s going to die and he doesn’t even care anymore, he’s not even scared of it.

At least he could see them, if he died. Right? He could see them again? Don’t people see the people they love right before they die, didn’t he see that somewhere on television? Maybe, maybe he could see them?

Fingertips graze over his cheeks, warm. He can almost smell her perfume, powdery. It’s called Green Tea and she buys it-

He hitches breath again, and sobs, this time.

She bought it every year at the store in the mall on sale, when they put out Christmas gift baskets. She bought that perfume in boxes with other perfumes kind of like it, and let him smell them and pick his favorite ones. He put up with the weight of the noise, even though later he would go home and rock and rock and rock it out, because the noise made her happy, and he loved her happy.

He liked her perfume. It smelled like her.

She’s never going to buy perfume again. Jo probably-... Jo probably threw out the bottle Tris kept to spray on his pillow sometimes after he had to move in with her, and it will smell like perfume in the trash for a while, it will smell like his mom, and then all the bottles will be gone and it’s like she was never there and if she was never there, does that mean-

Is Tristan gone, too?

Is he not real, now, if she isn’t real anymore?

Oh, Tris, honey, what are we going to do?

“D-don’t know, Mom, I don’t-... I don’t know.” He coughs, something feels loose in his lungs and that seems bad. But he can’t feel anything, and everything he can feel is so heightened. In the silent room he can nearly hear the soft rush of blood in his veins, the way his organs are working even though they have nothing to digest.

He can hear her.

I missed you during your nap, bud! You don’t usually take afternoon naps anymore. Did you have good dreams?

“No.” The word comes out a whimper, a word he isn’t supposed to say anymore, the man he kicked - who put him in here until he’s ready to sign the paper and belong to them and make this all stop - told him he isn’t allowed to say ever again.

No isn’t an option for him anymore, the man said. His options are to be good or get hurt, and he doesn’t know what that means, but, but he’s so scared, and it hurts so much being in here alone. “No, Mom, I’m, I’m, I’m… I’m not, not, not-not okay, I d-didn’t, I can’t, can’t dream anymore, can’t sleep, Mom, please, they, they they they won’t let me, me, me-me-me sleep-”

Oh, Tris. Oh, baby boy. Her voice is low, right next to him. He feels her fingers run through his hair, pressing the coppery strands, now dirty and oily, back from his forehead. The softest press of lips against his forehead, like when he had a fever, when he had to stay home sick from school. Tears burn hot in his eyes and fall down his cheeks, and he sobs, brokenly, hunched and with all his muscles burning and aching from the cold, the shocks, the hunger, the exhaustion, the pain. He cries, in childish wailing sobs, and she doesn’t hear him, because she isn’t really here.

“M-Mom, I, I, I just-... Mom-”

He’s so fucking tired, and he just wants her to stop being dead and play hide-and-seek with him and then, just one more time, hold him until he falls asleep.

Just one more time.

Just one more-

You’re still my baby, you know, even though you insist on growing up.

I, I, I am not, I am not-

Yes you are. Listen, you’re my baby forever.

Mom, I’m, I’m almost sixteen-

Excuse me, Tris, you are fifteen and seven months and don’t think I don’t know to the minute. Love you, buddy.

“I, I, I love you, too, Mom.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes

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