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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Hypothetically | Chapter 25-27

summary: Reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

A/N: Set between seasons 4 and 6, not following canon. all original crimes based on real-life stories.

Warnings 18+: Murderers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Blood, Guns, mentions of autopsy, Fluff, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, bed-sharing, Riding, Unprotected Sex, Virgin Reader, Case of the Week, original crimes, Food mention, Smut, Oral Sex, Light BDSM, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, obgyn appointments and info, Home Invasion, Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Pedophilia mention, non-con oral (male receiving), Pregnant Sex, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Homophobia, conversion therapy

Word Count: 18k

chapter 25

“What do you mean we’re working a missing dog case?” Hotch questioned his whole entire life at that moment as Mindy and Garcia explained the case they think they found.

“Sir, I promise you’re going to want to listen to this,” Garcia said softly, her green dress and pink hair pom-poms really reassuring him that everything was fine.

Y/N watched him roll his eyes and wish he was somewhere else, he had been getting more and more fed up with work lately. Having a hard time with Strauss, his wife, and the job in general. After Hayley almost died last year and being stabbed, he had the worst luck on the team.

“It’s going to take a minute for you to see what we see,” Mindy matched Garcia’s aura perfectly, dressed in a cat sweater.

“All 5 of these families have reported dogs missing in the Sacramento area. You think that’s not that weird, they’re probably stealing dogs for fights and step one in the serial killer handbook. But you’d be wrong,” Garcia explained, flipping from photos of missing dog posters to murdered families.

“The dogs go missing right, the parents put all their information onto a flyer, the flyer gets plastered into the neighbourhood where everyone sees it. The unsub takes the flyer, and the dog and returns it to the family just to get inside of the house. He learns what their safety protocols are like and then he decides to break in and murder,” Mindy laid it all out easily for them to follow.

“Is there any evidence that the killer is the dognapper?” Prentiss asked, chewing on the end of her pencil as she tried to wrap her head around it all.

“No,” Garcia pressed her lips together quickly. “But! Family number 5, they were murdered on Friday. Their crime scene is the newest, it’s where we’ll get the best idea of what’s going on.”

“Sir,” Mindy added. “If I’m correct about this, another family is going to die in 2 days. There’s been another small dog reported missing in Sacramento, the same type of family and everything. It’s a signature if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Send us everything you have, wheels up in 20,” Hotch sighed, taking his things and leaving the room.

“Is he okay?” Y/N asked Rossi.

Dave and he were the closest, Hotch never told his secrets of personal gossip to anyone else. He knew Rossi understood family problems the best. Having been married and divorced 3 times each.

“Don’t repeat this, Garcia that means you,” he teased her quickly. “He asked Hayley if she wanted more kids, after seeing you and JJ expanding the BAU’s gifted children program. She said she’d only have another baby if he took a few years off.”

“Oh,” Y/N wasn’t surprised. If Spencer wasn’t in the BAU he probably wouldn’t get it either. “He’s young, he can come back at any time, as you did.”

“Which is what I said to him. He just doesn’t know how he’d fill all the time yet, he doesn’t have an interest in fishing or cigars like moi,” Rossi explained. Standing up and straightening out his suit, “not to mention the writing chops to keep your brain fresh.”

“Come on grandpa, it’s time to board the plane you can brag later,” Derek patted him on the back. “Some of us like to stay active and have fun on our time off.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very fun,” Rossi argues as they leave the room. They were like a bunch of teenagers sometimes.

“Well, I’ll see you in a few days, just be in Vegas by Sunday at 2 pm,” Y/N frowned at Spencer. “Call me when you’re free?”

Spencer leaned in and kissed her softly. Rubbing his hand over her belly as he did so, saying goodbye to the little dude in there. “Be good, take care of each other.”

She smiled, wishing he didn’t have to go again. “We always do, come home to me safely boy wonder.”

In Penelope’s office, Mindy had basically moved in. It was big enough for the two of them and they worked together anyway. Sharing all the computer space, rolling around each other like crazy people as they switched jobs. That meant that Mindy’s office became Y/N’s office when she stayed back on a case.

Y/N would be 33 weeks pregnant as of Thursday, and officially Mrs. Dr. Reid by Sunday.

If everything went according to plan. This case seemed simple enough to get them home in time. If not, the flight from LA to Vegas wasn’t even that long. Y/N and Will had a plan if this was to happen, JJ and Spencer would head right to Vegas while Will and Henry flew in with Y/N. All she really needed was her wedding dress and hospital go-bag, and Spencer.

She wasn’t going to go into labour any time soon, Matty was still way too high and she was barely even having Braxton hicks contractions yet. If her body wasn’t practicing, surely it wouldn’t just start. She was a planner, she planned everything and this pregnancy didn’t seem to listen. All she wanted was for him to be born on or after June 10th, healthy and happy, that’s her only wish.

She hated cases like these, ones that made her sit behind a desk and just look at everything till it made sense. But it never did, not in her brain. Thinking like an unsub was the only time it made sense, but she never understood it. Kidnapping a dog just to kill a family was never going to be something one could just understand.

The only idea she had was to get someone inside the newest victims’ house and just wait for the unsub to return the dog. It would be the easiest way to bring him in for questioning. So she called Hotch.

“Hotchner,” he answered shortly.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you had a plan yet? If not, I’ve been thinking.”

“We’re trying to find a way to get eyes and ears inside the vics home,” Hotch explained, it sounded like he was driving and yelling over the speaker.

“I was thinking you could send in Reid or Morgan posing as a tutor or coach of some kind, then you can hide the equipment in the bag they bring in, it would be the least suspicious,” she ran her thoughts through to him.

“That would work, I’ll have the team see what we can do from our end,” Hotch ended the call abruptly. Still in the bad mood from when he left.

She couldn’t blame him, it’s a hard spot raising kids and having this job. Y/N and Spencer were still trying to figure out how they were going to pull it off. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Haley, always being alone with Jack and half the time her life was in danger. The risk that came with the job almost didn’t feel worth it, especially when it meant losing your family on top of everything else.

They sent Derek in, with Penelope in his ear, as he set up the cameras and microphones. Setting up 24/7 patrol across the street in a model home. Meaning that Y/N’s job was basically over and all she had to do was kick her feet up and eat snacks until she could go home.

—

Spencer crawled into bed 2 days later around 4 in the morning, cuddling into her without even taking off his work clothes. She barely slept when Spencer wasn’t home, she opened her eyes when she noticed he was there, as if she hadn’t even slept yet.

He smelled like hotel soap and stale airplane air. “Hi,” he whispered as he tried to cuddle in close to her, being held back by her belly.

“Home just in time to have to fly out again,” she smiled at him softly.

“I know,” he sighed. “I doubt the bureau would like us if we used the jet to travel to a wedding. It’s bad enough we have one and no other unit does.”

“Are you excited or nervous?”

“Both.”

“Mmm,” she hummed along. “I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“I still haven’t written my vows and,” she stopped herself, frowning a little as Spencer laid a hand on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s all happening so fast. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to enjoy any of it and I’m worried if this is how fast the lead-up is, then how fast will the night be over?”

“Oh bunny,” he cooed. “I’ll make sure we get a moment alone, how about we sneak off during the party and go to the swing and just spend time together? Really make the most of our day.”

“Okay,” she smiled again. “A part of me wishes it was just us.”

“How about this,” Spencer said as he sat up, turning on the bedside lamp before getting out of bed. He looked through his underwear drawer and pulled out the box the rings were in. “Marry me, right now?”

“What?” She laughed.

“Just me and you, marry me?”

“It won’t count this way?” She rebutted, sitting up as well as she squinted in the light. Trying to wake up more.

“you’re not religious and you hate the government even though you work for them,” he reminded her. “Having a sheet of paper and dedicating my life to you are two completely different things.”

“I told you I don’t have my vows ready!”

Spencer sat on the bed, sitting directly across from her as he placed the rings on the bed. Taking both her hands in his as he looked into her eyes. “Just make it up?”

“You’re insufferable,” she teased him.

“And you love me,” he teased right back.

“Fine, Spencer Reid, you big fuckin’ dork,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “My whole life I’ve just wanted to love you. I don’t know how I managed to pull it off, but here I am."

She let out a long, shaky breath as she continued. "You complete me, I don’t feel right when you’re not around and I never want to lose you. Marrying you means more to me than just becoming your wife, I don’t care about the term or the tax benefits," she laughed as a tear fell down her cheek. he wiped it away quickly.

"I was perfectly content just being in your rotation. Being your partner for life is a blessing to me, I’m going to love you forever.” She picked up and ring and put it on his finger.

His eyes were glossy as he watched her shaking hand slip the ring over him. He loved her more than he even knew how to describe at the moment.

“Do you remember that one time you asked me to show you how a real man loves a woman?”

She laughed, looking down at her gigantic belly. “Kinda hard to forget when I’m carrying around this extra 30 pounds.”

“It reminded me of a quote I read on a swing one time,” he said softly, watching her eyes gleam as she knew where he was going.

“The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Y/N with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I love her nonetheless because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.”

“What’s that from?” Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her cheeks, she had never known what book he was reading. She always wondered what his thoughts were in that moment when their eyes locked in remembrance all those years ago.

“Great Expectations by Charles Dickens,” Spencer replied, starting to cry as well.

That’s when she remembered it, looking over at the book that had been sitting on his bedside table for months. It was the book he re-read the most, the book he was reading that first night in Wichita when she asked to crawl into his bed. The book he put down before they conceived Matthew. The whole time she was falling in love with him, the way she did as a child, he was reading the same book because it reminded him of her.

“I didn’t expect that book to hold such a place in my heart the first time I read it. I only brought it to the park with me that day because it was the closest book to me, and I was having a really hard day,” he stopped to wipe his tears softly. “Yet somehow, every single bad day in my life has been made better by you. You’re my greatest expectation, and the only one I’m trying the hardest to live up to.”

“I love you,” she replied to him softly. Holding his face in her hands now as she stared into his eyes, “you’re always going to be everything I’ve ever wanted and all I’ll ever need. You’ve met every expectation, and beyond.”

“I love you,” he smiled. He took her left hand off his cheek, sliding the silver band over her ring finger, pressing it snugly against her engagement ring. “forever.”

“And then some,” Y/N added before kissing him softly.

She smiled against his lips, sitting back and looking at him with complete wonder. “Dr. Y/L/N,” she teased him, pretending to tip her imaginary hat.

“Agent Reid,” he copied her causing them both to laugh again.

“So when is our real anniversary then?” Y/N asked softly, trying to remember what day of the month it was.

“It’s April 20th.”

“Our anniversary cannot be 4/20!” She panicked. “Oh. My god!”

Spencer laughed from down deep in his gut, laying down against the sheets as she smacked his arm lightly. “I’m serious, but that’s so funny though,” she laughed too.

She laid back against the sheets then, Spencer cuddled into her side. His face in the crook of her neck while laying a leg over hers. She held him as close as she could, Matthew really starting to get in the way of everything she did now.

She let out a deep breath as she settled with Spencer against her. “I love you so much, my husband.”

“I love you more, my wife,” he replied. The words sounding like heaven on his lips.

chapter 26

She let out a deep breath when the dress actually zipped up. She was so worried that in the last 2 weeks her body had completely changed. JJ finished with her zipper, fluffing her dress and making sure everything was in place.

Her mom was wiping her tears for the 4th time in the last hour, Y/N couldn’t stop laughing every time she heard her sniffle. It didn’t feel as life-changing as her mother made it seem, Spencer and Y/N were already married in her opinion, this was just a nice formality for their parents.

She could hear all the people talking in her parent’s yard, a few kids yelling as they ran around each other. People were already drinking, there was food and snacks all around. It was just a big party where they were going to tell everyone exactly how much they loved each other.

As much as she was ready mentally, her body was shot. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t leave, the baby was kicking from the anxiety in her body no matter how hard she tried to calm down. It was nerve-wracking to be so open in front of so many people.

It was even worse with the fact she hadn’t seen Spencer since yesterday. As much as he claimed he wasn’t superstitious, he really didn’t want to see her before the wedding. Claiming his mother was the worried one, Y/N let it slide no matter how much she hated sleeping in her childhood bed all by herself with a mini-gymnast in her stomach.

“Are you ready?” JJ asked her softly.

She nodded, looking in the mirror at herself one last time. “Can I have a minute?”

“Sure,” JJ smiled, taking Debbie with her as they walked out of her room.

She stood in the window, opening the blinds and looking out towards the swings once again. Spencer was sitting there, swinging while staring at her window.

She smiled, feeling the butterflies leave her system in a beautiful flurry as their eyes locked. She was ready, she had always been ready to marry him.

She walked out of the room and down the stairs, holding the railing carefully. She was just wearing a pair of crocs under her dress, not trusting her big clumsy ass with heels.

She waited in the foyer as Emily walked across the street to gather everyone. She was officiating for them, Spencer wanted her to be the one to marry them, she was the closest thing to a sister he had.

Every single important person in their lives was in the crowd. Even Spencers father was there, in the back, quiet. Diana was happy to see him, Spencer felt indifferent. Gideon came too, which made it a little easier.

They all walked across the street then, gathering at the end of the makeshift aisle they laid out in the park. Penelope played a simple wedding march, starting the ceremony officially.

Everyone stood, turning towards them. Chloe went down first, dropping flower petals in big clumps here and there before running towards her mom. Then it was Y/N’s turn, opting out of the whole bridesmaid’s thing for the sake of not having to pick and choose between her co-workers and sisters-in-law.

Her dad extended an arm for her, she took it as she softly smiled at him. He looked like he was trying not to cry, “ready?”

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

Seeing Spencer at the end of the aisle was like a dream. She began to walk towards him, every step closer made her heartbeat louder and louder in her chest. Before she knew it she was standing in front of him, her dad giving her a soft kiss on the cheek before handing her over to Spencer.

The idea of giving her away was weird. He wasn’t giving her to him, he was simply helping her reach him. And he always had been.

Spencer’s hand was soft in hers and they stepped towards Emily together.

The music stopped then, causing them to turn to each other and smile. It was time.

It felt more like time stopped, however, getting a sort of tunnel vision for each other as the rest of the world faded away.

“Welcome everyone, you can take a seat,” Emily cut into the moment. “A few weeks ago Spencer asked me if I’d marry him off to his best friend, I of course said yes because who can say no to that face?”

Everyone laughed as Spencer blushed. “Spencer is the smartest man to work in the FBI, we’re not afraid to admit that. From the day I met him, he was nothing but informative and kind, as well as shy and personal. It took a while to learn anything about him, but once you get to know him he’s like an open book. And it’s a good story.”

“Like most good fairy tales, it’s a story told in two parts. Starting with a meet-cute of cosmic proportions, a plotline that would make any other ’right for each other at the wrong time,’ story run for the hills,” Emily exaggerated.

“And finally, a reunion,” her voice was soft then. “I’ll never forget the day Spencer held the door open for Y/N, she walked in with a smile on her face that was almost as big as Spencers. He introduced us to a childhood friend that day, not realizing she would become part of our family.”

Y/N felt herself getting a little choked up, seeing Penelope and JJ wiping their tears just off to the side.

“It’s a story best told in the first person,” Emily laughed at her own joke. “So, without further ado, ladies first,” she instructed, stepping away from the altar to keep the focus on them.

“Well?” Y/N shook her head at him, motioning with her hand for him to start speaking. Making everyone laugh once again. Spencer’s smile was adorable as he giggled.

“Would you say— hypothetically, of course, that soulmates are real, Doctor Reid?” She questioned him softly.

He nodded, “I would.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Because I think you’re mine. And I think I’ve known that for a very long time. There was something about you, that first day I saw you. You weren’t shoving dirt up your nose or pulling on my hair. You were reading a book, I believe it was Matilda, you were all by yourself and you looked sad.”

“Me, being me,” she laughed to herself, “I marched over to you and I asked if you wanted to play in the sandbox with me. One small gesture changed the entire course of my life, you became a friend and then a stranger again in the blink of an eye. I know what it’s like to know of you and not be in your presence and it’s the worst.”

She didn’t want to cry, but she knew she was about to. “I know you’re my soulmate because my soul physically aches when you’re not around. Like magnets, I’m pulled towards you and I’m willing to crush anything that gets in the way. You and I were once the same cosmic rock just floating through space, separated for millions of years until the time was right.”

“I found you right when I needed you,” she wiped a tear off her cheek quickly. “When we needed each other. And I’m never going to let you go.”

She turned towards Emily, grabbing a ring from her. “With this ring, you’re tied to me for eternity now, the way things always should have been.”

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, wiping his own tears before holding her hands again.

“Your turn, pretty boy,” she teased him one last time, laughing to try and stop the tears.

“Most of you know the story,” Spencer began his speech. Staring into Y/N’s eyes, trying to forget there was an audience.

“We met in kindergarten, she was wearing a sundress with green and pink flowers, much like today. You had bangs back then and a cute pink bow in your hair. And you were as stubborn then as you are now,” he smiled. “Mrs. Richardson had told me twice that we weren’t allowed to put water in the sandbox, no matter how important it was to the construction of my model pyramids. That’s why I was reading my book. You went to your backpack, grabbed a water bottle, and poured it right into the sand without thinking twice about the consequences.

“I didn’t really see you again until I was 13, I sat on that swing with my copy of Great Expectations by Charles Dickens while you sat in your window way up there.” He pointed at her house, past the swing set. “I’ll never know what you were reading or what you were thinking, but I have the exact moment I saw you ingrained in my memory,” Spencer’s words were soft as his thumbs ran over her hands.

“Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets.” Spencer recited from memory.

“You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Y/N, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you,” Spencer’s voice trailed off to a whisper as he reached the end.

“I read that quote moments before seeing you again, and part of me knew the universe had greater plans for us. And I knew, Love her, love her, love her! If she favours you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her!”

“With this ring,” Spencer finally added. Lifting the last ring from Derek’s extended hand, placing it on Y/N’s ring finger where it belonged. “I vow to love you till my very last moments, and if heaven is real I’ll be waiting for your loving embrace.”

She wiped her tears quickly, looking up as she tried to stop her mascara from smudging. “You’re a dick sometimes,” she started to laugh before hearing the crowd do the same.

“You love me,” he teased her.

“I do,” she smiled, pulling him in and kissing him hard on the lips. Getting lost in his embrace as the world around them stopped.

—

Having every single person that she loved mingle around her parent’s backyard felt a little surreal. Her father and Rossi were smoking cigars together on the desk, Levi and Will were discussing training stories while Chloe and Henry chased each other around the yard.

Emily and Noelle were slowly dancing in their own little world to the music that played, not too far from Haley and Arron who had the same idea. Jack was talking to Derek, sharing stories about their favourite superhero.

Diana and Debbie were going around making sure everyone had a drink or a snack, discussing their children and showing off to everyone that was there. It was a lot to take in, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. This was the most perfect little wedding she could have ever asked for.

Spencer never left her side, holding her hand where ever she went for the majority of the night. Knowing she hated being the centre of anyone else attention, calming her down from all the eyes that were on her.

“Do you want to go to the swing?” He whispered in her ear when they were finally alone.

“Please,” she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting to just be alone with him for a while.

She snuck out of the yard and across the street, Y/N sat down on the swing for the first time in years, her big belly thanking her for the relief. Spencer pushed her lightly on the swing, helping her swing in the late-night spring breeze in rural Nevada.

The light in her bedroom was still on, illuminating the empty room she called hers for the majority of her life. Still unable to process the fact that she did it, she married Spencer. She made a life in his orbit, she was happy and loved and making a family with the man of her dreams.

This was the best revenge she could have ever gotten on any childhood bully or predator in her life. Pure happiness, that no one could take from her. Knowing she did this on her own, meeting Spencer out of the blue and building a life of joy and peace was so unbelievably wonderful.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Spencer asked softly as he continued to push her on the swing.

“I’m just amazed that I did it,” she said softly.

“Did what?”

“all this,” she waved her arm out in front of her. “I grew up, I made friends and a family and found the love of my life even after believing for so long that I never would.”

“the universe had better plans for you than you thought,” She could hear the smile on Spencer’s face as he spoke. “You’re so deserving of the world and then some, you’re worth the universe to me. Brighter than any star in the sky, more powerful than the big-bang.”

She dragged her feet along the sand, stopping the swing abruptly before turning around to see Spencer. His eyes glistened in the moonlight or the streetlight. Either way, his brown eyes were glowing as she looked up at him softly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

She wrapped her arms around him as best as she could, pressing her cheek against his chest softly. “For showing me that love is real.”

“Being able to love you has been the best part of my life.”

She pulled him into another kiss, holding his face softly as she peppered kisses to his lips over and over. “You get me forever.”

“And then some.”

“Hypothetically,” she teased him lightly. “Anything is possible when the two of us get together.”

“I love you,” was all he could say before kissing her again.

They could hear the music travelling across the street for the yard, she wrapped her arms around him and swayed to the beat. Taking a moment completely alone with him to just appreciate him. To hold him close, hear his heartbeat through his suit jacket and just take it all in.

The rest of her life started at that moment, the birth of a new future. One with endless possibilities, endless happiness, and the most love in the whole world.

Soulmates, 500 years in the making.

Placing 500 more years of possibilities in the hands of Fate, who cradled them in her loving embrace. Making a future for them unlike any she’s made before.

Epilogue

2020

The birds chirping used to make her wake up with a smile, now it made her panic a little. She was so overly used to being woken up to a baby crying, a kid with a tummy ache, or the sound of fighting coming from the cribs in the twin’s room.

When it was quiet she worried, opening her eyes and looking around to see all 4 of her children cuddled up around her and Spencer. Completely asleep, and absolutely adorable.

Matthews’s face was beside hers on the pillow. His long hair falling over his face, just like his fathers used to all those years ago. She kissed her baby on the forehead, unable to fully understand that he was 10 now.

The twins were in the middle, Harper and Derek were attached at the hip all day long. Sleeping basically on top of each other, it was the only way they were peaceful. Since being squished together in the womb, they’ve become best friends and each other’s comfort person over the last 6 years.

Alice on the other hand was a daddy’s girl. Probably because she got the most time with him, 2 and a half years’ worth of all Spencer’s love and affection.

