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olivarryprompts · 3 years

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Fanfic Friday #6

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/32370130

{Peter Parker’s Field Trip to Stark Industries}

Ships: peppertony, wandanat, sambucky

Warnings: mild anxiety, swearing

Status: married or dating

Wc: 3,281

“-and so that wraps up this lesson. Your homework is to do this worksheet, please hand a sheet back to everyone. I have a quick announcement, and it is very exciting. Given that this is one of the most advanced classes we offer, the school has arranged for us to have a field trip!”

Peter refocused on the word field trip. He didn’t have a good track record for those.

“We will be going to Avenger’s Tower! This is a very exclusive opportunity and you all should be very excited-”

No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening to Peter. Not now. Oh god. He had a suspicion this was set up by his basically-father. He was going to kill Tony. His teacher went on to blabber about permission slips and NDAs.

“Class dismissed. Please hand your forms in tomorrow as the field trip is on Friday.”

FRIDAY? How could it be so soon. Peter wanted to die. He headed for the door, but was stopped in his tracks by Mr. Blaze calling his name.

“Yes?” he said, turning around. The class had mainly cleared out by now.

“Peter, you're a good kid, and I understand not being the most popular student in school, but we need to talk about the lie you made up about working at Stark Industries.”

“But the internship is re-”

“This field trip is a great opportunity, and I do not want your lies ruining it for yourself or your classmates. Please do not mention it whilst we are there, or there will be serious consequences.”

“It’s a real intern-”

“Please Peter. You should know better than this. See you tomorrow.”

He was tired and fed up of school when he headed into the hallways to see his best friend.

“Hey,” Ned said, meeting him in the hallway.

“Hey,” Peter replied weakly.

“What’s up? Something happened?”

“Nah, just that field trip.”

“Oh the one to Stark Tower! It’s going to be so fun!”

“Right..”

“You’re not excited? I know you work there and stuff, but still.”

“Hmn uh yeah. No it was more Mr. Blaze being a bitch,” he replied, half lying.

“Still thinks you're lying about the internship?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Wanna come over to mine? Build some lego?”

“Nah, got to be home. Too much work to catch up on with all the patrolling I’ve been doing.”

“Gotcha. Well, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah see you.”

Peter walked to the carpark expecting to find Happy in his black SUV. He was, instead, met by Black Widow.

“Nat?”

“Hey spider boy.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Figured I’d pick ya up and bring you home. Had a second free.”

He jumped into the passenger seat of the jet black convertible.

“How was school паук?”

“Не очень хорошо,” he said easily slipping into Russian. (Not very good)

“Зачем? что-то случилось? (Why? Did something happen?”)

“Да. У нас есть производственная практика в Stark Industries. Что было бы не так уж и плохо, но мой глупый учитель не думает, что я действительно проходил там стажировку, поэтому он отругал меня. Плюс мое паучье чутье сегодня сильно пошло на убыль.” (Yes. We have a field trip to Stark Industries. Which wouldn't be so bad, but my stupid teacher doesn't think I really have an internship there, so he told me off. Plus my spider sense were going off so much today.)

“бедный ребенок. Я могу чем-нибудь помочь?” (Poor kid. Anything I can do to help?)

“Убить Tony за это? (Kill Tony for setting this up?”)

“Нет, детка. Сожалею." (No can do kiddo. Sorry.)

“Разве ты не можешь рассказать другим Мстителям? Особенно папа.” (Can you not tell the other Avengers? ‘Specially Dad.)

“Я не обещаю.” (I won’t, promise.)

"Спасибо.” (Thanks.)

They’d arrived at the tower. There was more to it than he was telling. Ever since he’d moved into the tower, he’d been his safe space. It was his and his families. And he knew it was supid because so many people used it, but still. It felt awful for people from his school to come there. Peter pulled his security card out of his bag, scanning it.

“Peter Parker-Stark, clearance level Alpha 5, all access. Hi baby boss,” Friday, the building's AI called out, “Shall I tell Mr. Stark you’re home?”

“Yeah sure. I’m going straight to my lab, though.”

“Okay sir. Morgan would also like to inform you that she is looking for you.”

“Send her down to the lab.”

“As you wish.”

He hopped in the lift and allowed Friday to take him to floor 89. It was his personal lab. Oren, he’d reprogram Karen, allowed him entry through the glass door.

“Hello Peter, welcome back. What would you like to work on?”

“I’m going to do some work on my web shooters. Play my “workin after school” playlist on, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

He worked peacefully on his shooters design and mechanics for about 30 minutes before Oren alerted him that Morgan was coming up.

“Morgan Stark is requesting entry.”

“Granted.”

The door opened and revealed his basically little sister.

“Hey Mo,” he said, picking up the little girl, “Who let you roam around all on your own?”

“Mummy sent me up,” she smiled.

Peter nodded.

“What are you working on Petey.”

“I’ll show you,” he said, placing Morgan on his work table. He’d quickly made sure there was nothing that could hurt her.

“Web shooters?” she guessed.

“Yep. See I wanted to make them even more efficient so I changed the gears and trigger mechanism.”

She nodded knowingly. She was very smart for her age.

“Nice! Can we build our robot?”

“Sure thing. Oren, pull up the files for Petey-Pie and Morgana’s Robot.” He’d let Morgan handle the name for their creation.

Peter went and grabbed the box that had all their pieces in it. Being careful around the young girl, they continued to work on building the robot, Peter teaching her little things on the way.

So he had a normal evening. Did some fun work, some homework, ate dinner with the lunatics called the avengers, and went to bed.

“If it isn’t my two favorite small children!” Tony said, entering his lab.

“Daddy!” Morgan said, running into her father’s arms.

“Oren, I thought I told you to lock Dad out.”

“Unfortunately your father runs the building, so I could not follow your wanted protocol.”

“Love you too kid.”

“You set up the field trip.”

“Field trip?”

“Yeah. My school’s coming here on Friday!” Peter said, looking up from his work.

“Really? Nope wasn’t me. It was likely someone from PR, kiddo. You do go to one of the best STEM schools in the country.”

Tony had a point.

“Right...sorry.”

“It’s good, kid. What’s got you so wound up about it?”

“Daddy, I’m going to Mummy.”

“Okay kiddo, Friday take little Potts to bigger Potts,” he said with a smile.

“Yes sir.”

Once Morgan left, Tony asked again, “So wanna talk about it?”

“Just, just this is home. My home. And I know that’s stupid because it’s a fuckin 100 floor tower, but I know it. I know it so well, and I just don’t really want kids from my school here. I know I can’t gatekeep a building bu-”

“Hey, hey, it’s not stupid. It makes sense. This place is home and you don’t want them messing with any part of it. I bet most kids in your class wouldn’t love it if people came into their home for a field trip.”

“Yeah. And i-its my safeplace. From everything.” Everything being all the people he lost. His parents and uncle and aunt.

“I get it. Want me to have Pep cancel the trip?”

“N-no, no. All the kids in my class were so excited.”

“Always so selfless,” Tony smiled, “When is it again?”

“Friday.”

“Kiddo, I promise it’ll be fine. If anything, anything happens just get Fri to call me or Pep. Most of the avengers will be around too so you can call ‘em too.”

“Yeah. Thanks. They’ll just try to embarrass me, though,” Peter laughed.

“They will. Do I need to sign something?”

“I’m just going to have Mum do it because her signature is less recognizable.”

“Yeah, okay. Your teachers still don’t believe you?”

“How did you know th-”

“Come on kid, I’m Tony Stark.”

Peter smiled, “Fair enough. Yeah they don’t. I mean they will after the trip.”

“Yeah, that’s the bright side.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then. Don’t stay in here too late.”

The night before the field trip he was so nervous. He ended up eating dinner in his lab. Pepper complained but Tony just told her he’d had a long day and deserved a break.

He knew he should have gone to bed but as each hour passed, he got more and more anxious about the trip. He needed something to take his mind off it, so he just kept working and working. Suddenly it was seven in the morning and he needed a shower. Finishing his eighth coffee of the eve, he headed to the 91st floor where he stayed. Hoping that neither of his parents would notice his all nighter he crept into his room.

After getting ready for school, he made his way back out of his room.

“Morning,” Pepper greeted him, “How was last night?” She wore a knowing smile as she continued to tap on her computer, presumably doing work.

“Fine,” he smiled, “Don’t tell dad.”

“I won’t. You're turning into him, though.”

“What else was expected?”

Pepper just smiled, “Sam and Bucky had loads of pastry delivered to the main kitchen if you wanna pop in there.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks.”

“By sweetie, have a good day at school.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too, hun.”

Peter jumped in the lift taking him up two floores to the Avengers hang out space.

“Spiderling!” Sam and Bucky greeted

“Old Man, bird boy,” he smirked.

“You look like shit, паук,” Nat said from the sofa.

“Thanks,” he said, putting a few of the delicious looking treats onto his plate. He also grabbed himself another cup of coffee. He plops himself down next to Nat on the sofa.

“Did you not sleep again? You look like hell.” Tony said, entering the kitchen to get himself another cup of coffee.

“Right back at you dad.”

“Fair.”

Steve entered, coming back from his run.

“Hey,” he said, addressing the room, “God kid, you look like yo-”

“OKAY NEXT PERSON TO TELL ME I LOOK SHIT IS GETTING IT!”

“Oh sorry,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. Clint came in with Pietro at his side, “What’s this about Peter looking shit?”

“I hate you all,” he said, finishing his last bite. He laid down on the sofa.

“Oh ah kid, something I needed to tell you. Right, you can stay here. No need to go to school and back. Pepper wrote a note saying you’d meet at the school because you had a doctor's appointment or some shit.”

“Why is spider boy here?” Sam asked.

“School field trip.”

“Only you Parker,” the White Wolf laughed.

“No embarrassing me, please,” he begged.

“Hell no, this is a great opportunity,” Sam said, looking over to bucky.

“I won’t,” Nat said with her hands up.

“I’m in, team embarrass Peter,” Clint said, high fiving Bucky and Sam. At that moment, Wanda walked in heading straight for her girlfriend’s arms. Nat happily let her fall into her lap.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Nat asked with some level of concern.

“Everything,” Wanda said.

“Drama queen,” Pietro scoffed. Peter closed his eyes and let the conversation happen around him. At some point, Tony had left. Clint had gone off to train with the Dumb and Dumber, and Steve claimed he had a mission brief.

Friday’s voice startled him, “Peter, I recommend you head downstairs as your class is arriving in 5.”

“Five what?” Peter questioned.

“Four,” The AI continued.

“A LITTLE MORE WARNING WOULD BE NICE!”

Peter grabbed his shit and jumped into the private elevator as fast as he could. Luckily, he was in the lobby mere moments before the class entered. He pretended just to be standing around.

“Peter,” Mr. Blaze called, “Please come and join the class.”

Peter nodded, spotting his best friend amongst the crowd.

“Hey,” Ned greeted.

“‘Sup.”

“Good morning everyone,” said the tour guild, “My name is Tamiko Hiroki and I will be taking you on your tour today. To start, I will be giving you all badges. When I call your name please step up and collect it.”

She made her way through the basket and by the time she was done only one student had not received a badge.

“Hey, Peter didn’t get a badge,” Cindy Moon, a kind girl in his physics class, called.

“Apologies, there doesn’t seem to be one in here for a Peter.”

“Uh I-i, I have m-my own. Thanks Tamiko.”

“Oh okay, cool. Please follow me to security.” The class seemed shocked. Was the kid telling the truth about his internship?

“So, there are many different levels of pass here. Guests get Beta levels 1-5 depending on what they are doing. Then there’s Omega’s who are interns and such. Next is the scientist and important employees with Zeta. Finally there’s Alpha for major important roles such as department heads. The top level, Alpha 5, contains the most important people like the Avengers who live in the tower and CEO Pepper Pots.

“Tamiko Hiro, Clearance level Beta 5.”

“Don’t worry everyone, that's Friday, the AI who runs the building. Just keep passing through.”

“Philip Maiko, Clearance level Beta 1.”

“Michelle Jones, Clearance level Beta 1.”

Peter headed towards the back, allowing all the students to go in front of him. He prayed they didn’t hear his security protocol. The rest passed through with Beta 1. Then, Peter came up.

“Peter Parker-Stark, clearance level Alpha 5, all access. Hi baby boss,” Friday, the building's AI called out, “Shall I tell Mr. Stark you’re home early?”

“I’m on a field trip, Fri. No need to tell D-Mr. Stark. Thanks.”

The class, once again, looked shocked.

“Why does Penis Parker have all access?” Flash called to Tamiko.

“I do not believe I have clearance to disclose that information, but Peter here may answer,” Tamiko said, glaring at Flash.

“I mean I’ve said it before. I am a personal intern of-”

“PETEY!” Bucky yelled, giving him a hug from behind.

Deflated, he responded, “Hey Buck.”

“Is that all I get?

The two settled on one of the many sofas in the lab. Pete’s head in Tony’s lab.

“Sorry about that, Pepper explicitly told all tours to stay off this level, but it seems as though her assistant made an exception because she thought it was okay as you were on the tour. Pepper fired her.”

Only his mum, “She didn’t have to do that.”

“She was furious.”

“Oh I’m sure.”

“I know this is your safe space, so-”

“It’s okay. No one came in.”

“Yeah.”

“You feeling any better?”

“Just tired. Thanks.”

“Always kiddo. You wanna go upstairs? Take a nap?”

“Sure.”

#mcu fanfic #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #pepper pots #peppertony #morgan stark #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #family fic #found family #peter parker field trip

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joontier · 3 years

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The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love, longing, immense pining

warnings: none to note

word count: 6.6k

g/n: HAHGFJFIE FINALLY!!!!!!!! that is all. ((also painfully and regrettably unedited)) thank you. THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR ASJDFOAWJEFI SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE?

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

“Hoseok.”

Yoongi keeps his voice low as he attempts to poke the general awake, vigorously, yet with the right amount of caution so as not to wake the naked sleeping court lady in his arms. Chaeyoung, was it? The southern king ponders on wistfully as he pulls the blanket up again to maintain the modesty in the room - if there was any left, that is.

The young king of the south had already sensed the tension between the pair when they were first acquainted with each other. Yoongi, not a stranger to the wants of the flesh, already knew this was coming. If it only weren’t for the places they hold in the palace, they would have made a great couple.

Surely though, the two were old enough to know that clothes were still warranted even after what Yoongi could only assume to have been a steamy evening between the two. It wasn’t appropriate to just go sleeping in the nude especially when one could easily barge in at any time of the day, just as Yoongi had done.

The blonde-haired king continues poking at the general by the ribs, cursing when the latter won’t respond and instead rolls over to the other side, pulling Chaeyoung closer in his arms.

Good heavens. Why does this have to be so hard?

For one, he’d already wasted time this morning trying to locate Hoseok, who he reckons no longer enjoys sleeping in his own quarters; finding more comfort in the danger that lies with sleeping in the court ladies’ quarters instead. He makes a mental note to address this to Hoseok later as this was going to be a major headache later on.

Should this relationship of theirs proceed with its imminent direction, not only the general will be facing the grave consequences of their actions, but the poor court lady will have to take responsibility as well.

“Hoseok.” The young king of the south nudges him once more, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi hears the general groan in response, and lets himself sit back against the wall in relief. At least this reaction was better than the log he was trying to wake just moments ago.

That is, until he realizes he spoke too soon.

Hoseok rolls over and proceeds to lie on his stomach. Yoongi cards his fingers through his temple, jaw clenched as he tries to figure out a more effective way to get the general up on his feet.

He spots a vessel on top of Chaeyoung’s dresser, and Yoongi smirks as an unorthodox idea of waking up someone pops in his head. Quietly creeping up from the floor, he grabs the clay container by its neck and tilts the vessel, pouring the water onto Hoseok’s bare back. This ought to do the job. Just as expected, the liquid had the southern general scrambling to his feet.

Squinting his eyes as he looks around, Hoseok comes face to face with his king, eyes trained on him like a tiger waiting on his prey. Hoseok immediately sits up, cowering under the king’s daunting gaze, “M-my king…”

Yoongi promptly gets up, not wanting to bother himself with another look at Hoseok’s naked form. “Get up. Meet me by the stables,” the king orders, sliding the door open, “and next time, please maintain some dignity and remember to put clothes on before sleeping.”

The general clambers from the court lady’s yo, taking his discarded clothes by the corner of the room as the southern king heads to the stables first.

“Did she really knock you out that bad that you were harder to wake than a sleeping cow?”

Even at dawn when the sun hasn’t risen yet, Yoongi sees the general blush under the sky’s soft shade of purple. “If I could say so for myself, she was quite flexible, your Highness…” Hoseok whispers shyly as he chews on his lip. Yoongi’s mouth falls agape at his general’s confession, grimacing at the awful mental images it brought to his mind this early in the morning.

“General.” Hoseok straightens himself atop his steed, knowing that the king meant business when he calls him by his official title. “You should know that what I had said was a question I needed not answered.”

“My apologies, my King.” Hoseok says, expression unchanging when he whispers under his breath. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s getting frisky with the women of the palace.” Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he glares at the general, guiding his horse nearer to Hoseok’s, seemingly taunting the latter to say more. “Ah yes,” the general gets the message and bows, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the small smirk playing on the younger man’s lips, “this is the part where I keep my mouth shut.”

Bored out of his wits (and disrupted from his very lovely sleep), the general turns to his king, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, jeonha, but where exactly are we headed to at this time of the day?”

“We’re already here.” Hoseok, with his question answered in the most unexpected manner, gives an awkward nod as a reply to the southern king. He studies the place where Yoongi had led him to in this early morning and in recognition, his would seemingly winces at him as he remembers the day they’ve faced death in the eyes, and luckily got away with it.

In subconscious reminiscence, Yoongi flexes his shoulders, a short tinge of pain stings through the breadth of his back. Hoseok, in similar thought, does the same, reaching over to his side to feel the slowly healing wound.

The small clearing was not as ghastly as it had been when they had first arrived at this part of the forest. The previously horrific scenery was no more; the doltap shrine, formerly made from dead bodies toppled over each other was now replaced by actual rocks and other mementos of the deceased.

Yoongi dismounts from his horse, a small cloud of dust appearing as he lands on the ground. Just like that, he’s taken back to the same night he’d met Seokjin – the same night he and Hoseok had narrowly escaped the hands of death. The southern king closes his eyes, reliving the scene like it was just yesterday.

“Forgive me, jeonha, but why are we here? If I should say so myself, my king, we we’re lucky enough to get away last time…if we stay here any longer, I’m not particularly sure what or who could be waiting for us this time.”

“We have to look for something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure too. Just… I don’t think Seokjin is dead yet.”

Hoseok looks at him, worry painting all over his features. Yoongi had never concerned himself with the capitol, all the more with its king. The southern general couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but he is sure that there is a missing piece of the puzzle he has yet to discover. It won’t be long before he does.

Jungkook watches you from the shade of another nearby tree, indulging himself with an apple he picked earlier on the way to the gardens. You’ve just finished teaching five new characters to the class, and as a reward for their exemplary behavior, you decided to treat them with a story – one you’re telling with such animation right now.

