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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 years

Text

Penelope: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I am so sorry I haven’t posted. I was sick with the flu and completely forgot about it. I will be posted both episodes now!

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

Hotch's phone rings and he answers it quickly.

"Hotchner. ... Good. ... We'll be right there." He hangs up with a relieved look on his face. "She's up."

You three head back to the hospital just in time to see Penelope before she falls asleep again from exhaustion. You walk into her room with Derek, JJ, and Spencer. Everyone wants to cry, but if you start crying, then Penelope will start crying.

"Hi. No tears. I'm afraid if I start crying I'll come unstapled," she sighs.

"How are you feeling?" Derek asks.

"Confused, stupid, and in pain."

"Are you up for some questions?" JJ wonders.

"I never saw it coming. He seemed... deliciously normal."

"You know him?"

"He was your date, right?" you whisper and take her hand.

"You were right. I should have trusted it," she says to Derek. "It's that guy I told you about. The one I met at the coffee shop. I wanted to believe he was interested in me. I let my guard down."

"Do you have any idea why he would have done this? Did he threaten you? Did he want something?"

"I just thought he liked me," she sniffles.

"We need a name, Pen."

"James Colby Baylor." Your team leaves the room to give her some space, but she grabs your hand and JJ's. "Will you two stay with me for a second?"

"Sure," you nod and sit back down next to her. "I saw what happened, Penelope. I saw you while you were being operated on. I told you to fight for your life, and I'm glad you listened."

"I'm not ready to die yet."

"We will find James and take him down. He won't ever hurt you again."

"Promise me something."

"Anything," JJ says.

"Please don't talk about me like I'm a victim. I'm not."

"We won't. We promise," you nod in agreement with JJ.

You lean up and kiss her forehead before leaving the room with JJ to give Penelope some rest. You two join Derek and Spencer's side. Detective Walker sent over everything he had on the guy. He used a revolver, and the only person who uses a revolver is someone who doesn't want to leave shell casings behind as evidence. There were no witnesses, and James staged it to look like a robbery to throw people off. If he's smart enough to use forensic countermeasures, then the odds he gave Penelope a fake name is very likely.

"What did she say?" Spencer asks.

"She made us promise not to talk about her like a victim," JJ says. "Excuse me."

"I asked her to go out last night, but she was pissed at me. She blew me off," Derek sighs once JJ left.

"You ended up in church?" you ask.

"Yeah. What does it mean? On one hand, if she'd gone out with me, she would have never got shot. On the other hand... What are the odds that the first time I pray in twenty years, she's on the table?"

"She's asking for you three," a nurse says from inside the room.

You three head inside and smile at Penelope.

"Good news, bad news. The morphine's wearing off. When I was in the ambulance, I could hear the song 'Heroes' playing in my head. I kept flashing in and out of consciousness. Everything was really bright, and I remember thinking, wait... is David Bowie really God?"

"We have a sketch artist coming in," Spencer reveals.

"I'm still a little hazy."

"It's okay. Anything you tell us will help. Did this guy say what he did for a living?"

"He said he was a lawyer."

"Did people know him where you went?"

"He said he wanted to show me a new place. It was half an hour away."

"You drove together? What kind of car?" Derek asks.

"A white four-door sedan. American. It smelled new."

"Rental car, maybe?" Spencer says to you and Derek.

"I don't know. I don't look at things like you guys do. I don't see danger--"

"Okay, take it easy," Derek calms her down. "Take it easy. What else can you remember?"

"He smelled good, and he was a little nervous. I thought he was just afraid to kiss me good night," she says with tears in her eyes.

"You sure you're up for this?"

"I could hear him walking. He leaned over me and I held my breath so he'd think I was dead," she sniffles.

"We should stop," you whisper.

Penelope is nowhere near ready to go home, and for the next four days, you and your team worked endlessly trying to find out who this guy really is. James Colby Baylor has to be a fake name, and if it is, then you need to find out his real name and fast. However, four days and no good news. Penelope has been in and out of sleep the entire time, but a sketch artists was able to grab her description of the man she went on a date with.

That photo has been taken to the coffee shop where she met him, the restaurant, and everything else in between. Nothing has come up, even when the picture was run through ViCAP. No luck with rental car services, no prints were left at the scene, so shell casings, and the cell phone that the guy used to call Penelope at work was a disposable one. This guy knows how to stay off the grid, and that makes him more of a mystery than you thought he was going to be.

The only person who can help you right now is Penelope, so you need to go back to the hospital and talk to her about the date she went on. Maybe a detail was overlooked that she might remember. Everything matters, even things that may not seem as important. Spencer and Derek are already at the hospital where they've been for the past four days.

You walk into the room, interrupting their conversation.

"Hey, I'm here to help with remembering what happened. If you allow me, I'm going to take your hand and I might be able to see what happened. I might be able to see something you might have missed. If it's okay with you, of course."

