#wish there was footage like this everywhere she went | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

r2d2records · 5 months

Text

Record #1

Even before that fateful night when everything had begun, I had noticed some changes to my master. One of these changes wasn’t readily apparent to anyone else.

I had been with him during the day before we were planning to leave Endor. We were both inside the hut that the Ewoks had prepared for us. As part of his shirt had been torn, the princess had provided him with another. It was when he went to put it on that I first became aware of the marks: strange, jagged, red patterns that surrounded the front of his waist and part of his right arm, above the electronic hand. I couldn’t recall at first where I had seen something like that, so I searched my memory diligently. I wasn’t immediately able to find the data.

I asked him what they were, but he didn’t answer me. He seemed preoccupied with wandering around the room, so I placed myself in his path, and repeated the question. He can’t always understand everything I say, so I wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed my question. He ignored me again. Now I was beginning to get upset. My master always listens to me.

At that moment, there came a knock at the door. It was the princess. They left together, and I was forced to hurry to avoid being left behind.

I watched him closely for the rest of the day, but everything seemed to be all right. Captain Solo was scheduled to return that evening, and things seemed to be returning to a kind of normal.

I met my friend near the end of the day. I didn’t tell him about the marks, because he tends to blow everything out of proportion.

“I’m glad we’re leaving, tomorrow,” he said, “Though, I’ve grown rather fond of Endor.”

I told him that it was just because he enjoyed the Ewoks treating him like the god he already thought he was.

“Don’t be absurd! But, I will miss them. They’ve been quite hospitable,” he said.

While we were talking, there was a bright flash of lightning in the sky. The bolt forked across the darkness, causing the dark sky over the forest to turn bright blue for a moment.

“Just what we need—come on, R2,” my friend said. He began to head back to the village.

I stayed where I was, watching the sky. I replayed the footage of the lightning as it streaked across the sky. Then, I searched my memory further. Of course. Those marks looked like the patterns that lightning makes when it strikes the ground.

My friend hesitated, and turned back to me.

“Oh, do come on, won’t you!” he called.

I told him that I’d come when I felt like it, thank you very much.

“Have it your way. I’m certainly not going to wait out here for you, and risk becoming a lightning rod,” he said.

I wanted to respond with a sarcastic comment, but at that moment I saw the princess and my master heading back towards the village from somewhere in the forest. I hurried to meet them. They seemed to be in good spirits, which put me at ease.

“She sounds very nice,” the princess was saying.

“She was,” my master said, “There was this time when I borrowed Uncle Owen’s best toolkit without asking, and lost it. She and I looked everywhere for it. We turned the place upside down, and still didn’t find it.”

The princess laughed. “Was he mad?” she asked.

“Well—she ended up buying him a new one, so he wouldn’t find out,” my master added, sheepishly, “but, we forgot that his kit was missing the fourth calibrator, so he found out anyway.”

They stopped walking just below the village. Above us, Bright Tree Village was a bustle of activity as the Ewoks prepared for the coming storm. The princess looked up at them, then back at my master.

“I wish I could have met her,” she said.

Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky. The princess looked towards it, then at my master. “I should go. Get some sleep,” she said.

I thought that my master looked like he wanted to say something. He hesitated, and she started to walk away.

“Leia?” he said.

She paused.

“You too,” he said.

She smiled, and headed for one of the rope ladders. I watched her leave. Then, I followed my master up to our room.

During the night, a loud noise reached my audio sensors, bringing me out of low-power mode. I looked around the room, and realized that my master was gone. I wondered if he could have gone to see the princess, so I hurried out of the hut.

When I reached the hut where the princess was staying, the lights were on, and she was awake. I remembered her saying that she was going to stay awake until Captain Solo arrived. When I entered, I found her and Captain Solo. It seemed that he had just returned. The princess seemed upset. At least, that’s what I assumed from seeing her aiming a blaster at him that was hopefully set to ‘stun’.

“You really don’t change, do you?” she was saying.

Captain Solo laughed nervously, and moved the tip of the blaster away from him. “Let’s talk about this calmly—“ he began.

“Calmly?” the princess asked.

I asked the princess if she had seen my master. She didn’t respond.

“Fine,” she continued, “Let’s talk calmly. How many?”

“How many?” Captain Solo asked.

“How many shipments did you smuggle on your way here?” the princess asked, with a tremendous effort at patience.

“Smuggle?” Captain Solo asked, sounding surprised, “Hey, now… You don’t think that I would—“

She gave him a glare that cut his sentence short. Captain Solo took her hands in his, slyly using it as an opportunity to remove the blaster from them. “I’m just taking a small job, from a respectable gentleman,” Captain Solo said, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

The princess didn’t sound convinced. “I’m not going to have to rescue you from this ‘respectable gentleman’?” she asked.

“No, no,” Captain Solo said, “Of course not.”

“You’re not going to get arrested?” the princess asked.

“I’m a new man,” Captain Solo promised. He bent forward and gave her a kiss. She suddenly looked alarmed, and stepped back.

“Leia—“ Captain Solo began. He paused, noticing her expression. “What is it?”

“Luke,” the princess said quietly, a far-away look in her eyes. She turned to me abruptly, “Where is Luke?”

The next instant, the three of us were outside, searching the forest near Bright Tree Village. As we headed deeper into the trees, Captain Solo paused.

“Are you sure he’s not in the village?” Captain Solo asked.

“No,” the princess said. She turned to face me. “He didn’t say anything?”

I said no. I had been in low-power mode for the night, so I didn’t even have a visual recording of him leaving.

Just then, thunder rolled above us. Captain Solo looked at the sky, nervously.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he said. “Let’s get back before the storm—“ he noticed the princess had frozen, her eyes wide. “What is it?” he asked.

The princess pointed to something in the distant darkness.

At first, it was impossible to see in the darkness. Then, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. My master was at the top of the ridge overlooking the area of forest where the Millennium Falcon was. He had his right hand stretched towards the forest.

A strange, cracking sound reached my audio-sensors. I looked towards the source of the sound, and saw one of the large trees beginning to shake.

Look out! I warned the princess. Captain Solo grabbed her by the arm, and they both fell to the ground, as the tree lurched towards them. After a second, they both looked up, to see the tree suspended in midair.

Before we had time to recover, a second tree soared skyward. Then another. We were surrounded by several floating trees, their long roots showering the ground with dirt. Everything seemed to be frozen in time.

“Do you hear something?” Captain Solo asked. The princess looked towards the ridge. He looked back towards the ship, and gave an exclamation that I refuse to record.

Behind us, the Millennium Falcon had risen several feet into the air, and was continuing to rise, unsteadily. It lurched to one side abruptly, causing Captain Solo to swear again.

“I don’t think she’s insured against… whatever this is,” Captain Solo said, faintly, “Leia—Leia!” He added, alarmed. The princess had begun to climb the base of the ridge. I tried to follow, but the incline was too steep. I looked around quickly for another way, and discovered a small path upwards through the trees. I called the princess to direct her to the path, but she was already halfway up the ridge.

Just as I reached the top of the trees, and was in sight of the ridge, I heard my master give a cry. I saw one of the red marks, visible at the edge of his arm, turn white. He suddenly collapsed.

I heard a sound, and turned to see one of the trees fall to the ground. Then another. I couldn’t see Captain Solo clearly. Then, I saw him in the distance, his hands on his head, staring in horror as the Millennium Falcon began its sudden descent.

I gave a low whistle, and wanted to look away. Then, I noticed the ship halt in midair. The princess stood at the top of the ridge, her hand shaking. She had a look of intense concentration.

“How are you doing that?” Captain Solo called from below.

“Shut up!” she called back. The ship hovered close to the ground for a moment.

And then, it flipped upside down, and landed on the ground.

I ignored Captain Solo’s cries, and raced to join her. She ran the rest of the way to where my master was, and knelt down on the ground next to him.

“Luke! Wake up—“ she began.

It was clear that he was in pain, but he didn’t respond to her voice. I asked her if she wanted me to go and get help. She didn’t seem to hear me. She was looking over me, towards the forest. Her mouth moved like she was trying to say something.

“General Kenobi,” she said at last.

The storm broke.

#star wars #fanfiction #return of the jedi #r2d2 #luke skywalker #r2d2records

0 notes

atlanticcanada · 2 years

Text

'I fear for the world': Wrongfully-convicted Newfoundland man speaks out against his mother's killer

Greg Parsons sits across from me at a dining room table in downtown St. John’s, Newfoundland.

He flips through a large family photo album, the old-fashioned kind with plastic-covered pages that protect the photos inside.

The album holds no happy memories. Instead, it is page after page of pain and suffering.

Greg Parsons has spent decades trying to make sense of the time the photos represent. It's a time of unfulfilled justice. A time he wishes he could forget.

In 1991, when he was just 19 years old, Greg discovered his mother’s brutalized body in the bathroom of her apartment. Catherine Carroll had been slashed and stabbed 53 times. W5 has the audio recording of the desperate call he made to 911.

“My mother…she’s dead. She’s just on the bathroom floor. Oh my God…there’s blood everywhere."

It should have been the worst day of Greg’s life. The fact that it wasn’t gives you an idea of just how much this man has endured.

The photo album Greg is showing me is filled with crime scene photos: His mother’s apartment, meticulously documented from every angle. The gruesome photos of what Greg saw that morning in the bathroom. His partially clothed mother -- her body twisted, her face unrecognizable. And so much blood.

Greg Parsons has saved it all, along with stacks of documents, maps, transcripts and computer files for what has become a decades-long battle to get justice for his mother. And for himself.

His story, a labyrinth of twists and wrong turns, is the subject of a W5 one-hour special. We have unearthed hours of archival footage, viewed secretly-recorded police stings and interviewed key players in a saga that began 31 years ago and continues to this day.

On January 10, 1991 -- eight days after finding his mother’s body -- Greg Parsons was charged with her murder. He was convicted in a trial that focused largely on gossip and a song that Greg and some of his friends had written called “Kill Your Parents.”

It would take years for science to clear him and to catch the real killer -- a man named Brian Doyle -- once Greg’s good friend.

Greg Parsons says the justice system failed his mother, firstly for wrongfully convicting her own son, and secondly for allowing the real murderer, Brian Doyle, to plead guilty to a lesser charge of second degree murder.

In 2003, Doyle was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole for 18 years, a sentence he unsuccessfully tried to have reduced.

Greg believes there was ample evidence that the crime was premediated and sexual in nature and that Doyle should have gone to trial on a charge of first degree murder.

That evidence comes in the form of a secret recording of Brian Doyle during an undercover police sting where Doyle is seen callously bragging about the killing. In the video he describes sneaking out of a party unnoticed wearing someone else's shoes and returning to the party after committing the crime.

Parsons says a retired police officer gave him the videotapes about seven years ago but he couldn’t bring himself to watch them until he was preparing for Doyle's first parole hearing, four years ago:

“I was like, oh my God, I can’t believe what I am looking at. I can’t believe the lengths…the Crown’s office went through to manufacture me as the murderer and here they’ve got the guy with motive, means, opportunity and meticulous planning…and he was given a sweetheart deal for second degree murder.”

Because there was no trial, the tapes have never been entered into evidence. W5’s documentary will be the first time the Canadian public will see the video.

Brian Doyle has served 20 years behind bars. In 2020 he was granted day parole, but it was revoked the following year after he failed to disclose a relationship to his parole officer.

In August, 2022, Doyle was back before the parole board, where, for the first time, he acknowledged that the crime was sexually motivated, telling the hearing it was “sexual rejection” that triggered his rage.

The board granted Doyle a conditional release to take part in a three-month rehabilitation program. If successful, Doyle will then, again, be able to apply for full parole.

For Greg Parsons, it’s a never-ending nightmare. Surrounded by decades of evidence, he tells me: “I fear for the world because he’s a manipulative, pathological liar. He has not been rehabilitated. He never got properly punished for his crime. He’s not going to be out for more than a year and he’ll be back in. And I hope it’s not for murder or rape. I don’t want to be the person to say 'I told you so'.”

Watch W5’s documentary 'The Murderer’s Best Friend' on Saturday at 7pm on CTV

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/1fPTVxC

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

1 note · View note

justice4daisyjohnson · 3 years

Text

sober

𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summery: you’ll have to face the truth eventually, right?

word count: 1151

part 2; drunk and in love

you sat in a room with over 500 people in. the black widow promo was expected to be big already but with the amount of interviews you have gone through, you wished it was smaller.

but, your saving grace, florence, made it 100x better.

she also would start getting bored while they give scarlett and the writer millions of questions.

she would slide tic tac toe games to you with the paper they provided in the interviews.

you would smile and play with her. eventually, florence would get a question, and then get all flustered because they caught her off guard.

you laughed at her and she would mutter a shut up to you which only made you laugh more.

fans got a hold of this footage and started shipping you two.

although you knew florence loved you very much, you knew it wasn't to that level.

you did though, and dreamed of being with her but you knew that wasn't the case at hand.

eventually you two became a big subject in the fandom.

the fans would gush over you two as you go to lunch, parties and had little museum dates.

when florence would post you, her dms would be flooded with messages about you two getting together.

ever since you two met at the table read for black widow, you've been attached by the hip.

eventually, it became a running joke for the cast.

scarlett would tease you two about it and when the interview would start getting uncomfortable, rachel would turn the attention to you two, knowing florence and you wouldn't mind as you two just laughed along with them.

after a while, scarlett came up to you and started questioning when you were going to ask florence out.

"what do you mean?" you tilted your head at her, something florence thought you did adorably.

"what do you mean what do i mean-"

"that makes no sense"

"shut up. don't deny you don't like her because i know you do"

you sigh and rub your head, knowing you've been caught and now have to talk about how miserably in love you were with florence.

"look, i do okay? but don't say anything to her-"

"she likes you back"

"don't joke about this scarlett" you groan.

"look i know you two are in denial but you would be great together! you're already have so much chemistry off and on screen"

you shook your head at scarlett and she rolled her eyes at you for being so stubborn.

you both continued with your lives. you ocassionally met up and talked on the phone after the black widow premiere, but it wasn't the same and you could tell.

something was bothering florence.

you decided not to comment on it, thinking it would remind her about whatever was going on.

after over a year of the black widow release, you were in a flower shop in new york.

you knew florence was in the city, but you haven't talked in so long you were worried it wouldn't be right.

you continued your trip, going to set and finishing up your movie.

florence saw paparazzi picture of you around the city with some friends, smiling.

she set out to find you, she found the set you were filming in from your manager

you were walking out of your lobby when someone jumped in your face with a camera. your mind went immediately to paparazzis, but the flash of blonde hair made your cheeks glow and your knees weak.