He joins the children in laughter when you imitate a creature: an elephant, he reckons, though he’s never seen one in real life. Subsequently, you use your arm as a trunk and even start to make the strangest sounds to mimic the animal. Peels of the sound of amusement resonate throughout the open space. Even the court ladies you’d initially came with join soon afterwards, making their best impressions of different animals.

The sight was most endearing. You’re a natural when it comes to children, Jungkook attests to himself. You were patient, caring, and kind – all the traits of a good mother already inherent in you. It was no question that you child will grow up to be just as wonderful as you are.

Being a widow though? Not so much.

Despite the bountiful radiance brought about by these children, he could still see the sadness in your eyes. Gone are your usually bright orbs, mirth and brilliance swimming freely in your pupils.

It’s only been a week since the news of Seokjin’s passing and the announcement of your pregnancy. You’d maintained your cheeriness but Jungkook fears it all might have been just a façade because your smiles never reached your eyes unlike before.

Jungkook knew you were strong. Even the whole palace would agree on that fact. You were stronger than anyone could ever admit and you were far stronger than you think you were. It was a trait of yours that even only the bravest could only hope to be bestowed with. Your resilience was one of your many characteristics that Jungkook admired so much.

But at the same time, he fears this mask of courage you put on was going to be the same thing that was going to destroy you slowly from the inside.

Jungkook understood where you were coming from. Truly, he did. He’s dealt with enough royals all his life to know that a simple display of weakness could be perceived for something far greater than it is. Royals are groomed and nurtured to perfection from the moment they are born, and in their lifetime, they are only afforded a specific set of standards they had to live by strictly, else they lose the respect of the council and subsequently, their people.

It was madness at the least, to think that royals are supposed to be as stiff as their forefathers now commemorated by figures made of stone or some precious mineral. How strangely ironic.

Crown aside, you are but a human being, a woman, who had just lost her husband, and is now burdened with having to deal with your pregnancy alone. On top of all the responsibilities of a queen, including those of which Seokjin had left you.

Jungkook knew he was a mere soldier in your eyes, but he wanted to help you in the hopes to alleviate the pain you were going through; he wanted you to know that he feels your pain and he knows the suffering of one who has likewise lost a loved one.

He knows you’re constantly pre-occupying yourself with these things, always looking for a distraction to forget your personal sentiments. Jungkook could only imagine what struggles you’re going through right now and how badly he wishes he could hold you in his arms and tell you it’s going to be alright and he’s going to be there for you no matter what.

“Jungkook? Captain?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet as he sees you looking down on him as he rested by the bark of the tree. “Jungjeon-mama!”

Chuckling, you remove a stray leaf that stuck itself to his pants. Jungkook’s heart flutters at the small gesture. “Are you alright, captain? I’ve been calling for you but you seem busy staring off into the distance…” He gulps.

“Alright. Will you accompany me to the doltap shrine then?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Just like before, the two of you walk in comfortable silence, although the captain beside you looks more tense than ever. “Jungkook. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re unwell, I can just go on my own. You can head back to your quarters.”

The captain quickly shakes his head, but when you meet his eyes, there’s a heavy weight in his stare that you wish to mention, but you don’t want to push his boundaries any further, especially when the two of you had been closer than any of you would have imagined.

You look away as you reach the top of the tiny slope, the dock finally in view. Jungkook immediately offers his elbow for your support, and you place a hand on the same with much gratitude.

He steps into the tiny boat first, readying the oars where he can reach them easily for later. Extending a hand out, he beckons you over to the canoe. Due to an unknown factor, you miss the gap between the boat and the dock, tripping slightly as you get inside. “Mama! Our– the baby!” You laugh at your own clumsiness before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine! I’m fine… stop acting like I’m a porcelain doll…” you joke, settling yourself on the seat.

“I’m just concerned about your well-being,” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting your eyes as he fixes the oars with a pout on his face. What a big baby. Gently, you put a hand on his knee, urging him to look at you, “I know,” you give him a warm smile, “and I’m very thankful to have you nearby all the time.”

It was the whole truth. Ever since Minho came barging in with your husband’s clothes and until the announcement of your pregnancy with the council, Jungkook has always been there. Since then, you’d opted to stay inside your hanok most of the day, unless you had to come out for your official duties.

He’d always be there, waiting outside your hanok as you’re about to leave for your responsibilities. You’d even suggested having Yunho come with you instead but the stubborn captain insisted, telling you it is his greatest honor to be your personal guard.

The boat pushes forward and you tilt your head back slightly, enjoying the cool, crisp air. “It’s a beautiful day today isn’t it?”. Jungkook smiles this time, “Certainly, wangbi.”

You decide to leave the shrine late in the afternoon as Jungkook wasn’t able to bring a lamp with him. The sky is becoming a lovely purple, and as the captain manages to safely bring you both back across the river, you make your final request of the day from him. “Why don’t we sit here a while longer? Enjoy the sunset perhaps?” You’re already patting the grass beside you, leaving Jungkook no choice.

Jungkook finally gathers up the courage to ask you this time, “How about you, Mama? Are you alright?” Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of response to expect but he hopes that you will be able to recognize the true depth of his sudden inquiry.

You don’t answer at first. It seemed as if you were trying to gather your thoughts before you reply. “I’m alright,” you retort with a smile. There it is again – the ingenuine grin. “Taehyung had just visited me yesterday to recommend meals I could have prepared that will give me and the baby enough nutrition.”

Right, you were also pregnant. He almost forgot that for a moment. That was another reason he couldn’t sleep at night – could he possibly be a fath-

“How I wish my child’s father was still here to witness him or her grow up.”

Oh. Right. Jungkook chokes back a sob.

This was only one of the many times he’d realized he’d been a fool all along, but this realization had been the most painful yet.

Just as if on cue, Jungkook feels something cold hit his cheek from above. There’s a grey cloud reigning over them, like it’s giving a warning signal of the storm that’s about to come.

He turns to you, worry apparent in his features once more. “Mama, we have to go back!” Just then, there’s a downpour of water, evidently drenching you both. He extends his arm out, even offering you a ride back home on his back. You stand up on your own though, but you don’t take his hand, nor did you follow him back to the palace.

“Mama?”

“Let’s stay for a little while longer.”

“But you might catch a cold, mama.”

“Since when was a cold fatal?” The smile on your face is almost devilish and Jungkook finds himself powerless to say no. “Come on!” you urge, clapping excitedly. “When was the last time you played under the rain?”

“When I was a kid?”

“All the more reason to have fun then!”

The last time he purposefully stayed under the rain was with you, and he promised himself that he would never do it again if you weren’t going to be with him.

You were both young and your rendezvous at the southern forest were nothing short of cherished moments. There were days when the downpour was ultimately unavoidable, especially when you’re playing in the middle of the forest. Rain hadn’t stopped you both from meeting nonetheless. There were also days when he just waited at your designated meeting place, only accompanied by the angry clouds while his body shivered from the cold.

When the years had passed by, Jungkook didn’t find anything enjoyable with staying under the rain so he stayed indoors most of the time, unless it was part of his official duties. Besides, everything else seemed to lose its purpose if you weren’t in it.

Life for him was a storm he was waiting to pass, but since he’d met you that day in the forest all muddy, he learned that life was about learning how to dance in the rain. Ironically enough, you were also the sun that brought light to his life, providing him with enough energy to last for centuries.

You feel something by your feet, prompting you to jump into Jungkook’s arms in fright. The captain gets surprised by your actions, causing him to almost lose his footing. Jungkook looks down to see any damage and sees a brown slimy creature camouflaging with the grass, “Mama, it’s just a frog…”

You frown adorably, giving him a hard time with an irresistible pout. How he wishes he could just kiss you right now. “I’m not particularly fond of these creatures…” You gasp when another one croaks, tightening your grip around the captain’s arms. Jungkook’s mouth twitches in silent celebration at your touch. He may or may not have flexed his muscles too on purpose – but that was most likely a primary instinct when the woman of your dreams encourages physical contact, albeit subconsciously.

Jungkook’s jubilation is cut short when more frogs start to appear out of nowhere, causing you to squeeze even tighter, your grip bordering on pain. For some unknown, you’ve managed to latch on his back with your constant avoidance of the tiny, slimy creatures. “Jung!” you shout, now relentlessly slapping his arm; Jungkook huffs - so much for his fantasies. “We have to get out of here Jungkook!!”

The quick-witted captain crouches low enough, telling you to jump on his back. He didn’t need to actually tell you though, because the moment he’d turned around you already had your hands hooked over his shoulders, trying to get him to hurry. Because of all the movements and the noise, the frogs share the same level of alarm as you – one even manages to fasten itself on your shoe. You flail your foot about, subsequently making it fly about a few feet away and thus, making Jungkook burst into laughter.

He remembers the time he’d surprised you with a frog inside a box in front of the whole class, and now you’d managed to get a whole army of frogs chasing you both. It was a living nightmare – for you at least, Jungkook on the contrary though, is positive that he’s having the time of his life watching frogs terrify you.

Just as expected, Jungkook loses his breath from laughter, setting you down gently as you go over the slope. You’re a little bit too hesitant to let go though, that even when Jungkook has turned to face you, you’re still clinging onto his jeogori as if your life depended on it. It’s a relief when he hears you giggle in his chest, assuring him that you were no longer frightened.

Only silence remained as the laughter dies down. There’s the muted croaking of the frogs in the distance, but other than that, you’re left standing in his arms, quiet as ever. “Is it alright if I hold you like this for a while?”

Your sudden request throws the captain off guard. He’s powerless to say no, not when this is the moment he’d been waiting and imagining for years. “Can we just stay like this for a moment longer, Mama?” His voice almost breaks, pleading at the least.

“Of course, Jungkook.”

It seems like a hug is what you both just need.

Just as the rain pours over them, Jungkook feels his own tears rolling down hotly against his cheeks, contrasting the cold droplets of rainwater. His heart hurts. He’s crying.

Actually, you both are.

You find Yoongi lounging extremely close by the doors of your hanok two days later.

The proximity of the southern king startles you and as a gust of wind blows by, some of his bright yellowish hair fly straight into your mouth, “Yoongi!” He fumbles as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder. “Apologies my queen.” There are at least two strands left in your face and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to reach out his hand, taking out the strands with such tenderness, shivering when you feel the cold pads of his fingers against your cheek.

It takes you a moment before you realize what’s happening and you pull away, turning on your heel. “What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, sliding your doors close. You’re meant to wake a lot earlier than you did today and if you don’t hurry, you might just miss your music class with the village kids.

Yoongi hurries after you, trying to keep up with your pace, “I was…um…wondering if I could come to your class today?”

“You?” you think out loud, not sparing him a glance. You don’t put much thought to it with your haste to make it in time, and you tell him he’s free to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t say anything else after that, so you quicken your pace towards the palace gardens.

You reach the reserved spot in no time, with the children already settled in, chatting and playing among themselves. Just as you’d requested the night prior, your gayageum has been assembled just underneath the oak tree.

“Jungjeon-mama, who is that ahjussi behind you?” Turning to see who the child was pertaining to, you come to see Yoongi standing behind you, seemingly offended at how he’d been perceived to be way older than he actually is.

“Ahjussi?!” Yoongi exclaims, face twisted into a grimace, “Who are you calling ahjussi, kid?”

The children are taken aback by the tone of his voice, unaware that he hadn’t taken any offense with the child’s question. The poor boy’s lips quiver in fear. You give the southern king a quick glare before calling the boy over and letting him sit on your lap. While Yoongi approaches the both of you with a softened gaze, the boy nuzzles his head by the crook of your neck, murmuring his fright over the man’s temper.

“Hey little bud,” Yoongi crouches, tapping the boy’s shoulder twice to get the latter to face him. The boy peeks slowly from your neck, eyeing the blonde-haired man warily. “I’m sorry about earlier son. I was just surprised because no one had ever called me that –“

He wasn’t actually going to explain it is he? You clear your throat, interrupting him. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Right. Say, could you tell me your name?”

“It’s Jinseo.”

“Hello, Jinseo. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi. Could I make it up to you by playing a song?”

Jinseo paused, head titled slightly to the right as if in deep thought. “It isn’t mine to give you permission. You should ask Mama,” he says smartly, pointing at you. Kids are getting smarter these days.

“Jungjeon-mama?” Yoongi asks with an expectant look. With the other children following suit, you are left with no other choice but to say yes. Reluctantly, you lift yourself up together with Jinseo and taking a spot next to the other children.

“Let me just try to…” Yoongi adjusts himself on the seat, plucking the strings in an uncoordinated manner, “remember…” All of a sudden, he claps like he’d just produced gold from thin air, startling everyone around. “I got it! I got it now, don’t worry.”

You and Jinseo share a look.

If there was any discipline of the arts you could take pride for in yourself, it would have been music. Your father, King Daesin of the south, aside from occasionally practicing medicine, also had the ear for music. He had taught you how to play the gayageum, an instrument you’ve been acquainted with for as long as you could remember. Because of fair years of playing, you could freely boast to anyone that you’re quite exceptional at it, but now with Yoongi and his hands on your beloved instrument... Yoongi was tremendously better at it than you probably ever will be.

A smile creeps onto your face when you realize his acting earlier, pretending to be a beginner with the instrument when he could totally be mistaken for a musical prodigy. What a humble bragger. Yoongi had his eyes closed, pouring his emotion and soul onto the instrument, and even without having to enunciate lyrics to get the message across, it was clear to everyone that the song conveyed sadness in all forms. Each vibration of the string – every sound it made spoke in volumes, moving everyone present in class. By the time he’d finished, all the children were as silent as mice, rigid as statues. This was the first time you’ve seen them all well-behaved.

It also dawns on you that this was the first time any of you were deeply moved by music.

The rest of the class stay silent moments later, all in deep contemplation despite the differences in your ages. From your side, you hear a child sigh to the girl in front of her, “I came to class happy this morning. Now I’m sad.” All of a sudden, Jinseo scrambles out of your lap and rushes to Yoongi, hugging the older man’s side in an awkward manner. Yoongi is caught off guard by the gesture, patting the little boy’s head in a similarly awkward manner.

“Ahjussi,” Jinseo calls once more, maintaining his hold on Yoongi’s waist. The southern king heaves a deep sigh, knowing he’s going to have to deal with that a lot longer than he intended to be. “Why are you sad? You played sad music for us. Now we’re all sad too.” Yoongi is rendered speechless and looks at you with wide eyes, seeking for your help. “Uh...Jinseo, why don’t you ask your Yoongi-hyungnim to play us a happy song then?”

“A happy song!” Sheepishly, Yoongi cheers, clapping his hands in an attempt to get everyone back in high spirits. Thankfully, the children seem to enjoy the idea, so they goad the ahjussi on, wanting to see if he’s just as talented with cheery songs as he is with sorrowful ones.

With a small smile, Yoongi mouths a ‘thank you’ in your direction before placing his hands on the gayageum once more.

“Thank you for saving me a few times earlier during your class,” the southern king says, leaning towards you while he mimics your movements as you wave goodbye to the children. “You haven’t had much experience with children, haven’t you?” you raise a brow at him while a laugh escapes your lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Yoongi replies, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good practice though, what you did earlier. One day, you’re going to be a father as well.”

Yoongi eyes you slowly from the side, checking if you realize the gravity of your words. His eyes lower down to your stomach, imagining if the baby growing inside of it was his own blood. Perhaps it was? Perhaps it wasn’t?

He’d been especially concerned about your well-being since last week when shocking news had been continuously delivered right to your arms. He wanted to approach you badly during those rough days, but you were far too pre-occupied to even spare him a second glance. The young king wonders how much of a difficulty it might be for you, but all he wanted was to show you that he was willing to support you in any way that he can.

Yoongi sees Hoseok approach with the jumeoni he’d personally prepared early in the morning. He sees his brother trail not far behind, studying the silk bag in Hoseok’s hands. The southern king had been nervous since last night, continuously practicing his lines to the point where he’s not sure why he’s doing it in the first place. It’s now or never.

“Jungjeon-mama?”

Yoongi winces inwardly as he hears his own voice wavering. Heavens. Why was he so nervous around you? You turn to him with a warm smile. Ah yes – that’s why.

“May I invite you for a walk?” The southern king asks as he beckons his general over who hands him the silk bag. “And lunch perhaps?”

You pause for a moment, recalling your thoughts if you had anything else planned after your music class with the children. Yoongi tries hard to not show too much excitement when he hears your yes. Extending his arm out, he motions for you to walk with him. He feels Jungkook follow you both, and he leans to your side a little, whispering, “I was wondering if we could perhaps…go alone?”

You look at him, as if studying his facial expressions. Turning around, you tell Jungkook to stay put. The captain’s eyes dart back and forth, giving his own older brother a steely gaze before nodding his head and bowing to you. “Don’t worry captain. I’ll scream loudly if anything bad happens,” you tell him as a reassurance.

“In all seriousness, Mama…” Yoongi says, putting on a stern face, even though you are both experiencing clear difficulty with keeping a straight face after hearing Yoongi’s stories. “…do I seriously look like an ahjussi to you?”

You place a hand over your mouth, ineffectively hiding your giggles. Yoongi grimaces, clutching his chest to express his hurt over your reaction. “We can’t blame the kids though. And besides, Jinseo had a valid point.” The young king gives you a playful glare.

Yoongi had been expressing his sentiments over the whole ‘ahjussi’ situation earlier, arguing that he didn’t have enough wrinkles on his face to be even considered one. In Jinseo’s earlier defense though, he stated that only old people had white hair, and if he wasn’t old – why would he even have white hair in the first place. To which, of course, an agitated Yoongi replies: “It’s not white. It’s yellow…ish. And it’s bleach! It’s something I discovered during an overseas travel! A lot of people have this kind of hair color…”

“How are you feeling? Is your pregnancy going well?”

“How did you know about my pregnancy?” Yoongi shrugs as he replies, “Walls are never thick enough to hide news like that.” “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is an appropriate reaction, Yoongi reckons, as he’s had the same sort of response when he’d heard of the news.

“Well, for one, our royal physician Taehyung had scheduled regular visits to keep my condition in check. So there’s that. He advises that as long as keep a stress-free environment, my pregnancy will be just fine.”

Using your chopsticks, you fiddle with the mandu he’s made hours prior, deep in thought as you stare into the distance.

Yoongi hopes that the apparent death of your husband isn’t conducive of stress of a stress-free environment. He makes an inward scoff – as if that’s most likely going to happen. If he’s already thorned by occurrences that seem insignificant to those of the capitol’s then he could only imagine the sort of struggle you have to go through, especially when the backbone of your government is composed of vile men who are strongly displeased by the thought of having a woman on the throne.

The young man lies on his back, stretching out his legs to get rid of the tingling on his soles due to their prolonged sitting. With a long exhale, he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift along with the steady breeze.

He knows he’s neglecting his duties as the king of the south by prolonging his stay here, but Seokjin’s death won't settle with him nicely. He has to get to the bottom of this. Even if he’s still holding a grudge against Seokjin for taking you away from the south (and had even secretly wished him dead at some point) he could never plunge a sword to another king, much more to the same one who had taken care of the woman he wanted to call his wife.