"It's no problem," she says.

You take a seat next to her and grab her hand gently, running your thumb across the back of her hand.

"Whenever you're ready."

She begins with the restaurant they went to, and it's like you were right there. Through her reenactment and descriptions, you're able to connect with her feelings and transfer them into memories. James and Penelope walk into the restaurant, and though you can't hear what they're saying, you can tell he is a smooth talker. The waiter brings them to a table in the corner of the room where he takes a seat right in the corner so he can see the whole room while Penelope takes a seat across from her.

The waiter passes out menus, and Penelope is unsure of what bottle of wine to get. He points one out, ensuring her that she will like it even if she doesn't drink that kind of wine. They talk and laugh with each other, talking about their job (you only assume).

"Penelope, I know it's gotta be hard to keep reliving this," Derek says when he sees her getting frustrated.

"I just don't know what else there is to remember."

"Let's start with the behavior. That's all profiling really is, just noticing behavior," Spencer tries.

"Sweetheart, any details you can remember will tell us who he is. Okay? So, let's go back to when you first arrived at that restaurant. Was he nervous?"

"No, the opposite, actually. He was charming, and when the menus were passed out to us, he insisted we order a white wine even though I only drink red."

"So, he was trying to impress you by showing you how he can take charge."

"I guess so."

"Tell me about his watch," Spencer says, assuming he was wearing one.

"It was a fake rolex."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I know my knockoffs. He kept playing with it as if he wanted me to look at it. It's how I know it's a knockoff."

"What else do you remember?" you ask with your eyes still closed.

"He kept asking me about my job, and he then talked about his. He said he was a lawyer, a city attorney. He told me he had a murder case dismissed for judicial inepptitude, and he went into private practice."

With all of this new information, you took this back to the rest of the team who is back at Quantico. You want to give Penelope more time to rest, so you decided to work on this new information. Maybe with it, you can find out who he really is. Once you got back to Quantico, you told the rest of the team exactly what she said.

"City attorneys don't try murder cases. He knows enough to use legal terminology, but he's not actually a working lawyer," Spencer says.

"I think we're looking at someone who failed out of law school or didn't pass the bar."

"Did Garcia say if he gave any details about the cases he was supposedly working on?" JJ asks.

"No specifics."

"If he failed out of the system, it could explain why he's got a working vocabulary and not much more. It could also explain his anger. Even in his lie, he rails against other people's incompetence."

"Well, he's clearly a narcissist," Rossi says. "The clothes, the watch, and the subtle hints at where he went to school. He's faking humility when he's saying New Haven and Cambridge instead of Yale and Harvard."

"JJ, we need an analyst who can put our information through the legal databases."

"I'm on it."

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floraltypes · 3 years

Note

lots of innocent and not so innocent touches

With Dwayne Pride if you wright for him if you don't just Gibbs please <3

who - leroy jethro gibbs x reader

an - i’m sorry! i haven’t seen ncis new orleans, so i probably couldn’t write dwayne very well … hope this is okay, for some reason i had trouble writing it :/

please continue to send in asks !!

unedited :/

Blankets surrounded your body, your leg ontop of another while light snores left your mouth. Hair was messed up and a hand was slowly moving to stroke your cheek. The curtains allowed peaks of the sunlight to peak through in your bedroom. A man lying beside you in his sweatpants and old tee.

The grey haired, older, man kept his eyes on your peacefully sleeping face, truly enjoying whatever dream you were imagining. He made no move to remove your leg from the top of his, but did make a move to place his fingers above your face, lightly pushing some stray baby hairs away.

A part of him silently cursed to himself, wishing that he had learned how to work his phone better, then being able to snap a photo of this calming moment for his own purposes.

Gibbs wouldn’t admit it to you, but these moments were more important to him than working on a boat, or the thrill after finally catching a bastard. There was something so domestic, so calming, with these times spent together. Time for him to think to himself, and also have the one he loves so much be so close.

Time to think about the past, and wonder how he got lucky enough for it to land here. Though, he may have lost a lot, and they would never be forgotten, he was grateful for another opportunity at pure happiness.

But his time to enjoy the peacefulness soon ended with a ring of a cellphone, causing you to stir a bit in your sleep. You eventually opened your eyes, staring up at the man who now had the hand that was formally on your face, resting on your chest.

“What’s that?” You questioned, trying to sit up and rub your eyes. “Can you get it?”

“It’s your cellphone,” He answered, missing the warmth of your leg, now having it be moved to lay on the mattress itself.

“Mmk,” You mumbled, reaching over to your side table and grabbing it. Flipping the screen up, you moved it to your ear. “L/n,” You tried to make your morning voice sound more as your own.

“If it isn’t little Y/n!” A cheerful voice spoke loudly on the other line. “Ya miss me?”