“flo!” you gasped and attacked the women in a tight hug.

no doubt the next day, pictures of florence jumping in front of you and acting like paparazzi were everywhere.

after month of no pictures of you two together, the fans went crazy.

since florence hasn’t seen you in a long time, she invited you to drinks that same night, and you can never say no to florence. not when she gives you the pout and the puppy dog eyes.

you spotted florence at a booth when she shouted your name and immediately retracted, now that she has eyes on her from others in the restaurant. you swallowed a laugh on your way to her, giving her a smirk when you pull from her hug.

“ass” she says, rolling her eyes.

you don’t remember how you got to the top of a hotel building.

all you remember is a couple drinks, then a cab, then the sentence “trust me you’ll love it” rang in your head.

you could see the whole city from your view.

you were leaning on the railing, sitting down but your feet swinging off the building, florence had her head resting on your chest as you swayed.

“i love you a lot, did you know that?” florence slurred, but you understood her well.

“i love you too flo” you responded, not thinking anything of.

“no, i’m being for real” you giggled at her choice of words, knowing sober florence well.

she narrowed her eyes at you and you zipped your lips.

“sorry, as you were saying” you say, resting your hands on hers, she tightened her hold.

suddenly, her posture fell.

“i’m in love with you, y/n/n”

you’ve waited over two years for those words to fall out of florence’s mouth, but you can’t help but cringe when you first hear it.

time for bed, you think. it’s gotten way too far.

“o-kay, i think we should head on out” you stand to balance your weight and pull florence up when you’re positive you won’t stumble.

she falls on you and you hold her against your chest.

“i’ve always loved you” you see the tears collecting in her eyes.

she’s drunk. don’t take advantage.

“c’mon, you can crash at my place” you take her hand and she stumbles a little while getting into the cab.

eventually, you find yourself changing into more comfortable clothes, you’ve sobered between the city view and florence love confession.

as soon as you walked through the door of your place, you gave florence water and a change of comfortable clothes to sleep in.

you were walking out the room when you heard florence ask you to stay. you two would do this all the time. cuddle in bed and wait for the sun to rise with long talks that you would sacrifice anything for.

you climbed into bed and florence immediately latched on,

“goodnight, y/n. i love you”

“goodnight flo” you run your fingers through her hair and try your best to fall asleep.

in the morning you woke up to an empty bed. rubbing your eyes, you find a note with flower placed delicately on top.

you open it and already figured it was florence, but what she wrote knocked the air out of you

i meant what i said last night,

call me when you’re ready to talk

xx, flo

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x you #yelena #marvel #yelena belova #yelena belova fanfiction #black widow #black widow imagine #florence pugh blurb #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh imagine #yelena my beloved #yelena belova x female reader

425 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time). big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights for this specific imagery

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado.

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right.

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch.

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation.

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

[email protected] just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song.

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries.

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons.

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him.

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough.

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second.

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?”

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red.

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles.

A small smirk makes its way onto your face.

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there.

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them.

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground.

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder.

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats.

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand.

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under.

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place. He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it.

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt.

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then.

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower.

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place.

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them.

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.”

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine.

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack.

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door.

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind.

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel.

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited.

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist.

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest.

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.”

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment.

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind.

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.”

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing.

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly.

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this.

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

922 notes · View notes

nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Reader- 27 (Part 2)

Hey beautiful people! SOOOO I got a comment on my last Scream imagine and they said...

ok but like a part 2 where we go picking them all off one by one and tell them what happened to (y/n) before we end them? and the revenge on the parents for it too? make them feel sorry for what they did and expose them to everyone. I mean not forcing but lightly tapping an idea

and....I AM IN LOVE...SO I GOT YOU BRAH

READ PART 1?

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Okay so you know the drill, I will let you know when to proceed with caution.

LEGGO!

... (Picking up directly after the events of part 1)

“...My parents weren’t the most loving people around.” you stared down at your fingertips. “They were overbearing...very controlling...loved to gaslight me from time to time.” you felt a lump form in your throat. “After the Hanna thing, they tried to sent me to boarding school.”

You three sat in Stu’s basement. You sat cross-legged on the floor and Stu and Billy cleaned up the dead body. Stu had given you a rag to wipe the blood off your face and hands.

“A while back before we all met...my parents weren’t too bad. Then Hanna came along and decided to ruin that for me too. She and her friends dragged me into the woods and beat me up...I was bleeding out everywhere...she told my parents I attacked her...she told them that I-..That I tried to kill her.” you shook your head. “My parents never looked at me the same...like they disowned me without saying they did.” you sniffed.

“What about the others?” Billy ceased his activities to stare at you. He was impressed how well you seemed to be taking everything.

“ Dylan leaked my friend’s nudes, Jennifer is Hanna’s slave...she was Hanna Number 2 when she couldn’t torture anyone else. Rachel....I just hate Rachel, and Cameron...is my ex.” you explained. “There are others...many others.” you seethed.

“And we’ll get to all of them.” Stu finished his job of tying Hanna’s legs together. “But first...how do you feel?”

“Like I just killed someone.” you half-joked, bringing your knees to your chest. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“We didn’t want to scare you.” Billy reminded you. “We know how you are Y/N.”

“Still.” you pouted. “It would have been nice to know that you two were behind all this.” you stared at the floor. “Why didn’t you guys...y’know-”

“We wanted to...” Billy dusted himself off. “We tried...then you just had to charm us with that smile of yours.” he bit his lip as he smiled at the thought. “You just had to go and be adorable.”

There he was, standing with Stu hunched over a notebook of possible victims. They had agreed you’d be next, they really did. They had introduced themselves to you and gained your trust, but along the way, your kindness, your willingness to be so vulnerable around then...accepting them (especially Billy) for their flaws, they couldn’t...they wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” you asked, standing to your feet.

“Not unless you know a place to dump this body.” Billy replied.

“There’s a lake behind Hanna’s house...” you recalled. “I saw it when my parents used to go over there for dinner.”

“Great!” Stu skipped over and took you in a hug. “So who do you wanna get first?”

“Me? You’re letting me choose?” you stared up at Stu who swore up and down you looked the most adorable you ever have, if that was even possible.

“This is your list, isn’t it?” Billy casually strode over. He tilted your chin up at him. “Just let us take care of it.”

“...Dylan first.” you concluded. “It’s for my friend...he has to go.” you asserted.

“As you wish princess.”

...(The Next Day)

You trudged away from your parent’s car, doing your usual habits of ignoring them as they saw you off. You saw Billy and Stu waiting for you on some benches. They glared behind you, obviously getting a good look of your parents.

“Hey cutie.” Stu threw himself at you, hugging you super tight. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shitty...” you mumbled. “Guess who just caught word of Hannas’s...untimely demise.”

“Serves the bitch right.” Billy flicked his middle finger at your parents as they drove off. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dylan throwing around a football with his friends. His gaze darted in your direction. He looked surprised to see you and Stu so close, so much so that he hesitated to throw the ball back to his friends. “Hey asshole, you got your turn. Hand her over.” Billy flicked Stu on the head as he pulled your out of Stu’s embrace.

“Oh you’re no fun.” Stu laughed, waving him off. Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest and gingerly trailing his fingers down your back.

“Hey Y/N...”

You paused your momentary happy moment when Dylan came jogging up. You pulled away from Billy and faced your friend’s ex-boyfriend. “What?”

“Um...Hey.” he did that douche-bag hair flip. “What’s up?”

“I’m just spectacular.” you grimaced. He was really talking to you like he wasn’t the reason your only other friend switched schools. “Need something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to invite you to my party tonight.”

‘I’d rather-” you began, only to realize the mega opportunity you’d receive.

“Are your other friends coming?” you shifted all your weight to one side and pretended to absentmindedly twirl your hair.

“Um...Y-yeah.” he nodded.

“Can my friends come?” you acted oblivious and dumb, the only language he and his friends seemed to understand when it came to women.

“Sure. They can come join the fun.” he winked. “Tonight, 8:00 o’clock.”

“Splendid, you winked. I’ll be there.”

As Dylan returned to his friends, all of them laughing about the joke they thought you didn’t understand, Billy and Stu stood at your sides.

“You’re killer is showing, love.” Stu kissed the side of your head. “Easy now.” he laughed, even though he knew he was talking complete bullshit.

“I’m gonna have so much fun slitting that one’s throat.” Billy pointed to Rachel. “This is gonna be awesome.”

...(That Night)

You had managed to make it a few hours. Without completely losing your mind. Billy had taken it upon himself to put up him brooding angst-filled sadboi attitude and Stu showed up in his honorary pimp robe.

Now you all were sitting in a circle, playing stupid games.

“Y/N...truth or dare?” Jennifer called on you next, noticing how quiet you had been.

“Kiss, Fuck, Or Kill. Stu Macher, Cameron Kent, and Dylan Bayle.”

With a bored grin, you looked her right in the eye. She dared you to say you would fuck her boyfriend, little does she know...

“I guess I’d have to kiss Cameron...” you began warmly, recalling how you two used to date. Gross... “And as much as I love pissing you off...I wouldn’t touch Dylan with a ten foot pole...so I’d have sex with Stu.”

A few wolf whistles from the guy chorused around the circle as a few guys pat Stu on the back. Your eyes looked over at Stu whose cheeks were tinted pink. He shot you a smile and a quick wink.

“And you know what that leaves?...I’d kill Dylan.” you smirked, only to put on a front again. Before anyone could say anything else, you all heard a phone ring. Coincidentally, the phone was right next to you.

“Y/N, get that will you. Put it on speaker.”

“I got you.” you grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” you replied.

“I dunno...”

“Sure buddy.” you rolled your eyes as you hung up.

“Okay! Dylan!” Rachel drunkenly asked. “Truth or Dare!”

“Dare baby!” Dylan laughed.

“I dare you to go into the bedroom with Y/N and do something with her!” she laughed. “You can’t leave until you do something!”

“Did anyone ask my opinion on this?” you felt disgusted as the words left your mouth. How much longer were you gonna have to put up with this? “Stu, help me out!”

“A dare’s a dare, babe.” he laughed as he took another swig of whatever.

“Ugh!!” you grimaced as you stood up and followed Dylan. You made sure to lightly bump your shoulder against Stu’s as you walked. You two looked eyes momentarily, sharing a discrete smirk between eachother.

The door closed behind you. (PROCEED WITH CAUTION! READ MORE BELOW THE LINE BREAK)

...

You stood there, playing with your fingers as Dylan came up to you.

“You know Y/N...I’ve always liked you.”

“Oh really?” you asked shyly. “W-well why didn’t you tell me?” you half giggled half gagged.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” he reached out to touch your cheek.

Meanwhile downstairs, everyone laughed at the hidden camera footage they were watching. They couldn’t wait to post this to the school’s website.

“Oh my god!” you screamed at you pointed behind Dylan. Everyone watched as a dark hooded figure creeped up behind Dylan and grabbed him buy the back of his head, digging a knife into his shoulder. Then he charged for you, stabbing you in the stomach...slowly but surely he creeped up to the camera, looking directly at it. “Nuh uh uh~” he sang before he punched the camera, causing the signal to break.

This caused everyone to scream bloody murder and attempted to scream.

Back in the bedroom, you had managed to hear the screaming. “Can I get up now?” you rolled over. “Pretending to die is so weird.”

“Allow me.” Billy walked over and helped you to your feet, ridding himself of his Ghostface mask. “You look good covered in fake blood.”

“Do I?” you fake pouted. Billy didn’t answer and instead kissed you. He held your face in his hands, gently moving his soft lips against yours. He would have went crazy is Dylan managed to get that far. He was glad that he could finally show how he felt about you in a personal way.

“You do.” he bit his lip as he pulled away.

“W-what the fuck?!” Dylan, who was very much alive looked between you two. “You’re in on this.”

“Oh shut up!” you grabbed Billy’s knife and walked up to him. “Kyla Grayson, who is she?”

“Kyla Grayson?”

“ARE YOU AN ECHO?” you snapped. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know! I swear!” he tried to cower away from you.

“You don’t remember showing private pictures of a young impressionable freshman to your fucking friends?” you glared. “She trusted you...she liked you a lot...and because of you she had to move to a different county.” you raised the knife over your head. “Any last words?”

“SURPRISE!” Stu burst through the door, also dawning a Ghostface getup, only without the voice changer. He was dragging Jennifer and Rachel by the hair.

“You’re just in time for the show.” you said, not looking up from Dylan.

“Y/N...y-you’re-”

“Don’t talk.” you kept your eyes on Dylan. “I’ll get to you soon.”

(Part 3 will be revenge against your parents)

#slasher imagines #slasher fanfiction #imagines #slashers x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface imagines #billy x reader x stu #scream imagines #billy loomis imagines #stu macher imagines #horror imagines #poly ghostface

393 notes · View notes

marvelslut16 · 3 years

Text

Inseparable

Pairing: Reggie Mantle x reader

Synopsis: Reader and Reggie have been best friends since they were toddlers, nothing tearing them apart until Veronica their Junior year. This follows the rise and downfall of their friendship. Can they mend their friendship and be back to what they once were, will they be too hurt to fix their broken hearts, or will they finally admit their feelings for one another?

Word count: 2.6K+ (my hand slipped)

Warnings: Mr. Honey; he’s the worst villain to ever enter Riverdale, you can’t change my mind. Mentions of child abuse, nothing graphic past the mention of a black eye. Some angst. Spoilers for s4e4 technically, I still can’t believe what Mr. Honey did.

A/N: I have like 11 requests I still have to get to, yikes. I swear I’ll do them soon, but inspiration hit and I ended up writing this. there isn’t enough Reggie love on Tumblr, plus I have a tiny crush on Charles Melton, so writing this was a win win. let me know what you think, and if I should write more for Riverdale. Veggie is better than Varchie (don’t come for me), but I still think Reggie deserves better than Ronnie.

Growing up in a small town like Riverdale there weren’t too many kids to become friends with, but when you met Reggie Mantle on your first day of preschool you knew he would be your best friend for life. Archie was showing off on the playground by walking up the slide when the teacher wasn’t looking. The problem then being that Archie's foot slipped right as you were walking passed the bottom of the slide, and he slid down and ended up knocking you on the ground. You started to cry because he scraped your arm bad enough that it started to bleed. Reggie, whom you shared a table with in class, watched from the sidelines as your teacher helped you up and took you to the nurse, he got his revenge during arts and crafts later that day- ‘accidentally’ spilling red paint all over the front of Archie’s khaki pants. When Reggie made it to the table you quietly thanked him and shared your paint with him since the teacher said he couldn’t have new paint as a lesson to be more careful next time.