He hears rustling from your side, and Yoongi opens his eyes a little to check on you. He watches you clean the bowls and reorganize them back onto the bag he’d brought. You slowly start to turn to face him and Yoongi quickly shuts his eyes, solely relying on his other sense to figure out what’s happening.

“Oh? You must’ve fallen asleep huh?” Yoongi hears more rustling around. “Maybe you could still listen to me even during slumber…” You inhale deeply, “You know…Seokjin was always good with children.”

Yes. Of course, speaking of the spirit.

“Jinseo was one of his favorite students. Jinseo was actually really shy and quiet at first – yet for some inexplicable reason, Seokjin had successfully helped him to come out of his shell and the little boy has been brighter since. Seokjin was always so playful yet so gentle at the same time that whenever he’d visit our classes the children would go crazy over him.”

Well, that’s nice to hear, especially when he’d made a particularly bad first impression with the children earlier.

There’s momentary silence. Yoongi hears a sniff – and a shaky exhale afterwards.

“I miss him Yoongi.” Another sniff. “I miss him so much that it hurts every day. Everything reminds me of him.” The sound of your silent crying rings throughout his ears, yet he can't bring himself to get up and wipe them away, fearing it might cause you to stop pouring your heart out.

Mourning was part of healing. You’d feel lighter after crying. At least that’s what he’d learned from having lost his mother too.

At the same time, Yoongi feels his chest constrict at your words. While you pour your fears out to his sleeping form, he struggles with maintaining a stoic face to keep his act up. His empathy is fighting to register in his features, and when he can no longer hold it in, he turns his back to you, swallowing back his emotions that threaten to pour out after years of hiding.

“Jeonha, I can't seem to find any sign of him anywhere.”

Hoseok slowly and carefully gets back up from his crouching position, groaning in relief as he hears his joints cracking as he twists his torso from side to side. Yoongi does the same, shaking his legs one at a time to get rid of the numbness.

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived and Yoongi is getting more hopeless with every passing moment. They have searched everywhere for anything – any sign that he’s still alive.

He’d promised you he’d find your husband and bring him back. Even though you hadn’t exactly heard the silent vow of the southern king, he was a man of his word and he’ll be sure to do everything in his capacity to do it.

Yoongi couldn’t even find the reason why he was going to do it or why he should do it in the first place – whether it be for his own peace of mind, for your happiness, or for the future of the country.

He knew they’d left Seokjin that night and the chances that his fellow ruler was still alive was almost slim to none. He knows that trying to look for a clue and actually succeeding was going to be a long shot, especially when it has already been quite some time Yoongi had returned this morning to make sure but after hours of looking, the place was clean and empty, thus pushing down that gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, your husband was still alive.

Else he’d be forced to prolong his stay and resort to more meddling to protect you from harm.

They’ve already gone through this area, Yoongi thinks, recognizing the same stump he’d seen earlier. He settles himself on the tree remainder and picks up a fallen leaf. Just then, something glimmers from the ground and the curious king bends over once more, picking it up. It’s a bracelet.

Yoongi scoffs to himself: an even more shocking discovery. It’s not just any bracelet – it’s the kind of bracelet only royals can have. And if that isn’t the most astounding part of it yet, etched in the gold pendant is the emblem of the south.

Besides you, there could only be one other person who’d be wearing the same. If he’s still alive that is.

The man’s wife places a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, massaging them gently to ease the tension on his muscles. She’s never seen him his distraught since…since they left their previous home. Eunkyung is unsure how to give her husband the least solace, not when the circumstances only allow them to hope for the best.

For a moment, they stay like that, quiet and observant. In fact, they had been for almost a full moon, just watching the man they had taken into their home. The man had been looking for firewood that early morning, and he’d found this severely wounded man barely alive in the woods.

He’d carried the man on his back and hurried back home, his initial quest and the pains that came with old age completely forgotten. He had closed off one of his rooms reserved for his patients to tend to this not-so-stranger and had let his wife tend to his other patients while he carefully worked this man back to life for weeks.

“Do you think he will still wake?”

The man is unable to answer promptly as he tenderly takes the sick man’s hand in his and says a short prayer to his ancestors, as well as incorporating a lesson he’d learned back when he was still an apprentice – that human touch was an integral part of the art of medicinal healing.

The physician faces his wife and pulls her closer, likewise placing her hand on top of his and letting her join in his silent prayer. His thumb runs over the ring on the man’s finger, remembering a similar one of his own possession quite a few years back.

“He will. That is what I believe and that is what we are also praying for,” the man replies, checking the temperature of the cloth he’d laid on his patient’s forehead. It’s warm when he takes it, and he makes a mental note to cite this observation in his notes.

“Daesin,” Eunkyung calls, touching her husband’s now bare wrists, “your bracelet…where is it?”

The man sighs heavily, deflated as he rests his weight on his calves. “I…I don’t know, really. I must have lost it when I carried him home.”

It was the only thing reminding him of his past, of you, especially. Now it’s gone – but it really doesn’t matter anymore, not when something, or someone else rather had come into his life so easily. His patient was far more important than any bracelet that proved his previous rule over the southern city.

“I really hope he will get better soon.”

“He has to,” Daesin reiterates, hoping they’d eventually come true, “He has to get better because he’s my son-in-law.”

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Never Let Me Go: Part 1 of 2

Summary/Author's Notes: Confession time. I have been @stevieharrrr 's "Daily Carrillo Thirst Anon" for some time now. Y'all seemed to really want this! So, after some idea bouncing, friendly threatening, and overall caps-lock screaming at one another, this is my poker chip that I am raising Stevie in the Carrillo feels war. (This takes place in season 2... episode 4)

Pairing: Col. Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ -- SMUT, oral f!receiving, fingering, THICC CARRILLO ARMS/HANDS, language, violence, CHARACTER DEATH (I'm not kidding with this one y'all, I know it fucks me up when I read it in fic so you have been warned.) Cannon-divergence, this is a FIX IT FIC, if that makes you feel better. Gif by @el-cheung

And the questions I have for a sinner like me

But the arms of the ocean deliver me

MASTERLIST

Being married to Horacio had never been easy. You had lost count of the number of times you had moved, the number of houses you both had tried to make a home, and the number of times you had almost thrown in the towel. The key word being almost.

Colonel Horacio Carillo was a man's man. If anyone opened up a dictionary and looked up the word 'brave', a picture of your husband would be underneath. Along with the word reckless, cunning, ruthless, and a whole slew of other things that his superiors like to throw in his face when something didn't go according to plan. His strong resolve kept the underlying volcano of his rage carefully under wraps. And if you asked the man himself, he would attribute it entirely to you. According to him, the moment he put that ring on your finger was the moment he had a reason to not give in to his unbridled savagery, his desire to get the job done no matter what it cost. And so far, you were okay with that. You could play the dutiful wife on the sidelines, you could be his anchor, because as soon as his feet crossed the threshold of your home, he was no longer Bogetà's Atlas. He finally got to take all of Columbia off of his shoulders and fall into your waiting arms.

And that's the reason when you received the call that he would be working late for the third night in a row, you decided to do something about it. Hanging up the phone, you got dressed, pulling that small floral print dress that he loved so much over your head. You shimmied it down your ass and it just ghosted the middle of your thighs. The small pink and red flowers on top of the wispy white fabric made your skin look softer somehow, grabbable--at least that's what your husband had told you the first time you wore it out to the farmer's market. You picked up the phone again and called in his favorite take out from the small shop around the corner, balancing the receiver against your shoulder as you put on a touch of makeup and a bright pink lip stain.

By the time you arrived, the precinct was winding down for the night. A few of the regulars were standing around, and there was a general uneasiness in the air. Your high heels clicked against the laminate floor and it sounded way too loud, making you second guess your apparel.

"Mhm, what's that smell?"

Javier Peña turned from his pair of desks as you made your way across the office with the bag of takeout hanging over your forearm, your car keys jingling in your hand.

"Good evening, boys," you gave a small wave at the two DEA agents and continued on your path.

"Where's mine?" Steve Murphy, Javier's partner asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Sorry, Steve," you laughed softly, walking backwards a couple of steps. "Next time, okay?"

"Carrillo's a lucky son of a bitch!" Steve called after you and you shook your head feeling your cheeks blush. Javier mumbled something undoubtedly crude under his breath and Steve elbowed him in the ribs drawing a grunt from his partner before they both sat back to work.

Boys. That's what the two of them were and you weren't sure how Horacio put up with it all day. You raised a hand and tapped your knuckles against the glass bearing your own last name.

"Come in."

His voice made your shoulders relax. You let out a breath that you felt like you had been holding for the last three days, and walked into his office, closing the door behind you.

Colonel Carrillo looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and his eyes widened. Clearly expecting literally anyone but you to walk through his office door and it was humorous just how quickly his stoic persona melted in front of your eyes. He stood up abruptly, taking off his glasses and saying softly, "Mi amor?"

"Hey," you said, setting the to-go bag on a clear spot of his desk. "I thought you might be hungry."

"You didn't have to do this," he said, still looking surprised that you were actually standing in front of him. He stopped down as you offered your cheek to him and he gave it a small peck.

"I know."

"Ernesto's?" He raised an eyebrow and looked into the bag, inhaling deeply.

"Mhm," you nodded, reaching in and taking out the styrofoam boxes one at a time.

Carrillo rubbed his chin, looking you over slowly before shaking his head with a grin. "Thank you." He walked around the desk slowly, twisting the string on the blinds to his office window until they closed fully. You didn't look up from your task of setting out dinner until you heard the firm 'click' of the lock on the door.

"Horacio?" You asked over your shoulder as he rubbed his palms together and walked back over to you.

"So we won't be bothered," he said simply with a shrug and you nodded.

"When is the last time you ate?" You asked, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"I had coffee this morning." He admitted rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You knew you were the only one that ever got to see that flicker of embarrassment in his eyes, like he had somehow disappointed you. He didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of his actions, but your opinion was always held in his highest regard.

"Coffee is not a food group. How many times do I have to tell you that?" You said, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

"Of course it is. Because you know what I'm like without it." He chuckled.

"Oh, I absolutely do," you laughed. "A bear in a uniform--"

Your hands paused on the food as you felt his large arms slide around your waist, his tender lips finding their way to the base of your neck. Was he trying to distract you from your current annoyance at his poor excuse for nutrition? Maybe. Was it working? Also maybe.

"I haven't seen this dress in awhile," he mumbled against your skin, removing one of his arms to pull your hair to the side and out of his way. He kissed his way up your neck then back down to your shoulder, soft feather light touches that made your eyes close for a brief second.

"You haven't been home in awhile." It was meant as a joke, a harmless jest, but your smile fell as you felt him tense behind you. You turned in his arms slowly, putting both hands on his broad chest. "I didn't mean it like that." You whispered, fingers playing along the collar of his army green button up. Your fingers traced the path against the embroidered name badge over his heart and you wished you hadn't said anything. The moments you did get together lately were so brief that any that weren't dedicated to loving one another felt like time wasted.

He didn't want to be gone all of the time. He made sure you knew that. The war on Escobar wouldn't wait just because one man's wife was missing him. There were plenty of men who never returned home. Escobar had left many widows in the wake of his cocaine empire and every time the man in front of you walked through the door and into your arms you thanked your lucky stars. You didn't believe in much, but you thanked every deity that might have been listening for keeping him safe.

"I know," he said, trying to give you a smile but unable to keep the sadness off of the edges.

"Come on," you said, nodding to the food. "It's gonna get cold."

"Not yet."

He kept his arms firmly planted around your waist, his hands slipping lower to take two huge handfuls of your ass. The movement made the dress lift slightly, the material bunching in his grip. You gave him a surprised look and he bit his lip, playfully waggling his eyebrows at you. It made you giggle. God, how you missed him when he wasn't home. This playful, boyish side of him that made you walk on air. The side of him that made it seem like you both were young and in love and didn't live in a war torn country.

"I thought you were hungry?" You asked as he continued his way up your neck to the shell of your ear.

"I am." He worked his way back down, kissing the tops of your breasts as he walked you a step backwards against his desk. "But not for take out."

"Even Ernesto's?" You gave a mock gasp of shock and smiled, letting your fingers card through his hair as he pulled the scoop neck of your dress down and squeezed your breast in his large hand. "I thought it was your favorite!"

"There's something I like more," he said, looking up at you with dark brown eyes, refusing to lift his lips from the mound of your breasts. It made the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Here?" You asked and as a response he reached around you and shoved a stack of files off of his desk and to the ground with a loud clunk.

"Yes. Here." His words were firm and he shoved a few books off of the desk to join the papers on the floor. He gripped your waist and picked you up to sit you on the edge of his desk, nudging your thighs open with his knee and standing between them. "Think you can be quiet, dulzura?"

"You know the answer to that," you giggled again, cupping his face in both of your hands as he closed in on you. You were not a quiet lover and he often told you it was one of his favorite things. The way you said his name as he brought you through your orgasm was his most favorite song and he liked when it was turned up loud.

You reached for the front of his dark slacks, palming the bulge at the front of his pants and he gripped your wrist with a shake of his head. "Not yet," he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it before putting it back on the desk. He put his hands up the dress and gripped your underwear, sliding them over your hips and down your legs. The lace got tangled on the heel of your pump and you kicked them off with a shake of your foot.

"Kiss me again," you demanded with a shaky breath and he happily obliged.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as one arm held you tightly and his other hand went up your dress. His thick fingers pressed against your labia and you moaned into his mouth as he began to run them up and down, slowly spreading your wetness. He pressed your clit and you jolted, it was too much too quickly and you gripped his neck.

"Mi amor?" He asked and when you hummed in response he continued. "Lift your dress."

You did as you were told. With excited hands and a hammering heart, he helped you pull the soft material up over your thighs, letting it bunch around your waist as he went to his knees in front of you. Those dark, chocolate colored eyes that you loved with all of your heart never strayed from your own as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. He let out a small noise of content as you ran your fingers through his hair and the noise carried over as he pressed his mouth to your aching cunt. With a gasp and your head thrown back, your hair cascading down your back, your husband would have said that you looked like a vision--if his mouth wasn't already preoccupied.

Carrillo's hands slid around each of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh and keeping them wide open for his broad shoulders to sit comfortably in the middle. His tongue slipped through your wet pussy like it had a hundred times before, but it still made you moan his name softly to the empty office around you. Your husband may have been a man of few words, but he liked to say he used his mouth for much more precious things.

He sucked each of your folds separately, a soft pop sound coming each time he moved to the next spot. When he finally closed his mouth around your clit, you gasped sharply and grabbed his hand that was resting on top of your thigh and squeezed it.

"There?" He mumbled from between your legs and you nodded.

"There. Right there."

"Right there. Mhmm, I see," he teased your desperation but continued to oblige your request. He worked his jaw against you in such a way that you imagined he was coating his face with your juices like you were the most delicious of fruits. The wonderfully crude image made your cunt twitch and he groaned.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he continued to suck your clit. You wanted so much more right now. You wanted his cock inside of you. You wanted his hand around your neck. You wanted him to flip you over and take your ass. Suddenly you wished more than anything that the two of you were home so you didn't have to pick what you wanted most, you just had to pick which one you wanted first.

"Horacio," you moaned his name, rocking your hips forward gently against his chin. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, the feeling of how well he knew your body started to overwhelm you. In the years you had been together he had taken so much time memorizing every spot that made you sigh, every place that made you break out in goosebumps, and every series of movements that had you falling apart in his arms.

He loved you fully, completely, and unconditionally.

The orgasm he brought you with his mouth took you from your thoughts as you clenched your thighs around his head suddenly. "I'm cuming!" You gasped desperately just before you felt the rush of heat flood your core down through your legs. It made you bend forward over him and open your eyes, moaning loudly as you saw him looking up at you, watching you orgasm in his hands as his mouth continued to ravage your aching cunt.

"Come on, baby," he squeezed your hand, feeling you clench again against his mouth and it was too much.

"Stop, stop," you said with a shaky voice to match your quivering legs. You grabbed two fistfuls of his button up and pulled, making him get to his feet and slam his mouth against yours.

He grunted against your lips as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, greedily tasting your own wetness on him. He cursed quietly in Spanish as you pulled his shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his pants. Your hands went to his belt and you slowed down, suddenly remembering you were in the precinct.

"Do--" you swallowed hard, trying to breathe normally as you spoke against his face. "Do you have time?"

"For you? Siempre," he slid his fingers in your hair at your temple and cradled the back of your head. "Siempre, mi amor."

Always.

You blushed a little, your fingers starting to unbutton his shirt as he kissed you gently and kept hold of your hair. With each button your heart raced faster, you smiled against his lips as he slipped his tongue back inside your mouth, expertly colliding it with your own. His kisses always felt like they were going to devour you from the inside out. He kissed with such an intensity that you knew from the first time he pressed his mouth to yours all those years ago you would willingly allow him to consume you.

You clenched your thighs around his waist and let your heels drop to the floor behind him. He ran his hand down the curve of your ass and hitched your leg further up on his hip, dipping you down to lay on his desk. He grinned down at you and started to open his mouth to say something but was stopped short by a hurried knock against the glass.

"Carrillo!" Javier called from the other side of the office door.

"Go away," he returned, throwing his voice in the direction of the door, leaning down to kiss your breasts.

"Messina needs us. We got a hit off of the wire taps--it could be Escobar." There was a pause as he tried the door but it was still locked. "We gotta go!"

Carrillo's shoulders fell slightly and ran a hand over his face before helping you sit up. "Coming!" He helped you pull your dress over your breasts and started buttoning his shirt back up. "Lo siento, mi amor." He said quietly and you shook your head.

"It's okay." You bit your lip as you watched him tuck his shirt back into his pants and he hissed softly. "Sorry about that," you nodded towards the bulge against his zipper as he did his belt.

He chuckled and kissed you on the cheek, bending over to pick up your thong and held it out to you in offering. "I'm not. It'll give me something to look forward to when this search comes up empty like all of the others."

You took your underwear from him and smiled as you slipped off of his desk and put them back on. "I take it I should put the food in the fridge?"

He nodded and put his hands on his hips as he watched you fondly finish redressing. "I'll be home late."

You cupped his face giving his cheek a gentle pat and a nod. "And I'll be asleep." You smiled as best you could but you knew he could see the twinge of sadness in the corners of your mouth. The number of times he crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning far outweighed the number of times the two of you got to go to bed at the same time.

Carrillo grabbed your hand before you could turn away and kissed your knuckles, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could without hurting you. As he walked to the door and unlocked it, he looked over his shoulder and said seriously, "I love you."

"I love you, too," you barely managed to get out before he unlocked the door and he and Javier walked briskly down the hall, leaving you to tidy up and head home.

When the knock at your front door came, you were already in bed and sound asleep. The oscillating fan of your bedroom was breathing a cool breeze across your body as you snuggled deeper into the comforter. The bed hugged you like it knew you better than anyone else in the world, and apart from your husband, it probably did. The knock came again and you groaned because it meant that you hadn't been dreaming about the first one.