“No. What do you need?” You rolled your eyes, getting off of the bed, Gibbs eyes traveling your body as you walked to your dresser, picking out a outfit. “Mhm, okay,” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be there, text me the address. Oh. Never mind then. Bye.”

Gibbs got out of the bed, going to stand beside you. He silently observed as you rolled your eyes once again, opening another drawer, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, a small kiss on the inside of your neck.

“Who’s that?”

“A old coworker.” You opened your underwear drawer, picking a pair for the day.

“Purple,” Gibbs commented, as you dropped the blue pair back into the others, reaching for the one he chose.

“Gosh, it’s like we really are married,” You laughed to yourself, looking back at his straight face. “Sorry, you would know too much about that. But that’s not my point, there is a dead marine there and that means we’ve got work.”

“You didn’t seem to happy to hear from him,” Gibbs unwrapped his arms as you moved to your closet, picking out a dress shirt.

“I wasn’t. He’s annoying and almost cost me my job at the time. But, it’s our job, we have to go, so grab your clothes in the bottom drawers,” You turned around and pointed at the dresser that held some of his items, now finding what you needed and beginning to change.

———————-

“If you are all interested to know… I spent the morning watching a old TV show airing about a classic comedic couple who travels the world with their adopted son,” Tony announced to no one in particular, sitting at his desk as the others sat at theirs.

Ziva had her arms crossed, leaning back in her chair a bit. McGee sat in his, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.

“What did you do this morning, McGee?” Ziva looked over to McGee, watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Trying to work on my new writing.. but for my character, uh, Miranda, I need a good backstory for her, people are really grasping onto her character from the former story. I’ve read some things saying they think she’ll get with Gibbs, I mean Libbs!”

“Interesting,” Ziva tsked. “I read the story and your Miranda character, who is obviously Y/n, and I don’t see it.”

“You know nothing about romance, Ziva,” Tony waltzed over, his own coffee in hand and his face near hers. “I think no one expects you to think about who would get together. But, no, I don’t see Gibbs getting with someone like L/n who is very, you know-”

“I’m what, DiNozzo?” You walked in, moving straight to your desk as you placed your bag down.

“Amazing! I meant, you’re so great that someone like Gib-” Tony looked at Ziva’s eyes widen. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“Someone like me, now what’s that, DiNozzo?” Gibbs questioned.

“Uh-” Gibbs smacked the back of DiNozzos head, moving over to his own desk.

“Dead sailor, body is already getting examined by Ducky and some visitors are coming to drop off some of the evidence.” Gibbs informed everyone.

“They think this sailor had something to do with a past robbery and murder, a cold case,” You clarified.

“L/n!” A guy smiled widely, another girl following in pursuit behind him as he walked to you with his arms wide open. “It’s been too long,” He quickly hugged you, tightening his grip around your shoulders and moving his hands to cup your face. “You still look as beautiful as ever!”

“Y/n, is that your boyfriend?” Ziva inquired.

“He looks a little out of her leagu-” You shot DiNozzo a look. “Or not?”

“Ah no,” The man laughed. “Old coworkers, that is Lila and I’m Carson, nice to meet you guys.”

“If your old coworkers, you must have a ton of embarrassing stories about Y/n!” DiNozzo beamed, moving closer to Carson.

“Uh, a few,” He responded. “We only worked together for a year or two, some, but not a ton.”

“Some will do.”

“DiNozzo, we aren’t here to make friends we are here to solve a murder,” Gibbs shot him a look and hit the back of his head.

“Right, sorry, boss.” DiNozzo put his head down like a sad puppy dog and made his way back to his desk. The two visitors looked at the scene that had just happened oddly.

“We brought all of our evidence, not much, but something,” Lila announced, placing the box on the table now and taking some of it out. “Should we get started?”

“I’ll show you to Abby, she is our forensic analysts and will probably want to take a look at this stuff for herself,” McGee told Lila, putting the evidence back in the box and letting her grab it, soon walking towards the elevator.

“You think I could check out the body?” Carson asked you. “It might be good to see what he looked like more and talk with your doctor.”

“That makes sense, I’ll show you to him,” You smiled at your old coworker and took another way to Ducky’s area.

The both of you chatted on the way down, catching up with how things differ since you worked there and a bit about your new workplace here.

“I really thought you would be Jeremy, the one who called me. I was a bit worried,” You laughed, walking into Autopsy with Carson as Ducky moved near you.

“Hello, dear, who’s this?” Ducky questioned, Jimmy moved near his boss.

“Hey, Ducky, this is Carson. Carson, this is Doctor Mallard. He is a old coworker of mine, Ducky,” You told the older man. “That’s Jimmy, he is Ducky’s assistant.”

Ducky began to explain how the man had died, pointing out various things on the body and even putting in a few past experiences of his own into the conversation.

Soon the four of you had heard the doors open, turning around to catch the view of your boyfriend entering into the room and moving to stand right in between you and Carson.