As the years went on, yours and Reggie’s friendship only grew until you were inseparable; you two went on family vacations together, you went to every single one of his junior bulldog football games from the ages of eight to twelve, he went to your ballet recitals when you took classes in grade school even bringing you roses. Reggie was your rock at your grandmother’s funeral, you helped him pass his geometry class Sophomore year so he could stay on the football team, and you were the only person that he opened up to about his father’s abuse- having witnessed it with your own eyes a handful of times.

Your mom was convinced you and Reggie would fall in love and get married one day, and your father was convinced your friendship would crumble and ultimately go down in a blazing fire. Going into your senior year you hate to admit that your father was right, his words bouncing around in your skull every time your brain shut off for longer than two seconds. Veronica Lodge moved to town Sophomore year, enticing every boy within a fifty mile radius with her upper East side charm. Reggie didn’t fall for Veronica right away, he fell for her junior year when he was helping her with La Bonne Nuit. And as cliche as it is, that’s when you realized you were in love with him, you had been for a while. The small nagging voice in the back of your head told you that it had been since that day in preschool.

But you would grin and bear the pain, the soul crushing pain, if it meant that Reggie would still be in your life. And you did, for a while at least; until Reggie stopped calling and texting you back, until he stopped begging you to come to his games, until he stopped sneaking into your room every friday night after a game to go over the play footage where you would help him come up with new plays and tweaks to the old ones, until he started ignoring you in the halls in favor of making out with Veronica. You never hated the girl, she had been nothing but nice to you anytime you would interact, but God, you just wished she would disappear and give you your Reggie back.

You resented Veronica, leading your interactions with the girl to be more tense and your answers clipped, and that was what led to the blazing fire your father talked about. Reggie offered you a ride home one day after school, and of course you jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him again. Instead of going to pops and talking like you thought you would, the two of you got into your biggest, and last, fight ever.

It started with Reggie asking why you hated Veronica, where you defended yourself and swore that you didn’t. But he wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth, continuing to press you as you two kept driving. The closer you got to the edge of town the worse the fighting got, your voice raising along with his. You accuse him of abandoning his friends, abandoning you, to be with Veronica all the time. He gets mad that you don’t understand why he’s with her all the time, claiming that you couldn’t understand not when you’ve never had a boyfriend. Something that he’s the reason for, since he scared all of the guys even remotely interested in you away with just one piercing glare or one lowly growled threat.

The comment picking on your relationship status, or lack thereof, is the straw that broke the camel's back. You let loose just as you pass the sign thanking you for visiting Riverdale, the town with pep. Pep your ass, the small town is full of death and endless heartache wherever you look. You rip into Reggie, letting the hurt take over as you scream and scream at him-calling him a terrible friend. He finally screams back, claiming that you’re worse because you hate his girlfriend. He has to pull his precious car over, the car you helped him pick out when he turned sixteen, because he started swerving when you two got into a screaming match.

The interaction ends with you getting out of the car on the side of the road leading into Greendale, slamming the car door behind you, knowing that he’ll get mad with how aggressive you’re being with his baby, his Bella. He does a sharp U-turn driving beside you, trying to coax you into getting back in the car with him. But you can’t do that, you can’t face him right now. So as you watch the taillights of the gun metal grey Chevelle disappear around the curve in the road you finally let the tears fall down your face, they stream harder and faster the closer you get to reentering the town with pep.

Reggie had dropped your backpack off at your house when he got back into town, so it was sitting there waiting for you in your living room alongside your worried mother. You cried into her arms that night for hours, until you were all cried out, not caring that you look like a big baby. You had just lost Reggie, you had just lost your everything. You hadn’t talked to him since that day in the middle of your junior year, even after him and Veronica broke up and she went back to Archie like always. The days of your senior year seemed to fly by, October coming in what felt like mere days as opposed to months, and your last Halloween in Riverdale is today.

You and Reggie would always wear matching costumes to trick or treat, and school just for fun as you got older, this always prompted your classmates to wonder if you two were finally dating. But that wouldn’t be happening this year, for the first time ever. You had even dressed up and sat on his porch in costume when you were six, handing out candy to the other kids so you could talk to Reggie, who was in costume too, through the window because he was sick with a 102.2 degree fever. You were dressed as Kim and Ron that year, his mom had even crocheted him a little Rufus to stick in his pocket. You couldn’t wait to get out of this town, away from Reggie, away from the places where you would see ghosts of your younger selves everywhere you went.

Kevin calls you freaking out after he and Reggie got caught tp’ing Mr. Honey’s office. Kevin caved after Mr. Honey threatened to make sure he wouldn’t get into NYU if he didn’t. Kevin felt guilty for his actions, and even though you hadn’t talked to Reggie in close to a year you were worried about him. Worried what his dad might do to him when he hears he got in trouble at school again, and worried what the unhinged Mr. Honey might do to him himself.

You don’t hear anything from Reggie the next day, not that you really expect to. You more-so hope he’ll call you, but you know what they say about hope- it breeds eternal misery. The day goes by at a snail's pace as you stare at your phone throughout the entirety of said day. You finally curl in on yourself and go to sleep after midnight, however sleep doesn’t stay for long. You’re awoken around two in the morning from your phone’s incessant ringing, in your dazed stupor you don’t realize it’s Reggie’s special ringtone- the bulldog cheer from Kim Possible.

“Hello?” you ask hoarsely, making sure to stay quiet so your parents won’t hear.

“(Y/N/N), can you talk?” your startled to hear Reggie’s voice on the other line. It sounds scratchy, like he was recently in a screaming match with someone. You open your eyes for the first time, finally accepting that you won’t be able to just roll over and slip back into your dreams. You glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table and your eyes widen at the time.

“It’s like two in the morning Reg,” you sigh, hoping he’ll wait till morning.

“Can I come over?” Reggie’s pleading now.

“Later, we can go to Pop’s for lunch or something,” you yawn loudly into the phone in protest.

“I’m already here,” before you can respond the line goes dead.

You can hear quiet, almost not there, footsteps outside your window as Reggie expertly navigates his way through the flowers and bushes outside your window. He taps on the window three times in quick succession, your old signal for when he would sneak over letting you know it was him at your window. You reluctantly get out of your warm cozy bed, stumbling to the window to open it for your former best friend.

Your plans for just slipping back into bed anf hopefully nodding off while he talks go out the window as you come face to face with Reggie’s swollen face. He has a split lip and a black eye, you’re sure he has belt marks on his back too. You don't care that Reggie is climbing through the window a little too loudly, your sole focus now on fixing him up. Once he’s in the room you sneak to the kitchen and quietly grab an ice pack, stopping in the bathroom to grab rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and ibuprofen.

You hand him the pain reliever and your bottle of water, it’s not the first time you’ve shared, as soon as you shut your bedroom door behind you. He swallows the pills down with ease, and you both settle on your bed, a sad depressing routine. You don’t say anything as you clean his split lip, he winces slightly when the alcohol drenched cotton ball makes contact with his open wound.

“Mr. Honey caught Kevin and I last night,” Reggie admits quietly.

“I heard, Kevin told me,” you murmur unsure of where this conversation is headed, so you continue to dab at his lip.

“Mr Honey, he said that no one takes me seriously, no one since you. He said that he heard around school that I made my ‘persona’ bigger, became more of a prankster, after I lost you. He-he knew about my dad, (Y/N),” Reggie’s voice cracks, you can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. “Said people at school are laughing at me, worst of all, you’re laughing at me.”

“Oh sweetie, no!” you're quick to jump in and defend. “I would never laugh at you, you know that. Never. No one else is either, he was just saying that to get a rise out of you.” Your arm moves without your permission, you push a strand of black hair out of his eyes before caressing his cheek softly.

“He tp’d my car, that I get. That was actually funny,” Reggie hisses, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re lightly pressing the ice pack to his shiner or because of what he’s about to say next. “But he broke Bella’s windshield, shattered her passenger side window, and busted her left headlight.”

“I’ll kill him!” you jump up from your spot on your bed, no longer caring if you wake your parents. Reggie holds the ice pack to his eye with his right hand, cautiously reaching for your hands with his left. You calm down when his fingers intertwine with yours, sinking back down next to him.

“I avoided going home all day, but when I did and my dad saw the car,” Reggie takes in a shaky breath, and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “He did, well he did this.” He uses your joined hands to gesture towards his face.

You don’t say anything, instead just pulling him in for a hug. Reggie tenses at first before melting into your warm embrace. You pull him down onto the bed with you so you're laying side by side, he rests his head on your chest as you tuck the two of you in.

“I know we haven’t talked in a while,” you let out dissatisfied hum as you card your fingers soothingly through his hair. “But you're the only person I wanted to see, the only person I ever want to see. It’s been torture without you (Y/N).”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you say under your breath, but he hears you clearly with his ear pressed to your chest.

“I was an idiot, I let my ego keep me from you,” he moves his head to look up at you, his brown eyes shine with sincerity.

“Don’t do this right now Reggie,: your eyes fill with tears, “Don’t do or say anything you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Reggie moves his right arm from around your waist to brush away a stray tear that slipped out of your eye. He moves his thumb down your cheek to your lips, tracing them with the pad of his thumb. Reggie lightly tugs down on your lower lip causing you to uncage it from your teeth, when did you even bite it in the first place?

“I love you (Y/N), I always have,” he looks away from your mouth so he can stare into your eyes. “And I think you have too.”

“I have, I love you so much Reggie,” he pulls your face down to meet him. The kiss is searing, and a little wet due to the tears leaking out of both of your eyes, but it’s perfect. You pull back when you get the slightly tangy taste of blood on your tongue. You immediately fuss over Reggie’s lip, said lip splitting again during the makeout. Reggie pulls you back down onto the bed and into his arms after you’ve dabbed at his lip with the cotton ball again.

“How can I make it up to you?” his eyes shine with unshed tears as he stares lovingly at your face, almost like he’s mesmerized by you. “Not just tonight, but leaving you for Ronnie so I could try to get over you, and for every other night you’ve taken care of me.”

“Just never leave me again,” you whimper, which is cut off when he kisses you again.

“Never,” Reggie’s never been more serious about anything in his life.

You cuddle up to Reggie’s chest, his warmth and scent quickly lulling you into a deep comforting sleep. You don’t care that he should sneak out the window and go home, or that your mom will find you two cuddled up in your twisted sheets when she comes to check on you at ten. All you care about is Reggie being safe, in your arms, and finally having him back in your life-but with one vast improvement to your relationship.

Permenent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always

#reggie mantle x reader #reggie mantle #riverdale #riverdale imagine #reggie mantle imagine #reggie mantle one shot #reggie mantle x y/n #reggie mantle x you #riverdale fanfiction #reggie mantle fanfiction #reggie mantle deserves better #holden honey was an ass #if i ever see him again it'll be too soon

284 notes · View notes

anightflower · 3 years

Text

Come and Find Me

Chapter 3: Ring, Ring!

Things are heating up my loves!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, swearing

Masterlist here

“Breaking news. After countless weeks of Quantico in fear, the murderer of five innocent women has been caught. Andrew Curtis, age 29 has been accused of first degree murder and will face trial in these upcoming weeks. Curtis was caught before laying his hands on his 6th victim, 24 year old Emily Bloise-”

You groaned, awakening to the sound of the TV blasting the news. You didn’t even remember turning it on before going to bed last night. Hell, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You pulled the blankets over your head to block out the noise, as you shifted your legs, you heard a jingling of chains and became aware of the cold clasped around your ankle.

Your body jolted fully awake and you shot up as everything came crashing back to you. You hadn’t been able to sleep last night, you were too nervous for your presentation tomorrow. You were meeting with the one and only Lila Archer. She had gotten word of your design company and was so impressed with your work, she had contacted you to meet with her to discuss designing her vacation “workspace” home in Florida. This was your first celebrity job that would most certainly put you in the big leagues if you got it right or put you six feet under if she hated it. So needless to say your brain would not shut down for the night.

You had given up on the idea of falling asleep on the rock hard bed the hotel had provided you. Instead you had thrown on some shorts and one of Spencer’s oversized t-shirts you had stolen from him and made your way to get some snacks from the convenience store that was just up the block from your hotel.

You cautiously made your way up the street, pepper spray in hand. It was 3am and you were no idiot. You were still haunted by the Andrew Curtis case, and you knew deep down so was Spencer. He had gotten you new pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a keychain alarm after the case. He made you promise to carry it everywhere you went and you had held to that promise. It was the haunted look in his eyes that had bothered you the most.

The bell on the door let at a shrill ring as you entered the store. You gave a small smile and a wave to the man behind the register which he returned. It looked like you were his first customer in a while.

You wondered the aisles waiting for a snack to catch your eye, when the bell rang again signaling that someone else had entered. You didn’t really pay much attention to it, as you were focused on your very important task at hand; salty or sweet.

That’s when you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was a male silhouette. You struggled to make out any of his features. He had his hood up, with a ball cap pulled low to block his face. Yet even without seeing them, you could still feel his eyes on you.

Ice went down your spine. Something was not right about this, and you always trusted your instincts. Grabbing a random bag of chips and some chocolate covered pretzels you walked quickly over to the register. You could feel the hooded guy’s eyes burning into you even as you handed your money over to the cashier.

The cashier didn’t seem to pick up on your discomfort and took his merry time with your purchase. You rushed out of there as soon as he handed you your change and bag.

You had the urge to call Spencer, but you didn’t want to wake him up if you were just being paranoid, he hardly got enough sleep as it was.

Glancing over your shoulder, you realized there was no one behind you. You slowed down a bit and caught your breath, chastising yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

That's when you felt a muscular arm encircle your waste. You began to thrash and scream, but a cloth was thrust over your mouth and with one inhale, you were met with darkness.

And now you were here; a dingy little room with soundproof walls and chains on your ankles.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whispered glancing around. Your fear doubled when your eyes landed on the small TV near the foot of your bed. On it was reruns of the news footage for the Andrew Curtis case. The news footage recapturing every horrific detail.

You got out of the bed slowly, trying to figure out how to move with the chains around your ankles, and began to take stock of anything that could be made a weapon, but the room did not have much. You paused when you realized this room held details that looked like they were taken right from your home.