You leaned up and pushed your hair to the side, looking at the side table that held your alarm clock and a lamp. "Fuck," you mumbled as bright red numbers told you it was almost three in the morning. Three AM? Where the hell was Horacio? You touched his side of the bed as if to confirm what your eyes were already telling you--he still hadn't come home.

The knock came again.

"Shit," you cursed again, turning on the lamp and opening the drawer to grab the hand gun that you knew was there.

The 9mm felt cool in the palm of your hand as you checked the magazine for ammo before slamming it into place and pulling the cartridge back to slide a single bullet down the chamber. You grabbed your robe and wrapped it around your shoulders, tying it tightly and hurrying across the bedroom barefoot. You saw the flashing red and blue lights outside the front room window as they ran along the walls of your home, chasing each other over and over, casting shadows on the entire room. The fact that there were no sirens paired with them made you feel uneasy--that was never a good sign.

The knock came again, this time it was apparent that whoever it was was pounding their fist against the wooden paneling of the door. Leaning up on your tip-toes you looked out the peephole and recognized the somber face of Javier Peña. You hurried and put the gun on the table in the mudroom before flinging open the front door and asking him accusingly.

"Javi?? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Your voice sounded foreign even to you. Your heart hammered against your ribs as your eyes frantically searched the two police cars behind him for your husband.

"(Y/n)..." Javier said quietly as he leaned against your door frame, one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket.

"What's wrong?" You said as he shifted uncomfortably on your doorstep. In the back of your mind you already knew what he was about to tell you, but you wanted him to say it. If he didn't say the words out loud then they would never become real. The news he was about to give you was a stone, and unless he threw it, it would never be allowed to shatter your entire existence.

"There's been an accident." He said flatly, forcing himself to look you in the eyes. You glanced over his shoulder and saw Steve leaning against the hood of the Jeep with his arms crossed, looking at the ground. The other officers in uniform wouldn't look at you either and you knew your next question was a foolish one.

"Is he hurt?" You asked in a meek voice. Hurt you could handle. Hurt you could work with. But you knew before you even opened the door tonight that hoping that he was only hurt was a faulicy that your brain entertained purely to keep you from fainting on the hardwood floor.

"(Y/n)," Javier tried again, moving his arms from the door frame as he started to put his hands on your shoulders.

"I need to see him," you blurted out as Javi's hands clasped your biceps. You tried to shove him off. If he touched you, it was over. If he held you it was all over. If Horacio Carrillo was alive then he would have already told you to get dressed and get in the car. No, comfort meant trying to diffuse the ticking time bomb that was a woman about to learn that she was a widow.

"I can't--" Javier tried and you jerked your arms out of his grasp.

"Take me to him, Javi. Let me see him!"

"I can't do that. There's nothing--"

"Shut up! Don't you dare--" you raised your hands and he was faster than you and grabbed both of your wrists, holding them to his chest. "Don't you fucking dare! Where is he? Where's my husband--"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated as you finally gave in.

He kept his hands on your arms as your knees buckled out from under you and you slowly sank to the concrete stoop. Javi followed you down, pulling you against his leather jacket and letting you scream against his chest. You would have screamed all night if your vocal cords would have allowed it. But it wasn't long before the screaming turned to sobs and the sobbing turned to silent gasps as your body couldn't seem to figure out the appropriate noise to make to express your anguish.

You felt his voice against your hair as he spoke Spanish softly in your ear. Only catching half of it, you nodded helplessly as he told you it had been a quick death, that it was no secret around the office how deeply Horacio loved you, and other forms of condolence that didn't do a damn thing to stop the meticulous tearing of your heart within your chest.

He was gone. Not even twelve hours ago he had been in your hands, against your skin, warm and alive and looking at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. And now...nothing. You felt Javi's hand in your hair as you heard Steve's boots approaching the both of you quietly and respectfully. They were trying. They had been saddled with the task of telling you because they were friends of the Colonel. But as the tears started up again and you felt Javi's arms tighten around your shoulders, you desperately wished they belonged to someone else.

Permanent Tag List: @stevieharrrr @zeldasayer @cosmicbug379 @winters-buck @rae-gar-targaryen @gooddaykate @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor Please let me know if you want to be added to my Permanent Tag list or of I tagged you by mistake. I have done a shit job of keeping track of the Permanent list and I am trying to fix that. ❤️

#narcos #Horacio Carrillo #colonel carrillo #Carrillo x reader #narcos fic #i promise its gonna be okay #Horacio Carrillo x reader

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slashyrogue · 3 years

Text

“Will, you got another one.”

Will looked up to see Beverly, his best friend of ten years and co-owner in Graham Landscapes, holding a box labeled “Unique Deliciousness” and blushed as she set it on his desk.

“I’m not opening it.”

She grinned. “He took the time to make you a sexy cookie, or maybe even a cake. You’d better open it so I can eat it like the other ones while I laugh at how uncomfortable you are.”

Unique Deliciousness was and had been the bane of his existence for the last few months. The owner, Hannibal Lecter, had developed something of a crush on him the day he opened up the sexy bakery/sex shop next door and despite Will’s obvious annoyance sent him sexy pastries once a week.

Mostly because when he’d first opened up there was no bakery part of Unique Deliciousness and Will had been so angry getting sex toys as presents that Lecter inexplicably started baking him ass cakes and cookies shaped like cocks.

Hannibal wasn’t subtle, not even a little, and no matter how many times Will said he wasn’t interested he persisted.

Will’s cheeks burned as he opened the pink box and was surprised to see what was inside.

A cookie shaped like a heart with his name on it, beautifully scrawled, and as Will lifted the sweet into his hands he smiled.

“Boring,” Bev sighed, “Just let me—“

He pulled the cookie to his chest. “No! I...I want this one.”

Bev grinned. “Oh?”

“I just...it’s...”

“Did all the cock cookies and butt cakes finally wear you down?”

Will blushed. “Shut up.”

She shook her head. “Nope, not gonna happen. I’ve been desperately hoping for this day for almost four months. Poor Hannibal is so goddamn thirsty every time he sees you I started bringing him coffee in the morning to quench his thirst. Poor thing didn’t quite believe me that the sexy cakes weren’t your thing.”

He blinked. “Wait, what?”

She leaned against his desk. “So I told him to try something else. Looks like he finally listened.”

Will suddenly felt weird. “So you put him up to this?”

“No, no! Don’t you dare backslide into loneliness again, Graham! I told him to be more subtle weeks ago. I didn’t make him give you that.”

He looked at the cookie in his hands. “Oh.”

“You like him, Will. We all know you do. You hardly ever say two words to anyone and just yesterday you bickered with him for almost an hour about serial killers.”

He blushed. “I...I just think the western world idolizes them too much and the mov—-”

Bev put her hands on the table hard. “No. You’re not changing the subject. You might’ve hated him when this all began but you like him. Now eat your pretty cookie and go next door to tell him that while I talk to the hot widow that he sent over here who wants to completely redo her entire backyard.”

Will bit into the cookie and moaned. “Fuck that’s good.”

“It better be,” she joked, “That cookie is made with weeks worth of sexual frustration and pining. Who knows how long Hannibal spent perfecting the taste.”

Will looked down at the cookie again.

“He’s way out of my league. I don’t even understand why he...”

“Newsflash, Will. You’re hot. I know you don’t believe that but you are. Now...what’re you gonna do?”

He looked at her. “I don’t know.”

She sighed. “Yes, you do.”

Will took another bite. The sweet flavor made his tastebuds sing. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down his heart as it beat wildly in his chest.

“Will....”

He opened his eyes again slowly and smiled at her. “If you’re about to say I told you so...”

She grabbed his arm and leaned in smiling. “I told you so,” she said, “But I also told you from the very first sex toy that this one’s a keeper. Go get your man.”

Will took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I...I want to do something first. You know that little bush he keeps outside his store? I....can you keep him occcupied for a while?”

Bev grinned, let go of his arm, and saluted. “I’m on it, Boss.”

He watched her go and still didn’t feel all the ready for this.

Hannibal was...a lot. He wouldn’t fit all that easily into Will’s life, and this whole thing could blow up in both their faces, but as he looked at the half eaten cookie in his hand he knew that it was more than a crush.

No one would spend months trying to woo someone with sexy pastries and sex toys for a crush. You didn’t even do that for just a quick roll in the hay. He opened his desk drawer and blushed at the pile of note cards he’d kept for what felt like forever.

Will had every single card Hannibal had put in with his “gifts” and as he looked into the box he realised that this was the only one that didn’t come with a salacious note.

He let out a long breath.

“Okay.”

The tools he needed wouldn’t be far, and it shouldn’t take too long.

He could do this.

He grabbed his shears, both sizes, and headed outside. The round bush that Hannibal kept in front of his place seemed like a beacon to Will as he made his way toward the little thing. He put the small shears down and began to trim.

The process wouldn’t take too long, all he needed was to---

“Will?”

Will dropped his shears, startled, and glared at Bev who stood behind Hannibal in the store doorway. She held up her hands, looking apologetic.

“I...”

“What are you doing?”

He blushed. “I was...responding to your...cookie.”

Hannibal frowned, stepping back, and stared at the half made heart Will had begun. “You...you’re making a heart?”

He felt like his face was on fire. “Um...yeah.”

Hannibal’s smile made Will’s heart beat faster. “I see,” he said, looking at the bush again, “May I watch?”

Will nodded.

He spent the next half hour painstakingly making the heart, and neither of them noticed when Bev left. Will had a thin sheen of sweat on his brow by the time he finished, and when he felt Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder he shivered.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” he said, suddenly nervous, “I...I liked the cookie.”

“I can tell.”

“Hannibal, I---” he began, turning, but was cut off by Hannibal’s mouth touching his.

The feeling of Hannibal’s lips on his own made Will moan and pull him closer.

This was what they should’ve been doing for months.

How stupid had he been?

Will fought to catch his breath when they parted, smiling as he stared into Hannibal’s eyes, and the surprised sweetness he’d seen before was now replaced by the lust he’d seen since the minute they’d met.

“I apologize for my fumbled pursuit of your favor,” Hannibal said, reaching out to touch Wil’s cheek, “I must confess I’ve never felt such an immediate attraction and sending the sex toys seemed appropriate at the time. I had plenty of them, and...”

Will kissed him again, pulling on the red sweater he wore, and when they broke for breath again he felt Hannibal’s hardness against his thigh. “I...I kept them,” he confessed, cheeks flushed, “I kept all of them...and every time I use them I think of you. Hannibal---”

Hannibal turned and pushed Will against the wall outside his store, growling as he kissed him again. Will was shaking, desperate for more,and knew if they continued he’d cum in his pants like a teenager.

Someone cleared their throat and they broke apart, gasping for breath.

Bev was leaning against the heart bush’s flowerpot, her smile so wide Will knew he’d hear about this for the rest of his life. “Unless you boys are cool with being arrested for public indecency, I think you’d best continue this inside. I’m sure Hannibal’s got...plenty...of things in there to last the rest of the afternoon and maybe into tonight. And I’ve cleared your schedule, Will. No need to thank me.”

Will blushed, burying his face into Hannibal’s neck.

“Thank you, Beverly,” Hannibal purred, “We will do just that.”

“Erase any pictures you have on your phone,” Will mumbled, “Or I’m not gonna invite you to the wedding.”

Bev let out a chuckle and held up her phone. “Wedding bells, already? I’ll sacrifice my invite in order to keep this day immortalized on my phone. Have a good time, Will.”

She winked.

He let out a breath against Hannibal’s neck. “That was humiliating.”

“Was it?”

Will lifted his head. “I...”

Hannibal’s fingers brushed along Will’s lips. “Would you be...inclined...so spend the afternoon with me, Will?”

Will licked at his finger. “Yes,” he whispered, “I...fuck yes.”

Continued in:

Love and Cock Cookies

#hannigram au #landscape/sex shop worker au #lots more sex than anticipated in this lol #like I didn't think there'd be any #my ao3

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creative-poptart · 4 years

Text

Sans had been planning this little stake out for quite some time, and Papyrus was ready to make sure that he fulfilled everything that needed to be done. The mission seemed simple enough: watch the human that was suspected to be a part of the rival mafia and document behavior. Easy! Papyrus could do that in his sleep, except for the fact that sleeping would make the job inefficient!

He had his own little station that he could return to in the blink of an eye if need be, and he was fully prepared to last for months on end. This job was going to be a longer one, after all, with having to detail several months’ worth of behavior, all at once.

Nothing he couldn’t handle, of course, but he would much rather be making sure that the business side of things was running smoothly. Sans wasn’t the worst at keeping things going, but he wasn’t necessarily the best either. Then again, Sans trying to run a whole stakeout operation with even the slightest chance of not falling asleep? Highly unlikely.

A soft laugh left Papyrus’ mouth as he thought about it. Despite his brother being the powerful mob boss he was, there was no way that he could pull off a full session of watching someone else. Not that he didn’t believe in his brother, but staying awake and watching people do day to day things was something that would put Sans right to sleep.

Papyrus shook his head a little and got back to preparing all of his items for the months to come. Walkie talkie? Check. Healthy snacks and food? Check! Extra batteries, clothing, and binoculars? Check, double check, and triple check! He smiles to himself and quietly starts to make sure that everything was fit into his bag with perfection.

“THERE!” he proclaimed to no one in particular. “ALL SET AND READY TO GO ON MY MISSION FOR AT LEAST A MONTH! SANS, ARE YOU PREPARED TO HANDLE THINGS IN MY ABSENCE?” The walkie talkie crackled to life beside him with his brother’s voice coming through.

“yep bro, read you loud and clear. you sure you can handle being out there for a month or more?” Papyrus shook his head and, if he had eyes to roll, he would have rolled them in his skull.

“YES, I AM MORE THAN PREPARED,” he retorted into the walkie talkie, making sure he pressed the button to respond first. “I WILL BE SETTING OUT SHORTLY, SO PLEASE DO NOT MESS UP ANYTHING THAT I WOULD NORMALLY BE IN CHARGE OF!”

A few minutes later, the suave mobster was outside his spot that he would effectively be camping outside of for the month. Your home. While they were all uncertain if you were part of a rival mafia or not, this stakeout was to prevent you from doing something that could target them. Papyrus readily volunteered to clear your name or prove your guilt if need be, and so here he was!

The starting day began with simply tailing your footsteps to make sure that you weren’t deliberately going to do anything mafia-related. You seemed unaware of his presence, which was ideal, and he followed you carefully. Your first stop was to the neighbor’s home, an elderly widow who had been on her own for several years. Papyrus watched you hand over some groceries, tell her to have a good morning, and then headed out for work.

The day kept going on, and Papyrus was finding less and less evidence that you could be involved in mafia dealings. However, it was only one day, and he had at least a month to watch you and confirm that for a fact. He could be patient and make sure you were clean, it would just take time.

As time went on however, Papyrus gave daily updates to Sans and made sure to log anything and everything of note. It became something he enjoyed doing quite a bit, as he got to watch your tenderheart unfolding day by day. You constantly were looking for ways to care for your neighbors and people you worked with, and the skeleton was loving it.

Three days before his time as the eyes on you was supposed to be up, Papyrus was wrapping up his daily log. His pen paused for a moment as he glanced back at you in your home, noting that you were getting ready for bed. A small sigh left his mouth, and he scooped up the walkie talkie at the usual time so he could fill Sans in.

“hey bro, just checking in on you,” Sans said after Papyrus gave the customary signal via pressing the button a few times in a pattern. “how are things looking with the human so far?”

“SO FAR NOT MUCH HAS CHANGED WITH THE HUMAN,” he noted, still scribbling absently with his pen on the piece of notepad. “HOWEVER, THERE HAS BEEN ONE SIGNIFICANT SHIFT IN SOMETHING REGARDING THEM. THEY HAVE MANAGED TO MAKE SOMEONE FALL IN LOVE WITH THEM.”

“oh really? shoot, who is it?” Sans asked, practically pouncing on the new information, even if it meant doing some more work. Papyrus paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“ME!!”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line and Sans seemed to almost be incapable of responding. Papyrus waited on his end, staring at the device in his hands as he waited for some kind of response, any kind at all.

“well... that’s unexpected, but... i don’t see why you couldn’t tell them that. nothing you’ve sent back to the home base has raised any suspicions so far, so we all kind of agreed that they’re clear in our books and you don’t have to be a constant surveillance on them anymore.”

Papyrus could almost weep for joy with that proclamation, but he refrained from doing so in order to not give himself away. Instead, he quietly thanked Sans over the walkie talkie, giving a profuse thanks to his brother before packing up everything for the night. It wouldn’t be hard to meet up with you, but he was definitely looking forward to asking you out.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of knocking on your front door, which was odd, since it was your day off. You took a moment to stretch your limbs, toss on some decent looking clothes, then hurried over to the door. No one was there, but on the front porch step was a small letter. After scooping it up and reading it to yourself, the contents within was a small invitation to a date with an admirer who would like to know you better on the upcoming Friday.

A smile curled on your lips as there was also a phone number inside the contents of the card. As creepy as it would have been to get a phone number and a date invitation from someone you never met before, you had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the poorly hidden skeleton behind the tree in your front yard. Poor fellow must have gotten nervous, but you decided to humor him a little.

“The answer is yes, by the way!” you called out, not missing the way he had flinched at being called out. A chuckle rose up in your chest and you turned to head back inside, closing your door behind you. Meanwhile, Papyrus was trying to contain his glee. His initial plan of hiding failed fantastically, but now he had a date with you!