“I just want to hear some of the explanation myself, you can continue, Ducky,” Gibbs commented, all of your eyes turning back onto Ducky who was back to talking.

You felt a warm, larger hand travel to the middle of your back, a thumb softly pressing into the fabric that covered your skin. You turned your head slightly to make eye contact with Gibbs, but he just continued to stare forward ignoring it.

It was like a goosebump went up your spine, yet it wasn’t not encouraged. It was a bit of a energetic feeling, so you rejoiced in the innocent touch, a sign he was there.

Eventually, Ducky was done with his long explanation and you were back to heading upstairs with Carson and Gibbs to do more research regarding the deadman and cold case.

“So, Y/n, I was thinking we could go out to lunch or something soon to really catch up, outside of work,” Carson mentioned while you three were on the elevator ride up.

You were surprised at his somewhat boldness to announce this in front of your boss (and boyfriend), but he was always a very open person, kind and open.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” You replied.

“We are busy most afternoons.” Gibbs added. “So, if you plan it at some ridiculous time don’t expect my agent to be able to make it.”

The doors soon chimed open and Carson quickly left, making a bee line straight to Lila. Gibbs let you leave first, placing another palm against your back to secretly lead you back to where the desks were, even though you knew where you were going.

———————

The rest of the day was spent with much more working diligently. You all had made some progress but not enough, and you could tell it was really getting to Gibbs. He dismissed everyone and told them to come back in the early hours in the morning.

Gibbs had told you that he was going to stay and work on this some more, so you told him you would stay as well and order some food. Once Carson had heard that, he decided that he would do the same.

A hour later, three burgers arrive and you hand them out to the two other men, soon taking a bite into yours. A bit of the condiment had spewed onto the corners of your mouth, but your hunger caught up with you, continuing to avoid the feeling for a moment and just eat.

Carson caught the look of your messiness, breaking off into a small laugh, and you joining, him then making a joke about how this used to be a regular for you. Gibbs got up from his seat with a napkin and bent over a bit to wipe it away from your mouth.

It was certainly a small gesture, but had caught you and Carson off guard, the both of you quieting. You just stared back at him while he continued to eat with a pride grin on his lips, looking over the papers.

It seemed like a blessing from the sky when Gibbs had finally connected the pieces. Everyone was called back in to look over what he found and to excite a plan on how to continue. You all were able to get the murderer into custody and with old evidence and Ducky’s help you were able to identify he was the killer. With Abby’s help you were able to put him at the scene where your old coworkers cold case took place.

It was a relieving feeling that the case was solved and over. It was easy to tell that your current coworkers were also happy with the fact that your old ones were leaving for good. Having unfamiliar people in a familiar place is always a weird feeling for everyone.

You watched as everyone packed up their things to head home from the tiring few days of work. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and moved to Gibbs desk, chatting with him until Carson came over.

“It was nice working with you again,” He commented, you turned around to face him.

“It was. We make a good team.”

“We really do. I was wondering about that, uh, date?”

“Hm,” That had slipped your mind, and almost did once more when you felt a brush of a hand against your bottom, turning around to make eyes at your boyfriend. “Sorry, I actually have a boyfriend. But if you mean the lunch date to catch up, then I’d love to.”

“The second one,” He nodded, his cheeks brightening a bit at the dejection but also confirmation.

“Great,” You grinned, writing down your phone number and handing it to him. “Talk soon, bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You watched as Carson entered the elevator and soon disappeared, the office area looking very empty with the lights darkened a bit and only you and Gibbs being in the area.

“Glad he’s gone,” Gibbs laughed.

“I figured,” You laughed alongside with him. “I could tell by your touchiness at work, are you trying to let everyone know?”

“If I was, I would do something bolder. Didn’t Ducky ever tell you I used to be like DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, that would be a interesting time to see.”

“I think if I was that same man, we might’ve had sex right o-”

“Let’s get home, now,” You both soon left the workplace, hand in hand, laughing along at stories of the younger Gibbs and his flirty persona.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #leroy x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fanfiction #ncis fic #ncis x reader #ncis #ncis reader insert #gibbs x y/n #gibbs x you #gibbs #anthony dinozzo #ducky mallard #abby sciuto #timothy mcgee #ziva david #jimmy palmer

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sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Black Oak (Part 2)

Pairing: Alcott Glyn (Headless Horseman) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Body Horror, Murder

PART 1

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The police arrived about an hour after you had woke-up the whole village screaming. Peswick was far away from the nearest city’s response, and you sat shivering, wrapped in a blanket from the house, clutching it close as Mrs Shaw rushed to bring you a hot drink. She and her husband were dressed, but neither went into your house. They rushed back home, bringing you a cup of tea from their own kitchen along with a foil blanket for the shock. You weren’t allowed to touch the body, and you tried to ignore the swinging noise of the corpse as you sat perched on the front doorstep to your home, sniffling into the cup of tea. The police took off their hats as they stepped past your gate, and you watched as the crime scene investigation and forensic van pulled up behind them. The two officers nodded at Mr and Mrs Shaw before smiling as best they could.