The gray and white duvet was exactly like the one you had on your bed in your apartment, it’s complex design hard to miss. The lamp on the bedside table, which was unfortunately glued down, was the exact replica of the one you had found while thrifting. How this person managed to get a similar one, you had no idea. You shivered when you realized there were cameras all over the room. One in each corner of the room, one on top of the TV and one glued to the bedside table.

You slowly made your way towards a curtain blocking off something. You took a deep breath and ripped it open, only to find a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a door. You rushed to the door and attempted to open it. The doorknob rattled, it was locked.

A voice boomed from a PA system above. “Aw my darling, you’re awake!” The voice was clearly distorted to sound deeper. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “I’m sorry your quarters aren’t that nice, but don’t worry, after we win the game, you and I are going to go someplace where you’ll have everything you’ve ever desired.”

“Who the hell are you?” You growled, your head whipping back and forth to see if there was anyone in the room. “Someone who cares very much about you. Someone who’s been in the shadows waiting for you for a long time.”

“Why don’t you come out and show your face instead of hiding behind a little PA voice system? Only a coward hides in the shadows.” You growled trying to seem unafraid, but your body trembled.

“Oh no my sweet, there is a game afoot and as tempted as I am to reveal myself, I have something better in mind and I can’t have you ruining it.” He purred.

“Why the fuck am I here?”

“Because darling, I had to open your eyes. You’ve been blinded by awe for your Doctor and you need to see the truth! He doesn’t deserve you, he can’t give you what I can! He leaves you so often, discarding you like a broken toy, only to return later to pick up the pieces.” The voice hissed.

If you weren’t so terrified you would have laughed in the man’s face. “You’re wrong. Spencer is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” You argued.

“You’re a love-struck blind bitch who can’t see the truth.” The voice snarled. “He took so much away from me and I won't let him take you away too. He disgusts me. Stumbling around spewing bullshit and everyone regards him as a God. Guess I am the devil who has to show him the truth.”

________________________________________________________________

Reid glanced around your room, he hated how nothing seemed out of place. Part of him wished it was ransacked so he could find a clue as to who the unsub was, so he could see wrath or vengeance or some sort of motive, but there was nothing.

Instead he just saw you everywhere. You liked to joke that your room was organized chaos. You had a large calendar above your cream-colored desk with important dates and meetings on it, color coded by importance, yet your desk had your design plans and pencils strewn about it. Pictures of you and Spencer were taped up precariously around the calendar. Cliché photo-booth pictures that you had begged Spencer for, silly selfies you had taken of the two of you, and some pictures you had snuck of Spencer when he wasn’t looking.

Spencer ripped his gaze away as his heart shattered. He instead dragged his gaze around from that glancing at your bookshelves nearby. Design, fantasy, and sci-fi books were strewn all about the shelves. Spencer dragged his hand along the spines, remembering how you had teasingly refused to read any of Spencer’s “real-world” books. “The real world is too boring, I need my escapism and magic.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him as you had gone to the adult fantasy section of your favorite bookstore. Spencer had followed you, eager to explain the science magic tricks he knew.

Spencer shook his head, he needed to focus, yet every part of your room held a precious memory. He made his way to your bed, smoothing out the ornate pattern of your gray and white duvet. Your bed was made, each fluffy blanket folded and decorative pillow in place.

The thing that truly hit Spencer was the lone stuffed animal that sat on the bed. It was a chubby bumblebee stuffed animal. Spencer had surprised you with it, after he witnessed you squeal in delight at it through a storefront window. You had claimed it was your most prized possession and that he would be your snuggle buddy when Spencer was away on cases.

Emily popped her head in through the door. “Hey Reid, any luck? I didn’t find anything.”

Spencer glanced up at her. “No, everything looks normal. Not a damn thing out of place.”

“Who’s that you’re holding?” Emily asked gently.

“Reid. (Y/N) named him that, he would be by her side when I was away. (Y/N) joked that he protected her while I was away. A lot of good he did for her.” Spencer grumbled, shoving the bee back onto the bed.

That’s when it caught his eye. The empty picture frame. The one that usually held the photo of you and Spencer, the one that had been mutilated and sent to him in a Curtis-like box.

Spencer observed the frame, turning it this way and that. He heard the tiniest rustling sound of something moving within the frame. He opened the back of it and a folded up piece of paper fell out.

Emily rushed to Spencer’s side to see what it said. Spencer slowly reached to pick up the paper and opened it.

Good job Doctor! You found something. Hopefully you find her on time! Ring, ring!

Emily looked at Spencer confused. “Ring, ring?” As if on cue Spencer’s phone began to ring. “What’s up, Garcia?” Spencer asked urgently.

“You need to get back to base, now.” Garcia sounded like she was near tears.

________________________________________________________________

You tried to tear your eyes away from the screen, but you couldn’t. The news reruns had turned into home videos that Curtis had made. You remember how Reid had explained that they had found the camera Andrew Curtis had used, but no physical films had been found. “Like they had disappeared.” He had said.

It had driven him and his team nuts because Curtis had worked alone, so who could have taken the film?

“Aren’t they beautiful darling?” The voice crackled through the PA. “Drew and I put so much work into them. It’s a work of art that Picasso would envy.”

“It’s perverse and disgusting, and it proves how truly sick you and Curtis are!.” You yelled, holding back a sob.

“Yet, part of you can’t bear to look away can you? Have you noticed yet?” He purred.

You didn’t answer, tears flowed down your cheeks.

He chuckled at your silence.

“Oh you have, haven’t you? I bet you thought it was a sick coincidence that they looked like you, huh?” He mocked. “Drew told me all about the haunted looks in your Doctor’s eyes. How weak your Doctor was, how your Doctor could never find them in time. They were always dead before they got there.”

“Spencer worked his ass off to catch Curtis. He managed to stop him and he saved so many more lives than what Andrew Curtis took. Spencer is not weak for not getting there in time. Curtis is sick for killing those girls in the first place!” You snarled through your tears.

“Ah, ah, ah darling. Drew is not a sick man, he’s a hero. He was like the big brother I never had, he protected me, he made sure even when he was caught I was not. Nobody would know I was even involved with him, so I could achieve my goal of having you- of putting that ridiculous Doctor in his place.”

You remained silent, your body trembling at his confession. Whoever this man was he had worked with Andrew Curtis and he had done it just to get you.

“Every girl was a mere tool to prepare me for when I got my hands on you. Drew told me my time would come. Even when he was caught, we wrote letters back and forth, we had a code you see. Nobody really trusts communication between a prior serial killer and innocent boy, they’ll corrupt you apparently. But we found a way around those who separated us. You see, Drew, my guide, my brilliant mentor, the man who taught me so many things, was right, now I have you right in my hands.”

“What are you going to do?” You asked terrified.

“Play a game.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty@generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox@anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz @rainsong01@goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog@secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi @iifloweringnightsii @mggsprettygirl @bravegirl221 @messyhairday-me @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @abbeypaw7 @findmedontlooseme@hiiwouldlikesomesleepplease @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #anightflowerwrites #anightflower writes #anightflowermasterlist

154 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 4 years

Note

you’re sitting in the compounds kitchen drinking coffee and someone like bucky or sam accidentally bumps into you which makes you spill coffee on your legs. stevie comes in all big and caring and gives whoever bumped into you a little piece of his mind and then takes you back to his room where he kisses up and down your legs till you feel better ;) AHHHHHH no thoughts head empty 🤧

Ok sam or buck would never be that mean🥺🥺 but yes steeb is one protective daddy.

You were swinging your legs back and forth, sipping on your chocolate frappe every few seconds, scrolling through your Instagram feed. Looking at all the pretty girls dressed in beautiful dresses, travelling to such exotic places. You doubted those clothes would even look good on you.

You looked up when you heard Ryan call out your name your name. He looked at you with a smug smirk. How you'd like to slap that off his face. He had been a little shit to you since the beginning. Undermining your every move. Just because you were a girl. "Those things have like a thousand calories. You might wanna slow down. You're already getting too big for your tight little catsuit." He snickered and the few agents hanging around the kitchen joined in.

You sniffled holding back your tears. You cannot seem weak in front of these assholes. "How about you go work on your form. Captain removed you from the mission. You can't even throw a punch." You clapped back taking a long drag of your delicious frappe as all his friends laughed at him.

"Man that's true. You fight like a girl." One of them clapped on his shoulder as he filled a mug with coffee grumbling under his breathe.

You snorted. If he fought like a girl he certainly wouldn't be as bad at it as he was. You went back to looking at your phone as you saw him come towards you in your peripheral vision. You paid him no mind. Feeling as if you'd won this round. You screamed as you felt the scalding hot liquid spill in your lap.

You instantly dropped your phone and got down from the high stool hissing loudly. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry." Ryan drawled pulling out a tissue to clean up your lap. You grabbed it from him and pressed it on your thigh. Not wanting his hands anywhere near you. "It's good you know. It'll help with your pain tolerance."

You felt tears spill from your eyes, staining your cheeks. You sobbed from the excruciating pain in your lap and from the hostility not just he, but all your fellow agents treated you with. As if you didn't belong with them. As if you weren't as worthy as them. You were about to turn around. Run away with your tail between your legs. Like a coward. But then you heard his voice.

"What the hell is going on here?" Everyone stood up straight as they saw the captain come into the kitchen. You sniffled staring at the ground not having the strength to look up at your captain, who was standing just beside you. You had let him down.

"Ryan spilled coffee on her lap, Sir" Someone told him. Too scared of the captain to maintain any loyalties or friendships to others.

Steve said your name and you looked up at him. His hard face almost softened at your red eyes "Is that true?" He asked. He knew the answer but he needed you to tell him if he was going to punish the punk. You gave him a weak nod before looking back at your thighs.

"It was an accident captain. She wasn't sitting right." Ryan growled desperately.

"You're suspended untill further notice." Steve stopped him before he could spill anymore nonsense from his mouth.

"What?! It was an accident!" He screamed in disbelief.

"I've been around a lot longer than you. I can tell that it clearly wasn't." Steve bit. "There are cameras everywhere. We can look through the footage to confirm it." Steve nodded at the security cameras in the corners of the room.

Ryan apologized to you and Steve before leaving the kitchen.

Steve turned his attention to you as everyone else dispersed. You had quieted down but he knew that you were still hurting. "Let's go fix you up agent."

***

You sighed as Steve pressed a light kiss to your naked thigh. He had been pressing an ice pack to your burnt thighs for the past hour.

"Does it feel better doll?" He asked now switching the pack to your other thigh.

"Much" You mumbled leaning your back on the couch. Steve sat on the floor between your legs. You chuckled at the suggestive position he was sitting in.

"I'll put some cream on it them." He said removing the ice. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you sweetheart." He said. His head hung low as he traced circles on your knee.

"Steve you can't always protect me. You know that. I have to fight my own battles -"

"No you don't. A man should protect his girl. I know you're strong baby. But that doesn't mean that I can't take care of you." He stated peppering soft barely there kisses to your thighs. Not wishing to agitate your sensitive skin.

"Well you do take good care of me" You closed your eyes. Wishing to sleep the long day off and let him love you.

#berrys drabbles #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader

397 notes · View notes

baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

I Choose You

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— SMUT, slight angst, fluff, Idol!Taehyung x reader

Warnings— fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex always use protection!!, slight choking and slight nipple play

Word Count— ~3.3k

Summary— Being one the secret girlfriend of one of the most famous kpop stars in the world can have its challenges. How much longer can you keep the charade up?

A/N —The fic banner was made by the lovely @ddaengyoonmin. I really hope you enjoy it!

“God, this is so nice. I’ve really missed you. You haven’t had a day off in how long?”

“Too long. At least I finally have a day that’s devoted completely to you,” Taehyung boops your nose.

Your (secret) boyfriend, Kim Taehyung, is a world famous idol with one of the busiest schedules in the universe. Despite rarely seeing each other, Taehyung never ceases to show you his love and affection. You get daily texts and videos of him being a goof with the other bandmates. Although the other members were apprehensive about Tae having a secret girlfriend, they soon became supportive after they finally met you.

“It’s silly that you still insist on going on dates in a different city. You didn’t just debut; people will still recognize you outside of Seoul,” you say.

“That’s why we come to little mom and pop restaurants like this! Fewer people come here, plus the food is always delicious,” Taehyung excitedly licks his lips as the food is being served.

“Good point. It doesn’t matter where we are as long as I’m with you,” you smile.

Taehyung returns your smile with a boxy one of his own before he digs into the food.

The rest of the day was spent walking through parks and going into various dessert shops. Taehyung doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but you do. He’ll take every chance he can get to spoil you, especially on the days that he gets you all to himself.

He drove you back to your apartment at the end of the day. Saying goodbye is always bittersweet.

“I love you, angel,” Taehyung kisses your cheek as you both stand in front of your apartment.

“I love you too, Tae,” you pull him in for a hug, “Stay the night with me,” you whisper to him.

“I’d have to leave early in the morning for practice,” he whispered back.

“I know that, dummy. I don’t care. I just want you to hold me for a little while longer,” you plead.

“Okay, let’s go snuggle then,” he kisses the top of your forehead.

You change into your pjs, preparing to turn in for the night. You jokingly offer Taehyung one of your t-shirts to wear to sleep. He scoffed at your offer and instead just stripped down to his underwear.

“You know I’d prefer to sleep like this,” he giggled as he tackled you onto the bed, “It sucks that I rarely get to, you know, since we’re being filmed so often.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not being filmed here,” you stroke through his soft hair.

As you began drifting off to sleep, Taehyung murmured in your ear, “What if I want to do more than just hold you?”

“What would that entail?” you sleepily replied, your eyes still closed.

“Maybe you could help me with this,” he suggested, slowly grinding his crotch into your backside.

You turn around to face him, your hand trailing down to cup his bulge. You begin palming him through his underwear while kissing along his jawline.

“Is this helping?” you tease.

“Starting to,” he seductively replies.

In one swift motion, he’s on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head. He smoothly grinds his crotch into yours, turning you on even more. He bends over to kiss you. At first, it was a soft gentle kiss as his lips lightly pecked yours. It quickly turned into a deeply passionate kiss, tongues and saliva swapping mouths.

Taehyung releases his grip on your wrists, sensually kissing a line from your neck to your stomach. He tugs off your shorts and underwear before spreading your legs wide open. Without hesitation, he licks a long wide stripe between your folds. He chuckled when you gasped. His continued licking you this way while adding an extra little flick on your clit each time. It felt amazing but his pace was slow, and you started to whine.