He couldn’t wait to see what would be in store.

~~~~~~~~~~

@bigoltrashpile @rayeofintegrity I finally managed to get this posted up for you guys since you wanted to see it happen!! Here it is!! And thank you to @jacketbones for the lovely idea! The original post can be found here for those who were wondering!

#drabble #tarts writes #undertale #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #undertale sans #undertale papyrus #mafiatale #mafiatale papyrus #mafiatale sans #mafiatale papyrus/reader

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houseofslash · 4 years

Text

Making Moves

another ficlet of me developing Angela some more

———

LOCAL BANKER SLAIN IN HOME, ATTACKERS AT LARGE

Richard David Templeton, a noted banker and active member of our community, was found deceased in his home on Wells Street late Thursday afternoon. Police have not yet released a cause of death, but it is confirmed that his death was wrongful; foul play as the result of a burglary gone wrong. He is survived by his wife, Mrs. Angela Templeton, who was also attacked. Mrs. Templeton has been released from the hospital and asks for privacy during this difficult time. There will be a private ceremony held for the family this Saturday. The public should be aware and alert for this hideous individual, whomever they are, as police say they are armed and dangerous...

———

“Excuse me?”

Patricia looked up from the stack of returned library books on her desk to find a girl standing there with a bashful little smile. She was blonde, but without the fragile quality hair picked up when artificially lightened. Deep-set greenish eyes and a high-cheekboned but still roundish face. Pretty, all in all, but a bit waifish. A face that made Patricia’s grandmotherly instincts flare. She blinked. The soft and rather dainty thing looked more akin to a go-go dancer than the sort you would expect to find in a library. Well. All the better for it. It was, after all, Patricia’s opinion that it was high time more girls got into reading. She smiled as warmly as she could. “How can I help you?”

The girl— no, not a girl, a woman; there was a tired quality to those deep-set eyes and the way she held that full mouth that made Patricia think this one was older than she initially appeared— bent slightly in a way that meant she was setting something down next to her on the floor. “I was wondering if you might have a directory around? I need to make a call, but I, well, I’ve lost the card with the number I’m meant to call.”

The grandmotherly urge to sit this woman down and offer her a cup of coffee grew stronger. As Patricia had suspected, older than she appeared. The voice was throaty but low, like she was used to being soft-spoken. “Of course, dear,” Patricia replied, reaching under her desk to find the most recent phonebook. “What number are you looking for? A person, an establishment?”

The woman lowered her eyes modestly as she folded slim hands clad in black kid gloves on the counter. “Williams and Jackson Funeral Home, please,” she said softly.

Patricia’s brows rose, just then noticing the neat black suit she was dressed in, despite the late afternoon heat. “Oh—”

The woman looked up again, and for a moment, a heartbeat, Patricia was taken aback at the look in those eyes. She didn’t know what to name that emotion, but it was not in any way grief. But it was gone so quickly, Patricia was left wondering if she had imagined it. “Yes. My husband, he passed…” the woman said. The controlled sorrow in that voice squeezed at Patricia’s heart.

“Oh, you poor dear. My condolences. And you’ve been left to make all the arrangements yourself?”

A soft nod. “Yes. He hasn’t got any family left, you see, so I’ve been left his estate to manage. Once all the immediacies are taken care of, which hopefully they will be today, I’m going up to an old friend’s for a while.” Spoken mechanically, like someone sticking desperately to their plan. Patricia ached with sympathy, remembering when her John had passed, nearly ten years ago.

Patricia put a hand to her chest. What had she been thinking a moment ago? This poor creature, abandoned to the world, clearly was just barely holding on by a thread. “It’s so very hard to lose one’s husband, isn’t it?” she said, voice pitched low and soft. Another nod, and a smile.

“So very… difficult,” the blonde woman agreed. Her inflection was odd, somehow, but Patricia shook the feeling off.

Pulling the directory out, Patricia flipped it open and turned to the pages she needed, finding the correct funeral home quickly. After copying down all the relevant information on a blank piece of cardstock, Patricia held it out to her. The widow took the card with the well-heeled gentility Patricia had come to expect from her. “Will you be alright, dear?” she asked worriedly, peering at her over the top of her spectacles.

That strange look was back in the woman’s eyes for a split second as she looked up from the card. “Oh— oh, yes. Yes, I think I’ll be alright.” She smiled, and it was a soft but somehow fractal little thing. It didn’t really reach her eyes. That was to be expected, Patricia reminded herself. Everybody dealt with grief differently.

As the woman collected her belongings she nodded a thank you, and Patricia watched her turn to go.

Such a straight spine, as she walked away. Carrying herself as if there wasn’t a thing wrong in the world.

Poor dear.

#text #by hope #slasher oc

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jakette · 5 years

Text

The Bank

So I was watching this gif set of this scene when this fanfic idea of a pregnant emotional Amy just came to my mind. Hope you guys enjoy! I certainly had fun writing it. I hope you all can hear Jake’s laugh as I did!

It was Monday morning that a very pregnant Amy; on her day off awaited Jake in their room as he came out of the shower in his plaid blue shirt and pants ready for work; running a towel through his wet hair; a soft, shocked expression gracing his features, as he stopped momentarily upon seeing Amy.

"Isn't today your day off Ames?" he asked her, moving to discard the towel at the assigned place.

She stood up his maroon tie in hand, a sugary sweet smile dangling off her lips.

"I know..... I just wanted to help get my husband ready for work." She smiled innocently, kissing him softly (which he reciprocated) and placed the tie around his neck lovingly.

"Awwww Amy!" He faux reacted. She looked adorable but she had to know how obvious she was being. "Cut the crap Santiago, I know that deathly sugar smile full well. You obviously want me to do something I'm gonna hate. What is it?" He asked in what had started a high accusatory tone turning into his soft voice; assuring Amy he'd do anything for her and the little human growing inside of her.

"Okay fine you got me." She gave up still doing his tie. She knew the magnitude of her favour so she wasn't sure if she'd buttered him up enough just yet. "I uh-I wanted to go to the bank." She admitted sheepishly looking at him lovingly letting go of his tie momentarily.

"Absolutely not! Ames that's a suicide mission!" he exclaimed.

"Come on Jake! You're just over reacting now. " She shrugged.

He was not over reacting. Getting Amy to the bank had proven to be more difficult than he thought. More difficult than when she wasn't pregnant. She'd start crying the minute she saw that Asian dude's poster.

"Amy the last time we went you cried so much you smudged the ink on the forms. The clerk had to call me Ames; the clerk."

"It wasn't that bad." She countered innocently.

"The poor guy thought you had a stroke cause he was so used to seeing your immaculate paper work." He remembered being slightly annoyed that day but smiling so hard when he'd heard. He had teased her for about a month for that at work. "Why don't you tell me what you want done and I'll do it huh? I am your best husband." He coaxed her sweetly. Anything to save him from taking a pregnant Amy to the bank.

"Jake you always ruin the paper work and I have to spend hours on a half hour task. Please Jake. Please.....please." She pleaded but he was persistent and just as stubborn as her.

"Uh uh." he nodded a negative as she played with the hair at the base of his neck.

"I'm already dressed. It won't take long."

"No Amy. That’s not even a problem! I have a reputation! I’m gonna be late anyway."

"And I'm very pregnant with your baby."

"Exactly! So pregnant you shouldn't leave the comfort of our home." He quipped back with a sweet smile.

"And me and the baby love you so much. And mama would be so happy doing her finances like a normal woman again."

"Ugh! That is so unfair! I can't believe you're playing the pregnancy card. Your hormones are the whole reason you're banned from the bank." Jake looked flustered and defeated; dreading what lay ahead so early in the day. This was gonna be a spectacle.

"So does this mean you're taking me!?" She shrieked in disbelief. Amazed that the pregnancy card still worked. She had abused it’s power way too much. Poor Jake had already been doing so much but whenever she'd start ranting that she was pregnant he'd even do things he absolutely loathed.

"Yes. But I'm gonna rip that old Asian guy's head of if he makes you cry again." He threatened but it went unheard as Amy shrieked.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the BEST! " she kissed him on the cheek and announced pulling away from him. "I'm gonna go get my bag or you're gonna get late."

"So consistent." He mumbled after her smiling. It was worth it seeing her so happy. So what if he had to deal with whinny Amy. He sighed somehow he'd manage.

They had just walked in the bank smiling. Jake making jokes the whole ride hoping to keep Amy's spirits up. It had worked for the most part until they entered the bank and Amy told Jake to wait as she went to talk to the clerk.

He was standing there thinking if people had ever climbed construction sites spider-man style to make such tall building when he head a teary voice calling his name.

"Jake."

He inwardly cursed the stupid person who hung the poster and put on a sympathetic smile as Amy approached him; forms in hand. He'd never thought he'd see Amy Santiago cry in a bank. He had figured she'd cry seeing his finances but even that had gone considerably well.

"Hey babe, what's wrong?" He asked taking her in an embrace. She pulled away to answer him.

"I went to take the forms from the clerk and when I turned around I saw the old man opening a savings account for his grandson." She sniffed. "And this time Jake," she sniffed again. "This time I realised, his expressions were so sweet he was so proud of himself and so naive and in so much pain." She exclaimed as a tear trickled down her cheek. "And his grandson's probably an ass-hole hoarder. I bet he doesn't even take care of him and its all just...... it's just so sad." She cried tears falling down her cheeks, her nose a cute shade of red.

Jake raised his eyebrows at this new approach. Normally she'd be crying over how the old man cared so much as to open a savings account to help his grandson. "He's not even his son Jake!" she'd exclaim.

Either way Jake had to admit she was the most adorable blumbering mess there was. A few passersby gave them weird glances and moved on but Jake couldn't care less. He found her so cute and dorky thinking of a back story for the old man when he was quite sure there wasn't one. It was also quite comical for some reason. So with a smile on his face he wiped the tears off her face and assured her in his embrace.

"I'm sure he has a loving wife to go to Ames." he consoled his over emotional pregnant wife.

"Why would you bring that up?! She's dead Jake! How can you not know that or she'd be in the bank with him! That poor poor old sweet man." She yelled at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, then crying some more over the misfortune. He couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Why don't I drop you off home so you can cheer yourself up filling those forms, huh? And then I can submit them tomorrow. Alone." He added for good measure in case she had some ideas of tagging along tomorrow as well.

"Good idea." she sniffed. "But all I'm gonna think about as I fill these forms is his sad face as he wastes his saving on his crap face grandson." She answered angrily.

He couldn't exactly tell what he found funny; his wife calling a non-existent grandson names or her anger while she was crying. Either way he couldn't help find his chest warm with laughter as his wife went on about the grandfather's back story; tears in her eyes as if she personally knew him; as they made their way back to the car.

"I bet his grandson's name was Jacob." She declared in the silence of the car.

"Woah!" he countered a little taken back by the sudden attack. "Ouch Ames. I can't believe you'd call me crap face and a douche. Also does this mean I can't name our possible son Jacob then." he smiled teasing her.

"You wouldn't dare; not after I know the grandson's name is Jacob." She retorted a deathly stealth in her voice through the tears as she straightened in the seat. " And I only said so because your finances are a mess too and he probably also laughs at his wife's tears." She concluded.

This only incited a bark of laughter from Jake. "Oh Ames." he smiled at her. "I'm laughing at your adorableness."

"You know that's not a word! Why would you do that Jake?!"

He just laughed more at her cute little cry yell. She was a cute fluffy adorable ball when she was flustered. But it was only a matter of time before Amy's hormones decided to somersault and join Jake in his infectious laughter.

As he drove to work; a permanent smile residing on his face for the rest of the day. He couldn't help but thank the widowed, Asian old guy and his crap-face grandson. He had smiled about it the whole day. And whenever he'd go to the bank. And at home he had teased Amy even more. She would never hear the end of it. But neither did Jake for their visits to the bank were far from over.

#b99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #jake x amy #jakey boy!#ames #6x04 #enjoy!#also id love comments #or rants #basically anything

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thecandywrites · 5 years

Text

Isthantari- The Series- Miranda

I’M SO EXCITED YOU GUYS!! Ok so please welcome Miranda, who belongs to @cerealpandas who is a vet and has some serious scaring due to a car accident. And I would just like to say, not all Jika are awkward, some ARE SMOOTH AS FUCK. So here you go! I REALLY hope you like it! And I’m sorry this took so long but we had a funeral over the weekend and life went sideways on me a little. But FINALLY it’s done. Enjoy.

Isthantari Series- Miranda and Jabril

You were at work when a Jika came in, carrying a kitten, cradled to it’s chest. The kitten obviously was just in some kind of fight and the Jika was buzzing in what would be universally understood as distress.

“Please? Can you help me?” The Jika pleaded as he came and showed the receptionist the kitten.

“Oh my goodness, yes, Miranda!” Julie, your receptionist called out before you came from your office to see what was going on and your heart broke.

“What happened?” You asked as you took the little kitten into your hands to check it over.

“I was flying over an alley and there was a dog trying to eat it.” The Jika answered.

“Well thank you so much for trying to save it! Come on,” you invited as you walked back into an exam room and looked it over and started dressing it’s wounds and examining it and slowly but surely the Jika’s distressed buzzing softened until it stopped all together.

“Please, I’ll pay whatever it costs to repair it.” The Jika offered and you smiled appreciatively at him for his generosity.

“It’ll be ok, it’s not that bad, I think you got it just in the nick of time.” You reassured him before you started treating the poor thing for fleas and trying to assess if it was old enough for it’s shots yet and figured it was close enough and began preparing it for that as well before you gave it a little bath to wash all the fleas and dirt off.

“There you are.” You cooed to the little calico kitten as you dried it off.

“Are you surrendering it? Or would you like to adopt it?” You posed to him once you were finished.

“Jika never surrender,” The Jika informed you proudly. “I’ll happily adopt it, um, what..do I need to do though?” He answered.

“Well, for starters, you should probably name her.” You grinned.

“Oh...it’s a female, uh, Kabira.” He decided.

“Ok, well, she’ll need food, a litter box, a scratching post probably, a collar, some toys. How much do you work? Because she’ll need to be handled a lot to make sure she’ll be tame.” You answered as you pet the kitten affectionately.

“Oh.” He answered as he considered that.

“Come on, we have what you need up front.” You invited as you walked with him to the front and set him up with what he needed as he gathered a pet carrier and put what he needed in it before your receptionist had him fill out some paperwork where you learned his name was Jabril.

“Thank you so much Dr. Miranda Gonzales.” He thanked you earnestly.

“No problem.” You smiled as you watched him take a business card and consider it carefully.

He slid a card and paid for everything before he started cooing to Kabira in the Jika native language as he left your veterinarian office. Kabira nestled to his chest in two of his four arms.

“Well he was nice.” Julie sighed wistfully, thinking Jabril was a dream boat already.

“Yeah he was, I’ve never seen a Jika like him before, have you? His black had that purple sheen to it, it was really pretty.” You noted.

“Yeah, usually it’s green.” She agreed before she looked at the paperwork.

“Oh my god,” Julie giggled.

“What?” You asked.

“He’s a prince, look, he put it on the paper work, Prince Jabril Kizu, it’s even on his receipt, he’s royalty, probably why he didn’t sound so robotic like most of them do.” Julie shrugged.

“Also why he could afford to get that little kitten the best of everything.” You found yourself grinning.

“If he’s single, I call dibs.” Julie giggled.

“And what would Mike think of that?” You put to her, reminding her of her husband.

“Oh he’ll understand.” Julie cackled and waived off as you rolled your eyes.

“Although if he’s single, I could push you towards him.” Julie smiled mischievously.

“Yeah, no, I doubt that would ever happen in a million years.” You snorted a laugh.

Your life returned to normal for a whole two days until Jabril came back in, Kabira nestled inside what you could only call a cocoon on a sling made of the same material across his chest and looking absolutely happy and content and already much better.

“Is everything ok?” You asked as he came in.

“I came back because I was worried her cuts were not healing properly.” Jabari explained as he carefully pulled the kitten out of it’s cocoon to show you as you looked her over.

“Her cuts are doing great actually.” You reassured him.

“Oh, I was thinking she would heal faster. Jika only need a matter of hours to heal.” Jabari explained.

“Well here on earth, things don’t heal that fast, injuries can take days, weeks, months or even years to heal and sometimes there are things that can’t be healed, but give her just a couple more days and she’ll be as good as new.” You assured him. “I like your sling, is that a Jika thing?” You asked as you gestured to it as he took the kitten back and pet her and moved his mandibles out of the way so he could kiss her head and nuzzle her before she went back into the cocoon and got comfy again.

“Yes, I made it for her,” Jabari beamed proudly.

“Out of what?” You asked.

“Oh my silk, we spin silk like your earth silk worms do, usually we reserve it to spin a protective cocoon around the queen but since I’m not one of her consorts, I’m not expected to do that, I’m free to spin whatever I wish out of my silk and what better purpose that for making this for my Kabira?” He smiled fondly as he pet Kibira’s head and scratched under her tiny chin grinning when she purred in delight and kneaded the inside of the cocoon.

“Wow, can I touch it?” You asked as you reached out towards it before he closed the distance between you and you got to pet it. It was insanely soft. Like softer than silk or satin or anything else and you reached inside and noticed how the inside was retaining heat so that Kabira was cozy and comfy.

“It’s amazing, I wish I could have these for all the kittens that come in.” You mused aloud. “That wasn’t a request by the way, it was just wishful thinking, aloud.” You quickly added with a nervous laugh.

“It would be my honor to make some for you.” Jabari added.

“Really?” You asked in amazement.

“How many will you need?” He asked.

“At least a dozen.” Julie answered from behind you.

“Consider it done.” Jabril nodded. “I will need a little bit of time to make them, maybe by tomorrow.” He added.

“Oh, take all the time you need. You can make them that fast?” You asked in shock.

“Yes. I made this for her in only a few minutes.” Jabril explained.

“Can I pay you for them though? I’ve never heard of Jika silk, I imagine it can’t be cheap or easy for you to make, or is there special foods you need to eat to make it?” You asked.

“No, it’ll be my gift to you. To show my appreciation for taking such good care of Kabira when she needed your assistance.” He insisted.

“Well, thank you so, so much, I really appreciate it, even if you can only make a few or even one, I’ll be happy.” You thanked him earnestly.

“Well you could go out to dinner with me,” he invited smoothly and you nearly choked on your spit.

“Yes! She’s free to go to dinner with you tonight.” Julie agreed for you as you turned around and gave her a meaningful glare as she smiled bright enough to shame the sun and gave you an encouraging look back. But Jabril was looking at you for the answer.

“Uh..sure?” You agreed. Holy shit was this really happening right now?!

“You can pick her up at 6.” Julie offered again.

“Yeah, sure, six is fine.” You found yourself agreeing to that.

“I’ll see you at six then.” Jabril nodded in agreement before he left again.

When he left you turned on your toes to face your secretary who was smiling so cheese-ily big and clapping softly but quickly in excitement.

“That wasn’t cool, I don’t need help with my personal life.” You growled at her.

“Yes you do! It’s been ten years! And almost three since your last date!” Julie argued.

“Julie! Look at me! I’m a middle aged, fat, widowed and scarred to fucking hell! He’s a fucking prince for crying out loud!” You argued as you gestured to the left side of your face and body, scarred because of a horrific car accident that took your husband. The scarring you sustained had made you withdrawn and self conscious and the last date which was in fact three years ago had been on a blind date your sister had set you up on and it had been a disaster. So you resigned yourself to being married to your work and loving animals because they never judged you based on appearance.