Spencer had quit the BAU when they got pregnant with their last baby, deciding he wanted to be with his kids full time. He wanted to be more present, to make more memories and just be a good dad.

Every morning Alice would find her way into the bed, she’d do whatever it took to get between Y/N and Spencer, cuddling into her father’s arms and going back to sleep. Almost every time, she would push her mom’s arms away, waking Y/N up in the process just to smirk at her as if to say; “haha my turn.”

She loved her little family. And they loved her too, she had been out of town for a week on a really bad case that required all hands on deck. They called her every day, begging her to come home soon, breaking her heart. So it wasn’t a surprise to see all of them snuggled in, taking in all the time with her that they could.

Matthews’s eyes fluttered as he woke up, his big beautiful brown eyes looking at her softly. “Mom,” he said softly with a smile before wrapping his arms around her neck and snuggling into her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, Mr. Magoo,” she whispered into his hair, holding him close. He still smelled like her little baby, only bigger as he rested against her.

“Are we still going to Uncle Dave’s tonight?” He asked as he settled against her, wanting her to run her fingers through his hair. It calmed him as it did for Spencer, soothing his mind as it ran a million miles a minute.

“I think so,” she replied, picking him up softly and laying on her back more. “I think all your cousins are going to be there too.”

“Even Jack?” He asked, sitting up with wonder in his eyes. Jack was 15 now, and just the coolest dude in Matthews’s life. Much like how Spencer looked up to Hotch in the beginning.

“Even Jack!” She whispered with enthusiasm, trying to keep the others asleep but it was too late.

“Mommy!” Harper cried, pushing Derek away from her as she leaped into her mother’s arms.

“Hi sweetheart,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as she got smothered in hugs from the twins.

Spencer looked over at her then. Alice was snuggled into his neck, one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hair. She had always played with his hair every chance she could get. Especially whenever he held her or gave her a ride on his shoulders as they walked through the park.

“Hi,” Spencer smiled.

There he was, the love of her life. His smile made her feel at home, the love between them only growing every morning when they laid eyes on each other.

“Are you going to say hi to mommy?” Spencer asked Alice, rubbing her back softly.

She raised her hand to wave softly before dropping it back onto Spencer’s head with a smack, “ow?” He laughed lightly, making her bounce on his chest and laugh in response.

She was always quiet in the morning, leaving all the talking to her siblings. She was the calmest of them all, she was also the easiest of the 4 of them. She didn’t cry unless she was desperate for food or attention, she slept through the nights and was just all around not fussy at all. A literal blessing to their lives.

The twins were a lot, they knew they would be. She doesn’t miss the days and nights of them taking turns screaming. And she definitely doesn’t miss the ache of her body as two babies sucked her dry for almost 6 months. Breastfeeding kicked her ass the most, eventually making her lose too much weight and faint from low blood pressure, it sucked.

The outcome was beyond worth it. Derek and Harper were the craziest, funniest, loudest 6-year-olds in the whole world. If they weren’t writing a show, pretending to direct a spooky movie or pulling pranks on their father, they were planning to.

They had a specific dynamic, Harper was the planner and Derek was the do-er. Harper would come up with the sneakiest, worst ideas a child could have and somehow always managed to convince Derek to do it for her. A modern-day Jekyll and Hyde terrorized her home.

But Matthew, He was the sweetest. Being a single child till the age of 4 meant he was around Spencer and Y/N all the time, just the three of them. He’s shy but outgoing, he speaks his mind and he isn’t afraid to share his thoughts and feelings. He’s the best part of both of them but with all the confidence to follow his dreams. He was handsome and smart, he was sweet and kind, he was her baby. Forever and always, no matter how big he got.

He’s smart like Spencer, but not jumping through elementary school as fast. They agreed to let him decide when he turned 14. He deserved the chance to grow up with his own age group, to make friends and memories that were good and happy, to build the confidence to stand up for himself and others before he finished school. He didn’t mind it, he enjoyed helping other students when he finished his work early and asking for extra credit assignments.

And he liked being in class with Roz LaMontagne. They were smitten with each other from day one, always holding hands and playing nicely. JJ and Y/N always felt bad peeling them apart from each other at the end of a playdate, they were best friends.

It was like Roz had 2 older brothers with Henry and Matt, the 3 of them being so close in age they were often mistaken for triplets, with JJ and Y/N being their lesbian moms. It was a ruse that came in handy when they saw men checking them out, or when they wanted a family discount at the zoo.

Her life felt perfect, it was far from it in reality but she was happy with that. She worked long hours, her kids missed her every day, she didn’t see Spencer as often as she’d like and she was always tired. But that was what it took, she would work herself to the bone in an instant if it meant that she could come home and be snuggled like this every time.

“How was your week?” She asked Harper, brushing her strawberry blond hair behind her ear as she cuddled into her other side. Now having 3 children laying on top of her.

“Dad took us to the air and space museum,” Derek answered for her.

“No way!” Y/N enthused. “You need to tell me everything you learned!”

“The Museum is the largest of the Smithsonian's 19 museums and its Center for Earth and Planetary studies is one of the Institution's nine research centres. More than eight million people a year visit the Museum's two locations, making it one of the most visited museums in the country,” Matthew explained, remembering the sign at the entrance from memory.

“Wow, what was everyone’s favourite part? Maybe we can go again soon and you can all show me?” She suggested, riling them all up till they were bouncing on the mattress and screaming suggestions back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” Y/N settled them down. Watching them all sit-down and smile as they tried to stop laugh and listen. “Why don’t we go get breakfast and spend the morning together before we get ready to go to Aunt Penny’s party tonight okay?”

“I thought it was Uncle Dave's party?” Derek asked.

“It’s at his house but you know how aunt penny plans,” Y/N smiled at him. “How about you all go get dressed and pick something nice to wear while I talk to your dad for a bit?”

“Anything I want to wear?” Harper questioned her, very serious.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, “something nice, but yes your choice.”

“Yes!” Harper screamed, hopping off the bed making the whole room shake as she ran down the hall. The sound of her bare feet slapping the hardwood carrying through the hallway in an echo.

“Matty, I’ll dress Alice, can you just watch her for a minute?” Spencer asked as he placed Alice in the middle of the bed.

“Sure,” Matthew smiled. “Come on Ali, I’ll read you a book?”

She put her arms out for her brother to carry her, and soon enough it was just Spencer and Y/N all alone again. Spencer and her both falling back against the pillows and sighing in the quiet.

Spencer pulled her into a hug, wrapping himself around her as he kissed her cheek, “I missed you so much, I hate when you’re gone.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” she said softly. “I got a job offer last night, and I think I’m going to take it.”

“What is it?”

“VICAP and the BAU are merging, even more, I’ve been asked to be the Chief of VICAP to personally overview the program and pass the information along to Prentiss,” She explained. “It would be a 9-5 thing, 5 days a week. I’d be home for dinner and all weekend long. We could have another baby or go on vacation? You know the possibilities are endless.”

Spencer kissed her again, “you’d be able to help people and be home all the time.”

“Exactly,” she smiled into his embrace. “I told them I’d let them know later today, they want me to start next month.”

“Follow your gut,” Spencer whispered, happy at the decision she was making either way.

“My gut is currently saying ‘feeeeed meeee’, so let’s get going!” She cheered as she tried to escape from his embrace.

He just held on tighter, tickling her stomach and kissing her neck, “help!” She cried, joking obviously and the kids knew that. Sure enough, 4 pairs of feet came running back into their room, dog piling them.

“I said help! Not suffocate me?!” She teased them as Spencer let her go, each taking a child and tickling them instead. Everyone was screaming again, giggling from deep in their stomach, feeling sick from how happy they were.

She loved every moment of it.

—

After 10 years, the BAU had gone through a lot of changes. Everyone seemed to come and go at least once, some leaving for good when their families started. But there were a lot of new faces now, once someone was on the team they were family.

It was a rare occasion for everyone to get together, especially now that almost everyone had kids. Spencer and Y/N went from being the 2nd set of parents to aunty and uncle to 8 kids in 10 years.

That meant that there were currently 12 screaming kids terrorizing Rossi’s beautiful backyard as the adults sat around the fire. “Please tell me no one here has a baby announcement to make, I don’t think I can handle a thirteenth,” Rossi complained, grey hair making him look more like papa Rossi than uncle Dave now.

“No,” everyone said in unison, laughing at the abundantly clear meaning. They were all too tired to do it all again.

“Like Spencer’s mom said, why have another when you can stop at perfection?” Emily joked as she leaned into Noelle’s embrace. “PJ is the best little guy in the world.”

“Spencer makes some great kids,” Y/N laughed. Remembering that time Emily nervously asked them if Spencer would be the donor for her child. Wanting her kid to be born with the best DNA she could think of.

“That he does,” Noelle smiled, looking into the yard to see PJ, Michael and Hank roughhousing like they always were.

They all had kids fairly close together, always making sure each new member of the BAU's gifted children program had friends who were more like family in their lives. Their small chosen family expanded not only in size but with the amount of love they shared for each other.

Henry was 12 now, Jack 15. They had always gotten along well together, being a little more on the nerdy side. They welcomed Matthew into their little group with open arms, as well as Roz.

Hotch ended up becoming Section Chief, taking a desk job so that he could spend more time with his family. They welcomed Jessie 6 years ago, right around the time Y/N had the twins. She was a spitting image of Haley with all the stern seriousness of Hotch. Seeing her and Harper try and work together was always funny. Harper and Derek were always trying to start shit somewhere, while Jessie ran to Y/N to tattle on them. It was the funniest dynamic out of all the age groups, and it was only going to get worse as they grew up.

“I don’t know,” Y/N sighed, looking at her kids as they all smiled and laughed. The joy they brought her was unimaginable, “I think 5 would be interesting.”

“You’re a psycho, and I should know, I’m an expert,” JJ just shook her head, blinking at the craziness. “I can barely handle 3.”

“Alice was so easy though,” she whined. “All of them were good, I miss having a baby who wanted to cuddle with me. It’s not fair Spencer gets all the attention now.”

“You could always quit, they’d love that,” he teased her softly, not wanting to wake Alice as she slept on him, tired from playing with everyone during the afternoon.

“My new position is going to be better for us,” she smirked.

“What position?” Penelope yelled at her.

“I’m going to be the VICAP unit chief,” she smiled, watching them all light up as they congratulated her. Starling the sleeping Alice on Spencer’s chest.

“I think I’ve done enough fieldwork, I’d like to cook more dinners and read more bedtime stories now,” she smiled. “I never thought I’d say that.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” Haley added. “I never expected Aaron to slow down, but when he did I think it was the best thing he chose to do. Jack and Jessie love having him around all the time.”

“To 10 plus years on the job, 10 years of friendship and the 12 new lives we brought into this world,” Y/N said as she lifted her can of ginger-ale, everyone following with their own drinks.

“To family,” Prentiss added.

“To family,” they all repeated.

Taking a sip before smiling at each other, everything ended up okay. It was more than they ever expected, and everything they hoped for.

—

The kids all fell asleep on the ride home. Spencer and Y/N each taking one of the twins upstairs first, placing them in their beds softly before returning to the garage for the others. Finding Matthew trying to carefully bring Alice inside to help his parents.

“Hey Matty it’s okay,” Spencer whispered, placing a hand on his back. “you go inside with your mom and I’ll take care of this.”

“Okay,” he replied, extremely tired as his eyelids drooped.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulders, he was almost as tall as her already and she wasn’t ready for that. “Come on my baby,” she whispered as she led him into the house and up the stairs.

She helped him change into a pair of pyjamas before helping him into his bed, covering him in his adorable planet-covered sheets. She tucked him in nice a snug before sitting on the edge, looking down at him as he closed his eyes and settled in.

She brushed his brown curls off his face, making way for the kiss she was about to leave on his forehead. “Goodnight my Matty Magoo, I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you to the edge of the milky way,” he replied with a small smile. “I’m excited for you to be home more. Dad worries about you and it makes him sad, I like seeing you both happy together.” He rambled all his thoughts out at night just like Spencer did.

She kissed his head softly, holding his cheeks in her hand as she looked into his beautiful brown eyes. “You are so sweet, have a good sleep and I will see you tomorrow. I love you.” She told him again, and she’d tell him a million more times if she could.

“I love you, too, mom,” he smiled one last time before closing his eyes.

She shut off his lamp, closing his door on the way out.

She stood in the hallway then, a hand on her heart as she thought about just how much she loved him. JJ wasn’t kidding when she said you grow a love so big you’d kill for them.

Back in the twin’s room, she made sure they were comfortable for the night, taking Harper out of the crazy dress and pants she picked out for the day. Tucking both of them into their little beds, kissing their heads before turning on their nightlight. They didn’t like the dark, and they liked to keep their door open a little so buddy could sneak in.

In her own room, she found Spencer in bed, shirtless with a book. He got sexier as he got older, it was impossible and yet it happened. Every year he looked different, in a wonderful way.

His hair was fluffy, his tummy was fuller— a dad bod as Penelope would call it. He wore glasses all the time now, having a hard time reading without them. It made him incredibly hot.

She changed into a cute pyjama set, satin shorts and a spaghetti strap top, wanting to get his attention away from whatever book he found this time.

She could feel his eyes on her as she changed, not wanting to look at him and make him stop.

He put his book down when she got in beside him, still on the right side after all these years. “What?” She asked him as he kept staring at her.

“Were you serious?”

“Yes I do think you’re sexy, I didn’t think you could read minds too?” She teased him.

“Funny,” he smiled at her. “Do you want another baby?”

She shrugged, “we could Russian roulette this and just see if it happens?”

“Seriously?” His voice dropped, softer than normal. “Because I would have 16 more kids with you if you wanted. They’re all so amazing, every time.”

“I know,” she felt her heart melt. “Matthew said you get sad when I’m not here, he worries for you.”

“All week, Harper wore her regular outfits because she likes making you laugh with her silly ones,” Spencer told her. They liked to share secrets about their kids at night. Basically profiling them.

“I love them,” her heart felt like it was going to burst.

“Come here,” Spencer requested, waiting for her to sit on his hips and look down into his eyes like she always did. She brushed the hair off his face, holding his cheeks in her hands.

His eyes are so much like Matthews, but it was Alice who looked the most like him. She had his nose, his chin, she was tall and skinny and just the most adorable copy of him. Every feature on him was in one of their kids, he saw the same thing in her.

“Are you sure?” She asked him softly.

“The only thing in the whole world that I know for certain is that I love you and this family. Even gravity is simply a hypothetical, but you and me… I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” his words soft and his expression softer.

She kissed him, pressing her lips against his for the first time in a while. It always felt like coming home, this was where she was meant to be.

When she pulled back all she wanted to do was look at him for a minute, to imagine what new little face the two of them could make together. All 4 of their children were so perfect, she couldn’t imagine a 5th possibility.

“Put a baby in me,” She whispered.

She didn’t have to tell him twice, he reached over to the night table to turn off the light before kissing her neck softly. His big, warm hands wrapped around her back, pulling her in closer to him.

He was so much different now from the first time they did this. Confident, stronger, older, but he was still her soft boy. He held her with care, kissed her like she was made out of glass. The contrast of his actions and the feeling of his rough hands on her body made her feel like she was on fire.

He pushed the straps of her shirt off her shoulders, dipping her back a little so he could kiss her cheek. He pushed her shirt down, freeing one of her breasts, holding it softly in his hands before kissing the newly exposed skin.

His tongue swiped across her nipple, making her gasp and grip his arm as she rutted into the feeling. He cradled her head in his hands, laying her back with her head now at the foot of the bed.

Still, between her legs, he pulled the satin shorts down slowly to see she never wore any underwear under them. He smirked, running his finger softly over her vagina, watching in awe as she spread her legs wider for him.

She could see how hard he was, his erection making a tent in his boxers as he teased her softly. “Still so perfect,” he praised her. “Look how tight you are, sucking my finger inside that tight heat.”

She tightened around him on purpose then, feeling his finger slip in even more. “Fuck,” he gasped. Moving down more to place a kiss on her clit.

Her breathing picked up then, even after 11 years of sex with this man, the thought of his tongue on her still made her shiver. He was just that good, always getting better every time he dove face-first into her.

Her back arched the second his tongue connected with her clit. Pushing herself into his tongue more and more as he explored her. Two fingers were inside of her now, Spencer’s mouth kissing and sucking and licking every single inch of her pussy as she quietly gasped into the darkness.

She wanted to scream for more, she always did, but she couldn’t anymore. There were 4 sets of ears just down the hall trying to have a peaceful night’s sleep, she had to remind herself of that every time.

“Fuck, Spencer,” she whispered, biting her lip so nothing else slipped out.

“What?” He whispered against her skin, kissing her groin and lower tummy.

“Please,” she begged softly, sitting up and climbing onto his lap once more. “Daddy?”

It had been years since she said that to him, not able to utter the words once he actually became a father. It lit a fire in him, pulling her in closer before he ripped the shirt off her body.

He held her against him, kissing her neck as he basically growled at the feeling. Becoming almost feral with the thought of fucking her. She was in love with the feeling, when he got rough with her it was the best.

She enjoyed every second of it, knowing she’d wake up in the morning with beard burn on her neck and between her thighs, not giving a single fuck. It was so worth it, the tickle of his facial hair on her skin beside his mouth, she craved it.

“I need you out of those boxers, sir,” she panted, holding his hair as he continued to kiss her neck.

He pulled off her, looking at her in the darkness with lust-filled eyes. “Lay back,” he instructed her.

She always listened, laying back against the pillows as he freed himself from the confines of his underwear. Crawling on top of her and hovering slightly as he looked down at her. He brushed her hair off her face, kissing her lips lightly before smiling.

“Tell me again what you want?”

She smirked, “I want you to put a baby in me, fill me up. Let me make you a daddy again?”

The noise that left his throat was enough to make her clit twitch again, it was deep and guttural and beyond sexy. He became an animal on nights like this.

She spread her legs again, wrapping her knees around him as he pulled him in against her body. “Fuck me, Spencer.”

He lined himself up with her quickly, dragging the head of his cock through her folds a few times before he began to push in. Little by little, achingly slow. Teasing her, knowing just how badly she wanted him to pound into her.

“Yes,” she sighed as he bottomed out, dropping her head back against the pillow softly.

Her hands roamed his back, waiting for him to start to move again. Digging her nails in when he finally did, pulling out slowly before pushing back in with effort.

“Ah,” she moaned softly, covering her own mouth as he started to move faster.

“Shhh,” he reminded her, kissing her neck again as he found his rhythm.

“Shut up and fuck me then,” she sounded desperate. “Please,” she added. Not wanting him to stop out of spite.

“Shut up and take it,” he ordered, placing his own hand over her mouth as he fucked her harder.

She couldn’t believe it, he was holding one hand over her mouth while his other reached for her clit, making her jolt forward at the contact. It was everything she wanted, it was rough and powerful and just the best reminder that she belonged to him.

Spencer was hers, she was his, they created this entire world together. She felt so overwhelmed, she wasn’t aware that she was crying at the pleasure till Spencer moved his hand off her mouth to wipe off a tear.

“Keep going,” she encouraged him. “Please, please.”

“Shhh,” he soothed her, “I’m going to make you feel so good bunny, you’re going to be so full, so beautiful carrying another one of our babies.”

That did it for her, she tilted her head back as she arched her back. Pulling Spencer’s fingers into her mouth so that she wouldn’t moan too loud as she came on his cock.

Spencer shuttered at the feeling, fucking into her with vigour as he tried to hold in his own moans. Sounding more like a whimper when he finally came, spilling into her with the force of a Mack truck.

He dropped against her body then, breathing deep into her neck. She wrapped her legs around him tightly, holding him inside of her so nothing slipped out. “Fuck.”

“I love you,” Spencer breathed against her skin.

She ran her fingers through his hair softly before kissing his forehead. “I love you more.”

They stayed like that for a while, only pulling apart finally to get cleaned up. Spencer turned back on the light, helping her to the bathroom quietly before stripping the sheets off the bed.

She returned to a freshly made bed and a dressed Spencer waiting for her. She put her shorts and a t-shirt back on, slipping into bed and cuddling into him once more. Having to look presentable for when the kids eventually came running into their room at 7 am.

She sighed into his embrace, smiling softly against his skin. “What was that Buddha quote you told me all those years ago?”

“When you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other,” Spencer replied softly.

“Goodnight, Spence,” she kissed his jaw softly as she snuggled in closer.

“Goodnight, bunny.”

the end

#hypothetically #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut

108 notes · View notes

kinktae · 4 years

Text

flesh and blood || (M)

You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren't always required when it comes to love.

pairing: zombie!jungkook x reader

word count: 6k

genre: post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, smut

warnings: guns, a semi spooky scene, crack plot written seriously, zombie jk falling for Y/N, part 2 will have smut

A/N: inspired by warm bodies and the fact that I'm a legitimate crackhead. Happy Halloween!

01 | 02 | 03

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PART ONE

❝ Breaking News! A group of Walkers has been discovered hiding in the ruins of a Pre-Break Out industrial zone. A conference was held in City Hall where a representative of the DEAD Team said this in regards to the situation…❞

"Ugh, turn it down Junny," You grumbled, tugging your blanket over your head in hopes to null out the sound of the overly enthusiastic broadcaster on the television, "I'm trying to nap here."

"No way! Dad, did you hear? They found a family of zombies in our town!" Your younger brother enthused, wide eyes glued to the glass screen of the TV. He was sat beside your feet on the couch you laid on and you fought the urge to kick him off the furniture.

Your mother and father walked into the room shortly after, Junny's yells summoning their attention.

Rolling over, you sat up to see your dad standing behind the couch, arms crossed over his chest as he offered the screen his undivided attention.

Though the worst times of the Great Outbreak were now thought to be over – there hadn't been a reported zombie attack in years – the fear still lingered. You were just an infant when the zombie infestation was at its worst so perhaps that fear never had the chance to sink its filthy claws into you but you weren’t naive to the way the rest of the world still trembled.

Your father’s expression was solemn and impenetrable; if it weren’t for the way his eyes always gave away what he was truly feeling, you wouldn’t have a clue that he was upset. Glimmering behind his pupils were flashes of anger and consternation, along with memories of a story you had yet to hear.