“What’s wrong baby? It doesn’t feel good?” he asks.

“It feels amazing. You’re just teasing me a lot,” you slowly reply between breaths.

“Oh, is this what you’re missing?” he asks as he slips a finger into you, causing your breath to hitch.

You moaned out in response, indicating that it was indeed what you were missing. Taehyung returned to working on your clit, his tongue rotating between flicking it and going in circular motions around it. He simultaneously slipped another finger into you and was rhythmically pumping into you, bringing you closer to the edge.

Your legs began to move uncontrollably, forcing Taehyung to pin one of them down as he ate you out faster and more intensely. It wasn’t long after that when you unraveled into his mouth.

He looks up at you with a smirk on his face. He licks off your juices from his lips and just the sight of that was enough to make you horny again.

“God, I missed the way you taste,” he said while taking off his underwear.

He ran his length along your soaked folds, teasing you.

“You think you’re wet enough for me, baby?” he asks.

“Why don’t you find out?” you bat your eyes innocently.

Taehyung responded by slowly filling you up until he bottomed out. He didn’t have the patience to tease you anymore, as he began to roughly slam into you. Your moans drowned out the wet sounds of slapping skin.

Taehyung pushes your knees close to your face to further expose your pussy as the lower half of your body lifts off the bed. His pace begins to slow down as he teases himself by just bringing the tip of his dick in and out of you. Doing this always brought him closer to the edge, but it made you needier.

“Tae s-stop teasing me,” you whine.

“I’m so close, love,” he pants as he moves your legs to rest atop his shoulders.

One of Taehyung’s hands wraps itself your neck while the other fondles your breast. His hold on your neck gets firmer as he pinches your nipple. Every sensation overwhelms you, leading you to an intense orgasm.

Seeing you squirm with pure bliss underneath him is what forced Taehyung to follow suit. His hot juices mixed with yours as he released a guttural moan of pleasure.

You pull him into a warm embrace, not caring that you’re both sweaty messes. He gingerly kisses your forehead, and you nuzzle into his neck in response.

“I love you so much,” you whisper.

“Not as much as I love you, angel,” Taehyung whispers back as he strokes your cheek.

You both fall sound asleep not long after. Taehyung eased you back to sleep when his alarm went off at dawn. He gave you a final loving peck on the forehead before silently departing.

A cold empty bed greeted you as you reached out for Taehyung in vain. You knew he wouldn’t be there, but it was instinctual to cuddle up to him. You sighed and rolled back over to your side. Grabbing your phone, you looked for something to distract your feelings of loneliness.

Checking your phone as soon as you wake up is probably a bad habit. To be fair, who doesn’t do that these days? Your eyes are barely open as you scroll through your social media. Giggling at random animal videos is how you’d ideally want to start your day. Instead, a celebrity gossip article was plastered all over your feed.

“BTS IDOL SPOTTED WITH POSSIBLE GIRLFRIEND?!?!” was sprawled across the top of the article.

Your eyes widened with fear. Did the paparazzi finally expose the secret Taehyung had tried so desperately to keep? Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly clicked on the story.

The photo accompanied with the piece was blurry and hard to make out. The venue seemed to be in some sort of club or bar. The lights were dim but sure enough, you were able to make out Taehyung’s angelic face.

However, you’ve never been to this place before. The girl in the photo was all over him, her arms wrapped around his neck. Her hair color was different than yours, solidifying your aching heart.

Scandals and gossip were common, but you’ve never actually seen footage like this before. Until now, the speculating tabloid articles never had any pictures.

Taehyung would never cheat on you, you knew that. You were sure there was a logical explanation to the picture, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Sometimes you wish the public actually knew about your relationship, that way you wouldn’t have to deal with trivial things like this.

You decided to call Taehyung after reading the article.

“Hey, ___! What’s up?” he happily picked up after one ring.

“Have you seen the latest gossip about you?” you directly ask.

“Uh, there’s a lot of that everywhere babe,” Taehyung replies.

“I’ll send it to you,” you curtly say.

Silence settled as Taehyung opened the article on his end.

“Oh,” you hear him say quietly.

“Oh?” you repeated.

“___, the paparazzi blew this way out of proportion,” Taehyung stated.

“I know. That’s why I called you, so you could tell me yourself what is happening here,” you felt your patience wearing thin.

“That’s an ARMY,” Taehyung simply asserted.

“There are millions of ARMY all over the globe, but none of them party with you like that,” you retort.

“She came up to me telling me how much she loves our music,” he began to explain, “She’s an up and coming idol that just debuted from a small company.”

“Yeah, I read that. Did it ever occur to you that she could have staged that? What better way to become famous than to be associated with a member of BTS?” you admonish him.

“No, that thought didn’t cross my mind. Don’t worry, ___. She was super sweet. She left me alone after she hugged me, I promise. You can ask Jimin if you don’t believe me,” Taehyung attempted to comfort you.

The fact that he brought up asking Jimin reassured you. Jimin can’t lie for shit, especially not to you.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry for nagging you,” you say after a brief pause

“You could never nag me. I think I have some free time next week. What do you say to a street food date?”

“In Myeongdong?” you ask excitedly.

“Where else?” he laughed.

“Absolutely. 100% yes,” you cheer.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then, angel,” he bids you goodbye before hanging up.

A few uneventful days pass. You miss Taehyung (as always do), but seeing that picture of him with another idol really didn’t sit well with you. Taehyung always had the tendency to see the best in people. That’s not a bad thing, but sometimes it ends up hurting him. You can’t stand the thought of someone using him to their advantage.

You were in the middle of a work assignment when your back started to hurt. Working from home is a blessing, but sometimes you get so roped into it that you don’t take a break for hours on end.

You get up to stretch and drink some water. Whipping out your phone, your fingers automatically open up your social media app. What you saw nearly made you spit out your water.

“BTS IDOL SPOTTED WITH SAME GIRL, CONFIRMING GIRLFRIEND SPECULATION!”

This time you don’t hesitate to open the page. Your eyes scanned over the multiple pictures of Taehyung and the girl laughing at a restaurant, sitting at the same table. Anyone would assume that they were on a date. The girl was feeling up on his arms and chest again, and the sight of it made you sick to your stomach.

[5:20pm] I don’t think I can make it to the street food date

[5:30pm from Tae] What? Why? Is everything okay?????????

[5:31pm from Tae] ???????

[5:32pm from Tae] ??????????

[5:35pm] Idk, why don’t you ask your new girlfriend? *link sent*

[5:37pm from Tae] ___, this is just another misunderstanding. You know the tabloids have nothing better to do than to gossip.

[5:38pm] I really don’t like this girl.

[5:38pm from Tae] Why? You’ve never met her lol

[5:40] I just have a bad feeling. When have I ever been wrong about something like this?

[5:41pm from Tae] You’re just being paranoid, love. She’s just a huge fan. She wanted me to give her tips on being a successful idol.

[5:42pm] and you had to do it over a meal? You couldn’t have just texted her?

[5:43pm from Tae] What has gotten into you??

You were crying at this point. You felt that you were being reasonable. Your gut instinct was telling you that something was off about that girl. Taehyung just made you feel like a fool for questioning it.

[5:50pm] Please don’t see her anymore. For me.

[5:52pm from Tae] She’s my fan first and foremost. I wouldn’t be where I am without people like her. Her manager asked PD if we can have a joint company lunch, and he agreed. I’ll be seeing her tomorrow, and that is out of my control.

You didn’t reply for the rest of the night. You curled up into a ball and cried yourself to sleep. You hated this. You hated being in a secret relationship. You just wanted to love Taehyung proudly and openly. It wasn’t fair that some random girl was able to do what you should have been doing all along.

You were extremely unproductive the next day. All you could think about was Taehyung. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his arms and forget everything that has happened.

Your mind wandered to the joint company luncheon. That girl was probably all over him again, but he would just view it as her being a friendly fan. The thought hurt your heart. There had been no conversation between the two of you the entire day.

An episode of My Hero Academia played on your laptop as you huddle around it eating a bag of popcorn that was supposed to serve as your dinner. You didn’t have the energy to cook or go out to eat, but at least you were eating something (that was your flawless reasoning to yourself).

Your phone buzzes beside you. You see Taehyung’s call but ignore it. You were sad earlier, but further reflection turned your mood into one of pure annoyance. The whole situation was ridiculous and just wanted to be left alone for now.

Your phone buzzed continuously as Taehyung repeatedly called. You turned your phone off and turned your attention back to the show.

An hour later there was a knock on the front door. You opted to ignore it and pretend you weren’t home. The knocking persisted. The knocking persisted for a whole 15 minutes.

Fed up, you go to answer it.

“What do you want--”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung said, hiding his face behind a beautiful bouquet of carnations.

You were shocked. Here you were, not showered and still in your pjs with your mouth agape as Taehyung was dressed up in a Gucci suit looking as if he were about to walk the red carpet. He shyly thrust the bouquet towards you while looking down bashfully.

“Sorry for what?” you cross your arms.

“You were right. About the girl. She tipped off the paparazzi about the company lunch today. She tried planting a kiss on me as soon as she saw me. She made a scene about me “leading her on” in front of everyone. It was a huge mess and PD was furious. There will be a small press conference tomorrow to disperse any rumors,” he explains.

You finally took the flowers from him and wordlessly retreated back into your apartment. He followed you inside.

“I told you so,” you huff, not looking at him.

“I know, angel, I know,” he hugs you from behind, “I want you to come to the conference tomorrow.”

“Me? Why?” you question.

“Moral support,” he replied succinctly before kissing the back of your head.

“Fine,” you agreed.

“You wanna eat in tonight?” he asks.

“You have the time to eat dinner with me?” you slightly cheer up.

“I can even stay the night. If you’d let me, of course,” he spins you around to look you in the eyes.

“I suppose I can let you stay,” you fail at suppressing a smile.

Taehyung orders your favorite takeout food and you eat together on the couch while watching a random movie. You lent Taehyung one of your bigger shirts so that he wouldn’t get his expensive suit dirty.

“Why’d you even show up here in that?” you giggled as he stepped out wearing your shirt with just his underwear.

“I wanted you to know that I was being serious. Also, I’m wearing this at the press conference tomorrow.”

“Ah, there it is,” you laugh.

You drive Taehyung to the press conference the following morning. You enter the building separately, which was a normal occurrence. Taehyung disappears to join the rest of the boys as you sat in the back of the conference room, trying to appear like an intern. Not drawing any attention to yourself became an essential skill. It allowed you to unofficially accompany Taehyung to various events.

Lights flashed and voices raised as the boys entered the room. They all looked nervous, but Taehyung looked the most anxious. He kept glancing around the room until he finally saw you. He shot you a faint smile before taking stepping to the podium as the rest of the boys sat behind him.

“Taehyung! Is it true that you led the young idol on when you had no real intentions of dating her?” a reporter shouted.

“No, that’s not true at all. I was under the impression that she was an ARMY who just wanted tips on how to be a successful idol. No romance was ever involved,” Taehyung professionally answered.

“So you were never dating her to begin with?” another reporter questioned.

“No, I never dated that girl…” he began to trail off as his eyes meet yours, “But I am dating the most wonderful girl in the universe.”

The crowd exploded. Indistinct questions were hurled at Taehyung, but he didn’t care. He smugly smiled at your shocked face, your jaw was practically on the floor. You couldn’t believe what he just said. The boys behind him tried to hide their smiles, indicating to you that they knew what he was about to do all along.

“In time we will reveal our relationship to the public, but for now we ask for everyone to please respect our privacy. That is all,” he concluded.

He didn’t answer any further questions; instead, he promptly left the room with the rest of the band trailing behind him. You quickly exited the room and snuck your way into their practice room, where you found all of the boys.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” you scold Taehyung as soon as you saw him.

“I know you’re tired of hiding, angel. I am too. It’s time for us to be able to go on real dates without worrying who will see us,” he calmly answers.

“PD gave him the okay to reveal that he’s in a relationship. Don’t worry, neither of you will be in any trouble,” Namjoon pats your back.

“Can’t say the same for ARMY,” Yoongi adds.

“Real ARMY would understand. I love you, ___. Nothing will ever change that,” Taehyung said fondly before kissing your cheek.

“Ew hyung! Go get a room,” Jungkook teases.

You smirk at Jungkook before pulling Taehyung into a deep kiss. You didn’t care if the other boys were watching, you couldn’t contain how happy you were.

“EW ____ THAT’S WORSE!” Jungkook bellows, causing the room to erupt with laughter.

This is the start of a new chapter in your relationship, and you couldn’t wait for it to begin.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bts fanfic #taehyung angst #bts angst #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #bayanihanboost #ksmutclub

318 notes · View notes

emmie-fitzgerald · 2 years

Photo

CAMPFIRE CONFESSIONAL

Everything about her trip back to San Francisco had made Emmie want to curl into a ball and wish it hadn’t happened. And while she was thankful that the Producers had decided not to air any of the footage (while the fighting would make good drama, her Dad’s bad day definitely would have been cruel to air), it wasn’t going to stop anyone from asking about it. And rehasing it again and again made her want to throw up.

Which made her quickly come up with a plan. Was everyone going to be mad at her? Probably. But Emmie didn’t care. She’d rather everyone not want to talk to her than constantly asking about how her trip went.

“So, I come bringing news from the real world,” Emmie announced as everyone was gathered around the fire for dinner.

“To start off, politics is still a mess and that’s all that needs to be said about that,” she chuckled before continuing, “In sports, there’s a shit ton of hockey going on and what the fuck you guys? Why are there so many games? Anyway the Avalanche are doing the best and the Canadiens are doing the worst and everything else completely went over my head. The Batman was fucking amazing, everyone’s going to need to watch that and I refused to watch Encanto but literally the entire world is obsessed with it. And someone named Bruno. Assume that’s someone from the movie.”

Emmie paused for a second, before continuing. She figured that by this point everyone was comfortable - which meant it was the perfect time to spring everything on them.

“Raj was arrested for embezzlement, so Rodrigue you might want to stop worrying about your nose and start worrying about if he’s after your wallet. Not that you’re much better, considering you have like a million lawsuits going on and are the cause of multiple small businesses closing. So on behalf of small business owners everywhere, fuck you.” She said, flipping the man off before continuing.