“And yet, he asked you out. I don’t think any of that matters to him. You heard him say that Jika never surrender, the Jika are warriors, some of the best in the universe. I’m sure he’s seen some shit by now and I’m sure he understands that scars happen.” Julie reassured you and you huffed when you realized she had a point.

“So, go home at lunch, put on some makeup and bring some nice clothes to change into after work.” Julie advised as she gestured to your scrubs.

“Fine,” you groaned as your stomach knotted as you stomped back to your office before more clients came in with their animals and before you knew it, you worked right through lunch because a dog’s broken limb required emergency surgery and so you didn’t get a chance to get cleaned up at all. Your hair was a frizzy mess, you’re pretty sure your deodorant died trying to pick up an obese bulldog and put him on the exam table and you’re sure you threw your back out too. Your arm got scratched by a cat you had to neuter and your face nearly got scratched too and you sadly had to put down a puppy who’s six year old owner fed it a freaking bag of chocolate M&M’s and both the mother and the son were a mess and if you had been wearing makeup, you would have cried it off that afternoon and you were performing an ultrasound on a french bull dog when Jabril came back to pick you up for your date.

“Shit,” you breathed before you printed off the pictures and wrapped up that appointment.

“Hi, sorry to keep you waiting, had a very long day.” You tried to explain as you tried to clean yourself up just a tiny bit before Julie shoved some mascara and her emergency eye shadow mini palate that she kept in her purse into your hands and you just shoved them right back at her. There was no point. It wasn’t going to help that much. This was just going to be a dinner, that’s it. You would never see him again except to hopefully spay Kabira.

“It’s no trouble, I made you those cocoons for the other kittens.” Jabril offered as he handed you a box with over a dozen little cocoons and even another dozen actual cat beds made out of his silk and you wanted to cry.

“Thank you, thank you so so so much.” You thanked him as your eyes watered and you couldn’t stop smiling, this was the most precious gift to you.

“Also I made you this,” Jabril said as he pulled a shall out from behind him, it was obviously combed and woven and you nearly dropped the box.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed as you carefully put the box down to take the shall from him as you stared at it in awed wonder and hugged it before you wrapped it around you, it was a little big but oh, instantly warm. It was so heavenly.

“Thank you, thank you so much, I love it, it’s perfect.” You thanked him earnestly. Fuck. You were in trouble.

“Well if you’re ready, we can go now if you wish? Or are you still needed here?” He asked.

“Nope! She’s good! Have fun!” Julie practically shoved you both out of there before you took Jabril’s offered arm and walked with him to your car.

“So where did you want to go to dinner at?” You asked.

“I looked online and there are good reviews at Bonefish Grill.” He suggested as you took in a deep breath as you felt a little bit of panic bloom in your chest.

“Uh, I’m not really dressed...up...for a place like that.” You grimaced a little.

“Oh, I didn’t realize..that. Well we can go wherever you would feel most comfortable at.” Jabril offered.

“Actually there’s a taco truck spot just up the road that I like to go to.” You offered before you locked your car and just decided to walk down the road to it. You were lucky, it was in walking distance as you wrapped your new shall around your shoulders a little tighter as he walked you down the street to the place that had three taco trucks in a parking lot with a group of tables in the middle of them.

“If you want fish, they have fish tacos though and even a ceviche that’s really good.” You offered.

“Ok,” Jabril nodded in agreement as he walked you to the spot and waited patiently as you ordered what you wanted in Spanish before he surprised you by ordering in Spanish too, his Spanish was flawless and the guys behind the counter were just as surprised as you were and asked him how he spoke such good Spanish before Jabril explained that Jika spoke every human language put into the directory and that Spanish, in particular, high Spanish, spoken in Spain was put into the directory first however the Latin dialects were being added and that once it was uploaded into the directory and fed into the hive mind, it filtered down to every Jika through the hive mind. Which blew you away and put a proud smile on your face none the less. You got your food and sat down at one of the picnic tables and watched as Jabril practically inhaled his food.

“Would you mind if I asked you a personal question? I don’t want to be rude or make you uncomfortable though.” Jabril asked as he came back with his second round of food as you had begun a nice, friendly conversation, switching from English to Spanish back and forth at will with Jabril being able to keep up with you remarkably well.

“Is it about my scars?” You guessed since you caught him staring all through dinner.

“Yes.” Jabril confirmed.

“About ten years ago, I was in a really bad car accident. These are the scars left behind from it.” You explained simply.

“My sincerest apologies.” Jabril apologized softly.

“It’s ok, it’s not your fault, but it does make me self conscious when people stare at them.” You muttered as he nodded and looked away from them and focused on your eyes instead.

“Is that why you told me that some things you never heal from?” Jabril asked softly.

“Yup.” You nodded as you suddenly felt compelled to tell him about it and so you did, all the gory details and Jabril listened very intently and then you got to the worst part of the story. “I...I uh...I wasn’t alone in the accident. I was with my husband at the time, he died in the accident.” You revealed, normally you wouldn’t like to just tell anyone that but you felt like he should know that.

“I’m sorry.” Jabril offered, in a low whisper as his antennae drooped.

“It’s ok, it happened a very long time ago, but because of my age, and because of the scars, I don’t get asked out very often, actually it’s been years since I was asked out on a date.” You confessed.

“But you’re still very desirable, you’re intelligent, compassionate, professional and perfectly competent.” Jabril praised as you paused and blinked in surprise.

“Uh, I think Jika and humans have very different definitions of ‘desirable’.” You gently argued.

“I know we do. My brother’s Isthantari, she’s a very large woman, larger than you, she didn’t think that of herself either but to Jika, females are always supposed to be large, soft and delicate, their exoskeleton is very thin, usually thinner than your own epidermis, and very fragile and needs to be protected, cared for and attended to constantly. She should be so large in fact that she’s immobile. So the term you used- ‘fat’ that is actually a very desirable trait. But the compassion and intelligence is what intrigued me about you and compelled me to ask you out on this ‘date’. And as for the scars, for a female Jika, they are treated the same way battle scars are treated and are harrowed by the hive. Because Jika females are in fact so delicate, for her to survive an attack is a sign of great strength. Same can be said about you. You survived something that killed another. That deserves praise, honor and respect and only serve to make you more desirable.” Jabril explained and you were dumbfounded. A prince, no, Jabril, thought you were desirable. Just the way you were. You wanted to cry. Again.

“Wow, thank you.” Was all you could say in response.

“So, I must confess something.” Jabril began as your eyebrows pinched in concentration.

“Technically speaking, I should not be dating, to Jika, the queen and caring for her and doing what she commands should be an all consuming task, but alas it is not. I have a job within the hive, to serve the hive and the queen, but it is an easy, simple job which leaves me a lot of free time and free mental and emotional availability. However, if we were to pursue this relationship, we would have to be discrete, since the queen should not tolerate ‘rivals’ not that you pose any real threat to her and not that you really are a rival to her in several senses, because one, you’re not a Jika that can take over the hive, produce Jika offspring and control the hive mind. And she has not taken offense to my brothers becoming committed to their Isthantaris which has given rise to a freedom that myself and the rest of my brothers had not previously entertained, in that we can have relationships outside of the hive, in particular to individuals who are not Jika. I know it may seem unorthodox to you but it has stirred in us a hope of things greater than we could have previously imagined. So, that being said, would you like to go on another date with me?” Jabril asked.

“Yes, I would love that.” You confirmed immediately before the conversation flowed much easier at that and you didn’t mind the occasional flick of his pupils to the side of your face and neck that had the scars. Because he obviously didn’t look at them with pity. He looked at them with admiration which was a completely new concept to you and you found the idea of it all exciting and fun and your heart and soul were completely willing to go ahead and dive in.

After you were done eating, you made plans for a second date and then as a surprise, he picked you up and flew you back to your car and set you down with the utmost care and gentleness. And the flying thing was the funnest thing ever.

“Hey Jabril?” You called after him after you paused in getting into your car as Jabril moved to fly away again but stopped and landed and came up to you again.

“Yes?” He asked hopefully.

“What’s an Isthantari?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a Jika term, it means ‘one I am devoted to for life’.” He answered with a grin.

“Aww, that’s so sweet! Well thank you so much for...everything, for the cocoons and for my shall, it’s my new favorite.” You beamed happily.

“You’re welcome. Good night, drive safe, oh, um, would you mind if I followed you home? I worry you’ll get into another car accident.” He proposed.

“I think I would crash being distracted by you if you did.” You winced.

“Oh, I do not wish for that to happen, I will refrain from such a thing, but please, drive with extreme care.” Jabril urged you.

“Ok, I will, I usually do.” You answered before you got into your car and drove home and true to Jabril’s word, he didn’t follow you. Instead you lost track of him shortly after he flew into the darkening skies.

‘So?! How was it? Text me when you get home!’ Julie texted you while you drove home and you rolled your eyes and got home and texted her back because you never texted and drove at the same time.

‘It was good, he asked what everyone asks. But we do have another date for Friday.’ You replied as you came into your house to find your three legged dog Buster, and your one eyed cat Sauron missing you, both of them happy to see you again as you pet them and refilled their food dishes and even made sure your cockatiel with the broken beak had it’s special food.

‘Oooh! You ARE going to dress up for that right?’ She pleaded.

‘Yes, I gotta take care of my peeps, ttyl.’ You texted her before you made your rounds in your apartment and got everything ready for the next day as you tried to shake the troubles of the day off which was easier than usual because of your impromptu date.

But when you laid in bed, you couldn’t help but smile softly to yourself about the date. Jabril was...perfectly charming, and thoughtful, and kind and showed more empathy and consideration that most did. You had learned to see beauty in everything long ago and you had to admit, you were finding a lot to appreciate about him. He was practically the perfect gentleman, but he could do so much better, he could have anyone he wanted. And if the Jika truly did find beauty in larger women, you knew there were so many who were even larger than you were, surely he would probably like them more than you and before you knew it, the smile vanished and morphed into a frown.

Friday came all too fast and you found yourself both thrilled and terrified. Surely this wouldn’t go past a second date. You actually could barely sleep Thursday night, you had gotten up early and had indeed tried to put makeup on, although you weren’t sure if this was really worth it, the best concealer in the world wouldn’t cover all this scarring. You felt so defeated. But Jabril had seen you without makeup at least, so he knew the extensiveness of it on your face. He had texted you and you had agreed to go out to eat with him somewhere really nice this time. You brought in a nice outfit to change into and even extra makeup to do touch ups after work.

You didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that it was a slow day. Blessing that at least your hair and makeup stayed nice. A curse because you became painfully aware of the time, six hours, five hours, four, three, two, one… oh god. You were so nervous you could barely eat lunch and by dinner time you were both nervous but starving.

You had barely gotten ready by the time Jabril showed up and he seemed very pleased to see you again before he handed you another shawl made out of his silk this time, it was like giant sweater that went down to your knees from your shoulders, practically a coat. It was even dyed a gorgeous shimmering magenta that faded into a magnificent purple. It was the most beautiful garment you had ever seen before. You felt like a queen wearing it and it wasn’t nearly as heavy as you thought it would be, it was just as light as the shall was and was big enough to wrap around you so that each side could overlap each other by over a foot of fabric. You wore such a bright ecstatic smile that your cheeks almost hurt from smiling and all uneasiness, stress and nervousness you felt earlier completely melted away.

“Thank you, so, so, so much, this is magnificent! I love it.” You beamed happily as you hugged yourself in the garment. It even went with your dress and these colors really complimented your rich skin tone. You happily hopped up into his arms as he then flew you to the restaurant and set you down gently on the ground outside before opening the door for you like the gentleman he was and to your delight, he had made a reservation and you were shown to your table immediately as you took the side of the booth that had your left side towards the wall. Still feeling a bit self conscious.

“Please, order whatever your heart desires, this is my treat and there is no expectation other than the hope to enjoy your conversation during the meal.” Jabril offered to you as you both looked over the menu and when the waitress came he ordered a lovely sweet wine and a few appetizers when you had shrugged in answer to if any looked good to you.

“How did you know I wanted the crab cake?” You asked curiously with a mischievous grin.

“I confess I watched your eye movements and facial expression, but please know that money is of little importance to me, I only wish to provide you with a lovely evening.” Jabril explained.

“Then do you know what I want for dinner then?” You asked in a light teasing tone as you closed your menu to look at him expectantly.

“I believe it is currently a toss up between the Caribbean cobia and the Chilean sea bass.” Jabril answered with a smirk of his own and your jaw dropped. It was like he read your mind.

“That’s not fair.” You playfully complained with a light laugh.

“No it’s not, as a prince and potential consort, I have literally been bred to read a queen’s facial expressions and body language and to anticipate her every need, want and desire and then provide that for her, so you would say it’s ‘hard wired into me’.” Jabril explained as your cheeks burned as you looked away, a bashful smile on your lips all the same.

“I’m sure there are others more deserving of your attentions than me though.” You countered softly.

“Perhaps you are right, but none that I would ever compare to you. And even if I were to try, they would pale in the comparison to you so I will do no such thing.” Jabril reassured you and you were at a loss for words. “Is there anything I can say to dissuade your feelings of unworthiness? Do you perhaps question my sincerity?” Jabril asked.

“Well, I guess I’m just...getting used to be treated like a queen.” You couldn’t help but shrug again as you took your glass of wine and took another long sip, loving the sweetness of it. Last night, alone with your thoughts you would have doubted he was sincere, but it was like the moment you were in his presence all your doubts and fears vanished and you felt so at ease.

“Are you trying to make me your Isthantari?” You found yourself asking with a gentle, playful twist to your accusation.

“Yes, I have been looking for some time, years in fact. You see what you may not know is a queen Jika, is incapable of emotionally bonding with all of her consorts, she may only bond with a few while all bond to her and so while we give all of ourselves to her, she gives none of herself to us, emotionally speaking that is. And since my brothers have found Isthantaris that give all of themselves just as completely as my brothers give of themselves to them, it is that- that I am looking for. So while you may not see yourself as someone desirable or worthy, know that I do.” Jabril reassured you and you were ready to kiss him and do, well, so much more.

When the waitress came back Jabril ordered you both the sea bass and the cobia and got himself the shrimp and scallops with an added on lobster tail and you watched curiously as he ate the shells of his seafood too, seeming to take more delight in those than the flesh, but you chalked it up to him being an alien, a sexy, perfectly charming and smooth as fuck alien who just up and swept you off your feet.

Dinner was absolutely delightful and you drank just enough wine to relax you and open up but all the giddiness came from Jabril, he told jokes that had you in stitches, laughing so hard you were crying, he was reached out and touched your hands with his lower arms so that his upper arms could continue to gesture and traced your hands delicately and with reverence and he made you feel like it was just the two of you in a bubble and the rest of the world completely melted away and you found you cared less and less about it. You were with Jabril, that’s all that mattered.

After he paid for dinner he few you back to your home, even though it wasn’t the wine that intoxicated you. And when he put you down on your door step, you asked him to come in and he asked if you were sure you really wanted that, being mindful that you had been drinking but you were absolutely positive you wanted him to stay and so he bent to your will and allowed you to lead him into your home and he was even more delighted with your animals, and all your animals were so happy and excited to meet him and they took to him immediately as he was supremely pleased that you took in such creatures and that you saw beauty in value in them and reminded you that you needed to see beauty and value in yourself and when he offered to show you, your clothes seemed to melt off of their own accord and while normally you would want to shy away from such things, with him, it was as if your body was a kintsugi- pottery repaired with gold, only your body was that of a goddess, made even more valuable and precious because of your scars that covered not just the left side of your face and neck, but of your left arm, shoulder and side and he kissed all of it. All that you felt sagged in your age, he caressed and loved on and made you feel electric in the best possible way and you were on the edge of being overwhelmed with such emotions and attentions.

When his royal jelly appeared out of a duct in his chest and he explained it’s purpose you helped yourself to it and moaned in delight, it was so good. Peaches, blackberries and sour-sop were the key flavors you got out of it, but hints of guava and banana were present too and you greedily sucked it down as his cock speared your hot sopping wet center. He was large and stretched you but while it was a snug fit, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all and the tingling sensation only enhanced your own desire. He started off slow, working his way in until you whined in protest at his pulling out and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close. God you wanted that knot. You wanted all of it and grinded your pelvis onto it, urging him to go deeper, to take you harder and he seemed to get the hint and soon you found he had to wrap his upper arms around your shoulders to keep you pinned to the bed while keeping himself up by his elbows and forearms that were under your shoulder blades as one of his lower armed hands was kneading your voluptuous hips and rear while the other hand sweetly tormented your clit and it was all you could do to keep up sucking down that divine royal jelly and with his last final and completely desperate thrusts he finally knotted you and it was that- that finally sent you over the edge and you screamed as your whole body shook from the magnitude of this orgasm, surely the most powerful and magnificent orgasm of your life so far before your cheeks were now bulging almost painfully as a huge load of royal jelly gushed into your mouth and you fought to swallow it all down. It was so good you didn’t want a drop of it to go to waste and when the duct finally didn’t give you any more did you finally giving it one last teasing lick as Jabril shuddered as you let your head rest on the pillows and pant and try to catch your breath before you reached down and felt your lower belly feel like you were pregnant, but it didn’t hurt, you just felt...well completely stuffed as he rolled to lay on his side and still cuddled you close to his chest, your legs still wrapped comfortably around his waist and didn’t feel any pressure on your leg as his antennae tapped around your head attentively and when his cock shrunk and receded, the knot literally popping out of place, did you expel what felt like at least a gallon of his seed, but again, no discomfort came, just..relief with a tiny touch of disappointment that he wasn’t in you anymore.

“How do you feel my Isthantari?” Jabril cooed as he reached up to softly and delicately move the hair out of your face and gently traced your scars.