Two decades ago, your father, along with many other young men and women, had volunteered to team up with the government to help contain the outbreak, hunting down and capturing zombies so they could be whisked off to a facility where they were killed in quarantine.

While the cause of the breakout seemed to be agreed upon, there was still much about the walking dead that remained a mystery to the general public.

Decades before the Great Outbreak, an experimental drug by the name of Immortuos had been growing in popularity. It was said to do anything from alleviating chronic pain to ridding the body of illness altogether. Ten years after its introduction, Immortuos had been administered to millions around the world. As time went on, however, the drug began to show signs of short term effectiveness; within a couple of years, symptoms of the illnesses it was meant to cure began to show up in individuals once again.

Immortuos was quickly discontinued and sent back into research, leaving scientists scratching their heads as they tried to figure out where they went wrong.

And so life went on; people, old and young, continued to live and die as they did before. However, years after the drug's discontinuation, a story broke out of a mortuary that came to life in the middle of the night in a rural town in Spain. And that was how the outbreak began, millions of corpses everywhere suddenly resurrecting. Published reports of zombie autopsies found that consciousness and motor functioning had returned despite the fact that the circulatory system had never revived, leaving the bodies without blood or oxygen. Not fully dead but not fully alive either. A sort of undead. And sure enough, a direct link to the use of the drug and resurrection was discovered.

Your father rarely spoke of that time; not that you ever had bothered to ask about it. It was unsettling to think he was ever one of the people hunting down zombies.

"Does this mean I don't have to go to school tomorrow?" Junny grinned boyishly, looking up at your mother.

"Nice try, Junseo. You're going." Your mother dismissed without a blink of an eye. You chuckled at the way your little brother scowled at her words.

On the screen was a recording of what you assumed must have been the conference held in City Hall. There was a man dressed in the DEAD Team uniform speaking into a microphone from behind a podium. You focused on the screen ahead, tuning out the chattering of your family as you listened to his words.

❝ Citizens of this town can rest assured that the Walkers in question were apprehended and sent off to our termination facility. We can't stress enough how crucial it is that you continue to send in reports of possible zombie sightings. Even if it's a false alarm, the risk isn't worth taking. Remember to not engage with the undead as they will attack unprovoked. These creatures don't care who you are or what you do, to them you are nothing more than their next meal.❞

A frown found your face at the officer's words. There hadn't been a zombie attack in years. It was hard to believe that zombies were truly insatiable, will stop at nothing, blood-lusting monsters.

"I thought we got rid of them all." Junny sighed.

"Most of them." Your father explained dully. "There are a few still lingering around."

"I still don't understand why we have to wait for the DEAD Team to take them out. If I run into one on my way to the market, I want to be able to protect myself right then and there." Your mother huffed suddenly, turning away from the TV.

She had always been a formidable woman– strong and independent. You had a feeling that if she hadn’t been tied down by a newborn child, she would've been there fighting alongside your father during the Great Outbreak.

Your father let out a sigh, "We don't want whatever is inside them possibly infecting normal civilians. That's why they have to be put down in quarantine."

“Whatever. I’m just glad we're almost completely rid of those bastards.” Your mother sighed, ruffling the hair on top of your brother's head.

Your eyebrows furrowed, unable to hide your distaste for any longer.

"And we say they are the monsters..." You muttered quietly.

Immediately, all eyes were on you.

"Excuse me? What was that?" Your mother cautioned.

You held her stare unabashedly, clearly having no intention to take back your words. Junseo's eyes flickered among the two of you, knowing the nature of the conversation that was soon to come. As much as you complained about how stubborn your mother was, he knew that you had inherited the very trait you resented.

"How can sit there and wish death on all those innocent people?"

"Y/N, this again?" Your mother let out an exasperated noise.

Your eyes grew wide with defiance, "Yes, this again. It doesn’t matter if they were once dead, they are still people! We have massacred millions and I don't understand how you all don’t so much as bat an eye at the thought of it."

At your words, your mother let out a bitter laugh, head shaking in disbelief.

"And what about the people those crimson heads have killed? What about the chaos and lives sacrificed to protect us from them?" Your mother retorted.

You scoffed, eyes rolling in unwavering disobedience.

“Did we even try to help them? To understand them?”

"You didn't live through the outbreak like your father and I did. You were just a baby. There are things you don't know, Y/N." She pressed angrily, doing nothing to sway your stance.

"What if it was me?" You challenged coldly. "What if I had died and came back to life? Would your first instinct be to put a bullet through my head? Those people had families!"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N. They're not people, they’re rotting corpses that can walk and it’s about damn time you realized that.”

It was at this point that your father had decided to step in, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stopped you from arguing further.

"That's enough. The both of you. Arguing is a waste of time. We should be grateful for one another. We're a family and we're all together. Not everyone who survived the outbreak can say the same." His tone was matter-of-fact but not cold in the way your mother's had been.

Looking up at him, his cautious eyes met your ardent ones. They were laced in a plea for you to stop... to understand.

Pressing your lips together, you nodded begrudgingly. Your dad was right. Arguing with your mother was a waste of time. It wasn't as if anything you said would get through to her anyway.

Pushing the blanket off your body, you swung your legs back over to the floor, hand reaching out for your bag that was sitting against the coffee table.

"Where are you going?" Your father asked, eyeing you as you got up and hauled the bag over your shoulder.

"Home. Joon is probably waiting up for me." You told him disinterestedly, causing your mother to sigh.

Namjoon was your best friend and roommate, and while he was definitely still up, you highly doubted it was for your sake. If you knew your best friend, he was sprawled on the couch, his work spread out across the coffee table as one of those old, black and white shows about people living on a prairie played in the background. Your mother didn't need to know that, of course.

"Y/N, don't be ridiculous. It's already dark out, just spend the night." She pleaded.

"Night, Junny." You ignored her, turning towards your brother with a smile.

"Night!"

As you pushed past your parents and made your way out of the room, you could hear as they began to whisper to each other. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

You always hated it when they did that. As if you weren’t adult enough to join in on conversations that were obviously about you. It was if this whole world was constantly shouting a million and one rules at you – don’t do that, don’t question this, don’t go here – but the second you asked for an explanation as to why you should listen, all the yelling fell to a whisper, as if to let you know that words were being said but that you were purposely excluded from that knowledge.

That thought weighed heavily on your mind as you reached the deadbolted front door. The sound of you prying it’s five locks open hid the approaching footsteps of your father walking up behind you.

"Y/N."

The pop of the final lock accompanied your silent sigh, turning to face your awaiting parent.

"Yeah?"

"Your mother and I want you to take the bus home tonight. We know you usually take that shortcut by the factory plant because it's quicker but that area isn't safe. Especially not now with the recent sighting."

"Sure." You lied, simply because you knew it was what he would want to hear.

"And tie your hair up before you go out. It gives you a–"

"–maximum visual field, yeah I know. Teachers have been drilling that into us since elementary school, dad." You countered easily.

Your father nodded back at you.

"And Y/N," he continued, "she's harsh but... your mother is right when she says there is a lot of things you don't know."

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to reply. Suddenly, your father's hand found your cheek, cupping your face affectionately as he silently thought something over.

"There's something I want to give you before you go. Wait right here."

Your eyebrows arched in surprise as he left you suddenly, returning shortly with a small, folded blanket in his hands.

"If anything – anyone – threatens you, you protect yourself. Okay?" He spoke solemnly, starting to unwrap the bundle of fabric.

"Yeah, of course." You nodded, mildly confused.

Your face fell as the dull silver of a revolver revealed itself as the object hidden in between the blanket. You always knew your father kept a decent amount of self-defense weapons in the house, a consequence of his involvement during the Great Outbreak, but this was the first time he had ever shown you one. The only other time you had come into contact with one was an accident, stumbling upon a gun mounted under your father's desk during a juvenile game of hide-and-seek. Perhaps in another life, you would have been disturbed by the discovery, but all children of the apocalypse such as yourself were taught about guns and weapon safety by the time they had learned to count so you weren't particularly fazed.

“Just in case.” Your father pulled you from your memories, his lips pressed tight.

You eyed the deadly weapon for a moment, your stomach churning at the idea of ever having to fire such a device. Hesitantly, you grabbed it, hand wobbling slightly at the newfound weight. Wordlessly, you unzipped your backpack and hid the gun away, tucking the three bullets that laid beside it into your front pocket.

You forced the sides of your mouth to tilt up disingenuously, offering him a somber word of gratitude before slipping out of the house with a faint goodbye.

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Kicking at a piece of rubber, you watched as it skipped ahead, tumbling down the cracked cement of the road you traveled on. Your hair swayed behind you as you walked; you had thrown it up, not solely because of your father’s warning but simply because it felt strange not to. Like putting sneakers on without socks. In this world, stepping outside meant being vigilant and on high alert.

Naturally, you had disregarded your parents’ wish for you to take the bus home. Something that had emerged along the chaos and fear that probably wasn't initially considered was the sudden need for safe transportation. Transport industries quickly used this to their advantage, the costs of public and private transportation skyrocketing tenfold as a result. While most deemed it a necessary evil, you refused to pay for a twenty-dollar bus ride that would only take you ten minutes on foot.

And it wasn’t as if the area you were passing through was particularly unsafe. It was an industrial zone, empty and abandoned for as long as you could remember. During the peak of the apocalypse, factories and warehouses like the ones you were currently passing got raided for supplies. It wasn’t nearly as awful as it was made out to be, productivity had ceased anyway. Workers were too busy preparing themselves and their families against the army of undead to worry about showing up to work on time.

Crash!

Your stride came to a halt, one of your bag straps falling off your shoulder as you quickly whirled around to face where the loud sound had come from.

Brows furrowed, you peered through the holes in the wire fence that separated you and the property. You managed to make out a silhouette by the corner of a busted down door.

“Hello?” You called out warily.

The shadow quickly darted from view.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be there.”

Letting your gaze return back to the fence, you found a sizeable hole not too far off from where you stood. More telling than the hole, however, were the two torn up candy wrappers lying underneath it. All at once, you realized what exactly you were dealing with.

Runaway teens were an increasing problem in your city; many of them seemingly fed up with the strict rules and regulations that arose as a consequence of the Great Outbreak. As much as you sympathized with them, a dirty abandoned factory was no place for a child.

You slipped past the fence, mind made up to get whoever was inside out and back to safety. Trudging your way through the rubble and waste, you headed towards the building’s entrance, noting the trail of candy wrappers that lead to it.

Peering inside the building, you were met with a slow-moving cloud of dust that had yet to settle down– it appeared as if a part of the ceiling had collapsed which explained the loud noise you heard earlier.

“You can come out, okay? You’re not in any trouble, I promise.”

It was dark inside, the only light source coming from the street lamps that lined the road you once stood on, their cold luminescence pushing through the broken shards of the factory’s windows.

You pushed further into the ill-lit building. There were all sorts of machines and garbage inside; the tile floor was layered with dirt, clearly accumulated through the years of trespassers coming in and out.

Spotting another silver candy wrapper, you headed down a hallway, pushing past a heavy steel door.

You let yourself take a moment to take in the room ahead of you. It must have been the more corporate side of the company, you deducted, as rows of filing cabinets lined the room, papers and ransacked charts spread across the floor. There was an eeriness to the building, you quickly realized. It was somewhat unsettling feeling to see something that once must have been the pinnacle of structure and organization in such an utter state of chaos. The room was quiet enough that if you just focused hard enough, you could imagine what it once looked like, all clean and pristine as employees walked through and went about their day.

You pushed down your uneasiness, eyes straining to guide you through the windowless room.

A rustle of fabric caught your attention and you quickly rounded about a large shelf in order to reach the child.

“Are you hurt? I heard those ceiling tiles fall–”

You let your words fall flat.

A tall silhouette stood against the wall, nothing like the stature of a small adolescent like you had been anticipating. The hair on your body rose as the sound of ragged, strained breaths fell from the dark figure ahead of you.

It took a step forward, body swaying unnaturally.

Every hair on your body stood on end, jaw falling slack as reality dawned on you.

You could hear the voice of your elementary school teacher in your head suddenly, remembering the lecture she had given you and your rowdy class on what to do in case of a zombie attack. How little attention you had paid back then, giggling over something Namjoon had whispered in your ear. Yet as you stood there in front of the exact thing you had been taught to fear, you could recall every single word, playing over in your head like a mantra stuck on loop.

Don’t make any sudden noises.

It was as if every nerve ending in your body grew cold, your feet felt impossibly heavy as fear paralyzed you, watching with wide eyes as the dark figure crept closer and closer.

Look for the nearest exit.

A panicked exhale fell from you as it's dull eyes locked onto yours. The shadow covered creature let out a noise of its own: deep, guttural and utterly inhuman.

And run.

You nearly lost your footing as you launched yourself into a sprint, not even thinking to head back the way you came in, mind blinded with white-hot panic. The cracked walls of the building echoed your frenzied steps, like a cruel game of hide-and-seek where no matter where you hid, you would be found.

Shoving past a stack of empty cardboard boxes, you found yourself in an unfamiliar storage room. Scanning the room hurriedly, your eyes fell onto a door on the other side and you quickly made your way over to it.

"Dammit!" You seethed, yanking at the handle as you realized the door you had reached was locked.

Jaw clenched, you turned back around to exit the room when your father’s words unexpectedly crossed your mind.

"If anything – anyone – threatens you, you protect yourself. Okay?"

And so you reached over a shoulder for your bag, eyes flicking between it and the room ahead of you as you picked yourself back up into a jog.

Tugging the zipper aside, you cursed at the jumbled sight of your bag’s contents. You had placed the gun on top but it must have sunk to the bottom during your travels.

You stuck your hand in further, looking to feel the cool metal brush against your fingertips.

Then, everything went dark, a low ringing finding your ears as you stumbled back, completely thrown off balance. You let out a yelp of pain and clutched your head, vision blurry and doubled.

You hissed, disoriented and confused as you had run headfirst into a large filing cabinet, too occupied with finding the gun to pay attention to where you were running. You struggled to keep yourself on solid ground, too ailed to notice the way that very cabinet had lost its footing and now teetered dangerously, seconds from crashing down onto you.

Suddenly, something seized both your arms, yanking you back as the heavy hunk of metal came crashing onto the ground.

You winced at the sound, before realizing that you had been grabbed by someone. One panicked glance over your shoulder confirmed your fears and a scream ripped through you, thrashing in the zombie's grip. To your surprise, you were released immediately, falling to your knees momentarily as you scrambled forward and away from your captor. Your escape was halted by a wall, however, forced to stop and press your back to it, eyes wide as you kept them locked on the zombie boy across from you.

His skin was a pale-ish blue, unlike any color you had seen before, his hair coarse and unkempt, nearly shielding his eyes from view. But still, you saw them: peering through his dark strands and guarded by the bruises that stained the skin around them as if he hadn't slept in ages. Shallow breaths fell through his pale lips, tinted purple from the lack of blood running through him.

“You just... You just saved me.” You marveled.

The zombie stood in front of you wordlessly, shoulders slumped forwards as his head tilted.

You knew there was a high chance he had no clue what you were saying, but frankly, you were too stunned to care. Here you were, somewhere in an abandoned factory in the middle of the night accompanied by the very thing you were raised to fear... and he had pulled you away from a falling metal cabinet.

You held his eyes. They were glossy and unmoving– lifeless almost. You shook your head; your heart had settled back into its chest, your breathing finally evening out. What coursed through you was no longer dread but an insatiable need to understand.

What did he want?

Why would he save you?

How did he get here?

The zombie let out a grunt suddenly as if it was meant as a goodbye before he turned around, beginning to leave.

“Wait!” You called out after him, putting your existential crisis on pause.

To your surprise, he turned back around immediately, facing you with unmistakable attentiveness. Did he... understand you?

“You… Today on the news... That was your family, wasn’t it?" You guessed, purely on a whim.

The zombie said nothing but you thought you saw a wave of something akin to melancholy wash over his face. No words were exchanged but your gut told you that you were right nonetheless.

“They'll be looking for you. You’ll be caught if you stay here.” You continued, swallowing down your nerves. You still weren't sure if the zombie boy could even understand you after all.

Placing a hand against the paint chipped wall, you helped yourself back up, inhaling sharply as your head throbbed. You took a cautious step toward him, hands trembling but stance steadfast.

Extending your palm forward, you offered your hand towards him, newfound determination coursing through you as the zombie boy's eyes followed the gesture curiously.

“You saved my life." You acknowledged with a nod. "Now let me save yours.”

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"Shh! Quietly, come in." You whispered, gesturing for the hoodied zombie to follow you into your apartment.

This zombie, as you had come to find out, was particularly agreeable. While he didn't seem to actually understand your language per se, he did seem to respond particularly well to gestures and body language, which was how you had somehow managed to wrangle him into your apartment, his dirty red hoodie thrown over his head to cover his face in case you ran into another human.

The undead man's eyes grew wide, taking in the inside space of your apartment with wonder. You could only imagine it must have been an upgrade from the gloomy factory he had been hiding out in. Reaching the kitchen, you froze at the sound of the TV on and playing from your living room.

Shit. Namjoon.

"Y/N, is that you?" Your roommate called out from the couch, hearing the shuffle of your steps.

You cursed internally. On your way home, you hadn't given much thought to exactly how you were going to hide your new zombie friend from your living one. You weren't thinking much at all honestly, too concerned with getting home unseen to worry about anything else.

Turning towards the zombie boy, you extended your hand in front of you in a gesture that ordered him to stay put. He stared at it, eyebrows moving towards one another.

"Stay." You directed quietly, before turning the other way.

"Yeah." You called out, placing your bag on your kitchen counter before heading towards the living room.

"Thought you were spending the night at your family's place?" Namjoon pondered, turning over to look at you as you entered the space.

"Changed my mind." You shrugged, trying your hardest to appear nonchalant, despite the way your heart clamored against your chest. "Didn't think you'd be up this late."

Your bespeckled best friend let out a sigh, dropping whatever file he was studying back onto the coffee table.

"Yeah, I guess I lost track of the time." He mused, glancing at his wristwatch. You nodded nervously, opening your mouth to suggest that perhaps he should head to bed now when Namjoon cut you off suddenly.

“Holy fuck!” He shot up from his seat, eyes set behind you as a terrified expression fell over him. You whipped around, heart falling into your ass.

Oh shit.

"No! Bad zombie! I told you to stay!" You scolded him. He was now standing behind you, having had abandoned his post in the kitchen. He looked as unbothered as ever, his hands tucked into his hoodie as he casually looked the two humans over.

"What the fuck?!" Namjoon cried.

“I can explain.” You turned towards the panicking boy calmly.

Immediately, Namjoon jumped into action, scrambling to crouch behind the couch as if to put a physical barrier between him and the zombie.

"You– Y/N, tell me that's just a guy wearing zombie makeup. Tell me that is not a zombie standing in our living room. Say sike right fucking now!” Namjoon squawked, his voice pitched high.

You grimaced, looking over at the indifferent zombie before looking back at your roommate.

“Just hear me out for one second–”

“Are you insane?!" Namjoon shrieked, standing up in anger before realizing he had exposed himself and quickly ducking back down. "I’m not gonna listen to you! You brought a zombie into our house– oh god. He bit you, didn't he? You're probably turning as we speak!”

You rolled your eyes, realizing that Namjoon wasn't calming down anytime soon.

“My best friend is a zombie... this is like some horrible Disney Channel movie coming to life!” He rambled on nervously, running a hand through his hair in despair.

“For fuck’s sake Namjoon, I’m not a zombie! Besides, you know getting bit doesn't turn people– that was disproved ages ago.” You scoffed, glancing over at the zombie man who still seemed uninterested despite the scene your best friend was making.

“Well excuse me if I don’t have the logistics of zombie contagion down! It doesn't change the fact that you brought a flesh-eating monster into our home, you psychopath!”

You frowned at your best friend’s tone.

“If he was a flesh-eating monster, then wouldn’t we be dead by now?” You stated matter-of-factly, hand on your hip.

“Exactly— wait.” Namjoon blinked, poking his head out from behind the couch. He frowned, glancing over at the zombie. “Hold on a minute. Why is he just standing there?"

Hesitantly, your best friend stood up from the couch altogether, "I thought zombies jumped at the chance of eating people?”

“Yes, well, for whatever reason, this one doesn’t.” You told him with a shrug. You had thought the same thing when you first came across your new undead friend.

You watched as the familiar flame of curiosity spark behind Namjoon’s eyes. Slowly, he inched his way over to the two of you, hands in front of him as if to shield himself until he was just inches away from the resurrected man.

For a few moments, it was silent, your best friend and the zombie running their eyes over one another as they each decided what to make of each other.

To your surprise, Namjoon's hand reached over and positioned itself onto the zombie's neck, pointer and middle finger pulled together as he checked for a pulse.

“Fascinating…” Namjoon murmured inquisitively as he concluded that the stranger was indeed dead.

Your shoulders, which had been locked up tensely as the two men interacted, dropped immediately, realizing that Namjoon's initial panic had subsided and been replaced with interest. It was in his nature to be fascinated with the things that scared and repulsed most, of course. He was studying to become a biomedical scientist after all.

Despite his cowardliness, Namjoon was actually quite fearless when it came to his work; he was extremely intelligent and had a natural knack for research and investigative methods. You could only hope that the prospect of having a real-life zombie to study from would outweigh any moral duty he felt to report you to the police.

“You know how illegal this is right?” He said sternly, much calmer than he initially was.

"He saved my life, Joon." You explained. "I don't know why but... I couldn't just leave him behind. Especially not with the DEAD Team on high alert with the recent sightings. They'd kill him if they found him."

Namjoon turned away from the zombie, sighing as he met your eyes.

"Well... maybe they should."

You frowned, "Joon–"

"I mean think about what it stands for in the first place: Designated Eradication And Decimation. An entire team was put together solely to get rid of these guys. Surely, there’s a reason why. The government wouldn't put a group together like that if zombies didn't pose a threat to humankind, right?”

Your brows furrowed, finding a fair point in Namjoon's words. Yet, as you turned to look at the zombie and found him placidly watching the television, you couldn’t find it within yourself to agree.