“Astrid has absolutely no social media presence, which is honestly fucking terrifying in this day and age and further proves my theory that she’s hiding something, so seriously everyone should stop thinking she’s adorable and realize that she’s actually suspicious as fuck. Antony’s boyfriends all have nothing but horrible things to say about him, so like Seb, I love you, but are you sure that you want to deal with that? You deserve better.”

“Then, to the surprise of nobody,” Emmie smirked, “Khamani is a fucking liar about why he’s here and totally led Luna on, and then blamed me for it. Which like dude, it’s a fucking island, I was in the bush hiding from Chad, so like either you forgot there’s cameras everywhere and it was going to come out that way, or you should really look for people. I’m not the only one who hides around here and I was fucking there first. And also his ex is a fucking piece of work because it took a lot of social media stalking to find her. But surprisingly Khamani isn’t the only liar on the beach, because Juni fucking fooled all of us and has a relationship back home,” Emmie stated, sounding a little angry. Truly, she had been upset when she saw those pictures, considering that she really had assumed they were friends and that Juniper wasn’t capable of that.

But it wasn't’ the first time that she was wrong about people.

“Everything interesting about Frankie, Thomas, and Cisco is old news, though Cisco did get set on fire which honestly is pretty badass. Riley’s video game made me actually buy an Xbox so I guess I’m a gamer now. Celeste is still the best author in the world. Also Bailey’s social media is fucking lit and you all should follow them when we get back. And that is everything you need to know. Take that as you will.”

And with a smile, Emmie left, taking a banana as she left to let them deal with everything. The way she figured, the chances of anyone actually asking about how her trip went now was pretty slim.

Which just meant mission success.

#campfire confessionals

3 notes · View notes

chubbyreaderwriter · 4 years

Text

Accidents Happen

Steve Rogers/Captain America x Chubby/Plus Size Reader

Imagine: Steve doesn’t like it when you use your scales because he knows it makes you feel bad if you put on weight. He takes it upon himself to get rid of them.

Word Count: 1k (short and sweet)

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Steve knew as soon as he heard your frustrated sigh and soft sniffles coming from the bathroom that you’d been using your scales again. He hated those damn scales, always making you feel bad about yourself. It never mattered how many times Steve told you that you were beautiful and sexy to him, it was like you only believed the number on the scales. Almost every morning he would find you in the bathroom glaring down at the digits on the screen because you either put weight on or didn’t lose as much as you wanted.

Steve was slowly breaking with each day, he couldn’t take it much more watching you tear yourself apart over a number. The scales had to go. He had to create a plan to get rid of them so you wouldn’t torture yourself to try to fit society’s standards. He loved you for you and hopefully with those stupid scales gone, you would realise that as well.

You didn’t go out very often and when you did, it was always with Steve so he would have to be strategic with his plan, he couldn’t do it when you were around, you’d catch onto his lie. As he had been racking his brain for a moment to enact his plan, the perfect opportunity presented itself. You were going to visit your best friend since she just had her baby. Steve had watched you gush about the baby all week, smiling to himself.

Steve stood in the doorway as you were leaving, “I’ll be back in a couple hours, so don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.” Steve chuckled to himself in his head, “I promise.” He was only to eager to kiss you goodbye and watch you walk away, closing the door to hurry to the bathroom. He pulled out the scales and went into the kitchen to retrieve his spare toolbox that he kept in the house, he never knew when he would need them.

He placed the scales on the island counter and grabbed a hammer, “Goodbye scales.” He let out a soft grunt as he swung his arm down and the scales shattered into pieces, scattering everywhere. He sighed in content as he looked at the broken device, starting to pick up all the pieces and putting them into a bag to throw away.

Steve was only too happy to sit and wait for you to return, reading his online newspapers like he always did to catch up on anything he missed and to spot the scandals he already knew about. He couldn’t help but grin to himself when he heard the front door click open and you walked in, “He’s so cute and tiny, I wished you could’ve seen him, so adorable.” Steve smiled at you and nodded along to what you were saying and watched you walk towards the bathroom. He heard you roaming around for a few minutes before you walked out to look at Steve

“Do you know where my scales are?” Steve looked up at you and frowned, “Hm? No? You know I don’t go near those things.” You bit your lip in confusion and started to look around the house, checking under every possible place they could’ve been before giving up. You sighed, “Maybe they’ll show up in the morning.” Steve smiled, “Maybe.” You looked at him with a curious look, he was acting a little weird today.

You decided to shake it off and headed to bed early, there was nothing really for you to do and you had tired yourself out searching the whole house for those scales. The next morning, Steve was more cheerful than usual and was only too happy to start his day. He had been for his morning run and come home to get some breakfast before you had even woken up but he didn’t mind. It was nice to have a little time just to himself.

He was sitting on his chair when you came out of your shared bedroom, dressed and ready to start them day. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind, kissing his cheek, “Good morning.” Steve turned his head to look at you, “Good morning, you seem a little happier today?” Steve was thrilled, was his plan working? You smiled but Steve could see it was a little forced and he was worried now.

You moved to sit on the couch that was facing his chair. “Why wouldn’t I be? I solved the mystery.” Steve was definitely confused now, “What mystery, doll?” You brushed off some imaginary dust off your leggings, “Oh, the mystery of the scales.” Steve hummed, “Did you find them?” You scoffed at his poor acting in your head, “No I didn’t, but then I had an idea. I could check the security footage to see where I had put them.”Steve froze in his seat, “And what do I find? My boyfriend smashing them to bits!”

Steve chuckled nervously as he looked at you, “Well, you see. I just hated the way they made you feel about yourself so I had to get rid of them. I didn’t-” You let him rant about why he broke the scales for a good ten minutes before you stopped him, “Steve, sweetie, I’m not mad.” He paused, “You’re not?” You rolled your eyes, “Of course I’m not, I do feel better when I’m not weighing myself all the time but you could’ve just told me that, you didn’t need to go all ‘Hulk smash’ on my scales.” Steve laughed as he pulled you into his arms, “And I bet you would’ve just weighed yourself anyway behind my back.”

You giggled, “So maybe you’re not as stupid as you look.” He looked mildly offended before you reached up on your tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. “You still have to pay me back though, they were so expensive.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x chubby reader #marvel x plus size reader #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x chubby reader #avengers x plus size reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve x chubby reader #steve x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader

664 notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 3 years

Text

ssa hotchner: chapter 2 - one week

TW: threats, language, talking abt abuse/what happened to y/n the night before, mild drinking

WC: 5,116

series masterlist

---------------------------------------------

you woke up to the bright sun peeking in through your window past the hills, shining brightly into your eyes. you sat up, and rubbed your eyes in attempt to wake yourself up even more. you looked over at your clock to see the tie was already half past 6 a.m.

you didn't have to go to work for the first time in what felt like forever. trudging out of bed, you made your way into your bathroom and started the hot water.

the cut on your face looks exponentially better than it did last night. the handprint's swelling on your face had gone down quite a bit, but the bruise on your arm was definitely still there.

you brushed your teeth while you waited on the water to warm up. once the shower was ready, you shed your clothes and hopped inside. you took your time, letting the events of last night try to sink into your mind.

after you finished up, you used a towel to dry your hair a bit and got dressed in some leggings and a large t-shirt. you figured you might as well be comfortable if you didn't have anything else to do.

going back into your living room you decided to read the note that was taped to your gate. you pulled the bin out, followed by the shoe box, followed by the note.

you've been receiving them for close to 7 years now, ever since that high profile case you did for the bau. honestly, there was no telling if the letters were from more than one person. they are all typed and printed out.

at first they were all 'thank yous' for putting away a serial killer, but then came the anniversary of him being in prison... and people got a bit angry. then, people who were grateful for you putting him away forgot about it, as they should since they have lives of their own, and all that was left were the people who were angry.

the people who would wish you were dead. the people who think you should be inside there with the other killers. the people who were upset about you putting their 'true love' away for good. those were the people you were scared of.

the people that knew your address.

the people that sent you death threats.

those were the terrifying ones. the ones that kept you up at night, looking out of your window, trying to see if anyone was truly out there. nobody ever was. logically, you knew that nobody was out there lurking.

but if you told big bro, he would go all fbi on the letters. he would try to figure out who sent them, and send them to jail themselves. you didn't know if they were truly a threat, so what's the point in poking the bear? if they got too terrible, you would tell him. maybe...

you son of a bitch. you should've been his last victim so you wouldn't be here and he would be. you're nothing but a manipulative little bitch.

you don't deserve anything you have handed to you.

go die, bastard.

you folded it back up and placed it in the box, the bin, then pushed it underneath the couch.

were you worried? of course. would you tell anyone? not yet. if your fear became unmanageable, you would let someone know.

the only problem with the notes is that there was no return address. you put up security cameras everywhere around your gate in hopes of catching the culprit(s) on video, but sadly they were able to hack into the cameras you had gotten.

you would check the video footage after you received a note or picture. the time stamp went from 8:54 to 9:03, meaning they probably hacked into it before they got there.

maybe garcia could find whoever hacked into it every night if you needed her to. surely she would be able to work her magic when necessary.

you went into your room to check your phone for any new messages.

a <3: what're you doing for lunch today? feel up to spending time together two days in a row? let me know whenever you can; there's no case today.

you: i don't have any plans at all today, i guess i'll just have to suffer through another lunch with you.

and... sent.

unknown number: hi, y/n. it's spencer. i just wanted to know how're you doing? is the cut on your face okay?

you: hey back genius :) i'm doing pretty well, all things considered. my face is looking much better than it was before i went to bed, thank you for asking.

send.

while waiting for a response, you decided to clean the house a bit. you vacuumed your rugs, washed the dishes in your sink, did your laundry, and that was pretty much all you had to do today. everything done before 10 a.m.

checking your phone, there were two more messages, one from each of the guys.

a <3: great! would you mind just meeting me at the office around 11:30?

you: that's no problem at all. any place in mind?

you checked the other message from spencer.

spencer :) : i'm glad you're doing well, y/n. and to clear things up, your face didn't look bad at all last night, bruise and cut included.

what a little charmer...

you: thanks for the clarity, it's very appreciated. so how've you been since last night? save any other damsels in distress?

you put your phone down and decided to start getting ready. you opted for some blue jeans, high rise, and a lavender halter top. you paired that with some white high-top converse and threw on your gray blazer spencer brought you from last night, after you retrieved it from the dryer.

wearing something so casual, you decided to just wear your natural hair to the office. you did, however, need to cover the remnants of your adventure last night so aaron wouldn't be upset upon seeing something.

you used some good ol' color corrector, concealer, a bit of foundation, and some powder to cover the bruises and fail to disguise the cut. then again, there's not much that can be done to cover that up.

you checked the time on your phone, 10:53, and saw two more message notifications.

a <3: i was thinking about ordering some mexican food to the office so we could just stay there.

you: i'm good with anything, so that sounds great! i'll see you soon.

you sent the message and hopped over to the one spencer had sent you.

spencer :) : sadly, no other damsels. although i suppose that could be considered a good thing to most. oh! and if you were wondering, i got your number from garcia. i wasn't stalking you or anything, no worries.

you: yes, i'm glad i was the only damsel in need of saving last night. also, if i were to find out you had been stalking me, i don't think i'd be afraid. in fact, i'd probably be more flattered that THE dr. spencer reid would consider me stalk-worthy.

was it flirtatious? yes. would it make him flustered? probably. would i enjoy being the person that flustered him? absolutely.

sent.

you got into your car and began the journey to quantico. the drive isn't very long, only about twenty minutes. you hopped out of the car, and made your way to the front desk to check in. looking over your shoulder, you saw none other than spencer reid walking up to you before the woman gave you your visitor's badge.

"hi there, damsel," spencer smiled as he greeted you. you walked closer to him after thanking the lady.

"hey, hero," you laughed as you both got closer. "is it too soon to hug you?"

"oh, uhm... not at all. i was actually-yes. i do want to- i'm just gonna..." he stuttered as he opened his arms for you to snuggle into.

"i like your hugs," you surprisingly announced.

"th-thank you," he smiled as he rested his chin on your head, secretly enjoying the coconutty scent that wafted off your hair into his nose.

"yea this is gonna be the new greeting tactic for us. just saying," you huffed into his chest.

"i wouldn't mind that at all," he laughed before you pulled back from his embrace, giving his shoulders a little squeeze before relinquishing all contact.

"okay, i'm here to see aaron. i'm assuming he's in his office, like always?" you rose one eyebrow in question before feeling a hand on your shoulder, turning to see aaron.

"i'm not always in my office," he rebutted as he embraced you in his arms. "how are you?" he asked nicely.

"i'm good! i hope you aren't overworking yourself like you usually tend to do," you voiced into his chest. he pulled back, not releasing your shoulders but looking deeply at your face.

"what's that?" he pointed to your cheekbone, his brows furrowing in concentration.

"oh, pshh. it's nothing," you shrugged as you waved his hand off, noticing spencer behind aaron with a look on his face that suggested you tell your brother what it was.

"y/n. what happened?" he pushed, giving you his 'brother' look.

"fine," you huffed. "i was gonna have to explain it eventually," you rolled your eyes. "last night before i left, ron got a bit handsy. before he did too much, spencer showed up to return my jacket. things got out of hand, ron might've slapped me, spencer might've pushed him against a wall, all's well that ends well," you grinned in hopes that he wouldn't have understood a word you just uttered.

"ron slapped you?" he asked in disbelief, his face still showing no emotion as per usual.

"yea, but spencer stopped him before he got to do anything else. oh! i don't have a job at all anymore, so i'm free for the next two weeks," you pressed your lips together.

"reid was there?" he turned to face spencer, who's face looked like a deer in the headlights.

"yup. i don't know what would've happened if he didn't show up. i really owe him, aaron," you said, trying to calm your brother down from the edge he was not-so-clearly teetering on.

"well, reid. uhh, thank you. and y/n. you should've told me this the second it happened," he ordered, looking at you shooting daggers.

"sir, yes, sir," you nodded off. "i'm sorry i didn't tell you. i just knew you'd be upset and i figured since everything's okay now that it wasn't important," you shrugged, trying to diffuse the situation.

"it is important. it will always be important because you're important to me," he emphasized before taking a deep breath. "as long as you'll tell me next time i think i'll be okay."

"great! now when's the food supposed to get here because... food," you excitedly asked as you followed aaron as he turned to go to his office.

"it'll be here in about 10 more minutes," he announced as he motioned for her to sit beside him in the chairs in front of his desk. "so... what's the full story of what happened?"

"are we really gonna talk about that right now?" you huffed, clearly over the situation from last night.