“Would you like to come with us, please?” The male officer asked gently, “Lets go inside and we’ll get your statement of events, okay?” The female officer with him looked back at the tree and swallowed hard as Forensics suited up to remove the body and take evidence.

“Come on, Sully.” He ushered his companion as he helped you to your feet and nodded to your neighbours. He whistled and smiled as he opened the door for you, “Nice old place you’ve got here.” He complimented kindly, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with crows’ feet, “Mrs Finch used to live here. Are you a relative?”

You shook as the officer led you gently into the front room, “It…She was my aunty, distantly.” You whispered as you eased yourself back onto the sofa, clutching the lukewarm tea tightly, as though it was a lifeline in your grasp.

“She was a kind woman. Made a lot of oils out of her garden, but she had nothing but trouble and vandalism with this place. Kids used to make a mess of the sides of the house regularly.” He tipped his head to the wall where the fireplace was, “It was always on the chimney. She never did anything, but the kids called her a witch and all that trollop.” He shook his head.

“You haven’t introduced yourself.” Sue gave him a lopsided smile as she pulled out the clipboards full of paperwork to be completed.

“Ah, so I haven’t!” The officer dipped his head, “I’m Officer Perks.” He pointed to the blond woman with him, “And this is my partner Officer Sullivan.”

You nodded shakily licked your lips, “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. I know...Its far.” A breathy sigh left you as Sullivan took out her pens from her vest and smiled.

“We just need an account of what you did this morning and if you knew the victim.” Percy offered as he sat on your couch, “Spare no details. Even something small to you might be important to us.”

Conflict burned in your throat and gut as you thought about what had happened, “I don’t remember anything of relevance from last night. I spent the night in bed. I’ve only just moved in, so I was exhausted.” You took a shuddering breath and continued, “I went out this morning to the tree and…and I looked up… and he was hanging there, without his head.” You looked into the tea in your hands, noting that it was now ice cold.

“How long have you been here?” Sullivan asked as she shorthand filled in the details on the paperwork, “You said you moved in recently?” Perks looked from the paper to you and smiled reassuringly.

“I moved in yesterday afternoon.” You whispered and Sullivan gave you a pitying look.

Perks shifted against the cushions, “Did you have anyone with a grudge against you or motive from where you used to live?” He asked.

“No one that I know of.” You answered as you put down the cup of tea, fighting the tears and upset.

“Okay so what time did you find the body?” Perks asked. You took a deep sigh and continued to answer the police officer’s questions well into the afternoon.

Perks and Sullivan could drink their weight in tea, it turned out, and you offered them many drinks over the course of the few hours. They had a couple each, pens scratching papers as they took notes and an official account of the events for the records. You looked out of the window as Sue and Percy signed the bottom of the page. Crime Scene Investigations were hoisting the body down from the thick black branch of the oak, working to preserve the noose he was swinging by. Three people held the corpse up as they cut the rope carefully, keeping the knot intact and bagging the rope before they got the body down into the bag on the stretcher.

“He’ll need to go to pathology to determine cause of death…though I think I have a pretty good idea.” Sullivan whispered, trying not to be heard as she eyed you sat across from them. Perks rolled his eyes and elbowed his colleague.

“Here. Let me draw the curtains.” Perks stood and reached for the curtains before drawing them over the forensics team dragging the body into the bag, impassive to the blood that stained their tunics and gloves.

“I think we have everything.” Sullivan announced as she stood up and took hold of both their mugs, “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.” She offered with a small, pathetic smile.

Perks nodded his head as Sullivan as she left towards the kitchen. You heard her bang the cup on the countertop before you tugged the blanket closer and shifted uncomfortably.

“Thank you for your cooperation today.” Perks took his hat and tucked it under his arm, “I know these kinds of cases are very difficult to talk about. I have this card for you.” He held you out a green printed business card, “That’s the helpline for a couple of organisations and the other side has someone you can seek out if you would like some help talking through all this.”

You looked at the numbers vaguely before nodding and placing the card on the coffee table, “Thank you.” You replied quietly before Perks replaced his hat on his head.

“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you once again and good afternoon.” He looked at his watch before he opened the lounge door and quietly exited.

Sue scoffed at him in the hall, “Come on. We’ve got these reports to write up.”

“Coming, coming.” Perks grumbled, “Nothing wrong with being nice. They just witnessed a damn corpse…” The voices trailed off as the front door closed behind the two of them with a bang.

Silence.