Suddenly, you were in front of your best friend, taking his hands into yours as you put on a sorrowful expression.

"Please don't turn him in!" You begged, your bottom lip jutting out. "I know what I'm asking is a lot but I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important. There’s no one else in this world I could trust to help me with this.”

Namjoon's eyes went wide, yanking his hands from between yours. He twisted his head away from your pleading eyes, cheeks tinted pink.

"Ah, jeez, Y/N. Turning him would mean turning you in for housing him in the first place. Just because you don't give a shit about your wellbeing, doesn't mean I don't. God, you really are an idiot."

You let out a grateful squeal, wrapping your arms around your best friend, "Thank you, thank you! I knew I could always count on you."

The scientist froze in your embrace before letting out a sigh, patting your back begrudgingly as he muttered words of dismissal, neither you nor him noticing the way the zombie was now watching you two in interest, a curious expression on his face.

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"It's okay... It's just water. It won't hurt you." You promised, hand gesturing towards you as you urged the zombie man to come closer.

You were standing in the shower, clothes dampening as the running water hit your body. Namjoon was stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the bathroom's door frame. He had insisted on standing guard in case the walker suddenly decided that he was, in fact, hungry and went ahead and tried to have you for dinner.

The zombie watched dubiously as you beckoned him forward but if he had objections he didn't bother to voice them as he stepped into the shower after you.

"Good. Look, that feels nice, doesn't it?" You reasoned, leading his hand under the stream of water. The unnamed zombie watched as his hand grew blurry, the running water bouncing against it. The dirt that clung to his skin slowly dissipated, falling onto the ceramic tub and running down the drain.

Placing a hand against the shower wall, you maneuvered yourself around him so that he could stand under the showerhead. The zombie hardly noticed the swap in positions, however, too enthralled with the feeling of water against his hand.

"Here, now why don't you try standing under it–" You had placed your hands against his back, nudging him closer to the stream when he let out a noise of panic, whirling around to rush over to the opposite side of the shower, pressing you back into the shower wall in the process.

"Y/N!" Namjoon called out, moving forward.

"I'm okay!" You reassured immediately, pausing your best friend's motions. The dead man had both hands held against the wall, trapping you on either side.

Bringing your hands up, you placed them onto his chest, trying your hardest to ignore how empty it felt. Pushing him back, you let out a breath. Truth be told, his quick actions had startled you. As much as you wanted to believe that he was different, the truth was that you didn't know for certain if he wasn't everything the media told you he was.

He was looking down at you, uncertainly laced across his face.

It was the first time you had gotten a chance to truly look at him this close. From here, it was easy to see how he was once human. He had pretty features– unquestionably, he would have been an attractive man when he was alive.

Something you hadn’t noticed before were the faint, blue veins that crawled up his neck and cheeks; markers of the Immortous drug that once ran through his bloodstream. Taking note of the dried patch of blood on his cheek, you pulled your wet sleeve over your hand before reaching up to gently rub against his stained skin.

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I’m just trying to clean you up, okay?" You assured him with an encouraging nod.

To your surprise, the hand that had been stroking his cheek was suddenly stilled, his large palm loosely covering yours. He kept it there, not as to tell you to stop but as if to show his gratitude– or at least that was what you told yourself. It was a simple gesture, but it gave you pause before a soft smile fell over you.

Leading him back, the two of you eventually found the water that rained down from the large shower head. You watched as the zombie flinched, face scrunching up as the water began to fall down the back of his head.

"Come help me get his clothes off." You called to Namjoon, and so the undressing began.

The zombie stood silently as he was left in nothing but his jeans, not understanding what was being said around him, but knowing that he was not in danger here. The taller of his two new companions, the man, rubbed a strange substance into his uncombed hair as you rubbed as his arms, a frothy, pleasant smelling matter coating his skin.

Water dripped from his bangs and ran down his face, some of it seeping into his eyes. It stung them slightly, and the zombie wondered if whatever the tall man had put into his hair was to blame. He thought to close his eyes to put a stop to the irritation but for whatever reason, he opted to keep them open for a bit longer just so he could watch you. Your hair was weighed down with the water that was bouncing off of him and onto you, face set seriously as you focused on whatever it was you were doing.

Your hands were warm, much like the water raining down his back, but still different somehow. They were more firm, and somehow more soothing. You were washing at his chest when you finally took notice of your spectator, feeling the zombie's eyes on you. Peering up at him, you laughed nervously, flashing him a small grin.

No, he decided.

He didn’t want to close his eyes.

6K notes · View notes

stealingpotatoes · 3 years

Text

Trying to Explain the Desmond (sorta) Lives AU: Part 2

(part one)

(hi I’m back and I was bothered to write more explanation. bla bla sorry for the mess also this bit was acccidentally lengthy and 2.5k words, whoops)

> > > >

Shaun and Rebecca more-or-less knew they were going to find Desmond. They more-or-less knew they were going to see him. They more-or-less knew that he was going to be all glowing like he was in the footage. This being said, they weren’t really prepared for um… any of that to actually happen.

Desmond is standing here, he is talking. He is moving. Alive. Shaun and Becs are across from him, silent and dumbfounded at the sight of their long-dead friend.

(I need you, my darling reader, to think of the most confused and shocked you’ve ever been in your life, and then bap, you’ve more or less got what’s going on in this room tbh.)

“Desmond?” Shaun finally asks in shock.

“...yeah?” Desmond answers, obviously very confused at Shaun’s tone.

“Holy shit,” whispers Rebecca.

“What happened? We were in the Temple and- and then suddenly I’m here and I’ve got… these?” He gestures vaguely to himself-- the Isu markings.

What he said is enough to sort-of snap the duo out of their shock enough. “What?”

“Yeah, what?” Des agrees.

“No, no. The temple-- 2012… that was six years ago. And you...” Rebecca says (still looking at Des with an expression that can only be described as ‘what in the genuine fuck’).

Shaun and Rebecca wouldn’t have even noticed Galina coming up behind them if it hadn’t been for Desmond’s slight shift into near ready-to-fight, tho he relaxes after a second (his eagle vision’s still there and says she’s an ally).

Shaun and Becs manage to take their eyes off Desmond for long enough to glance back at Galina, who’s come to find them.

“You were not replying on your comms--” Galina stops and takes a proper look at the man behind them. “Oh. He does not look dead.” Then back at Shaun & Becs; “We all need to go.”

Desmond is somehow even more confused than he was earlier. “Why would I look dead? And-- who are you?”

Shaun has manners, even in very confusing situations; “This is Galina. She’s an Assassin. And Galina, meet… Desmond Miles.” (audible question marks)

Shaun and Rebecca share an awkward glance. “We’ll explain everything when we get to safety?” Becs says, though she’s really not sure how they are going to explain, or what they’re even going to explain.

The two random assassins who don’t have names also came out of the fight fairly unhurt and meet up with the rest of them. They’re pretty weirded out to see a person with glowy lines on his face, and have heard of Desmond Miles’ death. However they’re obviously not as weirded out to see him alive because they just didn’t know him. They’re probably doing the best here lol.

Galina’s pretty confused but she’s become very good at compartmentalising over the years, so isn’t dwelling on things right now.

Shaun and Rebecca are-- okay, to say Shaun and Becs are “dealing” with this is definitely the wrong word. They’re moving forward like Assassins should, while trying to comprehend that Desmond is right there… and also trying not to look at him too wide-eyed and shocked. To them, everything feels like it’s going way too fast and way too slow all at once.

The trio and Galina all get into a van and head out of there, not planning on waiting for more Abstergos.

They reach an old Assassin safehouse outside of the city after a very Odd drive. The two unnamed Assassins stayed in the city to keep investigating and keep up their work before, so now it’s just Shaun, Becs & Desmond in the safehouse with Galina on watch outside.

They get in, make sure they’re safe -- protocol stuff. But Des really needs some answers. Like right now.

“What happened?” Desmond asks. This time it’s very serious, and you can almost feel the hundreds of years of killers’ lives he’s lived behind his voice.

Shaun and Becs share yet another look. The disbelief hasn’t worn off at all, but they’re, as I said, moving forward. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Shaun asks.

It quickly comes to light that Desmond has no memory of what happened after touching the Eye-orb-thing in the Temple. It’s just “a helluva lot of pain” in December 2012 and then boom, waking up in the middle of a city (shut, i know i still haven’t thought where), in October 2018. He also can’t recall bursting out of that Abstergo facility either -- his memory seems to start from where the weird glowing-eyes-and-apple-light thing he had going on stopped.

“But the Temple was six years ago?” Desmond quietly half-asks, half-states.

“Yeah...” says Rebecca.

“Then where have I been for that time.”

“You died.”

“What?!”

Shaun takes over; “Or at least, we thought you died. In 2012, we got clear from the Temple as you told us to. But then Abstergo, they--” (how on earth do you say this) “They got there before we could. They took your body and...”

“But obviously you didn’t die because you’re here.” Becs gestures at Des.

“Right,” Shaun agrees unsurely.

Des nods slowly, trying to take this all in. “But that doesn’t explain… all this.” he gestures to the Isu markings on his face. “Or what I can do.”

“Do you know what you can do?” Becs asks. She and Shaun don’t really know what was happening w Des’ whole abilities thing at ALL because they only saw a small bit recorded.

Des shrugs, but then unzips the definitely-stolen-hoodie a bit and pulls the opening to the side so his bare collarbone is on show. “I got shot when I… when I woke up.” Rebecca makes yet another confused expression. “There’s nothing there?” She’s right; there’s no wound, no blood there. Not even a scar.

“Exactly.”

“Oh.”

“I heal faster, I know that. And--”

“What’s that?” Shaun numbly gestures to his own chest where a scar starts on Desmond’s. It’s not like either of them have seen Des shirtless much at all before, but that wasn’t there in 2012, they’re pretty sure.

Des looks down then unzips the hoodie a bit more and oh.

Shaun and Becs didn’t notice that on the security footage. Tbh Desmond barely noticed it, too busy looking at the glowiness. But that’s an autopsy scar. Des has an autopsy scar. That’s...

Desmond zips his hoodie back up, but everyone in the room is Very Confused.

This is even more question-mark-inducing and raises about a billion questions; Did they do an autopsy on an alive person (for the sake of taunting the assassins)? Shaun and Becs wouldn’t put it past Abstergo; the Templars are messed up like that.

Or… did Desmond genuinely die? And did Abstergo… bring him back somehow?

Either way, Shaun’s mentally decided the “weird Isu clone of Desmond” idea is probably wrong because why would they autopsy a clone of a dead man?? makes no sense.

There’s more long pauses of bewilderment before Rebecca makes the very good suggestion that they all have something to eat. So yeah, they eat, they’re chatting. It’s mostly basic stuff. They should definitely have all had medical checkups first, but they’re all very much too confused and in shock to do like… anything.

It’s a bit awkward at one point (more awkward than the ENTIRE ordeal of seeing your dead friend again has been) because Shaun catches himself before telling Des a part of a story that involves secret Assassin crap and stops awkwardly.

Desmond seems to catch on, and he’s like “I get it. Abstergo might have done something to me.” Made him a mole or a sleeper agent like Daniel Cross.

Shaun and Becs feel really bad, but Desmond’s got this weird air of resignation about him. He understands. He knows he might be all messed up and controlled by Abstergo. That being said, the general resignation might just be pure shock at everything. A Lot Has Happened to him in a Very Short Span of Time (to him).

They continue on chatting, mostly inane shit. Desmond asks if his parents are… still around. Shaun and Becs assure them they’re fine, though still fighting. Say a little about how William took Des’ death really hard, (no duh), and dropped out of the fight for a year. Only came back after finding out what Abstergo did to Des’ corpse (or… alive body???) -- tho the duo try to avoid saying what Abstergo did for now.

However there’s another pause when Rebecca is, in very vague terms, explaining what happened in London in 2015. Rebecca starts telling Des what the Shroud is when she pauses and looks like she’s just solved some complicated code.

“I thought you were skipping the secret details?” Des asks.

“This isn’t that-- the Shroud heals people. Like, really fast,” Rebecca says.

Shaun gets where she’s going. “Ah... so say if someone got shot, it would heal almost immediately. And there would be no scar or visible wound afterwards.”

Desmond takes a moment, and then he’s like “...you think I have the Shroud’s powers?”

Now this doesn’t really solve any questions, and if anything creates more… but it adds something? Heck, this is all so confusing for everyone involved.

Anyways at some point they decide to actually all go to sleep. Galina’s still here btw, she also goes to sleep lol. Though before they do go to their own beds, Shaun and Becs have a quick chat about how weird this all is. Very Weird.

Uh yeah so shrugging noises, Galina at some point the next day is assured the trio will be fine on their own and heads back to the city to investigate with unnamed Assassins.

At some point they do actually do medical checkups lol, and comes up as, overall, Good. Desmond is pretty spritely for a dead guy.

However they run into an issue: the DNA thingie just Isn’t Cooperating. It won’t sequence it. Probably definitely because they don’t have any tech that can get his wacked-up now-a-lot-more-isu DNA. But it also means they can’t check to see if he’s got the same DNA as he did. So yeah.

For Rebecca and Shaun, it’s weird how quickly everything starts to feel like old times. As if they might be back in Monteriggioni, or the Temple, hiding out from the Abstergo and the Templars, as if the six year gap never happened. I mean- it’s not quite the same, obviously. Desmond glows now, and there’s always Something to remind them that they thought he was dead, that he was gone -- that something might be Wrong with him.

Desmond’s, on the other hand, in this very awkward place. Aside from the fact he now has superpowers (which he doesn’t yet know the extent of), he’s also dealing with the fact he was supposedly dead for 6 years. That the world moved on without him and his friends haven’t seen him for six years. 2012 feels like days ago to him, not years. Shaun and Becs are very happy to have him back -- but Desmond didn’t know he was ever gone . So where they’re nostalgic for old times, he can’t help but only notice the differences?

They need to find out what the heck happened in the 6 years they thought Des was dead. Seeing as the Abstergo facility that Desmond escaped from is -- funnily enough -- crawling with Abstergo agents that would very much like to get the three of them, (and that the trio has been told to lay low and try to go as dark as they can for now, while they all try to figure out what’s happening w Desmond) going back there to find crap out isn’t an option right now. So what Rebecca and Shaun are doing -- with a bit of help from Desmond, though he isn’t a tech guy or necessarily allowed to go into the Assassin database stuff yet -- is trying to scrounge up anything they can on Des and the missing six years.

They’re also slightly trying to work out some of Des’ powers, but they’re wary of him using them too much as Abstergo might pick up on whatever power traces he’s giving off. Shaun thinks Desmond definitely has a second PoE-based ability, and thinks it may be the Apple.

One of the first nights, Desmond asks Shaun and Rebecca what they are going to do if Des turns out to be a sleeper or something. They can’t actually come up with an answer.

Tbh, the search for info isn’t going brilliantly, even with two of the Assassin’s best searchers on the case. There are other assassins and PLENTY of Initiates looking for info across the world too -- Desmond just… coming back is a very big thing, and moreso is how he came back (ie all Isu-y). They haven’t heard any word from their mentor, Mr Miles senior, though.

But then Rebecca has an idea! If Desmond’s conscious memory doesn’t know what happened, maybe his genetic memory does? Small issue: they don’t have an animus with them. So they ask for one ig lol.

Anyways, they’re all chilling, researching, and trying to get to grips with the INSANE idea of EVERYTHING, ya know? Friendship hours. Catching up -- tho Des doesn’t have much to tell. There’s also emotional times!!! Shaun and Becs getting to say what they never had the chance to say while Des was alive, hugs, talking a little bit about the fact that his death (or “death”, perhaps) hit them Hard (though it’s difficult to talk about for all three).

The first piece of the puzzle that they get isn’t from somewhere they expect.

About a week after Desmond showed up (so after about 4-5 days of them being at the safehouse), Layla Hassan gets out of Atlantis. She’s just done the Trials via Kassandra and got the staff of Hermes Trismegistus (...in doing so, losing one teammate and gaining some anger issues. oops). Layla’s not that important yet. What is important right now is when she opened Atlantis.

Layla doesn’t have an exact time as to her opening the gates, but guess what happened very soon after the rough time she opened it? One Desmond Miles burst out of an Abstergo facility, glowing like your overly-dramatic neighbour’s Christmas lights display.

So then this all just adds more mystery to the uh... Mystery™. Did opening Atlantis resurrect him? Did it give him these powers for some reason? If so, why?? The gang also find out/ the Assassins overall realise that opening Atlantis caused some weird powersurge in every PoE -- but if that caused some kind of surge in Desmond too, does that mean he’s a Piece of Eden now? He has the powers of at least one, PoE now, they know, so…? There are too many questions and nowhere near enough answers.

The trio is itching to get out there and start investigating themselves -- but they’re told that there’s another assassin coming to join the three of them soon (it’s protocol to not say Who), before they start doing anything, and that they should wait for them. Also said Assassin is bringing one of them mini-animuses (animi? whatever; the one Layla has in ACOd) so they can do the genetic memory thing like Becs suggested.

So I guess it’s time for more waiting, for whomever the assassin may be...

#desmond (sorta) lives au #desmond miles #shaun hastings #rebecca crane #galina voronina #idk what im doing words are just coming out #ONCE AGAIN AM JUST EXPLAINING NOT FICWRITING #THIS IS A MESS #asscreed #assassin’s creed #potes wrotes #at this rate we’re gonna get to like part 4 or 5 before I explain how he actually got rezzed #the night that the sun came up

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

The Boogeyman

summary: oc is dr. piper bishop. you may find a full profile on my tumblr (soon). her qualifications are 4 Ph.Ds in different branches of psychology, a master’s in history and bachelor’s in literature all by 22 (I wanted her to compete w/ reid). based on S2E6: The Boogeyman

When her honey-brown eyes fluttered awake, it was still dark. 5:30 am. She rose out of bed, rubbing her eyes, like a child waking up on a Sunday morning. Slipping on her ruby slippers, she staggered to the kitchen, remnants of last night’s class schedule and history projects strewn across her beige countertop, to make a cup of tea. It was strange, here in Ozona, to drink iced coffee, never mind tea. She set the kettle, pulled her long cardigan to cover her chest and regarded the manor in the woods. The whistle shattered her gaze at the dilapidated house.

In Virginia, 6 agents discussed the death of two children in the middle of Texas. "Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago. Blunt force trauma to the head," JJ sighed. There was never a good day nor time to deliberate on innocent and defenceless children. But she’d worked this job too long to slip into that pattern of doom and gloom. "He’s the second young boy to die the same way in the last 2 months. A local hunter found his body in the woods. First victim’s name, Robbie Davis."

"Are these boys connected somehow?" asked Morgan.

"Ozona’s population is roughly 2 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well, if they weren’t linked before they certainly are now." Morgan wore the same grim expression of exasperation as JJ. The agents agreed that they were both murdered by the same offender who was hunting children. The repulsiveness wasn’t lost on any of them.

^-^

Piper Bishop was a history teacher. She asked herself why every day. Every day she’d sit on her front porch, sipping on tea, asking why. Her entire life, she’d wanted to help people, and her entire life, she questioned if it was enough. She wasn’t smart enough to go to medical school, her father had made sure she understood that at most. Her clear preference for the humanities was seen as repulsive, condemned for "supporting these damn bleeding-heart liberals". Neither were Daniel’s remarks lost on her either. She remembered her last reunion with her siblings. "You have 4 Ph.Ds Pipes," he’d said, blues gazing at browns. "Why are you teaching school kids?" She’d find the answer every time a young girl whispered about a bully in her ear, every time a young boy bared his scars to her. She’d tried doing the psychiatry gig, but the stigma behind her patients meant she had none. Her father’s words still stuck to her. Though she’d shaken him off, his voice became her own. What if he is right though? What if you really won’t amount to anything? Piper laughed at her own absurdity. She’d almost missed the sunrise. The warm sun peeking out at her behind the trees melted away all her doubts. "Time for school Dr. Bishop."

^-^

"You guys hear Elle was cleared?" Spencer sat down with his cup of hot coffee next to Derek. Well, more sugar than coffee anyway.

"Self-defence," Derek stated, flipping through the files, with an air of disbelief.

"So it was a good shoot." Derek turned towards the young agent.

"She hit what she was aiming for." JJ commented without a glance at the two men in front of her, eyes focused on the case at hand.

"That’s not what I meant."

"I know." The blonde agent said.

"If they cleared her," Morgan asked, "then how come she’s not here with us? Or Hotch?"

"Focus on the case," Gideon reprimanded, seated away from them. Taking it as a sign to change the conversation, JJ handed out the autopsy reports. Morgan then suggested the bludgeoning was a form of frustration or rage.

"With no apparent sexual motivation," Reid added, "that’s rare when the victims are this young."

"The unsure is taking pleasure from the kill itself." Gideon contributed.

"If it’s not sexual, what’s the significance in killing young males?"

"Most serial killers prey upon specific types to carry out fantasies of revenge.” Spencer answered, drawing on his memory. “Bundy killed women that looked like an ex-girlfriend who jilted him, Dahmer claimed that schoolyard harassment federal into his fury."

"Okay, so maybe these kids represent someone who victimised the offender?"

"Unlikely," JJ replied, "they just found another body. 11 year old girl."

^-^

Piper glanced over her desk quickly once more. Her worksheets were ready, her timeline of Alexander the Great was drawn up and her map of Alexander’s territory was pinned, dotted with little flags and sketched out. She was determined to make this module the best one yet to make up for the tension in the classroom. She’d already lost 2 kids to that coward in the woods, she wasn’t about to lose a third. The Persian horde had arrived and the young doctor opened the gates to receive the 45 little kids raging to their beloved history teacher. No, 43 now, she chided herself. Closing the door, she mentally reminded her to control her emotions. She turned to face her little devils, "Who’s ready to fight the Macedons?"

Her warm eyes flitted across the desks. That was weird. Three desks were empty this time. "Has anyone seen Sarah?" She entertained her class for a while and told them to take a worksheet each while she made a call. Piper popped her head into Mr Davison’s class and asked him to keep an eye on her class. She tapped her fingers erratically while the administration office checked up on Mrs Peterson. "Well,?"