"yes. we are. harassment is a serious issue that should be dealt with accordingly. you know that, y/n," he reasoned, propping his arm on his desk as he looked at you with his stern face.

"i do know that. i also know that he only ever did that to me. he has a wife and two kids; he'd never do anything to put them in jeopardy," you announced, trying to convince aaron not to press the issue any further.

"but he would be willing to risk a law suit from you because of what happened?" he questioned in defiance, not accepting the ask to drop it.

"i wouldn't give him a law suit, aaron. you know that," you remarked, leaning in towards him slightly.

"you should. logically, you should sue him for hitting you. and i'm assuming for whatever else he's done to you in the past," he corrected you.

"how do you know he's done anything in the past?" you questioned, aaron nodding his head to the side. "right. profiler," you sighed. "look, he used to call me names i'm uncomfortable with, but now i won't have to deal with him. i don't work there anymore and never will again."

"you may not work there, but what if another woman starts working in the office? who's to say he won't harass them as well?" you looked down into your lap, fondling your fingers in avoidance. "look, i'm not trying to be rude about it. i just don't like seeing you hurt, and to know that the guy who hurt you isn't getting anything done to him is ludicrous."

"i know. you've always looked out for me since we were kids, but i'm not a kid anymore. i'm a grown woman and can take care of my own business when i need to," you replied softly, placing your hand over top aaron's in comfort. "but thank you, for always caring. i know you do it because you love me, even though you don't say it often," you laughed, trying to bring some light hearted-ness to the situation.

"i do..." he nodded along. "love you, that is," he added with a rare smile.

aaron has always been there for you. ever since you were kids, because of you dad he would take the role of protector for both you, sean, and your mom.

because of his role of 'protector,' he has this external shell that he feels as though he can't shed. in his mind, if he sheds it he's not able to mask his feelings, leaving not only himself but also those he protects vulnerable.

"i love you too, a.," you smiled back, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it from your grip. aaron took his phone and checked the time.

"the food's here now," he announced as he went to go pick it up from the front desk.

when he returned he gave you the food and you began to eat together, him telling you the latest garcia story that got quite the kick out of you until his attention went elsewhere.

"... so...?" aaron asked sneakily, a sly grin appearing on his face.

"... so what?" you furrowed your brows in question as you took a sip of your drink.

"you and reid, huh?" he widened his eyes in suspicion.

"what about me and reid?" you wanted to press him further, even though you knew exactly what he meant.

"that's exactly what i would like to know. what's going on with you and reid?" he finalized, pointing his fork accusingly at you.

"nothings going on with me and spencer," you raised your hands in defense. "i just drove him home after he intervened in the... situation, last night so i made sure to thank him. he texted me earlier today to ask me how i was holding up after yesterday evening- like a gentleman," you pointed out, raising your eyebrows to establish some sort of dominance you knew you didn't have over your brother.

"right," he said in a sing-song voice, you rolled your eyes at his tone.

"shut up," you scoffed as you threw away each of yours' trash. "so, i think it's time for me to go," you smiled as you turned to face aaron from the doorway.

"ahh, right," he sighed with a small grin. "i actually talked to strauss about getting you onto the team," he raised his eyebrows.

"did you, now?" you smirked. "what'd she say about it?"

"she said that you'd need to fill out an application, and that if you were to be hired there'd be a trial run first to see if everything would work out smoothly," he announced happily.

"really? so there's a chance i could work here?!" you squealed, rubbing your lips into a tight line from the excitement.

"a pretty good one, at that. i actually have an application right," he reached over his desk to retrieve a couple pages stapled together, "here," he smiled, handing you the application forms.

"oh my gosh!" you shouted, throwing your arms over your brother's stomach and squeezing him tightly. "this is so exciting! do you think i'm actually qualified?" you asked, pulling back from his embrace.

"are you kidding? of course you are?" he asked incredulously. "just fill those out, return them to strauss, and i'm sure she'll review them quickly," he nodded.

"right. i'll get going now," you smiled widely. "thank you, a. thank you so much," you said, giving him one last hug before you whooshed out of the door, papers in hand.

you walked down the stairs and out of the glass doors towards the elevator. the doors started to close after you pressed the 'lobby' button, but there was a brown satchel stuffed between them to stop the from closing right before they shut. once thy opened back up, you noticed who the bag belonged to.

"hey, spencer," you smiled, scooting over in the elevator to make more room for him.

"hey, y/n. how was your lunch?" he asked, returning your smile.

"it was pretty good. aaron gave me an application for the bau, which is very exciting," you bit back a wide grin.

"really?" he asked happily, his eyebrows raised, you nodded in return. "that's so great!" he said cheerily, wrapping his arms around your waist an lifting you off the elevator floor as the two of you giggled together.

"i know! if i'm being honest, i'm a bit nervous about it, y'know?" you said as he placed you back onto your feet, your hands still on his biceps.

"why? we already know you'll fit in well and do great. what's making you nervous?" he asked, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you with a confused expression.

"i don't know..." you started. "i guess since i've only worked at one job, doing one thing, moving nowhere, staying stagnant, i just don't know anything else," you shrugged.

"it's actually incredibly normal to feel nervous about a new job. over 80% of working professionals feel nervous or anxious when starting a new job," he clarified as the elevator doors opened, you both walking out together. "think of it this way: you know the material, you're more than qualified, you know everyone you'd be working with, and you're passionate about what you'll be doing. there's no doubt that you'll do amazing," he encouraged as you continued the walk to your car.

"thank you. at least i know i'm not the only one that gets this way," you sighed. "so why'd you walk all the way out here?" you giggled. "don't you still have work?"

"uhh, yes. i-i do have to work. i just f-figured- i just wanted to uh, talk to you?" he stuttered out, clearly not realizing how charming it was.

"well, thank you, spencer. i really enjoy our little chats," you nodded as you unlocked your car. "thanks for walking me out. i'll see you?" you asked.

"yea, yes. i will uhm, see you later. goodbye, y/n," he smiled gorgeously.

"see you later, spencer," you grinned back as you closed your door and began to drive off after buckling up.

halfway home, you got a call from someone. you pressed the bluetooth answer button on your radio to answer.

"hello?" you replied, readjusting your hands on your wheel.

"y/n hotchner. i can't believe you were at the office and didn't even bother to say hi to me!" emily's voice rang through the speakers.

"emily! hello to you too," you giggled.

"you even said hi to reid! but not me?" she shouted. "what gives?"

"sorry, i just kinda ran into him, i guess. well, he ran into me," you corrected yourself.

"what does that mean?"

"well, he kinda stopped me while i was in the elevator so he could talk to me. he's such a good friend," you complimented.

"only friend?" emily asked suggestively.

"yes, em. only friends," you laughed at the insinuation.

while it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to be more than friends with him, it certainly wasn't the right time for a serious relationship in your life yet.

"righhtt... anyway, that's not the only reason i called you," she stated.

"and why did you do that?" you asked as you turned onto the highway, a straight shot to the street with your house on it.

"i wanted to know if you'd like to come with us to a bar after we get off of work tonight?" she asked.

"hmm... who's 'we'?"

"well there's me, morgan, garcia, and you if you'll come?"

"sure, it sounds fun," you agreed. "besides, not like i have anything to do with no job and all," you laughed out.

"great! now we could probably convince reid to come now that you're going!" she exclaimed.

"jeez, em," you huffed as you rolled your eyes and turned onto your street.

"you know it's true. morgan's already teasing him about it and everything," she snorted out over the phone.

"oh poor spencer..." you grimaced as you thought about the relentless teases.

"yea, yea, yea. but you're coming, and there's no backing out! i'll just pick you up before i head to the bar. be ready at 8, ma'am. dress hot, please, garcia and i already agreed to it," she demanded.

"yes ma'am, sounds good," you nodded even though she can't see you.

"alright, love you, bye," she said, holding out the 'e'.

"love you too, bye," you said as she hung up the phone, finally turning into your driveway to be met with your gate.

you entered the code and the gate opened, allowing you to drive half a mile up to your house. you had always wanted a nice, big house as a child. the kind that people had in movies, and everyone looked at online. you signed a lease for this house a while back, and got an amazing deal on it sense you knew who owned it previously.

unlocking your door, you walked into your house with the papers in hand. you walked into your dining room and started filling the papers out easily. it was only 1 p.m., so you had a while before you had to start getting ready for going out with them tonight.

*******

you threw on a maroon colored corduroy skirt, tucking in your spaghetti strap, black tank top. adding some black heeled booties, you added a few silver pieces of jewelry.

after adding some mascara, lip gloss, and a bit more powder you felt like you were ready to walk out of the door. you did a few spritzes of perfume before grabbing your black crossbody purse, letting it hang on one shoulder before grabbing your black denim jacket, dashing out of the door to emily's car.

"hey em," you said as you swung the door open, crawling not-so-gracefully inside.

"hey there," she said as she examined what you were wearing. "i seriously did my makeup for half an hour and you come out looking like that? it should be illegal to look that hot, y/n," she rolled her eyes with a huff.

"are you kidding me?" you replied, looking over to see what she was wearing herself.

she had on a short, black dress that had a low neckline, allowing tasteful cleavage to show through. she wore that with some red pumps to match her lipstick and some shimmery eyeshadow.

"okay, you can't say that. you look hot, em! don't sell yourself short," you punched her arm playfully.

"yea, yea, yea," she said, beginning to drive out of your driveway.

once you arrived to the bar, it looked like it was almost full. the music was loud, and you could feel the base through your feet on the floor. it took you about a minute until you could find the others, derek, pen, and spencer, sitting at a booth in the corner of the bar.

because of how crowded it was, you sat across from penny and derek and in between spencer and emily. you were practically on top of spencer because of how small the seats were, the poor guy.

"damn, you look great, y/n," derek gushed before looking at spencer with a smirk. "don't you think, pretty boy?" he laughed out, earning a jab from penny in the stomach.

"play nice, derek," she scolded him. "but you do look great, y/n. your legs look amazeballs in that outfit... like wow," she exaggerated.

"oh, shush," you blushed. "i'm kinda hungry... you guys?" you asked them.

"i could go for some cheese sticks," emily replied.

"i ate before we came here," spencer replied with a smile, leaning into your ear a little bit to answer.

"so cheese sticks and... cheese fries? i adore cheese fries," penny added.

"i'm okay with whatever. i'll go order," you said as emily got up to let you out.

"i'll help," spencer added as he scooted out with you.

"great, any drink requests?" you asked, pointing out to all three others.

"jack and coke," emily requested.

"anything fruity they have!" pen told you.

"whiskey, on the rocks," derek said with a smile.

"you've got it," you said as you turned around, realizing how crowded it was as you tried to weave through the first few people in your way.

you felt a hand grip yours firmly, turning to see it was spencer's hand you felt a sigh of relief wash over you. he leant down to your ear to talk to you, so you leaned a bit closer to him.

"i'm gonna put my arm around your waist so we can get through easier. is that okay?" he asked. his breath on your neck and ear almost distracted you from the question.

"y-yea. that's uhm... that's okay," you nodded your head as you felt his arm snake around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

you moved one of your arms around his torso in return, squeezing yourself further into your side so you could avoid bumping into as many people. you could smell his sweet cologne, and the smell of what seemed to be coffee and old books. the warmth of his entire being was undeniable, drawing you closer to his presence.

eventually when you made it to the bar, you both kept your arms around the other. after ordering the food and drinks, you finally pulled your arm back, but stayed just as close to him.

"have you filled the application out yet?" spencer asked sweetly, leaning into your body.

"yea, i finished them just before i got ready to come here, actually," you nodded your head with a smile. "i guess you could say i'm a bit eager to start working."

"i think that's a good thing," he smiled brightly.

"oh, it definitely is!" you agreed. "i'm just so bored at the house. i've only been gone for a day and i need something to do, y'know?" you shrugged.

"busybody?" he questioned.

"oh you have no idea," you laughed, pushing his shoulder back playfully.

"i guess it runs in the family. hotch is always working on something as well," he mentioned. "so working at the bau would be a great fit for you both."

"yea, i sure hope so," you said longingly. "so what else do you do for fun... besides reading and working, of course," you asked.

"uhmm, i enjoy magic, i guess," he expressed.

"really?" you perked up, straightening out your posture at what he revealed.

"yea. i know a few little party tricks. wanna see?" spencer proposed, you nodded eagerly. "okay," he licked his lips as he began digging into his pocket and pulled out a $20 bill, also getting a pen. "watch..." he said as he jabbed the green paper with the pen.

"okay?" you squinted your eyebrows at what he was doing, unsure of where this trick was leading.

he then started to drag the paper around the pen, not tearing the bill at all. you felt your jaw drop in awe as he continued playing with it. then, he drug the pen all the way out of the bill, not a hole in sight. he made the bill disappear, leaving you stunned.

"what? how did you-? where did it-?" you stuttered, looking at him accusingly.

he reached around your hair, behind your ear and pulled out the same twenty dollar bill as earlier, a smug look on his face as he did so.

"okay... wow." you said as you began slow-clapping in awe. "i'm thoroughly impressed, spencer."

"thanks," he smiled shyly as he tucked the bill back into his pocket. "i've been doing magic since i was a kid. it's one of my hobbies when i'm we're not trying to catch serial killers," he shrugged.

"i'd say you've picked a good hobby," you chuckled. "i bet kids love it when you do them, huh?"

"yea, it's quite the entertainment for children," he nodded. "i love their reaction to it. it just makes me happy that i can bring a smile to their face."

"that, spencer, is fascinating," you complimented as the bartender handed you the drinks and spencer the food to take back to the table.

walking back was much easier than your journey to the bar, people actually making way for others with their hands full of refreshments. at least some people still had their manners.

"okay guys," you addressed as you began passing out the drinks, "here is your whiskey, jack and coke, and a tequila sunrise for pen."

"ouuu! i like the sound of that!" penny cheered as she took a sip of the drink, her eyes widening with delight.

"thank you, ma'am," derek thanked as he took a sip of his drink.

"absolutely perfect, y/n," emily relished in her beverage.

the rest of the night was fun. you laughed, joked, and danced with the girls. you even got to know spencer a bit more, much to your liking.

the next day you turned in your application, and was surprised when you got the job on the spot. you would begin your trial run in one week.

and you couldn't believe how fast that week went by, because as soon as you blinked, you were in the bullpen of the bau at your very own desk.

#spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid #y/n #agent hotchner #y/n hotchner #ssa hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

31 notes · View notes

gendercraft · 3 years

Text

Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Four: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore

Waylon hopped out of the vent into a tiny, mostly bare room. A Variant sat in the corner, hugging his legs with his face buried in his knees. A metal storage crate barricaded the door.

“You mind if I move this?” Waylon asked quietly.

The man shook his head.

Waylon swallowed and braced himself against the crate. His weak muscles trembled and strained as he pushed. Holding back a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut. When it was finally out of the way he shook his hands out and sighed.

Poking his head into the hall, he bit his lip. It was empty, the walls covered in plastic, emergency lights still blasting. The rest of the lights had gone out. There were several dead bodies littering the hall, blood smeared on the plastic. One body was completely ripped in half, torso from legs, guts spilling into the floor.

He snuck into a security room and shut the door behind him. Through the window to a decontamination chamber, a man in scrubs pressed his hands to the glass.

“Help me, please!” He cried. “I’m a doctor! I need to get home to my…” His eyes widened. He spluttered for a second, then said, “You’re not security. I was… I’m a patient,” he said carefully.

Waylon stepped closer, brows furrowed.

“I stole these clothes from a… dead body I found. You gotta let me out of here. Please. Just push the button, open the door. We can get out of here together!”

Waylon hesitated. He wished he’d recognized the man—if it were really a doctor, he’d leave him to rot, but he couldn’t risk hurting a patient, could he? Fuck. He slammed his hand on the button.

The doors slid open, and a Variant with a grimace and a red face stepped inside. The doctor/patient gasped and stepped back.

“No, no!”

“All of you,” the Variant snarled, grabbing the back of the doctor/patient’s head and slamming it into the glass. Waylon stepped backwards with wide eyes, “doctors and liars.”

He slammed the man’s head into the glass, over and over and over and over again, thunk, thunk, crack, thunk, blood spurted everywhere. Slipping out of its socket, the eye was crushed against the glass. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose and eyes. Crack! Thin lines stained the glass like a halo.

Waylon felt sick. Gagging, he backed up until he was pressed against the door. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The Variant thanked him, then left.

He’d never seen a man die before today. Never seen a dead body outside of a coffin. Dozens in the last few hours, murdered and worse. The look in the Variant’s eyes, the raw anger, as he crushed the man’s skull… There was no real difference between the doctors and patients now. They were all crazy, all sick.

And what was Waylon? He watched a man die and only thought, it’s not me, thank God.

He knew he’d die someday. He didn’t want to be murdered.

Waylon stumbled out of the room and made his way to the airlock. It sprayed him with that awful-smelling green gas, then let him through. The corpse watched him as he left. He crept through to the closest exit he knew of, but it was jammed and blocked. Dead Variants littered the ground.

A file caught his eye. He picked it up with shaking hands.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Resignation for Mental Health, CC 8208

Ms. Grant,

You may receive requests for information from a Mrs. Lisa Park, of Leadville, CO, in the coming weeks concerning the resignation and hospitalization of her husband, Waylon. If so, please forward them to my personal attention.

Waylon’s stomach lurched. Lisa? Oh, God…

Waylon Park (former consulting contract 8208) resigned due to previously undiagnosed mental illness. I personally visited Mrs. Lisa Park and her sons and broke the news to them, with the “silver lining” that Murkoff Psychiatric would be graciously providing treatment.

Mrs. Park had some less than charitable things to say about myself and the Murkoff corporation. I assured her that with her power of attorney she could try to fight the doctors’ diagnoses of her husband’s illness.

However, if it were discovered that he resigned under false pretenses, his insurance would be cancelled and the family would be saddled with not insignificant healthcare debts.

The paper crunched in Waylon’s fist.

Hopefully she understood.

But if she insists on making a nuisance of herself, or tries to get around me, please let me know. This is one I want to take care of personally.

Yours,

Jeremy Blaire

Waylon shoved the paper in his pocket. Please say she let it go. Please let her be okay.

Blaire’s voice echoed in his head.

“Somehow not smart enough to realize that the last thing a fly ought to do in a spider’s web is wiggle.” The laptop cracked on the ground as Blaire dropped it. “Somehow dumb enough to think that a borrowed laptop, onion router, and firewall patch would be enough to fool the world’s leading supplier of biometric security.” He tapped his forehead. “Stupid, Mr. Park. More than stupid. In fact, that was crazy!” A sick grin spread across his face. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to have you committed. Mr. Park, will you willfully submit to forced confinement?” He glanced over his shoulder at the three armed security guards that followed him. “Did you hear that, agent?”

Waylon’s heart slammed against his chest, his fingertips. The fear burned hot in his abdomen, sweat gathering on his brow.

“He said ‘yes,’ Mr. Blaire.”

“Great!” Blaire waved his finger. “Oh, and… did I just hear Mr. Waylon Park volunteer for the Morphogenic Engine program?”

“That’s what I heard, Mr. Blaire.”

“That was brave, indeed, Waylon. The Murkoff Corporation and the onward march of science both appreciate your bravery… and sacrifice. Maybe you should administer Mr. Park here a light anesthetic?”

“Gladly.” The front guard stepped forward and wound his arm back.

Waylon raised his hands. Blinding pain rippled across his face, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

Waylon ground his teeth together so hard something cracked. He would get back to Lisa and the boys if he had to tear through the entire asylum.

The next airlock was broken, so he climbed atop a stack of crates covered in a blue tarp and dragged himself on top. Army crawling across, he jumped to the ground. It was pitch black in the hall. He raised his camcorder and flicked on the nightvision.

He found himself in the cafeteria. Body parts were strewn across like decorations. Someone hummed and mumbled nearby. Bodies hung from the freezer’s ceiling like cured pigs. Flesh teared in the cafeteria, munching. Hands shaking, he crept into the kitchen.

Waylon gagged. Blood boiled on the stove like someone was making fucking spaghetti, an arm and a hand poking out of the bubbling warmth. He entered the dining area, and behind the glass of the bar, blood splattered across the copious amount already caked on. Around the corner, then he zoomed in to look through the glass at the naked, bearded man sawing into a corpse.

Keeping his camera up, Waylon’s eyes watered. He stepped forward.

POP!

The microwave beeped and the head inside exploded.

“Oh, God,” Waylon choked out.

“Don’t you look at us,” the man snapped. “I love him.” He pulled out an organ and dropped it into his mouth.

He chewed with his lips open, blood spurting, tissue tearing. Waylon stumbled back and hurried out of the room. He doubled over and gagged, choked, trying to vomit but nothing coming up.

Sitting on the ground, he set the camera down facing him. “Don’t ask to see my body, Lisa,” he choked out. “When I die, when you finish the lawsuits that let you pry this footage from Murkoff’s army of lawyers and corporate hitmen, don’t make them show you my body. Just bury it. Or burn it. Let my sons remember me whole.” He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. “That man is eating human flesh,” he whispered. “He looks at me and I see anger. A little desire. But more than anything, hunger. Please don’t make them show you my body.”

He grabbed the camera. He didn’t plan on dying, but he would not risk not warning Lisa.

He passed through a locker room and into a hallway, towards a grated door. A corpse hung by the wrist to set of handcuffs, looped through the grate, holding it closed. He had to get through there to get to the prison, get to the radio.

“Fuck,” he whispered, yanking at the handcuffs. He’d have to find the key. There had to be a security guard around here somewhere.

Across from the grate was a boarded up door. The glass above it was broken. He climbed atop the desk resting there and pulled himself through the broken window, hissing as glass cut across his thighs.

Keeping an eye out for the key, he crept down the hall. Bzzzz!

Waylon dropped to the floor as the cook came into the hall. His eyes glowed in the infrared, slowly surveying every inch of the blackness. There was that desire in his eyes, that hunger. Waylon kept the camcorder up and swallowed, his skin crawling. Out of all the people in Mount Massive, he did not want to be in the hands of the cook.

He thought about turning around and finding an alternate way to the prison, but it would take too much time. He’d just have to be careful, quiet. He crept forward. The hall went forward and then to the left, with a room to the right. As the cook disappeared into the room to the right, Waylon hurried forward, still low to the ground. His eyes were on the corner. If he could just get around the corner, maybe he wouldn’t be seen.

His foot crinkled on a sheet of plastic hanging off the wall. He froze.

“I can smell you!”

Shuddering, Waylon crept further into the darkness.

“Feed me! Feed me! FEED ME!”

The saw buzzed, bzzz!

Just keep moving, Waylon.

He crawled forward in the hall and turned the corner. The man was still busy in the room to the right. In the turn of the hall, the walls were lined with wooden doors. He crept into the first one just long enough to catch his breath. It was bare with just a stack of mattresses on a metal bedframe, no key in sight. He stood up halfway and peeked open the door.

The hall was empty. He swung the door open and snuck out.

“MINE! You are mine!”

The voice was right behind him. He broke into a sprint, just in time for the buzzsaw to catch the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Fuck!” He gasped, skidding to a stop at the blocked end of the hall and slamming his fist into the door as he barged inside.

He ran straight across the hall to the next door, barging through that one as well, leading him into a room full of storage shelves and crosses on the wall. A dead end. He looked around wildly, a place to hide, a place to escape.

“Feed me! Feed me! FEED ME!”

Waylon whipped around. The cook grinned, blood glinting on his teeth, white in the night vision. He swung the buzzsaw and Waylon leapt backwards. Tripping over his own feet, his back smacked against the ground. The saw came over the cook’s head, and Waylon rolled out of the way, only for burning pain to rip through his leg.

“FUCK!” He staggered to his feet and felt frantically at the blood dripping down his calf.

Another swing, Waylon brought his hand up, a slash down his palm. He whimpered and stumbled backwards.

Then he saw it—an open vent sat above a desk. He ducked another blow and dashed for the vent. His collar caught and he choked, his eyes watering. The cook dragged him backwards and threw him into a shelf. His chest and knee and elbow slammed into the corners. Wheezing, he made another break for the vent. He shoved past the cook and leapt onto the desk as all the lights flicked on.

The buzzsaw caught the bottom of his foot as he dragged himself into the vent. He curled into a ball and hissed through his teeth. His blood smelled of iron, it was all he could smell, all he could think. He sat up as best as he could, cramped in the little square space, and looked for a seam to rip with his teeth. The cook grunted and cursed as he tried to get into the vent, only to turn and leave the room.

“I’ll find another way…”

Waylon found a seam in his pants and ripped off what fabric he could. It wasn’t even or clean, but it was long enough for him to wrap around his calf and tie tight enough to hurt. He ripped off another piece for his foot, and another for his hand.

He was shaking when he dropped to the ground. His foot burning, he bit back a whimper.

A Variant stood in the corner. He was dressed, thank God, but bandages wrapped around his eyes.

Waylon held his hands up as the Variant stalked towards him. “Hey, hey… What’s going on, man?”

“I have an itch.”

He cringed. “I can’t help with that. Want me to get those bandages off?”

The Variant shook his head. What could be behind the fabric?

Waylon swallowed. “Your clothes… you come from upstairs?” He wasn’t wearing the standard jumpsuit the Morphogenic volunteers wore. His clothes came from the Male Ward.

“Yes.”

“So you can get around safely, you know how to not get caught?”

The Variant hesitated, then continued forward. Waylon stepped back. “I can move around.”

“I need you to find someone for me. Can you do that? I can switch out your bandage for something cleaner.”

“...okay.”

“There should be an investigative journalist running around here somewhere—”

“Miles Upshur.”

Waylon blinked. “Y… yeah. How’d you- how’d you know?”

“He’s been… talking to everyone. Trying to. In the abandoned sections. Headed to the basement, last I saw. Why do you need him?”

“Find him,” Waylon begged, “tell him Waylon Park, the whistleblower, is headed to the prison. I’m going to get help.”

He stopped walking. “You’re the whistleblower?”

“Yes,” Waylon said uncertainly.

“I’ll find him for you.”

Waylon found a seam in his shirt sleeve and ripped it free. He carefully pulled the bandages away from the Variant’s face. In the sockets, the eyes were completely eviscerated, nothing but bloody pulp. Waylon felt like gouging his own eyes out with a spoon. He bit back a gag and pulled the new bandage around his eyes.

“Get those clean,” he mumbled, then patted his shoulder. “I need to go.”

Waylon was back towards the labs, plastic lining the glass walls and laptop carts clogging up the halls. He wasn’t sure if the handcuff key would be around here, but he was just grateful to be away from the cook.

He looked around for a tense couple of minutes, stepping quietly and keeping an ear out for any buzzing, before he finally found a bathroom with a dead security guard. He snatched the key from the man’s belt and sighed in relief.

All he had to do now was get back.

He found his way back to the main hall and stuck his head out the door. The cook grumbled to himself, peeking inside a room, saw buzzing beside him. Waylon swallowed and crouched. He crept into the hall and around the corner.

If he comes this way, I’m fucked. But the barred door he originally jumped over was in sight. The cook was not agile, couldn’t follow him. It was Waylon’s only strength here.

He cursed himself, then broke into a sprint.

“MINE!”

His feet slapped the floor as the cook raced behind him. Vaulting over a turned over bed and leaping onto a desk, he scrambled up through the window again, the broken glass making more cuts across his thighs.

Waylon stumbled to the ground. His vision blurred, his head hot. Panic? Blood loss? Both? Whatever. He got the key.

Unlocking the handcuffs, the corpse’s arm slipped out and thunked to the ground. With shaking hands, Waylon pulled the handcuffs out of the lock and swung the grate open.

It led into the crematorium. He headed down a short staircase and crept into the room. His heart was still racing, his legs still equipped to run. Something banged on the nearby door as he passed the ovens. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

Backing up, he watched the door shake again, then stop. He hesitated.

I have to go this way.

He watched his steps, stepping over broken glass and litter. The second he passed the door slammed open. The cook grabbed him by the neck and threw him onto his back. Waylon wheezed and kicked, the wind knocked out of him. The cook hauled him onto a wooden slab and raised the buzzsaw.

“This meat is mine,” he cackled.

He brought the buzzsaw to his chest, slowly inching forward until red splattered. Waylon threw his head back and screamed. Then the cook pulled the saw away.

Grabbing Waylon by the legs, he shoved him backwards. The heat of the oven burned the back of Waylon’s head.

“You stay there,” he grinned, “and cook!”

Then he threw Waylon into the oven, and slammed the door.

@wasnt-hiding-in-cuba-for-7-years asked for waylon torture porn so here’s me delivering the best i can this early in the story. more whump later, hope you enjoyed lol

#outlast #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #camerashipping #outlast revisited

8 notes · View notes