“Like a queen, like a goddess, like...the best I’ve ever felt.” You answered as you cuddled with his chest closely as he then went to pet and comb your hair with his fingers, loving and adoring it’s silky softness.

“Good, can I ask you something?” He asked softly.

“Anything.” You answered.

“Does your scaring cause you any discomfort at all? Or is it like any of your other epidermis?” He asked as he traced the skin around the scars, mindful not to touch it just in case it did.

“The scars on my face are very sensitive, the scars on my side feel numb actually.” You answered.

“If you were interested, would you be willing to try a Jika medicine to lesson them?” He asked.

“Yes,” you immediately answered.

“Then let me experiment with something just for tonight then, it won’t harm you, I promise- but I just want to see if it will help.” Jabril posed.

“My body is yours,” you giggled and he kissed you softly but with so much promise and you felt absolutely at ease as he reached down with his lower arms and scooped up his cum and began to apply to your skin as you looked down curiously at it, noting it’s holographic nature.

“Your cum cures scars?” You asked as you felt it’s slightly jelly like nature and watched as it shifted colors depending on the light and your skin felt a cooling, tingling sensation wherever he put it.

“Well I don’t know if it will completely, but one of the Isthantari’s, she was marooned an a tropical island with my brother and she claimed it cured her sunburn and she uses it as a beauty enhancer and so far it has done wonders for her complexion and she “collects” it from their mating and uses it exclusively, her skin has thus appeared very radiant since she started using it.” Jabril explained as he gently put it all over your scars all over your body.

“Well hell,” you giggled as you scooped some up and put it all over your face, quite liking it’s cooling and tingling properties and it did soothe the scars on your face better than anything ever had before. When you practically looked like a walking holographic highlighter, you scooped up the excess and put it into a jar before you gathered your bedding up to wash it and while you left to put it into the washer, when you came back with more bedding, you were both delighted and thrilled to find Jabril spinning you a bed with his silk,

“So that’s how you do it.” You gently teased as you put the bedding down and leaned on the door jam and watched him work as he smiled bashfully and ducked his head.

“Yes.” Jabril admitted as he finished making the perfectly soft and ridiculously comfortable bed on top of your mattress and he beckoned you over when he was finished and laid you down into it and you couldn’t help but groan in pleasure as you felt yourself melt into it as he laid down with you and pulled the blanket which was part of the bed itself up over you both fluffing the pillow like softness under your head so that any part he personally wasn’t cradling, was still cradling you nonetheless. That night, in Jabril’s arms was the best sleep you had ever gotten and in the morning when you bathed with him and he oh so carefully washed his cum off, he buzzed excitedly when your scars had visibly lessened. And even to you, the overly sensitive parts weren’t nearly as sensitive, in fact they felt normal while the parts that were numb, had even more feeling to them so that over all it felt more normal and even the parts on your arms and your chest and side, the parts you could see, the darker parts had lightened considerably and the lighter parts had darkened so that your skin overall evened out. You were in shock and amazement at it. It was too good to be true, you started crying tears of happiness again as you kissed Jabril deeply and before you knew it, he had you pinned up against warm shower wall and lost himself in you again, only this time, it was even better because he buzzed while he was in you and it was better than any vibrator ever had been and in mere moments you came and he hadn’t even knotted you yet and you came a second and third time by the time he did knot you, buzzing once he knotted you which was absolutely epic.

The rest of the day was actually spent on board the ship, exploring his rooms and he took you to the botany level and you gasped as you explored all the flora before he introduced you to the fauna from the Jika home world, the Jika equivalents to pets and things as you giggled as you picked them up and pet them, noting the similarities before you got to meet the other Ishtantari’s, Dr. Kimble especially excited and eager to note how your scaring lessoned with the application of Jika cum as Sable cooked the native Jika fruits and vegetables and Lenore let you try all the desserts she had started making with the Jika fruits as the other Isthantaris were really welcoming of you too and you felt like you were with friends, practically family.

Within a matter of weeks he was moved in with you, which all he possessed was simply Kabira and her things with a phone, it’s charger and a wallet since Jika didn’t really have clothes to speak of, but he did have weaponry which he stored in a closet, that’s all he took up and living with you and practically paying all of your bills and taking care of you and your home and your animals while you were away at work during the day and with you using his cum as scar cream, in no time they were barely noticeable, to the point, you didn’t feel you had to wear makeup other than eye makeup when you wanted to and everyone complimented you on your glowing complexion and your growing Jika wardrobe which you wore with pride. Who knew that you would find happily ever after from a kind soul rescuing a kitten.

#exophilia #Jika #Isthantari the series #Isthantari #alien boyfriend #monster boyfriend #alien lemon #Enjoy

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allourheroes · 7 years

Text

Part 4! (Part 5 may also be up today. We shall see...)

Bookstore AU: I | II | III { ao3 }

Graves/Credence | ~1300 words (for this part)

Tina pulls the car over and Graves looks up from his phone to see her worrying her bottom lip. They’re in front of the bookstore.

“Just a peek,” she justifies as she pulls the parking brake.

They’re supposed to be interviewing a widow six blocks away.

“A peek,” Graves agrees, although he pretends it’s only to humor her. Maybe that Second Salem boy won’t even be there. Maybe-- Maybe Graves doesn’t know what he’ll do if he is.

They get to the door of Scamander’s Stacks and Tina is a bundle of nerves. She glances back at Graves and he gives her what he knows seems like a calm, reassuring smile.

Really, though, his palms are sweating like he’s a teenager about to ask his crush to the school dance, but...

He’s an excellent liar when he needs to be.

And that’s good enough.

The bell jingles to announce their arrival, but no one is in the front of the store when they enter. A cat comes to peek at them from around a shelf and Graves remembers seeing it last time. It’s a big, fluffy, white thing and its large eyes appear to be assessing them before it disappears.

A moment later, a thin man with a snake around his shoulders makes his way into view. “Ah, yes, did you need something?” He hesitates a second as he notes the badge on Tina’s hip. “Newt Scamander,” he introduces. “I’m the proprietor of this shop.”

Tina’s hackles rise. “Sir, is that thing dangerous?” She’s gesturing to the snake.

Newt’s eyebrows lift and he seems at a loss for a second. “Oh, him?” He strokes the snake’s chin. “Well, technically, he is venomous, but he’s--”

“And you keep him in a public space?” Tina squeaks.

“You listen here--”

Graves is distracted from the argument as he sees a figure move in his peripheral vision. He turns to see Credence and immediately shifts his posture, trying to look more professional even as his face unconsciously breaks into a smile. He steps towards Credence.

“Mr. Graves,” Credence greets, and he looks pleased although his voice trembles ever-so-slightly.

Of course it does, Graves thinks. The boy used to get beaten daily for as little as saying ‘hello’ wrong, according to one of the sisters.

It is then that Graves realizes he should probably speak instead of going over Credence’s whole life story in his head.

He clears his throat. “Credence, right?” he asks, as if he hadn’t just presumptively read it off a nametag last time.

The corners of Credence’s mouth twitch up like he’s surprised that Graves would remember. Suddenly, his expression turns. “Did you want to return the book? Mr. Scamander doesn’t accept returns, but I could pay you back if it’s--”

Graves blinks, but then he waves his hand dismissively. “No, no. To be honest, I’m still on the introduction.”

Credence goes stiff, as if unsure how to compose himself, then nods. “Turn on the Light helped me through...a lot,” Credence admits. “Albus Dumbledore has a way of saying exactly what you need to hear. Or, at least,” he adds hastily, “what I needed to hear. Read.” Credence bites his lip. “I guess he was Mr. Scamander’s professor in college.”

“Yes, I’ve, ah-- I’ve heard of him,” Graves allows. Hogwarts is in Scotland so he doesn’t know much, but the news had even made papers stateside when Dumbledore had vehemently defended a student accused of a grisly murder. Graves had taken note of it partially because the name “Hagrid” had just been so strange.

Curling in on himself slightly, Credence nods again. “Of course. You know-- Yes.”

Graves sees his chance at making up for his previous rudeness rapidly deteriorating. “Thank you so much though,” he says. “I really appreciate that you took the time to help me out. I guess I was a bit of a wreck the other day.”

“Oh,” Credence brightens. “It’s no problem. It’s my job to help people find what they’re looking for.”

“Is it also your job to deal with grouchy detectives who don’t know how to socialize?” he tries with more charm than is subtle.

Graves swears it’s a blush creeping up Credence’s cheeks. “I didn’t notice,” Credence says. “Socializing isn’t really…” He trails off. “It’s new to me.”

“You’re doing a great job, all things considered.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Graves cringes. He gave it away, didn’t he? He finally gets this handsome--traumatized, his mind adds helpfully--young man to relax a little and ruins it by reminding him of what he’s gone through. Percival Graves is an idiot.

Credence goes quiet, his gaze unfocused, and Graves is certain that he’s broken the poor thing, but then Credence looks at him. “I suppose so,” he agrees.

Graves lets out a sigh of relief. He decides to latch onto what little Credence has actually told him and go from there. “So you liked the book?” he asks. “The, uh, the Dumbledore one?”

“‘Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times. If one only remembers to turn on the light,’” he quotes dutifully.

“Focus on the positive,” Graves sums up. He chuckles. “I’m not very good at that.”

Graves can tell that Credence wants to ask about it, but instead he pauses. “I try to think about the people that have helped me,” he starts. “And I think of my sisters and Mr. Scamander and this job. I’m lucky.” He shakes his head, murmurs, “Not that I deserve any of it.” Idly, his hands are clasped together, thumb rubbing palm.

Eyes drawn to the movement, Graves nearly misses what Credence had said. “Of course you do,” he assures.

Credence seems to wobble between being grateful at the kind words and the denial of them, Ma’s voice in his head to remind him of all the reasons he’s worthless. It would be rude, however, to correct Mr. Graves, he decides. He utters, “Thank you,” but before Graves can respond, the low-level arguing that had been the background noise to their conversation turns to shouting.

Graves sighs and drags his attention away from Credence. “Everything alright?” he asks, rather loudly.

“No--” Tina starts, but she is interrupted.

“Yes. Quite fine, but I’d prefer if you could leave my shop,” Newt tells them, forcing politeness. He glances over to Credence and assesses that the boy is doing alright. “Credence, I think we’ll call it an early day.”

“But--”

“You’ll still get your eight hours,” Newt assures him.

“Thank you, Mr. Scamander.”

“Now,” Newt says, looking to Tina and Graves. “Out.”

“You--” Tina starts, but Graves places a hand on her shoulder.

“Just a peek, right?” he reminds her.

Tina huffs, but the wind leaves her sails. “Right,” she grumbles. “But this isn’t over, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt takes on an air of nonchalance, snake still draped over him. “Hm?”

Tina makes a noise that Graves knows will lead to another hour of bickering and ushers her towards the door. “Get the car started, Goldstein,” he tells her.

He tips his chin at Newt in acknowledgement, but his focus turns back to Credence as he pulls a card from his wallet. “Just,” his gaze flickers to Newt and back to Credence, “in case you ever need anything. Um. Or if Mr. Scamander needs anything,” he adds lamely.

Credence takes the card almost reverently. “Thank you, Mr. Graves.”

“Of course,” Graves agrees, straightening his posture. He gets outside as quickly as he can after that, mentally cursing himself for sounding so stupid.

He hears the click of the lock and can only assume he’s still being watched. He forces himself to resist the urge to glance back.

Tina is still in a mood as he gets into the car.

“The nerve of that guy,” she says. “Keeping a deadly animal like that in his bookstore? That’s gotta violate at least three laws that I can think of, just off the top of my head.”

“Uh-huh,” Graves agrees, but his thoughts are miles away as she continues her rant.

He imagines conversations that he knows will never happen, not with the impression he’s made now.

#gradence #gravebone #gredence #gradence au #fbawtft fic #hp fic #fic #bookstore au

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theblacklistscripts · 4 years

Text

5.16 The Capricorn Killer #19

PHALEN: Agent Graves? Sergeant Phalen.

State Police.

- We spoke on the phone.

- Yes, sir.

- This way.

- So, when did this happen? Just after 6:00 last night.

A young couple staying at the lodge went out for a hike straight off one of the trails.

Bradford PD got the call after 7:00, notified us.

Anyone spoken to the press? Responding officer and a couple of the guys from Troop P are the only ones who've seen the site.

Some of the men are pretty shook up.

- Think it could be him? - I sincerely doubt that.

Right, but if it is him and you need my department to issue a BOLO or set a perimeter [POLICE RADIO CHATTER] [INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS] That's him, right? - I mean, who else? - Issue that BOLO.

Have your men set a perimeter and circulate that sketch we have on file.

[CELLPHONE DIALING] [RINGS] Hey.

Do me a favor.

There's an agent I need you to find right away.

She's outta D.

Name's Elizabeth Keen.

[CHURCH BELLS TOLLING] LIZ: He went to his funeral.

He was a pallbearer.

A pallbearer! And while he was doing that, a witness came forward who saw Garvey kill Singleton.

- Now, the killer - can you describe him to me? He had glasses.

Black glasses.

Well, I saw Garvey kill Tom.

A lot of good that did me.

COOPER: I've already referred Garvey's case to the Marshal's Office of Internal Affairs.

And now this.

It's a big break.

It's okay to get your hopes up.

You've spoken to this witness? Is he credible? 'Cause if he is, then my testimony RED: Will also be credible.

Any questions about your memory will go away.

So will Mr.

Garvey.

And you want that? Not until I get what I want.

I told him about the duffel bag.

Garvey provides protection for the Nash Syndicate.

I know some of the players.

I'll shake them loose while the Task Force questions the witness.

Where is the witness? Can I question him? He's not here.

And, no, you can't.

This is Tom's killer we're talking about.

Which is why you can't be involved.

A defense lawyer would need all of a minute to convince a jury to disregard any part of a case you build against Garvey.

You're the widow and star witness.

You can't also be the investigating officer.

So, while you and Reddington go after Garvey, I'm supposed to, what, read a book? Actually, I have a case.

I'm only interested in the man who murdered Tom and finding out the secret that got him killed.

I'm going to help with the former and prevent the latter.

50-50 split.

Like a good divorce.

Harold.

About the case.

- Pass.

- Agent Keen.

This came directly from Quantico.

They specifically requested you.

Said it's a cold case you'd be familiar with.

Someone called the Capricorn Killer.

Sound familiar? Yeah, it does.

Good.

Because I told them they have the full support of you and this Task Force.

Reddington and I will stay on Garvey, but I need you to tell us about Capricorn.

LIZ: His first victim was a female college professor found in Tacoma in 2010. Cause of death was ligature strangulation, but the staging was disturbing, so much that we believe there must be some religious or cult affiliation. Then, six months later, it happened again in Memphis.

Then Charlotte. Idaho Falls. Seven victims in four years. Each one found in remote, inhospitable environments, and each one strangled and posed and placed using a hand-forged sword and holding the skull of a horned goat. Hence the name Capricorn.

Sign of the goat.

This astrological symbol also represents a creature whose natural ability allows them to survive in inhospitable environments.

It also characterizes panic and fear.

Agent Keen? Brandon Graves.

Pittsburgh Field Office.

- Agents Ressler and Navabi.

- This way.

Your profile it was different from the others? Slightly.

We all agreed the unsub was likely a white male, 40s, small in stature, and well organized.

He was transitory.

A long-haul trucker, perhaps, or some other kind of blue-collar job that required travel, and that movement gave him confidence.

So much so that his killings accelerated at an alarming rate.

I thought he would stop.

Which he did.

Went silent.

The Bureau thought he was dead or had been arrested.

Until today.

How is your theory different? Well, his killings accelerated so quickly, I thought he would feel out of control.

Hold back.

Go dormant for a while.

Others thought he had stopped.

I thought he would return.

Which he has.

Appears to fit the M.

Ligature strangulation.

Remote dumpsite.

Methodical.

Ritualistic.

It's impressive.

You were right.

Keen, what is it? This sword.

The Capricorn Killer forged each by hand, and this one looks symmetrical.

Lacks imperfections.

You need to notify the lab.

Have them pull the weapons from the past victims and run a comparison.

Hold on.

This isn't a random act.

Whoever did this has details right that were never released to the public.

This is Capricorn.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe this is the work of a copycat.

Standing there looking at that body, I felt alive.

Because you reconnected with your work, with profiling? No.

It's more that [SIGHS] I don't know.

Why are you editing yourself? You know this only works if you're entirely open.

You brought up the Capricorn case for a reason.

Why? Because what this unsub did to that poor man in the woods, part of me sometimes, I feel like I'm capable of doing terrible things like that.

You said you identified the man who killed Tom.

Yes, and killing him, picturing that, imagining that.

We talked about how common that feeling is.

This is different.

Well, we've talked about your anger and passion and your desire to paint outside the lines.

Your first case with the Bureau, what was it called? He took their shoes the Sandman Killer.

My work on that case was classified.

How do you know about it? Elizabeth, it's my job to evaluate your readiness.

We can't have secrets.

The Sandman was a very important unsolved case early in your career.

I'm sure it was defining in ways you may not even be aware of.

Unsolved cases.

I fixate on them.

How unfair they are.

That people get away with murder.

I-I know it sounds corny, but I, um I obsess over the need for justice.

Even if it means painting outside the lines - or the law.

- Yes.

COOPER: A witness has come forward who can identify Detective Singleton's killer.

He's at Belmont Police Department.

I want him put in protective custody and transferred here for questioning.

Uh, protective custody? We believe the detective was murdered by Ian Garvey, a U.

Marshal responsible for killing Tom Keen.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

You know who killed Tom, and it was a cop? Because Garvey is a U.

Marshal, I want the FBI to take point in protecting the witness.

I've arranged for you to be met by agents from the D.

Field Office.

As soon as you sign the transfer order, they are to bring him here as quickly as possible.

Understood? No.

I mean, yes, sir, about the transfer, but about Tom why would a U.

Marshal want him dead? Tom was pursuing a duffel bag containing a secret Reddington is keeping from Agent Keen.

Garvey took it and killed Tom in the process.

[DOOR CLOSES] [SIGHS] Ah! What the hell? Have a seat, Gerald.

You and I gonna make a little video.

Hey.

Welcome back, Gerald.

We see cash in an instant, rags like a misfit

GABINELLI: Hey! Turn it down! Do you hear me? It's the manager! You gotta turn that damn thing off. Mr. Reddington.

[MUSIC TURNS OFF] [DOOR CREAKS]

My word is my bond. My currency. I gave Peter Caras my word that I'd move him before the Nash Syndicate learned that he'd cut a deal with the Feds. But that didn't happen, did it, Mr. Gabinelli? The Syndicate found him here. Killed him in this very room. At the time, you gave me your word that you had no idea how that happened.

I didn't. I-I don't.

Mr. Caras was a federal witness, so I didn't give it a second thought when the Marshals sent Ian Garvey to investigate his murder. But now I know Garvey wasn't here to investigate the murder, was he? He came to cover it up. You betrayed me to Garvey. So, now, as absolution, you're going to betray Garvey to me.

Please. He's a U. S. Marshal.

And I am but a humble killer with a gun pointed at the withered prune that passes for your heart. The next time an associate of the Nash Syndicate shows up, I want a phone call, a room number, and a key.

Yes, sir.

Good. Turn the lights off on your way out.

[MUSIC RESUMES] pedigree, enough about me, partner This is what they do, this is what they do I'm on an alley with my 12 And I'm hood rich - Drugs in the Caddies - [DOOR CLOSES]

Excuse me.

Hello there.

I'm here about Tony Mejia.

What about him? Uh, oh, I've got signed transfer orders.

Uh, agents from the D.

field office should be here any minute.

Uh, he's an eyewitness in the death of a police officer.