"Dr. Bishop, Sarah’s not at home either."

Piper took a shaky breath before entering her classroom. She’ll be fine. She probably got lost on her way to school. The police will do their job. Relax.

"Okay, who can tell me who Alexander is?"

Hailey jumped up and recited, "Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the…" The young brunette stumbled. Piper could see the happiness leech from the young girl’s face.

"Argead dynasty, idiot." Jeffrey yelled, sticking his tongue out. "She can’t even speak. Are you dumb, Hailey?"

"Enough, Jeffrey, don’t you ever put someone else down for trying. If you keep your head down and keep studying, maybe you can be a teacher too, but trying and failing is better than doing nothing at all." Piper turned her attention to the tears rapidly forming in the child’s blinking eyes. Piper handed her a tissue from her desk and kneeled down next to her. "It’s okay kiddo. We make mistakes sometimes. That doesn’t mean we stop trying. What do you think that word says?" After a couple of tries, Hailey got the hang of it, and Piper could move on.

"Alex spent most of his years on a military campaign through western Asia and northeast Africa," Piper said, drawing their attention to what she’d say was an impressive map. "And by the age of thirty, he had created one of the largest empires of the ancient world, stretching from Greece to northwestern India."

^-^

Gideon and the local sheriff trudged through fallen leaves to the site of where the battered boy was. "This isn’t a dump site," Gideon noted, "the murder happened right here." Kneeling down, he said, more to his own benefit than the sheriff, "Autopsy report claims no sign of a struggle."

"Poor little guy never had a chance."

Gideon envisioned the incident. The 8 year old boy walking past, turning back to see his abuser.

"The victims knew their killer." He muttered to himself. "Followed them to this spot."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, the kids went this deep into the woods because they trusted them. Probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. We’re looking for someone intelligent, methodical, but the method of killing doesn’t fit. It’s confusing. Doesn’t make sense." Gideon’s words were as fragmented as his thoughts, desperately trying to pull the pieces together.

Less than a quarter mile away from the other dumpsites, the gangly doctor stood next to the bagged and battered kid. "Violence was post-mortem," revealed the medical examiner on the case, equally horrified at the scenes unfolding over the past few weeks.

"So, the killer’s becoming more brazen."

"But now he’s spending more time with the victims even after death." Morgan glanced at the yellow 'Hunting Area' sign nailed to a tree. "If he’s a hunter," Derek turned to Spencer, "he’d know every inch of these woods."

^-^

The PA squealed out just as Piper was getting to the Persian conquest. "All students, please head to the assembly hall immediately, all teachers to the teacher’s lounge." The young woman herded the daydreamers out, grabbed her Doctor Who mug and rushed to the lounge. Whilst pouring herself a cup of coffee, James told her about the parents and the BAU members coming to discuss the murders. Steeling herself for a gruesome speech, Piper headed over to the hall to introduce the kids to FBI agents while James stayed behind to console parents. While the soles of her sneakers rushed, her head wandered. Who were these agents? Were these kids gonna be okay? At the entrance to the hall, her forehead wrinkled and her body collided with a lanky agent and her warm coffee stained the whole of both their cardigans, her brain juice spilling all over the floor.

"Sorry," they both exclaimed. Gideon and JJ walked by, snickering as she entered the hall, but Gideon barely spared them a glance.

"Seriously, I am so sorry." Piper gushed. "I have some tissues, and there’s a bathroom right there."

The agent just laughed and took the cardigan off. "Don’t worry about it, it’s brown anyway." He stared at your TARDIS mug. "Is that…" Piper blanched. Did she now also have to explain Doctor Who to him?

"I know it looks like a phone booth but it’s actually a…" She stumbled. "I have no idea how to explain this without sounding like I’m a complete lunatic."

"No, I know what Doctor Who is." He chuckled softly.

Piper sighed in relief. "Finally, you have no idea the glances I get for this thing."

"Reid!" Gideon yelled from the hallway.

"That’s me. Bye." Spencer waved awkwardly at the young woman in front of him, before sidestepping her quickly to get to his mentor.

^-^

"It could be someone you know or it could be a stranger you pass at the grocery store. But it’s vital that we keep our eyes open and our children close. Now as Ozona’s guidance counsellor, I can only help your children with the aftermath but our police department is working with the FBI, gathering information on the case. To elaborate on that, Agent Jason Gideon." James introduced the middle-aged agent to the anxious parents sitting in the lounge. Reid stood behind his mentor.

"We want you to know we’re doing everything we can to find the person responsible. Until we do there are a number of precautions you need to take. Let me go over some of them with you."

^-^

Piper watched the kids attentively, just barely paying Agent Jareau and Agent Morgan attention.

"It’s a buddy system," JJ started. "That means you always go everywhere with a friend."

"That’s because bad men and women only talk to us when we’re alone."

"We don’t know what these guys look like yet. It might be someone you know."

Hailey raised her hand.

"Yeah, sweetheart, you got a question?" Piper was touched by the kindness in Agent Morgan’s voice. You couldn’t fake that tenderness.

Hailey took a deep breath, "There was this little girl once on the news who just got grabbed right in front of our house. Could that happen to us?"

The tall agent looked back at Agent Jareau. Piper understood the hesitation.

"Hailey, sweetheart, nothing will happen to you, you have my word." She walked over to the young girl and gently rubbed her shoulder. "So long as you listen to the FBI, honey." She nodded to the agents and stepped back.

^-^

"Any more questions?" Gideon asked.

"Did you ever find his hat?" Mrs Faye asked in a trembling voice, fighting the urge to cry.

"'Scuse me?" Jason was confused.

"The red one I put on him. He was wearing it when he left."

"I’m sorry, Mrs Faye," Jason rubbed his hand.

"Mandatory curfew at 5pm." James interjected and dismissed the parents. "Just make sure you know where your children are."

^-^

Piper grabbed her bag after the last bell had gone. The ghosts of Robbie, Nicholas and Sarah hadn’t left your head. She wished she could kiss the fear away from those kids. Piper jumped at the rap on the door.

"Agent Morgan. What can I do you for?"

"Just a few routine questions." Piper gestured to the seat next to her desk.

"How can I help you?"

"How long have you worked here?"

"Must be about a year now."

"As a history teacher?" Piper smiled.

"Did you guess from the armour and the coffin?" The tall doctor swung his head to take a look at the almost replica of armour.

"Have you noticed anyone looking at the children in a strange way?" Morgan continued.

“Is this an original?”

“Gods, no. Everyone knows a teacher doesn’t make enough to own original Macedonian armour. Also Greece refuses to sell any artefact to American citizens considering their scuffle with the British Museum.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she considered Morgan’s question. "I don’t think so. The chances of a child predator in a small town are ridiculously low since state law requires registered sex offenders live 2,000 feet from schools and Texas’s registry is public. I suppose the problem would then be unregistered ones, in which case, kids are always under supervision. Most likely, only someone the kids trust would be the coward doing this. In that scenario, the only adults with that kind of trust would be family friends, family, the teachers and the bus driver. I’ve met all the parents and none of them fit the psychological requirements of a sexual predator and honestly, neither do the teachers."

Morgan smiled at your thought process. "Huh, you’d make quite the profiler, but we don’t think it’s a sexual act since the bodies don’t show any sign of a sexual assault."

Piper mulled over the new information. "I know those kids. They’re good kids and even if it just boils down to a case of rage, no adult within their inner circles would be capable of such a thing. It’s not that it’s impossible, but it is highly unlikely. A lot of these people have kids of their own." She saw the disbelief on their faces so she switched tacks. "What’s your profile of the killer?"

"We can’t disclose that to the public yet."

"Then think of it as a consultation." Piper said, pulling out her resume from an inner drawer.

Morgan whistled and Reid glanced at the sheet over his shoulder. "4 PhDs in clinical, child, abnormal and counselling psychology. Why are you a history teacher?"

Piper glanced at the door. "Everyone told me to start my own practice, and I did." She pointed at the glowing resume in Derek’s hands. "When people heard about this, they came too. But slowly they stopped. At first I thought it was a good sign. But I’d call them in a month, and they’d tell me they’d slipped back into their addictions, or their depressive episodes." She combed her hand through her hair.

"So I quit, packed my bags, moved to Ozona and asked for a teaching position." She let out a shaky breath. "I am more than qualified to help you out, Agent Morgan, so please let me." Morgan looked back at Reid who shrugged.

^-^

"Can I have your attention please?" The local department turned to focus on Agent Gideon. "We’d like to make something clear." He cleared his throat. "Due to the velocity of change, we predict this offender could try to strike again at any time. His confidence builds with every attack."

"Look for someone physically fit, shy, kind disposition. Someone you may trust with your own child. Because the killer targets kids, he may be small himself," Morgan took over, "and though we keep referring to this unsub as he, do not rule out a woman."

A mother and her young son rushed over to the small congregation. Piper recognised her. "Excuse me. My son Matthew never came home today."

Gideon stepped forward, asking where he was last seen. "His teachers saw him in the parking lot after school." At that moment, all officers and agents moved to start looking for the boy. Reid and Morgan turned to the map, trying to figure out how and where he may be taken. Noticing the woman in distress and panic, JJ asked the woman to take a seat. Piper watched the scene from a corner and focused on the little boy with her.

"What are you thinking about over here?" She knelt down in front of him.

"Nothing," said the child softly.

"You look awfully upset to be thinking about nothing. Wanna tell me what’s wrong?"

"Matty said he was just gonna ring the doorbell. At the haunted house. On the hill."

"Finnegan’s place," interrupted James.

"Forever kind of a local legend," the sheriff informed the agents. "Folks say he watches kids from the window. Hunts 'em. Skins 'em. Eats 'em."

"Why weren’t we told about this?" Morgan faced the sheriff. "Fables often come from an ounce of truth. We should exhaust every possibility."

^-^

As day turned to night and the FBI agents raided Finnegan’s manor, Piper sat on her porch, mulling the profile over and over. She knew the people in town. She’d have known if there was a killer in their midst. Do you, though? You think you know better that professional profilers? What, because you wrote a few research papers in 4 years. Get a grip. She glanced at Old Man Finnegan’s place. He’d stopped coming into the town after his wife died, she knew that much. No, it couldn’t be him. Why would the kids trust a man they fear? So, who? Shaking her head, the young woman walked into the house. She grabbed a mandarin from her little fruit bowl and busied herself making a cup of tea. I have to be making an assumption. C’mon Pipes! Her mind flashed back to class. The little boy in her 7th grade class yelling at little Hailey then the incident in April in the parking lot. Ignoring the yell of her kettle, Piper left her orange on the counter and rushed to her dining table to her binders. She scrambled to her 7th grade class binder. Jeffrey Charles and on top, her cursive handwriting that her mom was so damn proud of. Father, James Charles, guidance counsellor. Mother, unknown, left in Apr. 2006. She flicked to her notes.

Disruptive. Borderline bully. Possesses strained empathy for others. Loner. Apathetic towards school. Can be attributed to broken family.

She glanced at the time. 1:30 am. Shit. Should I call Morgan anyway? Piper pulled out her phone and the card Derek had given her. Not giving her brain the chance to overthink, Piper dialled the number. After 7 rings, she hangs up. Of course he didn’t pick up your call. Did you really think what you have to say matters? She brushed the nasty voice of her dad off, but left the phone on the table. She took the kettle off, turned the lights off, locked the door, and went to bed.

^-^

The boys separated in the night, torches and guns at the ready. Gideon and Reid took the back while Morgan and the sheriff took the front of the house. Morgan flicked the lights on and off, but nothing happened. "Definitely haunted."

Gideon and Reid edged towards the garage. "FBI," Gideon yelled, only to hear the soft mumbles of a child.

"I didn’t want the old man to find me."

"All right," Gideon said, rather gruffer than he intended, "No one’s gonna harm you."

^-^

Spencer settled down in the darkness. "Hey Garcia, did you get anything?" he greeted their tech analyst softly.

"Well, only that Finnegan’s house in the hill is like the Bates hotel of Ozona, Texas." She grinned and continued her knitting.

"Yeah, we heard the legends."

"Spencer, seriously, people that go into that house supposedly never come out. SpoOky!" Penelope sang.

"Garcia, could you at least pretend not to enjoy that rumour so much considering I’ve actually entered the house?"

"Sensitive," she mocked the young doctor. "Sorry,"

"Besides, local police say there are no reports of that happening."

"Yeah, this is true. All complaints filed were false alarms. But then there is that matter of his missing wife," the blonde taunted.

"Wife? What wife? When did she go missing?"

"Almost 50 years ago," she said sinisterly.

"Is there no record of her ever being found?"

"I got 2 words for you my friend, rear window." Reid abandoned his files to pay attention to his dear, quirky and unrelentingly mischievous friend. "That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious, bite-sized little pieces."

Something creaked outside Reid’s window.

"Think about it, Spencer," she continued, "she may have never left the premises." Garcia could barely contain her giggles. "She may still be in the house," she whispered into her mic.

That creaking something creaked again.

"Garcia, I’m sitting here in the dark, alone. Thanks."

"While you’re waiting for a potential murderer to come home, that’s kinda dangerous." Garcia smiled into her mic, twisting her pen in her hand and picturing the deliciously scared features on Spencer’s face. "Kinda sexy," she added.

"I gotta go," Reid said, looking out into the darkness on the other side of the window.

"You’re having creepy fun, I wish I was there."

As Reid turned off his cell, he glanced back towards the noises on the stairs. Slowly standing up, he felt something. An entity. A presence. An existence. Spencer turned his head around, only to bump into a tall, dark stranger and he jumped, terrified. "You really are afraid of the dark," Derek said, smiling.

"I’m working on it," Spencer shot back quickly and walked away.

"You should work a little harder."

The sheriff came back to the group, reporting that his deputy would get the boy back safe. Morgan shook his head. The whole town was on edge. Perhaps that’s why Finnegan was in the wind. The agent flicked his torch to the wall, only to see a rack of rifles.

"The unsub didn’t use a gun," Gideon pointed out. He kept walking, piecing together his thoughts aloud. "Finnegan’s an avid hunter, why didn’t he use it?" He reached under the table to pull out Robbie’s lunchbox and Sarah’s backpack.

"I guess Finnegan brought the kids back here before finishing them off. But why wouldn’t he get rid of the evidence?"

"He considers them trophies,"Spencer said softly.

Morgan huffed. "When this is all said and done, I’d like to hang his head on a wall."

^-^

Morgan, Reid and Gideon paced the next crime scene, only this time it wasn’t a child. It was Finnegan. The medical examiner explained that he died of natural causes.

"His heart probably gave out while setting this trap," Reid suggested.

"Yeah, well, karma’s a bitch," the M.E. commented, "those coyotes were gnawing on him for a week."

"Before the second or third murders even happened," Morgan pointed out.

"This area’s off the travelled path, it’s a wonder anyone even discovered him at all."

"If you ask me," the medical examiner suggested, "those leaves didn’t cover him by themselves."

"If Finnegan’s been dead all this time, who’s living in his house?"

^-^

Piper Bishop rose later than usual. 7 am. She’d missed the sunrise. Shit. Pulling on her slippers, she went through the rounds; a cup of tea, pancakes, review of the class schedule and that’s when she remembered. She meant to call Morgan in the morning. She dialled his cell again. Nothing. Sighing, she told herself she’d drop by later today. She changed into her favourite outfit, white satin button-up, dark blue pants, grey blazer, drop necklace.

^-^

"Here’s a question," Reid asked, crossing his legs on the couch, "if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound in nobody hears it?"

Morgan stared at him. "What the hell are you reading over there?"

"I was just thinking," Reid gazed back at the journals on his lap.

"Found something," Gideon announced. The boys followed him into the kitchen.

"Provisions," he said, staring at the near-dozen near-empty dishes, "delivered by the church to every elderly’s doorstep." He waved his hand to all of them, saying, "Each one dated after Finnegan died."

"So the unsub ate everything?" Morgan asked.

"Almost everything," Gideon answered, "unopened bowls of creamed spinach thrown in the trash, each one wrapped with duct tape."

"One with each tray," Spencer noted, handling the casings carefully.

"So we’re looking for a guy who really, really hates spinach?" Morgan was exasperated.

"Who doesn’t?" Spencer retorted.

"Ritualised, meticulous, organised."

"He would eat the same particulars." Reid was confused.

"Full prints," Gideon ordered. At that, Gideon’s cell rang and seeing the name, walked out.

"It’s about Elle, isn’t it?" Spencer said, walking closer to Derek, arms crossed. "I talked to her in Ohio."

"Reid, we all talked to her."

"No, no, I talked to her before. I went to her room one night and…she was drinking."

"She almost died. I’d be drinking too."

^-^

To say Piper was frustrated would not even begin to cover her chagrin at being unable to talk to Morgan. He wasn’t answering his cell and she couldn’t find a sub this last minute. Her students felt the tension and none wanted to see her explode. They kept quiet, answering their comprehension questions of Alexander the Great’s Persian conquests. As soon as the bell rang, she started, rushing students out the door and grabbing her bag. She dialled the sheriff’s number and asked to meet his as soon as possible.

"Just hear me out, Sheriff," she pleaded.

"You really expect me to believe that a child could do something as heinous as this."

"Jeffrey isn’t an ordinary child. His mother left him in April, you know that. Children grow resentful of other children anyway."

"That’s ridiculous. So he’s a little jealous." He got up and started pacing.

"Except he’s not just resentful about mothers, it’s about James too. You and I both know how much he cares about those kids. Some days he calls me at 3 in the morning to talk about how stressed he is. Not 'cause of his workload, but 'cause he’s worried he’s not doing enough. Sheriff, I’m begging you to see reason."

"No, you’re delusional."

"I don’t think you know what that word means and you definitely aren’t qualified to use it.”

"A child would never do this."

"That’s exactly why you’ll never find your killer."

"Are you doubting me, Ms Bishop?"

"No," she said forcefully, "Quite frankly, Sheriff, you don’t know the first thing about kids. I’ve seen how worried Langdon gets sometimes because he’s scared that his Daddy isn’t going to come home one day. I’m not doubting your ability, Sheriff, I’m doubting whether you’ll find the unsub before another child has to die. 3 children are dead, I’m trying to help and for the record, it’s Doctor." For once, she felt calmer and having said her piece, she walked out the sheriff’s office, greeting Agent Gideon politely before she walked away from the both of them.

^-^

"Why the woods, JJ?" Morgan asked, sipping his terrible coffee in station’s waiting room.

"Hmm?"

"Your fear, you said it was of the woods. Why?"

"Oh, I was a camp counsellor when I was a teenager. In the woods up in Vermont, I had the night shift. Tucked the girls in, turned off the lights, you know the typical stuff. Everything seemed fine, all the kids were asleep, you know. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until, I noticed there was some blood on the hallway floor. So I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed and he was just lying underneath his covers, dead. Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast, out the door, down the hall, I just remember it being really dark and once I got to the door, there was another counsellor. I guess she must have heard me scream. Anyway, they caught the cleaner on his way to town. He must have had the knife on him. So, that’s when I decided didn’t like the woods." JJ fought to suppress her giggles at Derek’s expression.

"You’re serious?"

"No," She laughed. "No, I don’t know why I’m afraid of the woods. Why is he still afraid of the dark?"

"Yeah, Reid?"

"Because of the inherent absence of light," he replied.

"That was good JJ," Morgan’s phone started ringing, "Just know that paybacks are a bitch."

"Hey girl," he called to his favourite tech analyst.

"I love our relationship. We barely need words."

"Talk to me baby."

"So I pulled two sets of prints of those trays," she said.

"Two?"

"Yeah, one of them belonging to a child?"

"Okay, which one of the victims? Why don’t you work with the Ozona Coroner’s Office?"

"Oh baby, that’s so yesterday. I’ve already got those minions working on it. The other set, however, is on the database. Name is James Charles, he’s the-"

"He’s the local guidance counsellor helping with the investigation."

"You’re kidding. Sending address now." Morgan looked at the two agents who had just abandoned their cups.

"Call Gideon. We know who the unsub is."

^-^

Piper was supervising the history projects. She’d managed to pull off having a history fair with a Renaissance theme to cheer the kids up. Each kid had to make a diorama and the history department would judge based on creativity, historical merit and above all enthusiasm, a word she was not feeling. A month ago, she would’ve been over the moon, but now, all she was thinking about was when the next body would show up. She’d yelled at the sheriff and Agent Gideon had seen it. It was unprofessional and now they’d never listen to her. So you finally agree then? It was a stupid and unnecessary thing to say. Clearly you aren’t as praiseworthy as teachers say. "Ugh," Piper swept her short wavy hair into a tight ponytail. Kneeling next to Langdon, she asked him where Jeffrey was. His shrug was worrying. Piper pulled out her cell and called the administration office. "Hi ladies, is Jeffrey at school today? He’s not in my class."

"His dad called him in sick."

"Thanks, girls." Piper tried to push it out of her mind. Maybe she was wrong.

After school was out, Piper grabbed her things and left. That’s right baby girl. Just let the police do their job and just go home like the insignificant bitch you are. She grabbed her helmet and was about to drive home when she got a call from the ladies in Administration.

"It’s James. They’ve arrested them Piper. What do we do?"

"Hang tight Claudia, I’ll deal with it, okay."

^-^

"Here’s the deal," Morgan leaned over James in the interrogation room, "I could stand here and tell you what I think you were doing in Finnegan’s house for the last 2 weeks. Or, you could do us all a favour. Sign a confession, maybe get a little something taken off your time. What’d you say?"

"I never stepped inside Finnegan’s house." James stared right back into Morgan’s eyes.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Piper slammed the door behind her. The agents turned from staring at the small television screen. "Seriously, you think Jamie would do something like this?"

"Piper," The sheriff started.

"No, you don’t get that privilege anymore. It’s Doctor or nothing because clearly you don’t value my experience, Sheriff. I’m sorry to interrupt what clearly isn’t a waste of your time, Agents, but James couldn’t have done any of this."

"Then why won’t he talk to us? He had the baseball cap at his house, his prints are all over the food trays. I don’t see another explanation."