You looked to the curtains and stood up, letting the blankets finally fall from your shoulders as you fisted each side of the heavy curtains. They were old and embroidered with curling leaves. You tugged them open with a heave and watched the police vans trundle away back down the old stone roads, back towards the hills where they had come from this morning. With a deep breath, you tied the curtains back before taking one last long look at the gnarled, black oak in the garden, and heading towards the stairs for a shower and to get dressed. You hoped that a shower would wash away the sticky feeling of malaise on your skin and mind. Hot water usually purged bad thoughts, or so you hoped as you tried to erase the memory of the swinging corpse from the shrivelled branches of the old oak tree.

You shivered through the house after your shower, wrapped in a jumper and heavy jeans as you tried to navigate the halls without looking out into the garden. The memory of the body lingered with the burning feeling of the heavy box in the other room, filled with an old skull. It was a skull inside. A perfectly preserved ivory skull. The teeth were yellow with age on the enamel, and you looked to the table where the muddy box sat with the key in the lock. The headless creature had moaned and groaned as its head screamed from the other room. You turned and looked at the ornate metal decorations before daring to turn the key again. The lid popped open and flew back to reveal the skull again.

It sat perfectly still on the cushion, staring at you with empty eyes. With a deep breath, you dared to reach out and touch the skulls surface. It didn’t move. No magical energies tore out of the eye holes. It was perfectly still. It was just a skull. But the memory of it screaming and cursing inside the box was burned into your memory and you carefully picked the skull up, cushioning the bottom of its jaw before your strokes over the place where the eyebrows had once been when it was a man. It had to belong to the headless horseman, but why your aunt had it locked away in her home was another question entirely. You held the skull up to your eyes and peered into the bone of the eye sockets as you pondered your decision. There was a glimmer of gold inside the mouth which caught your eyes, and you dared to open the jaw wide enough to snatch at the shiny object. It was a single heavy golden coin which had been wedge between the back teeth. You looked at the old print and then quickly replaced it, wedging the jaw back shut as you placed the skull away on its pillow.

It sat and stared at you, and you stared at it, wondering what happened last night as you clutched at your head and sighed. You slammed the lid closed and snapped the lock closed before you placed the box in the centre of the table.

“What the fuck were you up to aunty?” You asked the air as you rushed to the kitchen to make yourself another drink. As you set the water to boil you continued to curse, thinking about the headless man who what invaded your home chasing the poor man who had ended up hanging from the tree in your front yard. The head had screamed ‘witch’ from its confines, but you had no knowledge about what it could mean. You took the hot water and made a drink before looking at the last few boxes of unpacking and scoffing, deciding that the day would be better spent researching what had slaughtered the man and hung him from your tree.

The village library was barely a few bookshelves put together and you sighed looking at the poor collection of books before you dated to approach the old librarian sat next to the desk. She had her own book open, some trashy romance novel set in the Victorian era, and she looked engrossed as she flipped the page and took another bite of her current tea cake.

“Hello?” You asked quietly in front of her.

The librarian jumped in her seat before she clutched at her chest and adjusted her glasses, “Dearie me! You scared the soul right out of me, love.” she took a moment to take a breath and close her book before she stood with a small wince and smiled, “What can I do for you?”

You could see the questions burning in her eyes. She no doubt knew you were the new person in town, and about what had happened at your home.

“I’m looking for some history books about the town. I wanted to try and get to know the place, but I don’t think there’s anything on the shelves.”

Her face pursed a little before she smiled again and pointed to the last one of the small walls of shelves, “There isn’t a lot but there’s a couple of books on the bottom shelf of the end one. For the records and such I’m afraid you will have to ask at the village hall. Rose keeps them in good nick there, lovely woman she is.”

“Ah, thank you.” You returned her smile and left her to her book as you went to the last set of shelves in the wall and started to rummage through the folklore and history books.

There wasn’t a lot, she was right, and you sighed after about twenty minutes of pulling out books. You tugged the last, thick history book from the shelf and dusted the cover to reveal a history of the local mines and hills. It wasn’t what you were looking for. You peered at the shelf again and huffed before there was a glimmer of silver lining at the back of the bookcase. You squirmed your hand to the back and plucked the small book from behind the tattered paperbacks. It was a pocketbook, stencilled with an old name in cursive, faded and marred with cage.

‘Maria Theresa Glyn’

You dusted the front and followed the name before looking around and tucking the book into your bag. You felt bad just taking it, but obviously the Librarian had no idea it was there, and the name was familiar to you. You remembered the coat of arms on the old teapot. If this was the diary of someone with the same name it might have clues, or so you reasoned as you plucked a few books from the shelf and took them to the counter after replacing the rest.

“Did you find what you were looking for, pet?” The librarian asked as you placed the books on the counter. She smiled and pulled out an old paper ticket to write your name onto. She poised the pen over the paper, and you told her your name before she copied it onto another for you and jotted the book codes down. She tutted at the date stamper and fiddled with it to get it to the correct date. Obviously not many people used the library.

“Yes, I found a few interesting things to have a flick through.” You told her as she stamped the tickets inside the books and stacked them in front of you.