- Norman Singleton.

- That's right.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Did you know him? I did.

Uh, briefly.

In In passing.

Seemed like a good man.

MAN: Ran it up the flagpole.

Afraid you can't question the witness.

Friggin' Feds cut in line.

I'm sorry.

I-I thought you Ian Garvey, U. S. Marshal. Singleton was on my Task Force.

Federal Agent Mojtabai.

Uh, wh-what did you say your name was again? Look, I get it.

You got dibs.

Protocol.

But this is personal.

I'm I'm sure it was.

Good.

So we understand each other.

You give me a card, and I'll send you a transcript of the interrogation.

I'm a-afraid I cannot let you do that.

Uh, send me a-a transcript, that is.

You won't have to because, uh, the witness I'm I'm putting him in protective custody.

Are you now? And who would you be protecting him from? Who? Um, I'm just I'm just doing as I was told.

And I'm telling you this is personal.

I'd like you to extend me a little professional courtesy.

I would if I could, really.

Okay, then.

How about we go outside, and I kick your scrawny, brown ass, and then take my witness? First of all, it's, uh, more of a golden brown.

It's a topaz.

Topaz, really.

And, um, secondly, uh, pardon my French, but you can back the hell off.

Please, bring out my witness.

MAN: I was told that you were waiting for agents from the D.

Field Office.

Yes, I was.

Not anymore.

RESSLER: Miss Seivers, your husband's body was found almost 250 miles away.

Can you think of any reason at all why he'd be so far from home? I don't know.

He didn't like to travel.

- Did he have friends in Pennsylvania? - Not that I know of.

But you feel like your husband was pretty open with you? What's that supposed to mean? Ma'am, I'm just trying to get a picture of your husband steady job, known in the community, high-school football star LIZ: I believe what Agent Graves is getting at is that your husband doesn't fit the victimology of our killer.

Wendell had a family.

He was known here in town.

He was strong, could fight back.

Oh, I'm sure he did.

Look we had problems and fought, just like anyone, but Wendell was a good man.

He loved me, and he loved that boy.

This picture of the two of them some kind of school project? No, they was just messing around.

That's one of Wendell's hobby swords.

I'm sorry, hobby swords? He made these? Sure.

In his shop out back.

[DOOR SLIDES OPEN] Isn't it a little odd that the Capricorn Killer's last victim has his own sword-making operation? RESSLER: They're hand-forged.

Imperfect.

[DOOR THUMPS OPEN] You're saying the most recent victim is the Capricorn Killer? Someone murdered the killer and mimicked his M.

in the process.

RESSLER: It's him.

We even have shrines that match each of the Capricorn Killer's victims.

And the profile? I thought you said this guy was single, a loner? He was.

Until he met his wife and had a child.

That's why he went dormant family.

I'm telling you, you pull the travel records from his employer, and they will match the dumpsites of his victims.

Then who killed Seivers? Keen was right about the sword.

It wasn't hand-forged like the others.

It was a bronze cast made by a high-school history professor who sells them online.

Do we have any information on the buyer? It was purchased under a fake name, but I was able to track down a shipping address.

Good.

Run it down with Ressler.

Keen, you may want to find your way back.

Our witness in the Singleton murder is en route as we speak.

[CELLPHONE BEEPS] [WHIMPERING] You disgust me, Gerald.

[PANTING] No.

Please.

I I Ah, don't pass out on me, now.

Sadly, I got a lot more work to do.

- Just like you did.

- [WHIMPERING] Hey.

Welcome back, Gerald.

I can't imagine what you're feeling.

Not physically, but emotionally.

Funny thing is, the drugs I gave you to immobilize your body don't have any affect on fear.

That's what makes this experience so unique.

While you were asleep, I took the liberty of amputating your forearm by making an incision at the juncture between the ulna and humerus.

I opened the fascial plane of your left leg, being careful to avoid the femoral artery.

Now, lie back, Gerald.

- Be brave.

- [WHIMPERING] Let's enjoy these last few moments together.

[SAW BUZZES] [WHIMPERING] - [SAW BUZZES] - [GROANING] [DOOR CREAKS OPEN] [GASPS] RESSLER: Stop! FBI! [INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS] [AIR BRAKES SQUEAL, HISS] [PANTING] [SIGHS] He didn't make it.

I know you're scared.

I would be, too.

Of being here.

Of what you saw.

But you know you don't have to be.

We're here to protect you.

It's our job.

And the people I work with, they're, like they are, like, really, really good at it.

All right, so, now I'm going to show you some photos.

TONY: A woman already showed me some photos.

Yes, of the victim.

Of Detective Singleton.

But these photos contain the man who we believe killed Detective Singleton.

And if you recognize him, I want you to point him out, okay? Okay.

All right, take your time.

The man you saw in the alley.

The man you saw murder Detective Singleton.

Do you see that man in any of these photos? [BREATHING DEEPLY] I'll reach out to the U.

Attorney's Office.

Soon as hears this, I have no doubt - [SIGHS] - they'll issue an arrest warrant.

It's almost over.

[BELL DINGS]

You have someone?

I put him in Room 4, where Caras died.

I thought it would be poetic justice.

A romantic! How counterintuitive.

I hope you appreciate the risk I'm taking by doing this.

It's not so much appreciation as good planning.

Kill the bodyguard. Wound Reddington. I need him alive.

[DOOR OPENS] [DOOR CREAKS] - [GUNSHOT] - [GRUNTS] [GUNSHOTS] Ohh! [GROANS] [GRUNTING] [DOOR CLOSES]

You're gonna need a colostomy bag. You deserve worse.

I should kill you right now. But let's talk about what you're going to do which is name your price, and quickly, before policemen who actually uphold the law arrive to clean up this mess.

Let's start with the truth.

You have the bones. You already know the truth.

A truth. I want the whole truth.

The whole truth is that we are all clinging to a lovely blue ball floating in a sea of blackness. Everything else, including and most especially, the truth you're looking for, is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

I could take the bones public.

You could, but you haven't. And you won't. I'm not sure why. There's something I'm missing. Something holding you back. I won't kill you until I have the bones, and for some inexplicable reason, you won't go public until you know this whole truth. We may have a stalemate, but with the FBI, you're at a distinct disadvantage. They're hunting for you. And as you've killed a cop, they will make it their life's work to put you on death row. Unless you give me the bag, in which case, - an accommodation may be possible.

- [SIRENS WAILING IN DISTANCE] - That's my offer.

Here's mine. The cop you say I killed? The FBI's holding a witness. Bring him to me.

And why would I do that?

Because if he fingers me and I go to prison, - our little stalemate ends. You want to keep the bones secret, that witness can never see the inside of a courtroom. You better go. I got a crime scene to investigate.

GRAVES: The TriState Butcher himself.

We got an ID from the license and card in his wallet.

Local PD went to his house and found a stash of tapes from previous victims.

So we have two serial killers, both killed using their unique signature.

Mm-hmm.

Where's your head? The profile.

Whoever's behind this.

- I don't get it.

- What's not to get? Someone's knocking off serial killers.

Yeah, but how? Most serial killers are white men in their 40s.

The man Ressler chased down was a black man.

And how is he identifying his targets? The victims are all killers the Bureau can't identify.

And yet, the crimes are premeditated and the crime scenes are meticulously staged.

He's duplicating the work of real-life killers using classified intel that hasn't been made public inside information.

He's gotta be Don't say it.

You're thinking it, too.

A cop? Not just a cop a profiler.

You think the unsub is an AfricanAmerican profiler with the Bureau.

I'd think I was under suspicion, but you didn't mention he was devastatingly handsome.

It makes perfect sense.

What makes you so sure? 'Cause this is exactly how I would've done it.

LIZ: I've been trying not to edit myself.

DR.

FULTON: Oh, tell me.

How has that felt? Intense.

Scary.

Everyone feels that way sometimes.

You don't have to be afraid of those feelings.

See, that's just it.

That's what scares me.

I'm not afraid of those feelings.

I'm exhilarated by them.

This killer is a genius.

He saw things the Bureau couldn't.

He solved cases we missed.

Have you always felt like this? I think so.

My first case.

The Sandman the one you asked me about.

How did he do it? Convince little Susie Baker to leave with him in the middle of the night.

You think he convinced her? Her shoes were missing.

Little pink hightops with rainbow laces.

Why would a 4-year-old put them on or let him put them on for her? She did it because she trusted him.

And I could never figure out why.

What he did what they all do sickens me.

But how they do it, how their minds work - [INHALES DEEPLY] honestly, it's - Exhilarating.

Like, take this case I'm working on right now, the profiler.

- Alleged profiler.

- No, I'm certain of it.

So you've argued, but if the killer was a profiler, then his training at Quantico would've required a psych eval.

I'd like to think I or my colleagues would've flagged him before he was cleared for fieldwork.

- Maybe you did.

- What? Flag him.

Not at first, but maybe later.

Years later, they could've suffered a mental trauma, one that's caused a psychological shift.

If I could get ahold of the medical records - of these other profilers - But you can't.

Medical records are private.

Without the authorization of the patient or a court order, you simply can't get them.

- Of course I can get them.

Dr.

Fulton is incredibly perceptive.

She sees me.

Sees through me.

If the killer's a profiler, I know her and her colleagues would see through him, too, - at least enough to flag him.

- Send me the list. You'll have the records this afternoon.

- Do I even want to know how? [CHUCKLES]

I'm sure you do, but I'm not going to tell you.

Oh, my God. I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you. The witness ID'd Garvey as the killer.

Did he?Yeah.

The sweet, innocent kid any jury would believe.

And you have him in protective custody?Completely.

Aram is overseeing his transport to a safehouse now.

He'll have round-the-clock security from now until the trial.

Garvey is going down.

If not for killing Tom, for killing a cop.

I want all this to be behind you.

For the first time, I actually think that might happen.

[CELLPHONE CLICKS SHUT]

Dembe, is everything in place?Yes.

Everything is in place.

I know I was just here this morning, but, um, I just need to ask you something - and get your opinion.

- Of course.

What is it? I've been looking over the medical files of the other profilers.

We talked about this.

Yes, that's when I got the idea to do it.

And I told you they were classified.

I've been looking over them for hours.

At what the files you stole? I had started to suspect Agent Graves.

I thought the files would confirm my suspicions, but they didn't.

Of the 282 agents in the Bureau's five Behavioral Analysis units, 61 have undergone psychological evaluations.

But in the last 10 years, only eight have been deemed unfit for duty and released.

Agent Graves was not one of them, but Anthony Hollis was.

Top in his class at Quantico.

Deemed unfit for duty after a psych eval due to insubordination.

Why are you telling me this and not your Task Force? He got into law enforcement because both his parents were killed when he was young.

I think you're only telling me because you know - you can't tell your team - So, he's angry.

Driven.

Do you really want to lose your badge on this? I just want to stop a serial killer, and I think you can help me.

In your professional opinion, as a psychologist and criminologist, do you think, based on everything I've told you, that this could be our guy? [PAPERS RUSTLING] Yes, it's possible.

- That's all I need to know.

- Liz.

- [DOOR OPENS, CLOSES] - [SIGHS] LIZ: I may have identified the man behind the killings.

He's a former agent.

Name's Anthony Hollis.

- What makes you so sure? - He was a profiler.

Psych services flagged him for behavioral issues.

It's all in his medical file.

Anthony Elliot Hollis.

Age 46.

Residence 231 Washington Street in Gaithersburg.

I have eyes on him now.

Looks like he's going somewhere.

He may be a flight risk.

Agent Ressler, you chased the unsub from the murder scene.

I didn't get a good enough look.

I can't confirm it's him.

- You need to roll units.

- His medical file how is it that you got a copy? - Reddington got it for me.

- Meaning he stole it for you? - Sir, he's leaving.

- And because he stole it, whatever evidence we get on him may be inadmissible.

We won't know until we arrest him, which Liz can't do without a badge.

Keen, listen to me put a bumper lock on Hollis, but do not engage.

Ressler and Navabi are en route.

[CELLPHONE BEEPS] Let's just hope, if this is our guy, you didn't do anything to jeopardize our ability to put him where he belongs.

Thank you.

For agreeing to do this.

You know you don't have to.

It's the right thing to do.

Yes, it is.

My grandmother always tells me I should do the right thing.

I think your grandma will be very proud of you.

Does the place we're going have snacks? - I like Doritos.

- You serious? I love Doritos.

Wait.

Which is your favorite? Mine Spicy Nacho.

Unless I'm depressed.

Then I mainline Jacked 3D Bacon Cheddar Ranch.

[CHUCKLES] [VEHICLE BEEPING] Guys, what's going on? MAN: No idea.

Engine just gave out.

[ENGINE SPUTTERS, STOPS] [TIRES SCREECH] - Guys.

- Whoa! Hey, guys! [TIRES SCREECH] - [WEAPONS COCK] - Guns down! Hands up! No! Aah! No! [GRUNTS] No, no! Oh! Help me! No, let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! [TIRES SCREECH] [GUN COCKS] [ENGINE REVS] [SAFETY CLICKS] - Let's go! - Move, move! [INDISTINCT SHOUTING] - Clear! - [SHOUTS INDISTINCTLY] SAMAR: Liz, we just got off the phone with the Gaithersburg Police Department.

We have officers on-site at Hollis' home, and the place is full of evidence.

They're pulling prints now, but he's our guy.

RESSLER: We're pulling a trace on your cell.

We're not far behind.

- [SIREN WAILING] - We're pulling off the 270 now.

LIZ: He just stopped on Little Seneca Lake.

It's some minimum maintenance road off the westbound 117.

All right, we're minutes out.

Hold tight.

We're pulling maps of the area.

If there were a cabin or a house, I would see it.

I'm losing light.

[WHISPERING] I've lost him in the shadows.

[TAPPING ON WINDOW] [WINDOW MOTOR WHIRRING] Liz? Liz.

[WAILING CONTINUES] HOLLIS: The gun, too.

Let's go for a drive.

LIZ: Where are we going? Quiet.

Keep walking.

- I only ask - I said, "Quiet.

" [GRUNTING] [GRUNTING] [GUN COCKS] Let's go.

[DOOR CREAKS] What is this place? [DOOR CREAKS] Come on in, Elizabeth.

There's something I want to share with you.

RESSLER: Agent Keen broke contact 13 minutes ago.

State Police have set up a perimeter with road blocks, but there's a chance she may be on foot.

GRAVES: So, our search area will run from Sideline Road on the west to the shoreline on the east.

And from Tenmile Creek down to highway 117.

Before she vanished, Agent Keen was in pursuit of this man, Anthony Hollis.

Former FBI.

He is smart, he is armed, and he knows how we work, so be careful.

Are we clear on our grids? - Yes, sir.

- Yes, sir.

You're my therapist.

And this is our final session.

When we're done here, I feel certain I'll be able to recommend reinstatement.

You know who this guy is, what he does.

Of course.

I taught him.

- No, that can't be! - You're angry.

That's good.

Anger can be so - exhilarating.

- Don't.

Fixating on unsolved cases, how unfair they are.

- Do not twist my word - I know it sounds corny, but I am obsessed with painting outside the lines.

I am not like you.

- Not yet.

- Never.

I kill serial killers.

I brought you here to recruit you.

The same way I recruited Hollis.

I've had my eye on you for ages.

Ever since you shot the Attorney General for being a traitor.

I knew then you were someone I needed to recruit.

So, when your psychiatric evaluation was ordered, I made sure I was assigned to your case.

Talk about exhilarating.

A profiler and the daughter of Raymond Reddington.

In our sessions, you were everything I could've hoped for comfortable with your darker impulses.

So I tested you out in the field.

The Capricorn Killer.

You knew psych services would reach out to me, assign me the case.

That it would lead me to you.

Oh, I certainly knew that stealing a few confidential medical files wasn't going to stop you.

All you've done is confess to murder.

I've revealed myself to you.

And you're about to reveal yourself to me.

And maybe even to yourself.

[DOOR CREAKS] DR.

FULTON: You know where we are, right? Susie Baker He brought her here.

He brought them all here.

Why would you bring me here? To do what has to be done.

[DOOR CREAKS] [LIGHT-SWITCH CHAIN RATTLES, CLICKS] To kill the Sandman.

[LABORED BREATHING] [SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY] GRAVES: [WHISPERING] Shh, quiet.

Stop walking.

DR.

FULTON: I used to counsel families.

Tried to ease their pain, help them heal.

But there are times when there is no healing.

Because there's no justice.

Susie died in this room.

We can't bring her back.

But for her family, to help them heal this is the next best thing.

He suffocated her with a pillow.

[MUFFLED WHINING] Go on.

I know you want to.

[MUFFLED CRY] [MUFFLED SCREAMING] [DOOR SLAMS OPEN] FBI! Hands where we can see them! Leave him.

I've got this one.

Circle back.

Head west.

See if you can find that woman - and make sure - Look out! [GUNSHOTS] [PANTING] [BARKING ECHOES] [MAN SHOUTS INDISTINCTLY] LIZ: Stop! [DOG BARKING] [SIRENS WAILING IN DISTANCE] [BREATHING HEAVILY] I can't believe I read you wrong.

Maybe you didn't.

[FLASHLIGHT CLICKS] [MAN SHOUTS INDISTINCTLY] [WAILING CONTINUES] [CAMERA SHUTTERS CLICKING, POLICE RADIO CHATTER] ["WHAT ARROWS" BY HEY ROSETTA! PLAYS] It curves in Through the weather It's coming from above I tried.

- I thought - Don't beat yourself up, Keen.

I'll get us a sketch.

State Police are out there combing the woods.

Wherever she is, we're gonna find her.

At least we got these two, right? Silver linings.

It guided us to touch Hey, if there's anything good that happened today, it's that we secured a witness who's gonna testify against the man who killed Tom.

It moves in a rhythm, yeah Like I said.

Silver linings.

What tender tailor came What?! Whoever it was, they came out of nowhere.

- But there was a team.

SWAT.

- I know, but it happened really fast.

They overwhelmed us, and they boxed us in.

- The witness is gone? - No, not gone.

He's missing, and we're gonna get him back.

- We're gonna get him back.

- No, you're not.

Then he left us alone Liz, Liz, no.

Listen.

So, look, I've pulled all of the feeds, and, uh, now, the vans were unmarked.

- There were no plates, but - Aram.

I'm doing I'm This is not your fault.

I'm not blaming you, but five minutes after he was taken, that sweet kid was dead.

But our feet fall in a rhythm, yeah I'm not gonna stop until I can prove Garvey did this.

He won't get away with it.

[CRIES] He already has.

COOPER: Agent Keen.

I can't believe it I think I believe in this Been a hard few days.

Aram lost a witness, and while you got Hollis, his partner in crime got away.

These are setbacks, and they sting.

But in this line of work, I've learned you have to take the good with the bad.

So, let's take a moment focus on the good.

Dr.

Fulton? I've submitted my report to the Office of the Inspector General, and he's agreed with my recommendation that you be reinstated, effective immediately.

Congratulations, Agent Keen.

[SIGHS] Thank you.

This is a big relief.

You deserve it.

You've worked hard in counseling, been honest about your grief and loss, and you've been remarkably willing to reveal to me who you truly are.

A fine agent and an even better person.

And what angel? Did he wait until we met? I didn't reinstate you because you let me go, but you did let me go, and I want to thank you for that.

My father has people he can turn to for help.

Doctors.

Lawyers.

Finders.

Freaks.

People with special skills.

You have a special skill, and I'd like to know that, someday, I can turn to you.

Reddington said you were nothing like him.

And you knew he was wrong.

It's there if you're listening Well, you're done with mandatory counseling.

But, if you ever want to come in on a voluntary basis, my door's always open.

I can't believe it I think I believe in this Whoa-oh-oh-oh [SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYS]

I don't see the witness.

You never will. I've taken him away from you and the FBI.

I told you to bring him to me.

Yes. A thuggish order I immediately disregarded because I don't take orders from you.

The witness and his grandmother are safe and secure. And as long as I'm alive, he will not testify against you.

What about Keen? She's a witness.

You gonna put her outta my reach, too?

I don't have to because, where she is concerned, you have no leverage. Secret or no secret, if you reach out to her, I'll cut off your hands. If you look in her direction, I'll cut out your eyes. And if you ever utter her name again in my presence, I'll cut out your tongue.

You have no idea who I am or why I want the truth. Aren't you curious? Don't you have any questions?

Oh, I have plenty of questions, but none I'd pose to you. The answers will have to wait for me to find out on my own.

Good luck with that.

Mr. Garvey, might I suggest you enjoy what little time you have left crab cakes, scalp massages, perhaps a double feature of "The 400 Blows" and "Jules and Jim" whatever floats your boat. Do it now, because I will find those bones, and when I do, I'm gonna kill you.

You are an odd one, aren't you? [CELLPHONE RINGING]

Yes?

LIZ: I need you to promise me something.

Of course.

You're doing everything in your power to get Garvey.

What's this about? He got him.

We were so close, and then

You have my word.

The bag. The secret. You won't let them get in the way?

I've already told you.

Tell me again. I need to hear it.

I promise Ian Garvey will not get away from me.

#The Blacklist #scripts #the Capricorn killer

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