"His prints were on the food trays because he volunteers at the church’s food drive and he’s not the one with the baseball cap, it’s his son. That’s why he called him in sick yesterday, it’s why he’s hiding the truth from you all. James doesn’t have the time nor the motive. If his wife left him, why would he attack kids? More importantly when? When he isn’t at school, he has a session with a kid. If not there, helping with your investigation or handing out food for retired folks. The man has no opportunity and no motive. If anything, he’d be killing women resembling his wife, but instead he’s devoting every possible minute of his life to this community. As for why I think it’s Jeffrey, if you’d listened to me, Sheriff, the kid lost his mom in April. If you don’t know, if a kid loses a parent when they’re in their formative years as a result of abandonment rather than death, they grow increasing resentful of kids who do have their parents. Except for Jeffrey, it’s like he lost both. When his mother left, James devoted his life to the community and as a natural consequence, Jeffrey lost his father too. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but 3 kids are dead and Jeffrey is missing." They were all standing up, ignoring the interrogation and gawking at Piper. Reid couldn’t stop staring at her and her ears began to redden significantly. Gideon broke the silence.

"Stay. Observe. You know him better than we do. Watch his behaviour and tell me if you don’t think he’s guilty."

Piper was slightly relieved that Gideon took her seriously enough to let her stay.

"How these last 6 months been for you James? Not too good huh? I don't know, your whole life is falling apart isn't it? Oh yeah you got to be feeling a loss of control, sense of abandonment. And I would guess, a little impotent maybe?" Morgan chuckled. "Come on man, give me something! Why did your wife leave you? What happened James, she get bored? I mean you don't seem all that exciting to me. She started feeling a little uninspired? You're not a minute man, aren't you? Uh, that's what it is!"

"You don’t think that’s a little uncalled for?" Piper exclaimed.

"We need him to talk. If he gets angry, he may slip up." Piper settled down.

^-^

"You think Dr. Bishop’s right?" Reid asked, playing with the handcuffs in his palm.

"I don’t know. I can’t believe a kid could be capable of something like this. She seems close to James too. Could be covering for him."

"I guess so."

"You know, it's bad enough his mother left and now his father's in custody. We’ve also got to take the poor kid into child services."

"It’s the law."

So is jaywalking. I don't have to like it. Good afternoon this is Agent Jareau, with the FBI, we're gonna be picking up Jeffrey Charles in about 20 minutes, if... Okay, I see. Thank you."

"What is it?"

"Dr Bishop may have been right."

^-^

"Jeffrey never was at school today. His father said he was sick." JJ informed them.

Piper’s instinct was to yell 'Aha!' but thankfully she went against it.

"Reid, go though his apartment." Gideon ordered.

"No, you don’t seriously still think this is his fault."

"I think he may have blamed his kid for his failed marriage."

"Then I can’t watch this interview. Let me help Dr Reid with the search." Everyone looked to Gideon.

"Okay, fine. Reid, keep an eye on her."

^-^

"Why are you so sure it isn’t him?" Reid asked her softly.

"Hmm?" Piper looked up from the abandoned dirty dishes.

"What you said back there, how are you so sure?"

"I’m not exactly the most experienced psychologist. I mean, I’ve studied it, wrote about it, talked in conferences about it, but I haven’t applied it, not the way he has. I guess, if he does turn out to be the killer," she huffed, "then he’s not the man I hoped he’d be." Reid stared at her.

Piper pulled the elastic from her hair and moved past Spencer to the bookshelf.

"It’s difficult. Being a single parent. Not that I would know. But I can understand." She pulled a book of the shelf. Kurt Vonnegut. "But James handled it as best he could. He put his personal trauma aside for the whole community. Only issue was," she turned to look back into Reid’s soft gaze, "his kid got the brunt of it. Most saints have something to hide, Spence. Gandhi accused his eldest son of 'alcohol and debauchery,' even sexual assault. And no-one believes me because no-one’s met the kid. He has serious rage issues, strained empathy for others and is apathetic to others."

"Huh. Look at this." Piper moved towards the doctor.

"It’s an EpiPen. So?"

"So, at Finnegan’s house, we found all the creamed spinach duck-taped and thrown out."

"Spence," Piper levelled her gaze, "Jeffrey has an allergy to dairy."

^-^

"Can I have a word with him?" Gideon asked. Morgan nodded and left the room. "It’s a rough day, huh? Coffee?"

"Yeah I wouldn't mind."

"Milk?"

"Please."

"So how long have you known that your son is a murderer?" Gideon abruptly asked without breaking eye contact.

"What are you talking about?"

"You might have been the one who brought the food trays to Finnegan's, but your son ate them, everything but the creamed spinach."

"You want me to confess? Is that what this game is? That's fine. You bring me another pen, I'll write out my confession."

"We found an EpiPen in your kitchen."

"So what that proves that my kid has an allergy."

"To milk."

Piper had had enough. "Let me in there, I’ll get him to talk. If Gideon threatens the freedom of his child, James won’t talk. He’ll talk to me."

"Not with Gideon in there." Morgan chided you.

^-^

Piper sat cross-legged on the chair, head resting on the back of her arms. Morgan was almost falling asleep. Reid was on his 8th cup of coffee. Piper’s ringtone woke Derek up and she couldn’t help laughing. "Big bad Derek Morgan’s afraid of a ringtone?" she laughed and raised the phone to her ear.

"Hi, Mrs Belle. How can I help you? Is Tracy okay?" Piper’s change of expression from glee to gloom wasn’t lost on anyone. "Okay, sit tight Mrs Belle, we’ll find her. Please relax." Piper hung up the phone and tied her short hair up again.

"Tracey Belle was just reported missing. Last seen getting off her school bus on Fuller Road."

^-^

What happened after was just a blur. Piper had managed to convince Gideon to let her come, citing her certification for hostage negotiation. They’d all strapped the Kevlar suits on and found a spare for her. Reid and JJ left in one car, Morgan and the sheriff in another and Piper was paired with Gideon.

"Why are you a history teacher?" Gideon asked.

"Hmm?"

"You’re 25, you have 4 Ph.Ds in Psychology, a Masters in History and Bachelors in Literature."

"Thought I wasn’t doing much good in a university classroom. Swapped it for an elementary school"

"I’m a profiler. Don’t lie to me."

"Yes, sir. They wouldn’t come because they didn’t want people to think they or their kids were crazy. So I stopped. I wrote books and papers. I taught at universities. But I kept getting this nagging thing in my head, that I should be doing more. So I packed and moved."

"Where’d you teach?"

"The main ones. Guest lectured at Brown for months at a time. Harvard was my alma mater so I was there for a semester. Columbia offered but I rejected them. They were kinda stung that I chose a high school over them." He chuckled at that. "None of you smile a lot."

"Hmm?"

"Especially you. Do the cases get that bad?"

"Yeah."

"So why do it?" The car stopped near the woods. They both got out of the vehicle and headed towards the others.

"Because it has to be done." He looked over at her and smiled.

^-^

Tracy was running. Her bag was gone. Jeffrey was going to hurt her. She knew she was at the playground, but after a few minutes, the woods had enveloped her. She prayed that her mom was looking, that someone was looking, but the only thing that filled the little girl’s little heart was the dread. Dread that in these big bad woods, she was all alone with a killer.

"Split up, she’s gotta be somewhere."

Bishop and Gideon ran through the woods looking for the small blonde.

"Tracy!"

Trees.

"Tracy!"

Trees everywhere.

"Tracy!"

They were looking for a red and a blond needle in a green and orange haystack.

"Tracey!" Jeffrey cried in a sing song voice. "Let's just go home. I was only playing! Why do you have to be such a baby? Tracey?"

Tracy’s feet hurt. She should have been home by now. She staggered towards the nearest tree and hid. He couldn’t find her here, would he? Her breaths were jagged and she was terrified.

Bishop heard screaming. "Tracy!" They ran towards the piercing scream. She saw the scene unfolding and determined to be anything but helpless, Piper ran in between Jeffrey and Tracy. "Stop!" Gideon ran to Jeffrey, locking him in one arm, throwing the bat away with the other. Piper pushed Tracy into JJ’s arms and breathed with relief.

^-^

In the aftermath of things, James was pacing, scared of what his kid had become, terrified of what would happen to him. Piper held her head in her hands, sitting on the parkside bench. Morgan gently pushed Jeffrey into the car. Reid sat next to her.

"You did good."

"Did I? I blamed a kid for a serial murder because he lost his mother. What does that make me?" Piper lifted her head to look at him.

"A profiler." Spencer rubbed her shoulder and walked away. Piper glanced at James, pacing.

"You think you could have prevented this?"

"Maybe if I’d been there for him…"

She put a hand on his shoulder. "James, you’d put the world’s problems on your own back if you could. You can still be there for him. What he did, it isn’t his fault and it isn’t yours." He looked at Piper, his gaze shattered, his soul broken.

"You really believe that?"

"I believe that care and love can make anything possible."

^-^

Piper packed her things slowly. She folded her maps, packed away the Macedon’s armour and the Egyptian coffin.

"So where to next?" Gideon leaned on her desk, arms crossed.

"Vacation to Italy, maybe Venice. Figuring things out." She shrugged.

"You did good today, but…you could be better."

"I’m sorry?"

"I want you on the team." Piper levelled her gaze to Gideon, standing straight.

"In what capacity?"

"Consultant, on a temporary basis. If you put in the hours and do the classes, maybe even an agent. You in?"

"This a one-time offer?"

"Yes."

"I’m in."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jj #gideon #spencer reid x oc #reid x oc

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tempesrature · 4 years

Text

The Case of the Murdered Witch Doctors | Chapter 2

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 The Charm of Lost Things (Oneshot Follow-up) Creative Process Note Commissioned Art Piece

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Colt Summary: “The game is afoot.” - Arthur Conan Doyle, Adventure of the Abbey Grange Word Count: 1k+ Warnings: PG-16 @rodappreciationweek @lovehugsandcandy

~*~

“Fuck I hate how you witches smell,” Colt complains as he pinches his nose and takes a step back from the short blond haired girl in front of him. “Like burnt sugar, it’s disgusting.”

Ingrid looks up from her clipboard, her pink lab coat a stark contrast to the white room, before she turns to Ellie standing next to her with a small frown. “Did you really have to pick a hot but rude vampire, El?”

Ellie shrugs with a small smile as she hooks her thumbs into her belt loops and turns to look at Colt.

After she had left the front doors of the club that night and stepped out into night, her knees buckled and she momentarily crumpled to the ground. She didn’t really think it would work. Hell, Logan—her accomplice and the one she had shown Colt holding the button—told her that it wouldn’t work. After all, everything except for her promise of Teppei Kaneko’s ashes was all a bluff. No, she didn’t change any of the locks in the club (she tried but security was too good) and no there were no agents waiting to surround the club (her boss doesn’t even know she was conducting the whole operation).

It was all a ploy to get Colt Kaneko to listen to her before she laid down her offer. The fact that it worked and he’s now helping her investigate the Kilat murder is nothing short of a magical miracle.

“We need you to confirm if the bodies were drained by a vampire or by other means,” Ellie explains as she turns to Ingrid.

Ingrid smiles and nods before she raises her hand, pink sparks dancing around her fingers, and with a flick of her wrist the body of Ernesto and Malina Kilat manifest just above Colt’s head.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” Colt screams as he looks up in horror at the two dead bodies wrapped in white sheets floating in the air before they hover down on top of the two autopsy tables in front of them.

Colt turns to Ellie, his eyes wide in absolute shock and disbelief.

Ellie smirks amusingly. “First time?”

Colt glares at her as he grumbles underneath his breath.

“So this is what we know,” Ingrid starts as she flips through her chart and pulls the white sheets down to their torso, unware of the wide berth Colt has placed between him and her. “Other than the fang marks on their neck and the lack of blood there are no other visible injuries on the body, magical or otherwise. The Kilat family are albularyos, a type of witch doctor from the Philippines, so we ran a toxicology report and it came in clean and negative for drugs, poisons, and curses. We found traces of the Fern Flower on them but not enough that it exceeds the legal amount. Seems like your old run of the mill vampire murder but we still haven’t done a proper autopsy because we’re still waiting for the papers to be approved so that could change. Any questions?”

Ellie turns to Colt as she gestures for him to look at the bodies. Colt lets out a small sigh and runs his hand through his hair before he steps forward and looks down at the faces staring back at him and somewhere deep in his heart twists a little at the knowledge that they were murdered almost a month ago and the culprit still hasn’t been caught. But he pushes those thoughts away as he reaches out and carefully turns Ernesto’s head to the side to look at the vampire bite. He takes a moment to observe and look at it before he does the same to Malina. It only takes him a minute or so, maybe even less, before he looks up at Ellie with his answer.

“These might not be vampire bites.”

“Might?” Ellie frowns, frustrated that her suspicions might be right. That the murderer might not be a vampire after all.

“Yeah, look at the bite on the husband. They’re too precise, too clean. Older vampires like their bites to be clean just like this but they wouldn’t do it if they’re planning to suck the person dry,” Colt points to Malina’s neck. “But the wife’s bite here is sloppy, almost in a hurry. It’s common for younger vampires but they’re less likely to drink all of the blood since they get full too easily. Vampires from different generational ages don’t just hang out and commit murders together.”

Ellie hums in acknowledgement as her mind turns at the new information. “Do you think those bites could be done by something else other than a vampire? Like some kind of magical instrument perhaps?”

Colt scoffs as he buries his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Who fucking knows? If it was, I wouldn’t know of it.”

Ellie glares at his dismissiveness but she reminds herself that he’s provided her with new information that can help her investigation and she quickly tempers her annoyance. She doesn’t have to like him but she can be civil and she can be the bigger person.

“Okay, that’s enough for today. I don’t want Mona catching you two in here,” Ingrid concludes as she raises her hand again and pink sparks start to gather. With one wave, the Kilat couple’s bodies start to fade away from the autopsy table and Colt fearfully glances up above his head.

“Thanks a lot Ingrid,” Ellie says with a smile which Ingrid happily returns before Ellie turns to Colt with an appreciative nod. “You too Colt, this helps a lot.”

“Why are you even doing all of this anyway?” Colt asks, his eyes narrowing a little at Ellie in suspicion. His question hints at not only figuring out the bites on the Kilat’s necks but the fact that Ellie had bluffed her threat in his nightclub a few nights before. “With the Agency’s resources, you would’ve known this even without my help.”

Ellie and Ingrid share a look, a silent conversation passing through them before Ingrid shrugs—silently telling Ellie that it’s her decision—before she leaves the room to continue with her work. Ellie turns to look at Colt, her face impassive and her emotions controlled.

“The Agency gave this case to me because I’m a half-witch. They fully expect this case to fail and is purposely limiting my access to the Agency’s resources so I had to get creative with getting my information.”

Colt whistles as he looks at her impressively. “So this is an ego thing then?”

“Of course not,” Ellie scoffs as she crosses her arms in front of her and her eyes flit to the autopsy table where the Kilat couple had been. “They deserve justice and they deserve for their case to be investigated. They left behind a ninety year old daughter, you know? She wants answers for her parent’s death,” Ellie gazes into Colt’s eyes, her own flickering blue with an intensity that pierces his soul. “I’m sure you know what it feels like to have a parent die and not be given the due diligence of an investigation into their death.”

Colt grits his teeth, his fangs almost piercing his bottom lip as he tries to refute her statement. To respond in anger and frustration but he realizes that there’s nothing he can say that wouldn’t come out sounding pathetic and weak. So he scoffs and crosses his arms instead as he turns his head away from her. It’s absolute bullshit that the girl in front of him can seem to read him so easily.

“Glad that you understand,” Ellie grins as she looks at the time on the wall clock to her right. “I’ll text you if I need anything else, other than that I’ll see you at the meeting with Jason Shaw. Thanks for today Colt!”

“Hey wait,” Colt calls out just as Ellie makes her way to the door. “Where are you going?”

Ellie furrows her eyebrows for a moment, confused as to why he’s suddenly interested, but she shrugs and decides to tell him. It’s not like telling him changes anything anyway.

“I’m going back to the Kilat’s house to take a look around again. Maybe there’s something in the basement that could be used to replicate a vampire bite.”

Colt furrows his eyebrows at her. “And…what? You’re going alone?”

Ellie’s eyes widen at the tone of his voice before she glares at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying. You look like the only thing you’ve ever fought is a garden gnome.”

Ellie bristles at the implication of his words as she stalks forward and jabs her finger on his chest. “I’ll have you know I have fought multiple magical creatures or did you forget that I’m a witch—”

“Half a witch,” Colt corrects with a smug smile.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m half or not,” Ellie rebukes with a scowl. “I’ve been doing fine with the investigation for the last month and I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah?” Colt leans back and regards her seriously. “And how many of those magical creatures did you fight were vampires? If Shaw really is behind this, would you be able to fight him on equal ground? Do you even know how long a fight lasts against a Primordial, Miss Half a Witch?”

Ellie falters and she curses at herself for internally agreeing with him. Sure, she’s held her ground in the rare chance she has to use her magic to fight but as a half-witch she has a time limit to her powers. Her magic is powerful, she studied and trained hard to make sure it’s at its peak performance, but beyond six hours and her powers wane and weaken. But Colt is right, if she’s faced with a Primordial vampire and she has to fully exhaust her powers then…she wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Colt says when he sees the look on her face before he digs into his pocket and takes out his keys. “Come on, I’m driving.”

“Huh—what? Wait!” Ellie runs after him as Colt makes his way out of the morgue and out of the building. “You’re going with me?!”

“Yeah,” Colt says as he reaches the black and white Cavalieri and swings his legs over the bike. He pauses for a moment to glance at his wristwatch and look up in the sky before he nods and turns to offer Ellie his one helmet. He scoffs at the look of absolute delight on her face. “Don’t get me wrong. If you die, who’s going to get the ashes? I’m just making sure you have enough arms to actually keep your end of the bargain.”

“Uh huh sure you are,” Ellie grins as she takes the bike helmet and places it on her head. “It’s easier to just say you like me Colt, it’s not that hard.”

Colt scowls and revs the engine as Ellie climbs behind him. “I do not like you.”

“Sure you do, I don’t blame you. After all, most creatures—” Ellie lets out a scream when Colt suddenly drives forward without warning and almost propels her backward but she quickly recovers and wraps her arms around his waist. Once she realizes what he did, she hits the back of his shoulder with a scowl he can’t see. “You asshole! I almost fell off!”

Colt lets out an amused laugh, his head tilting back and his fangs glinting in the sun as his eyes glow with a soft tone gold.

Ellie can’t help but be captured by the sound of his laughter and she’s suddenly reminded of how his mouth moved against hers in the dim private room of the nightclub. A small blush dusts her cheeks as she tries to keep her head back on the investigation while Colt easily weaves and moves through LA traffic.

#rodaw #choices rod #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #vampire au #detective au #witch au #murder mystery #cw: dead body #cw: police #cw: magic-drugs #my writing #am i terrible at summaries so I'm using sherlock holmes quotes instead?#out of context too?#why yes #yes i am

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theundercovermarvelfan · 4 years

Text

Some Assembly Required

NEW FANFIC ALERT!! Avengers as Teenagers AU!

Chapter One

“Alright, what’s this about?”

Maria Hill regarded him wearily before turning her gaze back to the window she had been looking through.

“Meet Clint Barton,” she said simply with a nod at the window.

Phil Coulson turned his attention to the one-way window that looked into the interrogation cell. A boy sat at the right side of a metal table, a standard prison jumpsuit hanging off his thin frame, his hands cuffed and resting lightly on the table in front of him. Phil’s gaze lingered for a long moment on the kid’s bruised and battered knuckles before shifting and taking in the black eye and split lip. The kid was sitting stiffly and stared blankly straight ahead at the blank wall at the left of the interrogation cell. It was a bit unnerving to see such a small boy so still.

“What is he, ten?” Phil asked skeptically.

“Just turned thirteen,” Maria said calmly.

“Wow,” Phil said, arching his eyebrows in honest surprise. “Small for his age.” There was a heavy pause before he turned back to Maria. “Well, it’s swell to meet him. So, you want to tell me why it was so important for me to rush over here so early? I don’t have to tell you that traffic was a bitch.”

“He’s in juvie on three counts of assault on police officers and one count of trespassing,” Maria reported clinically. “His sentence hearing keeps getting pushed back so he’s been here for over a week now. They are in the process of removing him from gen pop and transferring him to isolation because he keeps getting into fights and has sent eight boys – all sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds – to the infirmary so far.”

Phil arched an eyebrow… vaguely impressed despite the circumstances. “Well, he seems fun. I’m still not sure what it is you want from me.”

Maria finally turned to look at him, fixing him with that look that always made him feel like he was a teenager again and about to get scolded by the principal.

“His hearing is currently set for next week,” she told him briskly. “But not only does he have a history of violence before this but he’s also had a history of running away from Child Protective Services. In fact, after several failed attempts, he finally disappeared from a group home in Iowa four years ago and hadn’t been seen since until now. The system isn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to place a flight risk like that. And, as you well know, without somewhere to put this kid a judge is likely to give him a maximum sentence for assaulting those cops just to keep him off the streets.”

Phil sighed. He was afraid that was what she was looking for.

“Maria, I’m full up, you know that,” he said tiredly. “I’d like to help but I just can’t take in any more kids right now, especially one that’s so prone to violence. I’ve just recently got Bruce to stop breaking things when he gets worked up.”

“This kid needs a break,” she pressed. She held out a thick file that had been tucked under her arm. “Just look at his file. Parents died when he was six and when CPS took him in there was already evidence of abuse. He and his brother were bounced around to four different homes in three years – at least one of which was put under investigation for suspected child abuse and endangerment when the kids were relocated – before disappearing and assumedly living on the streets for the past four years.” She gave him a grim smile. “This case is right in your wheelhouse, Phil.”

Phil sighed heavily as he took the file from her but didn’t open it. It wasn’t the first heartbreaking case he had heard. Nor would it be the last.

“Where’s his brother now?” he asked.

Maria shook her head. “No idea. He disappeared at the same time Clint did and hasn’t been heard from since. He would have aged out of the system by now anyway so he’s not really our concern at the moment.”

“How did his parents die?”