“Well, you have fun...and be careful, huh? There’s a lot of weird and wonderful things that go on around here. It would be a shame if you forgot that, and something happened.” She smiled sweetly, but it sent shivers down your spine.

“Thanks. I’ll try.” You smiled awkwardly back at her before you took your arm full of books and made a quick exit back into the chilly air.

The village seemed to watch you as you wove between the avenue of trees, crunching autumn orange and brown leaves underfoot. The chill in the air mimicked their icy feelings. You were the outsider among them, and soon enough they’d come to hound you out of their home. You only hoped to solve what you had seen. There was no way a headless man was riding around taking heads...right? You tried to console yourself as you made it to your home, and past the gnarled black tree in the front garden. It was twisted and old, and the branches seemed to creak as a greeting on your return. A glare silenced it, or so it seemed, perhaps it was just the wind dying, but the tree went silent as you walked up to the door with your keys in hand. The door swung open when you unlocked it and you clutched at your books as the wind howled into the mouth of the house, screaming down the hall like a ghost before you kicked the front door shut, shivering. The old back boiler chugged in the background as you kicked off your boots and placed the books in the lounge on the small table by the chest.

When the chest remained still and silent you left to place away your bags and get a drink. You returned, rubbing your eyes as you opened the little journal you had found. It was penned with ink and quill, that much was obvious, and you ran your fingers over the woman’s name again before you touched the crest and went to find the teapot. You grabbed the porcelain handle and placed the two together over your lap. They were the same. The Glyn coat of arms. You placed the teapot down and opened the diary to look at the first passage. It was dated back three centuries ago, back when the alliance was beginning to form between the different races, monsters and humans alike, though you could tell this village hadn’t had such luxury. The entire populace was human, apart from the dairy farmers four miles outside the walls of the village. They were large goblins of some kind, cave dwelling and gangly limbed from years in the dark, but you had only seen them.

The first passage was written in neat, printed cursive, echoing the care the woman had taken to write her feelings and events down.

‘Today is the day of my birth. My birthday rather. I was given this journal by the kind Mister Glynn, as a gift, and so I find myself beginning to write down the events of my daily life, so perhaps I can look back on it and reminisce when I am old and grey.

Mister Glyn is a kind soul. He is part of the King’s Royal Entourage and the Commander of a large cavalry unit. Why he is in this small village is unknown to us all, but my father suspects it is because of the Wood Witch. Perhaps he has been tasked with taking her head? It is rumoured the armour he has is enchanted against such magic, but I feel as though those are rumours made about a dangerous and powerful man to excite fear.

He is nothing but polite to me. I suppose my father will want to marry me off to this one as well.’

The passages were perhaps a couple of pages maximum, and you flicked through the dates quickly, watching her words change from cold and indifferent to soft and loving of the man see always called Mister Glyn. It wasn’t until a year later in the diary that you saw his true name.

‘Alcott escorted me to the capital atop Mallor, his beast of a horse, though the creature seems to like me now that I bring him sugar lumps. Alcott wished to show me the city and its fruits though there is rather less fruit and more muck and grime. I am used to mud on my shoes, but I despised the odour of the place, much to his amusement. As I write, I can hear him snickering at me across the table.’

There was a few blotches of ink and another set of handwriting.

‘She stood in a man’s excrement.’

Their trip seemed peaceful, and Maria even attended a gathering at court. It seemed well until you found the final page in the diary, written across a page in shaky ink.

‘They took his head.’

There was no fond farewell at the bottom of the page or a cursive signature. It was stark and naked on the yellowed paper, like a bad omen forever preserved. You ran your fingers over the words before you flicked through the last pages seeing nothing but blood splodges and blackened dark blood at the corners. It smelt faintly of rot, and you recoiled from the smell as you looked at the empty bare pages. The back of the book was burned across the inside of the cover. It was mysterious but it seemed like Alcott Glyn had been killed. But by who? You had no idea but as you looked at the chest again and thought of the head inside you shuddered.

Alcott Glyn. There had to be a grave. You tugged your bag open and stuffed the book inside before you rushed out of the door, locking it quickly as you rushed towards the little church. It was at the top of the hill, sat in a mound of earth, subsiding on one side with props and scaffolding to try and hold it up. It wasn’t used anymore, the town hall was used to any religious needs, but it was haunting. The stained glass was dirty, and the front doors bolted and chained to prevent anyone entering. You rushed around the side of the church and looked at the dates on the graves and the dates in the diary. It had to be the 1700s. You thought back to your history lessons and tried to recall the date of the alliance war. 1774. You rushed around the small paths and glanced at the years, 1770, 1772, 1773... you looked at the gap where the 1774 stone should have stood. There was nothing, just unchurned earth and a set of roses growing from the floor. A troubling feeling settled in your gut as you meandered down the path to the back of the overgrown graveyard. There were old stones, crumbling and forgotten under blackberry vines and leaves. It was chance that you leaned down next to a short stone and looked at the faded name.