“Car accident,” Maria informed him. “His father was driving and veered off the road without any obvious provocation, wrapping the car around a tree. Both Harold Barton and his wife were pronounced dead on the scene. Autopsy revealed that Harold was heavily intoxicated at the time of the crash. This was at ten in the morning on a Tuesday, by the way. Really tells you what kind of guy he was.” She paused. “Also, both Clint and his brother were in the car at the time of the crash. When paramedics arrived on the scene, both parents were already deceased, and his brother was unconscious. Clint was the only one left conscious, despite broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and a heavily bleeding head wound.”

Phil sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I’d like to help,” he repeated reluctantly. “But I literally have nowhere to put this kid right now. I physically cannot fit another bed into either of the boys’ rooms.”

“This kid isn’t going to get off without some kind of sentence,” Maria said rationally. “I talked to his public defender, he believes that if I can line up a home for the kid before the hearing then he can get the judge to be lenient and give him sixty to ninety days since this is his first official offense. You’ve been saying for years now how you’ve wanted to fix up that attic of yours. That would be plenty of time to do that… might even be a good project to get the boys involved with this summer.” She shot him a knowing look along with a small smirk.

CONTINUE READING ON FF.NET CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#fanfiction #fanfic #Avengers #Phil Coulson #clint barton #maria hill #tony stark #thor #Steve Rogers #bruce banner #avengers high school au #avengers as family #avengers as teenagers #marvel #phil coulson as foster parent #maria hill as social worker #some assembly required

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 4 years

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‘The Adventure of Philip Anderson’ Chapter 7: Did You Miss Me?

I've been struggling a lot with this chapter, cause I've been concerned with how it will be received. It has been beta-read, and my beta didn't find anything wrong, but I still feel as though something isn't quite right here. Maybe I'm dragging it out too long? I have no idea. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

Blackwood had been found on the street, his head bashed in from a fit of rage. Reporters were scouring the place, wanting to get a peek at the high profile victim, but they were forced to stand behind the police tape. This kind of exposure was exactly what Mycroft didn't want happening. But what can you do when the murderer left the victim on the sidewalk for anyone to find?

Philip Anderson was taking photos of the victim when a cab arrived on the scene. He paused to see who it was, surprised to find Sherlock and Molly arriving together. And—oh my God—Sherlock's hand was on the small of her back in a simple, affectionate gesture. Molly no longer looked as if she were falling to pieces. In fact, she almost looked…happy. Very happy.

The reporters went wild.

"Mister Holmes, how is this case connected to the previous victim?"

"Who's that woman you've arrived with?"

"Is that your girlfriend?"

"What is she doing at a crime scene?"

Sherlock and Molly ignored their incessant questions, focusing on the work before them. Greg and Anderson shared a knowing look as the two rattled off possibilities and factual evidence to one another. The way they moved around each other to observe different areas almost looked like a graceful dance.

"I thought you said they had a fight last night," Greg spoke in a low voice.

"They did," Anderson confirmed. "They must have worked it all out. If they arrived together, they must have spent the night together, and—ohhhh! Sherlolly is real!"

"We can hear you, you know," Sherlock remarked. Molly gave a short laugh. The reporters must have heard too, because the nickname spread like wildfire amongst them. They were beginning to get on Sherlock's last nerve. He was on the verge of snapping at them until Molly diverted his attention.

"Sherlock, look at this," she told him. Her gloved hand traced the letters crudely carved into his chest. "U.O Me…this wouldn't have any connection to Moriarty's I.O.U thing would it?"

A look of abhorrence crossed his face. "Why?" he muttered. "Why does everything seem to lead back to him." Though he was usually able to keep his emotions in check, Sherlock looked as if he were about to have an outburst. Instead of doing so, he began to walk away.

"Darling—" Molly reached out to him.

"Whoever this is, they're out for revenge," Sherlock informed them. "Everyone associated with me is in danger, and that includes you, Molly."

"Sherlock," she spoke low, but firmly. Taking hold of his arm, she walked him a few feet away, though some spectators, including Lestrade and Anderson, could still see them. Molly was talking him down from his frustration and panic. People continued to snap photos whilst Anderson and Greg looked on. And then Molly had his face in her hands, their foreheads leaning together. With bated breath, everyone watched as Sherlock pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Well, I'll be damned," Greg remarked, not quite believing what he saw.

Anderson's eyes went wide, his jaw dropping. He wished he had popcorn. Wait…his hand dug through his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of caramel corn. "See? I told you! Did I not tell you?" he wore a very smug smile. "Operation Sherlolly is a success! Case closed!"

Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered if Anderson's obsession would die down now that the truth was out in the open. When he looked over at Philip, he had to do a double take. "Wait…where did you get popcorn?"

"Alright," Sherlock's baritone boomed as he walked toward Lestrade with Molly. "Here's what's going to happen. Don't answer anybody's questions. Molly will head to the hospital with you. No one else is to do the autopsy but her."

"And where exactly are you going?" Greg asked.

"It seems I should pay a visit to my brother—this is more serious than I anticipated."

Mycroft Holmes was getting impatient. The pressure to catch this high profile murderer was daunting. He pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for news of any kind. Something must have been found—anything. But, then again, there was one connecting factor…

"Mister Holmes?" Anthea stuck her head through the door of his office.

His eyes lit up at the sight of her. "Yes, what is it? Has the murderer been caught?"

Anthea bit her lip. "Well…not yet, but there has been a different sort of development." She walked toward his desk, and handed him her mobile.

Mycroft knit his brows as he looked through the photos. "It seems my brother and Miss Hooper have worked things out then."

"Yes, sir, they're actually the top news story right now. 'Sherolly,' they're calling them," Anthea informed him.

"Cute," he replied dryly. "At least he'll no longer be lonely."

Feeling brave, Anthea met his eyes with hers. "You don't have to be lonely either…sir." She watched his face soften at her remark. With a warm smile, she turned to leave, finding Sherlock standing in the doorway. He had heard their exchange.

"Anthea," he greeted her with a nod, moving aside so she could leave. He then turned to Mycroft. "She has a point, you know."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, the iceman façade returning. "Spare me." A moment passed between them. "Sherlolly?"

"Anderson started it," Sherlock replied with a quirk of his lips.

"Yes, very amusing, brother mine," Mycroft remarked. "Now, what have you found on Blackwood's person?"

"Before I tell you, I need to know if there was a connection between the two victims." Sherlock was all business now. "Specifically, I need to know if they were involved with Moriarty in any way before his death."

Mycroft slowly leaned back in his chair in surprise. "They paid him to not hurt their families, and in return, they were to turn a blind eye to his crimes." He took a sip of his tea. "Naturally, I did not approve of such an arrangement, but I let it be. Eventually, the pair of them ignored his wishes and had two of his accomplices arrested after having their families hidden away in safe houses."

"'U O Me' was carved into Blackwood's flesh. I believe it was a message for me," Sherlock explained. "Whoever this is wants revenge—they want to avenge Moriarty even though he killed himself. I can't help but think of what Eurus spoke of."

"Moriarty's brother—the stationmaster," Mycroft realised.

"Colonel James Moriarty," Sherlock stated. "Their parents were obviously fond of the name." His eyes locked onto his brother's in a fit of urgency. "We need to increase the security detail on Molly. Even you and I are in danger."

"Brother mine, as much as I would prefer to, I simply can't give Miss Hooper any more protection than what she has. Someone has gone above my head to ensure government members have around the clock security, because they believe it to be a conspiracy against us," Mycroft explained. "It's out of my hands, Sherlock. You'll have to find another way."

Sherlock backed away in frustration. "She needs to be looked after when I'm not with her, it's—" He had an idea. "Or I can be with her most of the time. She could stay with me." Granted, it was convenient, but Sherlock found more reasons than just her protection to have her live with him. He simply wanted her there.

"You just got the girl, brother, don't drive her away so quickly," Mycroft quipped.

As Sherlock headed out the door, he replied, "Don't keep Anthea waiting—she may not wait around for you forever."

Mycroft Holmes was speechless for once.

After snapping off her gloves, Molly tossed them in the bin. She hadn't found anything more unusual from Blackwood's autopsy, but her gut feeling told her something bad was going to happen. Hopefully, Sherlock was having more luck on his end.

"Anything you need, Molly?" Anderson asked, poking his head in through the doors. "Greg and I are headed back to the station since there's been nothing new to report."

"Thank you," she told him.

Anderson stepped fully inside the morgue. "For what…exactly?"

"I know you meddled with our personal lives—mine and Sherlock's. Normally, I would have been opposed to it, but you helped us. Well, you helped me with each push," Molly explained. "So, thank you."

A sense of pride swelled up inside him. "It was nothing," he replied sheepishly.

"No, I think in this case, a thank you is well-deserved…even from me," Sherlock suddenly spoke.

This had Anderson speechless. He quickly left the room with a nod to them, unsure of what to do with himself. He had helped them get together. It was an honor to have done so.

Back in the morgue, Molly smirked, her eyes sparkling. "Sherlock Holmes thanking Philip Anderson without so much as a snide remark? Hell must have frozen over."

"Not quite," his tone was serious now. "Molly, we need to pack your things."

"What? Why?" she asked.

"Moriarty's brother is behind all this—he's taking revenge on those who ever did his brother wrong," Sherlock explained. "If I remember correctly, not only did you help with faking my death, but you broke up with him too."

"Why would that last one factor in? He was only using me to get close to you," Molly pointed out.

Sherlock sighed. "I have to assume he had a real interest in you, Molly. He did use you to get closer to me, but even after the meeting he wanted, he stayed with you until you broke things off."

"I sure know how pick 'em," Molly muttered.

"Now, hold on a minute," Sherlock protested.

"Not you, Sherlock," she laughed. "I couldn't have chosen anyone better to give my heart to."

He wasn't sure he agreed with that sentiment, but it warmed him to know she thought so.

"How do you feel about staying with me at Baker Street until we can catch Moriarty?" Sherlock asked. "If not, I'll stay with you. Either way, I need to be there to protect you. Mycroft is unable to improve the security detail you already have."

"I'd love to stay with you," Molly smiled. "Let me finish up here, and we'll go back to mine and pack my things."

#sherlolly #the adventure of philip anderson #my fanfiction

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wee-chlo · 6 years

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Everything Is Going To Be Okay: A Villain AU AU, Part 1

Inspired by @im-fairly-whitty and @slusheeduck ‘s Villain AU, a heartwarming tale about family and love and- hahahaha I’m kidding, it’s tragedy.

When Miguel Rivera, the great-great-grandson of esteemed and beloved musician Héctor Rivera, was twelve, he was cursed and went to the Land of the Dead. There, he discovered the truth about his family’s bloody, crime-speckled past. Convincing Hector that he intended to keep the secret, he was sent home… and now, fifteen years later, he’s back.

This is a happy ending, but happy endings aren’t necessarily good ones.

Rated PG13 this particular chapter for mentions of suicidal ideation it’ll cool down to something closer to PG/G in coming chapters.

Miguel Rivera, great-great-grandson of the esteemed and beloved musician Héctor Rivera, died alone in his sleep when he was twenty-seven. He hadn’t been a public figure for nearly a decade and had been estranged from most of his family. Friends were relatively few, and so it took almost two days for his body to be discovered in his apartment in Monterrey, Mexico.

At first, the common theory was suicide. Rumors about what had happened to him on that Día de los Muertos fifteen years ago still churned and rumbled despite the family’s attempts to quiet lingering doubts about the official story. Word in the tabloids was that Miguel suffered from night terrors, panic attacks, and fits. There was a rumor that he was a paranoid schizophrenic, that he’d attacked his family and been disowned for it, that he was a dangerous predator that the family was trying to protect. No matter how many magazines and paparazzi were sued for libel and slander, another would crop up with something new, something even more salacious and hurtful.

Coco knew better.

She knew her brother, even if the calls had become more infrequent and the visits to the Rivera home had stopped when she was twelve. Her brother wasn’t dangerous, wasn’t crazy. Just… scared. She didn’t know why. He never talked about that night he disappeared and then reappeared at dawn, hysterical and sobbing. No matter how many therapists their parents had sent him to, no matter how many times the topic was broached, he remained tight-lipped about it, allowing people to come to their own dramatic conclusions.

He’d left home when he turned eighteen. Coco had been six, but had very dim, half-baked memories of her brother and parents arguing about it. He visited on her birthday, Christmas, and up until she was about twelve, he visited for Día de los Muertos. Then, one year, he said he wasn’t coming back.

The memory of that argument wasn’t vague or half-baked. Sometimes she thought her ears still rang with her Abuelita’s outraged yelling. The phone had been slammed down so hard it cracked and after that, Miguel was the black sheep. Coco, Mama and Papa had received calls, letters, emails, but no visits. Sometimes, he’d call the house and ask to speak to Abuelita, but she’d never take the call.

In the last year before his death, he, Coco, and his parents had engaged in a long and complicated game of phone tag. Instead of direct conversations, they’d leave messages to each other. Coco got the impression that Miguel did it on purpose, deliberately calling when he knew they wouldn’t be able to answer so that there wouldn’t need to be a conversation. In the weeks afterward, she listened to his last voicemail over and over and over.

Hey, sorry I missed you. Uh, everything’s fine up here. Keep an eye out in the mail, yeah? Your birthday present should be getting there soon. Tell Mama and Papa I love them, and, uh… tell Abuelita that too, okay? Love you. Bye.

When they first got the news that he was dead, it had sounded like a suicide note. Apparently, they’d found quite a few in his apartment from varying times. The autopsy said otherwise. Miguel had been on medications: Valium, Ambien, fentanyl, and lexapro. He’d had alcohol in his system, not a lot but enough to indicate that he’d drank some the night before. And he’d had a genetic heart condition. The mix of long-term anxiety and insomnia, combined with the medication and alcohol, had killed him silently and painlessly in the night. A freak accident. A tragedy.

The landlady had sent Miguel’s things to the Rivera household. Most of it would be given away or donated: clothing, bedding, kitchenware. But among the rubble of her brother’s life was a little box of evidence proving every stupid mumbler wrong: notebooks full of songs and music, old photos, a laptop with a family photo as the lock screen.

A shoebox filled with printouts and copies of every email and letter that the family had sent to them. Every Christmas card, every birthday letter. Clippings of the things that Rosa and Abel had been doing, the review of Rosa’s first play and Abel’s second album.

They hadn’t sent the suicide notes. Apparently, those were being kept until suicide could be officially ruled out. But buried in the box of letters sent to him was a letter he’d written but not yet sent. It made the bottom drop out of Coco’s stomach.

I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore, he wrote, his handwriting shaky and cramped. I feel like I’m just wasting time for nothing. I could be with you all, and instead, I’m doing this. And it’s pointless because I’m not even going to do anything with it.

Just destroy that stupid laptop, would you? Nothing in there worth talking about anyway.

Miguel Rivera woke up dead.

Slowly, things came into focus. He was warm, bundled up in soft blankets. He heard something very distantly: voices, muffled and soft as if through water at first, then crystallizing.

“Should it take this long? I feel like it shouldn’t take this long.”

“The doctor said it’s normal for people who die that way. Calm down, mi amor.”

The voices were familiar. One he’d only heard from video clips and old newsreels but the other…

Pepita? Take care of him, will you?

He jerked away with a gasp, the memory knocking him out of the in-between state and back to… back to…

Oh.

His brain seemed to work in sections, processing things bit by bit, clunky even after the sudden rush of emotion that had hit him like electricity. He was in bed that wasn’t his, in a room that wasn’t his. The walls were sage and pastel yellow, the decoration minimal and sterile. Sunlight flushed in from an open window to his left, and to his right were two well-dressed skeletons, greying dark hair immaculately styled, their clothing tasteful, their expressions equal parts concern and shock. One was a woman with long hair, dressed in elegant purple, who could only be Mama Imelda. Sitting next to her…

“Hola, Papa Héctor,” Miguel said, the words sounding thick and clumsy to his own… ears? “Been awhile.”

“Migue,” Papa Héctor said warmly, reaching out and taking Miguel’s hand in his. “Oh, m’ijo, it’s so good to see you. I wish you’d taken a bit longer though…” He sighed, giving Miguel’s hand a squeeze. The feel of it was strange, bone rubbing on bone. The sight made old memories dredge up again, and he had to fight down the urge to wrench his hand free.

“But you’re here,” Mama Imelda said, sitting on the bed next to him. “You’ve been here for almost a day now, recovering. And you’ll need to recover for a while longer still.”

“A day?” Miguel’s head felt like it was full of gauze and cotton, even as his thoughts began to move at a steadier pace.

“You died in your sleep, chamaco,” Papa Héctor said quietly, shaking his head and looking so sad, like his heart was breaking. “Ay, Migue… It’s good to see you, but it didn’t have to be like this. It didn’t have to be this soon.”

Miguel couldn’t bring himself to say anything. It was too surreal. Dying in your sleep is what old people did, people who’d lived until they were in their seventies, eighties, nineties. It’s how Mama Coco had died, and Papa Julio. You don’t die in your sleep before you’re thirty. That’s not how it works.

“We’ve been so worried about you, m’ijo,” Mama Imelda said, cutting through the fog of confusion. “You stopped coming home for Día de los Muertos, you didn’t have an ofrenda up. No one knew what was happening. There was talk about you hurting yourself. We didn’t know what you would do…” She trailed off, and when Miguel looked up, she was giving him a rather pointed look. It took a moment for Miguel to realize what she was getting at but when he did, he almost laughed in their faces, it was so ridiculous.

“Go ahead. Ask. I won’t get mad or anything,” he said.

Héctor and Imelda shared a glance, and then she said, “The book.”

The words fell between them with all the delicacy of a pair of rocks. Miguel gently pulled his hand free of Héctor’s and peered at it. Funny, the joints didn’t look like they did in the biology books.

“Wasn’t much of a book,” he said, his voice sounding funny and distant. “Mostly notes. Newspaper articles. I got a couple of autopsy reports, but I had to be careful, you know? I didn’t know how picky the curse was and if I popped up back here… might have been a little awkward.” He couldn’t make eye contact with them. He didn’t know what they’d do, or say, or think. He’d had this whole speech prepared for years, worked on it every single spare moment, but now here he was and instead of something mature and reasonable, words just came out like vomit.

“You were good, I’ll give you that. Damn good. I mean, once I knew what the thought process was, I could catch the names. But then it just opened this whole new thing. I mean, how many victims, for instance? Don’t even know. Depends on how generous you’re feeling, I guess. Might be ten. Might be dozens. Sure, you might not have killed every one of them but it’s not like people didn’t throw themselves off of bridges or drink themselves to death after you dragged their careers so far into the muck that they couldn’t break out.”

“Miguel-” Héctor’s tone was almost pleading, but Miguel had been waiting for this moment since he was twelve and no one was going to stop it now, not even Héctor Rivera. He still couldn’t look at them, but there wasn’t much else to look at. He flopped back onto the bed and focused on a crack in the ceiling.

“But you know, I could never prove anything. You were damn good. I could never prove a thing. I just… knew enough to keep me up at night. Enough to make me feel sick. I couldn’t stand to be there anymore, in that house. I had to get out of there, but hey, can’t say anything because if I do, poof,” he made a tiny explosion gesture with his hands, the bones clicking together. “Back here. With you. So what else was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to do? Just pretend I didn’t know and everything was fine? Pretend like Ernesto De La Cruz didn’t exist-”

“That bestia doesn’t deserve your pity, Miguel,” Imelda said firmly, standing up from the bed. “He’s gone and done with now, and the world is the better for it.”

“Maybe,” Miguel admitted. “I wish they were all like that, I really do. I wish it was all that easy, but they didn’t all have to die. It’s like you just… got used to it.”

“Miguel,” Héctor said, his voice quieter now but firmer. “We never did things like that lightly. It was never for lack of trying anything else or going different routes. We did what we had to do for our family, to keep our children and their children safe.” He sighed. “You said you understood that.”

“I was twelve,” Miguel snapped back at the ceiling. “And I’d just watched you gloat about murdering someone and then watched that some person get snatched by a giant glowing cat monster. I lied.”

The silence that followed was heavy and dark. Miguel didn’t know how a heart that didn’t exist could still be pounding but he could feel it rattling his ribcage, felt himself tremble despite the blankets tucked around him.

“Miguel, look at me.” Miguel gritted his teeth, gaze fixed upwards. “Miguel.” The note of warning reminded him so much of his own father that he turned instinctively.

Imelda was standing behind where Héctor stood, her hands resting on his shoulders. They made a striking pair, he had to admit. Like something out of a Gothic romance, stark and dark and resolute. Like a painting of a king and his queen standing in judgment.

“We need to know that you can be trusted, Miguel,” Héctor said, folding his hands in front of him. “You’ve… spent a lot of time on this. And we know you never said anything when you were alive. But we need to know that that’s going to continue.”

“And if it isn’t?” Miguel asked, knowing the answer, and knowing his own. Héctor sighed again, and Miguel thought he saw Imelda’s hands tighten their grip on his shoulders.

“Then it’s the same as before, Miguel. You stay with us and we keep an eye on you until we know you understand.” Miguel blinked. “We’re not going to hurt you, Miguel,” Héctor said, sounding absurdly exasperated, as if he wasn’t talking to someone who knew exactly what he was capable of. “You’re our family. We love you, and we want you to be happy. We want you to be here, with your family. We want you to come home. But we can’t let everything this family built-”

“I’m not going to say anything.”

Héctor stuttered to a stop.

“I’m not,” Miguel said again. “I wish I was lying. I really do. I wish I never met Ernesto De La Cruz. I wish I never knew anything about all the things you’ve done. I wish…” He felt a lump form in his throat, which was so stupid because he didn’t even have one anymore, and when he spoke again, it came out a cracking croak. “I wish I could love you the way everyone else does. I wish I was going to…” Miguel whispered. Before he couldn’t bring himself to look at Héctor, but now he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He wished it didn’t feel as good as it did to finally get to talk, because it was Héctor, but Miguel had been alone for so damn long…

“I wish I was going to say something. But I’m not. Because… because I don’t want anyone else to feel the way I do. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand how dirty I feel. I couldn’t do that to anyone else. I couldn’t. I’m not…” He closed his eyes, covered his face, blotted out the horror on Papa Héctor’s face, the grief on Mama Imelda’s. “I’m not strong enough.”

“No, no, Migue, no,” Papa Héctor said, all the sternness and firmness gone like fog to sunlight, and Miguel felt him slip an arm around to pull him up into a sitting position. Papa Héctor’s hand gripped Miguel’s shoulder, pulled him closer so that he was in a half-hug, and it was enough to make Miguel shatter like so much glass.

“I just wanna go home,” he sobbed, curling into a ball against Papa Héctor’s chest. “I don’t wanna do this anymore, I don’t, I don’t-”

“It’s okay, m’ijo,” Mama Imelda’s hand touched his back, ran up and down his spine soothingly. “You don’t have to. You’ve been so strong, Migue. This isn’t weakness. It’s the right thing. You’re protecting your family. You’re home now.”

Home. With family. People who cared. People who’d loved each other.

People who’d killed for each other.

“It’s over, Miguel,” Papa Héctor said, tucking Miguel under his chin. Miguel felt Mama Imelda press closer, wrapping her arms around him and Papa Héctor both, a secure embrace. “It’s done.”

There was a time when Miguel thought that those words would be a gavel coming down. He hadn’t expected them to be a promise, aching with apology and forgiveness and love.

Papa Héctor’s hand smoothed back his hair carefully, and Miguel felt a distinctly foreign sort of drowsiness fall over him like a blanket. He relaxed by inches until he was putty in their arms, listening to Papa Héctor hum something aimless and soothing.

He wished he was stronger. He wished he had more of a backbone, more guts. He wished he was strong enough to make the hard choice, the painful choice. But really, it had never been a choice at all.

“Get some rest, Miguel.” Mama Imelda’s voice was warm and loving. “We can talk more later.”

#pixar coco #villain!au

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badgerhuan · 6 years

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Analysis for Phone Home Trailer

Here’s a quick overview of the short Phone Home (3x04) trailer/preview/promo! It can get rambly and long and possibly a lot of yelling so bear with me, haha. :’D

First of all, here’s the transcript of the news article that declares baby Ray dead:

BODY OF MISSING BOY FOUND by D. Morris

IVY TOWN - The search for missing local boy Raymond Palmer ended in tragedy yesterday when his body was discovered in the woods just a few miles from his home.

David and Sandy Palmer reported their eight year-old son missing after he failed to return home of October 31. Twenty-four hours later, a full manhunt commenced. Palmer's body was located by police dogs the afternoon of November 2nd in the woods nearby their home. Cause of death remains unknown, but damage to the body was sufficient enough to require dental identification. Ray's remaining family - parents and older brother, Sydney - were too shaken to comment. Ray attended Ivy Town Elementary, where he was named "Most Likely to Become a Particle Physicist" by his second-grade class. The community expressed shock and dismay at the news of his death. Faculty as Ivy Town Middle School have started work on a "Ray Palmer Memorial Garden," where they plan to grow Ray's favorite snack - arugula.

Friends of Palmer also express their regrets. Classmates Gus and Ty, said they were devastated. Gus explained, "He was my best friend. Also, he told us that if anything ever happened to him, he wanted us to have his video games." Ty concurred, adding, "and his action figures" before wiping away a tear.

Local law enforcement asked that anyone with knowledge of Palmer's whereabouts prior to his disappearance reach out to Ivy Town police department, as investigation into a cause of death will continue.

To start, WE FINALLY KNOW RAY’S PARENTS’ NAMES. It’s David and Sandy.

Apparently both parents are alive.

Brother mention!

THEY USED SYDNEY WITH A Y. In all official subtitles and the script it’s shown to be Sidney with an I. This is very frustrating and I’m so done with the Legends Writers Room.

At least now Sy/idney is confirmed to be older. Are they twins? Maybe. We just don’t know. Maybe the ep will shed some light on that?

It claims that Ray here is 8 year old........Ray is canonically born in 1981. In 1988 it would be impossible for him to be 8. But, oh well, I guess they forgot.

“Most Likely to Become a Particle Physicist“

WHY IS IT THE MIDDLE SCHOOL MAKING THAT MEMORIAL GARDEN, DO THE FACULTY OF THE MIDDLE SCHOOL KNOW HIM BETTER, DOES HE ALWAYS SNEAK OVER THERE BC HE'S A GENIUS?

Also I bet Gus and Ty were the bullies, wow I can't believe I'm gonna fight actual second graders for Ray Palmer.

That’s it for the article, on to the rest of the trailer.

Everyone on the team is a mixture sad and concerned at the news of baby Ray’s death.

We see a Baby Dominator hand.

We have this great shot of adorable baby Ray.

Notice the robot print comforter cover.

The DNA structure in the background.

An actual VHS player on the drawer, God bless.

This is the face of an angel.

Adult Ray is Concern(TM).

Baby Ray’s curtains are dinosaurs print.

“Little Ray“ has double meaning and I both love and hate this.

Baby Dominator is gonna try and eat adult Ray probably.

They’re also directly referencing the moon from E.T. I hate them (I love them).

Baby Ray seems wary of Zari (at least, that’s who we assume he’s looking at.)

“I’m here to save your life.“ To the point and without hesitation.

Did you know I would die for Zari Tomaz.

Because I would.

Also this is a great shot of the Air Totem.

So apparently Baby Dominator is just a hairless cat.

That was a joke.

They’re gonna do a direct parody of the E.T. autopsy scene, fantastic.

There’s a moment in the trailer that I really don’t want happening so I’m not going to give it the privilege of being screenshoted.

Apparently, Ray’s mom, Sandy, is gonna try and hit on Nate and just uggghhhh I don’t want these.

Anyway, moving on.

Angry Mama Dominator and Terrified Sara Lance.

“Awesome costumes!“

Zari is wearing something entirely white?

ARE WE GOING TO SEE HER SUPER SUIT? I REALLY HOPE WE DO.

Baby Atom is precious and needs to be protected at all cost.

That’s it for the new footage! I’m in love with the episode already, and I cannot wait for this ep to air and end my fucking life.

#legends of tomorrow #phone home #ray palmer #ruth ponders #this is gonna fall under that tag i suppose #if people like these maybe i'll do more in the future!#lot spoilers #spoilers

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bewareofchris · 7 years

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The Atomic Clusterfuck 2:00 - End

+ oh well you made a promise. lets pack our shit up guys. he made a promise! a promise cannot be broken!

+ Out of all of the shittiest plot devices and conveniences that happen in this movie, making Tony watch his parents’ murder is the shittiest. I have many things to say. So many things.

1. what fucking failure of a pathologist did this autopsy? 2. why didn't Steve or Bucky warn Tony about this as the footage queued up? Why didn't they say to him, dude Zemo has the footage of my pal killing your family? Why didn’t Steve smash the monitor? Why didn’t anyone, at any point, do anything to protect Tony from the gruesome and unnecessary reality of watching his parents die? 3. if hydra/shield got all its files dumped into the internet how has Tony not found this information out yet? 4. Why would the writers do this? Why? Why go through the charade of the accords and the pretense of a moral disagreement resulting in teammates being imprisoned and the Avengers being forever torn if you were just going to show up in the last 20 minutes and be like ahaha, no actually, we're just going to show Tony his parents being murdered. 5. Steve you better take your hand off Tony. You better just go ahead and take a minute and reassess your life. 6. but if they were banking on this moment reversing an entire movie of people rooting for Cap by giving Tony a last second justification for this fight, they miscalculated. This moment is heart-wrenching but Cap’s still the hero. Tony’s a villain here (because the movie establishes Bucky as the innocent victim and there can’t be another one of those) and it’s unfair.

+ I kind of wanted to kill Bucky too when he choked Tony's Mom. But also someone needs to take away that person's medical license because I cannot imagine that being choked to death looks the same as dying in a car accident. If this were CSI the dude with the red hair would have callously told Tony his parents were murdered like 20 years ago.

+ I can't handle Robert Downey Jr's face. God bless Evans for managing it.

+ I'd punch Steve in the head too.

+ I saw a post talking about how Tony could kill Bucky if he wanted to but he's not trying to kill him, he's trying to beat him up because he's emotionally compromised and that's a good theory but the man just tried to shoot him in the face with a missile. Then his hand light thing (repulsor?)

+ the MOVIE, the WRITERS, doesn't want Tony to kill Bucky. That's not the same thing as Tony not wanting the man dead. Like maybe as the fight goes on, Tony gets more control but he starts out full ass wanting Bucky dead.

+ "He killed my Mom." because fuck Howard.

+ Tony is not, however, trying to kill Steve. He's actively not trying to kill Steve.

+ This movie put hours of effort into getting that one shot of Tony shooting the shield. Great shot guys. It's hollow. It's stupid.

+ T'Challa, all you wanted was to kill Bucky until you suddenly gained wisdom by being 100% done with watching some white american dudes beat each other up. You were all about vengeance and now you're like: whoa, wait a minute. Maybe I'm not crazy as fuck like these unstable motherfuckers.

+ Fuck you Zemo. Fuck your motivation, your backstory, your everything.

+ The living are not done with you yet is literally the best line of the whole movie.

+ See if Tony were capable of using lethal force on Steve he could have killed him, because unlike Bucky who was off-center of the chest beam, Steve was right there.

+ Tony, nobody and nothing means as much to Steve as Bucky. Not anything. He's had 3 moves to establish this.

+ Steve just kicked Bucky in the face with the Iron Man suit, Bucky's Dead.

+ What a cheap, hollow, soulless shot you got there with Steve crushing the arc reactor and Tony being literally afraid for his life.

+ Tony shouting about the Sheild is like a kid on the playground who just lost at tag shouting 'no you didn’t tag me' on repeat while the rest of the group goes to play on the swings instead because the whiny kid is annoying.

+ Martin Freeman is just pissy because he didn't realize you were impersonating someone else. He's sore because you had that whole conversation about the Hobbit acting like you were pals but he found out in fact you weren't the same guy he invited to dinner last week but a TOTALLY DIFFERENT DUDE and now he's going to overcompensate and try to act badass but he's Martin Freeman so its difficult.

+ I'm glad Rhodey, the only person who ever believably thought the Accords were a good idea so we can see the look on Tony's face as you realize that he never did agree before and now that he's broken the Accords outright, has no chance of really agreeing.

+ ...are you Tony Stank? Steve. Steve your hand writing sucks.

+ Steve: "now that I've clearly emerged from this movie as the hero, I'm going to voice-over an apology letter that lets you and the audience know that I really am the American Hero. The lone cowboy type in the spangly outfit that effortlessly defends the ideals of America (arrogance, ego centrism, global domination with a smile). While I act the shit out of this apology letter, I'll be doing a montage sort of thing to show that I'm such a badass good friend and leader that I broke into a prison that's UNDER WATER to save my pals. And I did it alone. Like a lone ranger. And maybe T'Challa helped but MOSTLY IT WAS ME. Look at me grin at my pal Sam. See I like Sam, but I don't like you. But I'm going to say sorry I never told you about your parents because you found out and it hurts my image as the perfect American Dreamsicle. I'm sorry, Tony. I was never going to bang you. It was always Bucky for me. Bucky and Peggy and then Sharon and maybe Sam. I'd do Natasha once or twice but never you, Tony. Never you. You're old. And I liked Howard better. Howard liked Fondue and he was a Good Guy unlike you. You're a piece of shit, Tony. Sorry about your Mom. Also I'm such an upright dude that I'll go ahead and give you this phone to imply you're incapable of finding or contacting me without this piece of shit. And I'll show up if you call, if I answer. Truth is I'm old and out of time, I don't even know if that is a phone. I just talk to the magic voice emanating from my hearing aid. Hearing aids are great! They help hard of hearing folks and they connect me to my team. You don’t have one because you’re not part of the team. Anyway, I'm hanging with my new pal T'Challa, he was your pal but he knows I'm morally righteous now and we hang out all day. I'd bang him too. But not you, Tony. Not You."

+ T'Challa's entire staff/family: wait you were going to kill this man but now we're sticking him in the deep freezer because he's an ok guy? T'Challa: I've been through an entire arc of character development that happened entirely off camera and emerged a wiser, better man.

+ The needlessness of half the plot in this movie is infuriating beyond measure. But hey, it’s still selling movie tickets.

#MCU Rewatch #The Atomic Clusterfuck #I'm so angry #at this movie #but now I'm done #I haven't seen Homecoming so it can't be a Rewatch

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rey-of-luke · 7 years

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set a different course (and see where it takes us): Tate x Violet AU

{ AO3: [x] FF.net [x] }

Chapter 1:

A knock on the door broke through the sound of Nirvana blaring in her ears. Violet entertained the idea of feigning ignorance and letting her dad - or whoever it was - bang on the door a little longer.

“Violet.” So it was her dad. “We need to talk.”

She let the song finish before pulling the ear buds out and walking to the door. Throwing it open she found her dad had his hand raised to knock again.

“Can you come downstairs?” He asked. “There’s something your mom and I need to tell you.”

“Let’s me guess: you two are getting a divorce,” she replied, crossing her arms. The teen had known this was coming - no matter how hard her parents tried to move past her dad's infidelity, they kept relapsing back into fights and arguments.

Ben Harmon opened his mouth and closed it. Violet knew she was right.

She moved to close the door but the man wedged his foot in between. “We need to talk about custody,” he said quickly.

“Easy. I'm living with mom.”

“Vio-”

The door cut off the rest of her dad's reply.

Violet sat in the passenger seat, staring darkly at the passing California landscape. The divorce, custody, everything had been decided a month ago. And unfortunately, because neither parent was willing to give up custody rights, she was being forced to spend the school year with her dad and summers with her mom. Holidays and school breaks would alternate.

As if that wasn't bad enough, her dad bought some house across the country and were moving the two of them there for “a chance to start over”.

She kept her headphones in the entire ride from Boston to LA, turning the music up when her dad tried to speak to her. Eventually the man gave up trying.

They pulled off the highway and drove down a few streets until they pulled up outside a large Victorian-esque house.

A car - presumably belonging to the realtor, who had some things to tell them about their new home- was already parked.

Her dad got out first and immediately went to greet the realtor. Violet followed more slowly, pulling her earbuds out finally and shutting her iPod off.

She took in the house as she walked up the walkway. It was nice - way too nice for her dad to be able to afford it without some severe drawback. That piqued her curiosity, and she hurried to catch up with her dad and the realtor.

Inside was just as fancy looking as the outside, and the teen felt an immediate dislike for it.

“Before I officially put this sold sign out,” the realtor began after shutting the door behind them. “I'm required to give full disclosure of any deaths within the past three years.” She paused to take a deep breath. “The previous owners died in this house - murder suicide, according to the autopsies.”

Violet found herself liking the house suddenly. Her dad had chosen it because it would give the illusion of a semi perfect family - yet the house's history was far from it.

For the first time since they left Boston, she spoke. “I like it.” Not that she had a feeling her opinion held any weight - her dad had already put practically everything into this move, this house, already.

Though he looked wary, he told the realtor they would still take the place.

She helped unpack the car before she went to check out the rooms and find one she liked.

The rest of the house had the same clean, ornate furnishing - except for one room on the third floor.

The walls were a dull green color and the only ornate type of things were the brass bed and the chalkboard on the opposite wall.

Immediately she knew that this was the room she was choosing.

“I found my room,” she announced as she headed back downstairs. She grabbed the first few boxes with her name on it and hauled them upstairs.

She should have known her cold shoulder treatment was going to end the first opportunity her dad got. Which, of course, came up over dinner.

Because they hadn’t had a chance to stock the fridge yet, they had ordered pizza. Violet had been hoping she could at least grab her slices before the man broached the subject, but as her hands were reaching for the box, the lid slammed shut.

“I’m not opening this until we talk,” Ben said firmly. “It’s not healthy for you to keep all of this bottled up inside you, Violet.”

Violet let her hand drop. “What is there to talk about? How all of this is your fault because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants?”

The elder Harmon sighed in exasperation. “I made a mistake, Violet, I know. And I’m sorry. But I want to move past that - we have a chance to start over here. The two of us.”

The part of her that was still a little girl that trusted her dad with everything in her being - they used to be so close before shit hit the fan - reared up at that, urging her to accept the olive branch he was offering her. But then she remembered the past few months and shoved that desire far down inside.

“I’m not hungry,” she said, turning to head upstairs.

She couldn’t completely stop the twinge of guilt though.

A new family had moved in. A father and daughter, this time. After years, there was finally going to be fresh blood in the house. It made the occupants restless - most of them, anyway. For his part, Tate chose to stay in the dark corner of the basement he’d claimed as “his” over the years.

His only interest in the family would be to fulfill his promise to Nora- otherwise, he found he didn't care much. He gave them a few weeks before they left - no one stayed long lately.

“Spending so much time down here isn't a good thing,” a voice said.

He turned to face Moira. Him and the redhead maid had an...interesting relationship. They both absolutely despised Constance, and that had originally been the basis of their relationship - bonding over mutual hate.

Now, over a decade later, the relationship had evolved to something resembling mother-son. Or so he assumed- he didn't really know what that felt like.

“They're not going to last long,” he replied, shrugging.

“They might,” the older woman countered. “The daughter’s around your age,” she added.

He looked up. “I thought you didn't approve of my promise.”

“I don’t,” Moira told him. “But if you have to do it, better someone closer to your age. You teens are so damn horny consent will be easy.”

Tate thought it over. It did make sense - get close to the girl, seduce her, screw her, then take the baby.

“Ok,” the blonde answered.

He missed the satisfied look on Moira’s face as she turned away.

Violet did her best to continue avoiding her dad the rest of the weekend. She succeeded for the most part. Apparently he had gotten the message she still needed space and let her be.

She was currently outside, puffing on a cigarette, lost in her own head when a voice brought her back to reality.

“You’re going to die in there, you know.”

She whirled around to find a girl staring at her. The girl was shorter than her, with dark hair.

“What?” She asked.

The girl opened her mouth but was cut off by another voice.

“Addy? Addy, there you are!”

An older woman came into view - the girl's mother Violet was assuming. Unlike her daughter though she had blonde hair and an accent that sounded southern.

“I put Dora on for you,” she told the girl. She turned to Violet. “I'm sorry, she has a habit of wandering over here. This house has been unoccupied for a few years now.”

“It’s fine,” the teen replied. Creepy first words aside, she doubted the girl posed too much threat.

“I’m Constance Langdon, by the way. This is my daughter Adelaide. We live next door.”

“Violet.”

“Well, Violet, it was nice to meet you. We should let you guys get settled,” Constance said, grabbing Adelaide’s shoulder and turning presumably in the direction of their house.

She sat out there long enough to finish her cigarette and went back inside.

Inside she found her dad standing in the kitchen with a redheaded older woman in a maid uniform.

Her first thought was that this was some weird, kinky thing her dad was into and that he knew no bounds - way too young or way too old, he didn't care.

As if reading her mind the man quickly spoke up.

“Violet, this is Moira. She's going to be helping around the house. Moira, this is my daughter Violet.”

So her dad wasn't screwing her. Thank god, she thought.

The redhead extended her hand. Violet took it. “It’s nice to meet you,” the woman said.

“Likewise,” the girl replied. Turning to her dad, she added, “I'll be upstairs.”

It turns out the man was a doctor - some sort of psychiatrist. Perfect. No one would deny Tate needed to talk to someone about his...tendencies. And through the doctor he'd get access to the girl.

Not immediately though. He needed to establish something with the man before he went “poking around”. Though he knew the house inside and out and was already plotting on how to “run into” the girl.

The girl would be at school currently, and he had to feel a stab of sympathy for her. High school sucked - especially Westfield. From what he'd observed of the girl, it wouldn't be easy for her.

He fed the man some bullshit story about preparing for a “noble war” that turned into a slight rant about how much he despised the world. The session ended soon after that, with the doctor barely blinking an eye at the things he said.

Tate let the door closed behind him before he phased into the basement. He figured he'd go through one more session before approaching the girl.

Bored, he decided to search for Moira...only to find her in the process of attempting to seduce Ben Harmon. He'd give the man credit - he was doing a good job of resisting.

The blonde quickly left them to it, and decided to explore the girl's room. On the way though he noticed the adjacent bathroom door was open and the girl was inside.

He decided he could start his plan ahead of schedule - the sooner he got started, the sooner his promise would be fulfilled. As he got closer - still keeping himself invisible - he noticed she dragged something across her wrist. Bright red blood followed, dripping onto the counter.

Well, that was different. She hadn't been in this house long enough for it to start messing with her psyche, meaning she was fully in control of her actions. As far as he knew, she was the first “damaged” person to move in in years. He suddenly was more interested in going through with the plan.

“You’re doing it wrong. If you’re trying to kill yourself, cut vertically. They can’t stitch that up,” he said, becoming visible and leaning against the doorway. She spun around, one hand reaching to cover her wrist, a mixture of fear and surprise crossing her face.

“How’d you get in here?” She asked, confused and slightly embarrassed.

He ignored her question, just smirking at her and stepping back, pulling the door with him. “One more thing: if you’re trying to kill yourself, try locking the door next time.”

The door shut.

Violet stared at the door for awhile after it shut. Some stranger had spied on her as she cut - and they hadn’t tried to stop her. Instead, they’d actually given her advice - how fucked up was that? Never mind the fact that she had no idea how the boy had gotten into her house. Or what he was doing here in the first place.

She knew it was stupid leaving the door open - normally she made sure it was at least shut while she was doing it - but school had been hell. Like she’d anticipated. Of course the queen bitch of the school had zeroed in on her to target as soon as she’d showed up, a cigarette in her mouth.

Her only thought when she had gotten home was to find some relief - something she’d been doing more often after her dad’s infidelity was revealed - and that single-minded thought had led to her getting caught.

The teen wouldn’t lie - the strange boy piqued her curiosity. Most people, upon seeing another human being self-mutilating, would try to stop the person - not stand by, much less tell them how to do it.

It seems there might still be some things to spark her interest after all these months.

{If anyone’s willing to beta this I’ll be forever grateful - I’m looking everywhere}

#tate x violet #violate #tate langdon #violet harmon #violet x tate #ahs #ahs: murder house #otp: you're the only light i've ever known #my writing #set a different course (and see where it takes us)#violate au

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