Alcott Glyn.

The name was chipped and faded, like the memory of the man. Vines grew in wild abandon over the grave, and the blackberry vines had taken over the base, winding around the whole stone with wide dying leaves. It was perfectly hidden and forgotten about. The village’s little secret in the secluded corner of the graveyard, forgotten and buried. Or apparently, not buried completely. The earth was turned over, like something had ruptured from the ground and burst free. It was a long patch of upturned soil, as long as you were tall, or even longer, and the earth and stones were wet, fresh with the rain from the evening and being upturned, as though someone had run a plower through it. Carefully, you ran your fingers through the earth, feeling the soil between your fingers before you took a steadying breath.

“Someone came out of this…” You breathed into the chilly air, your breath making mist with the cold as you stood and looked over the grave. You said it again before turning and bolting from the graveyard before the night could fall over the village.

When you reached home, you threw your bag onto the couch and grabbed the chest, prising the lock open to peer at the skull inside. It was sat, still as a statue, on the cushion, with the glimmer of gold between its jaws. You lifted it from the cushion, carefully, pulling it up to your face level as the sun set over the horizon, bathing you in a golden glow with the skull clasped between your hands. There was nothing but the distant hum of the hot water pipes in the old house to answer your stare. The skull did nothing. It sat in your hands as the sunlight died over the horizon and the night began to settle in. In your gut, disappointment settled with the cold reminder that you were holding a dead man’s skull. A real human skull. Carefully, you placed it back down on the cushion and sighed as you went to draw the curtains, ignoring the creaking of the gnarled oak tree outside your door.

The wind blew as you looked back at the head in the chest, positioned slightly skewed on the cushion. You chewed your lip and sighed before you stood over it again.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered to the skull. Nothing. The old electrics flickered for a moment, dimming before they brightened again. Silence, except for the hum of the back boiler. The breath you had been holding escaped and you turned away with a grumble before the lights surged bright and yellow, like the sun, before the bulbs exploded in a sudden thunder of noise. Glass shattered and flew across the carpet in a shower, and you gasped, covering your ears before you looked back at the cushion.

The head was sat, jaw agape, with two lights in the blackened sockets, rolling side to side. The little lights rolled like stoned before they settled on you and the open jaw began to jitter, chattering the yellowed teeth together loudly. The skull didn’t move, just snapped it’s teeth like a scared dog before it stopped, and the eyes dimmed. It was only a moment of silence before there were three heavy pounds on your door. With a gasp you rushed to draw the curtains, and gazed upon the creature stood on your doorstep, his steed kicking and throwing it’s head by the twisted roots of the black tree. The body stood there, breathing, its undead chest moving as though it needed the air.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered again with a dry mouth. All the moisture dried up from you and you tried not to shake as the skull slammed against the side of the box, it’s eyes glowing.

It shook and chattered its teeth before a voice screamed from between the open jaw, “Let me in, witch!”

Fear twisted your guts as you rushed to slam the chest shut on the screaming skull. It chanted inside the decorative metal, hollering about burning you at the stake before you took it to the front door. The horseman slammed his fist on the door again, repeatedly, as though he was going to tear it open, and you shivered as your fingers shook by the latch and keys.

The horseman began to bang repeatedly and the head in the chest slammed around, shaking your arms as you struggled to keep hold of it. You took a stuttering breath and unlatched the door, turning the keys before you wrenched it open. The headless horseman heaved puffs of misty breath up from the stump of his neck, his trachea flexing with the movement as the nerves of his spinal cord twitched and thrummed behind it, imitating life in his corpse body.

“Witch!” the skull screamed again, his head you realised as you stepped back, and the creature followed. His boots left muddy smeared marks on the wooden floors, and you looked down to see the crushed blackberries over the soles. Your heart pounded as you realised, he had crawled from the grave you had sat by earlier.

“I saw you by my grave. I will not do business with you again.” His voice came from his body this time, contorted and dark as it leaked from his lungs like a wisp.

“Business? What business have you?” You asked, voice shaking with fear.

The skull laughed in its box, a malicious and evil noise, dark and tempting, as though you were truly stupid for asking, “What business did we not have? Have you forgotten in your age, crone? Death and blood, that’s what you wanted, and I delivered it.”

“Who did you have the deal with?” You steeled yourself.

“You, you pathetic soothsayer.” He droned before his dead fist slammed the door closed, “Now give me my head. Our bargain is met.”

“I am not my aunty.” You tried, “I have no deal with you.”

The horseman stopped, his body stiffening as his horse brayed and screamed outside, kicking its hooves at the black oak with a great smash. The tree shook, shedding twigs, but didn’t fall. He stalked closer, the bulk of his frame blocking out the light from the moon and the electric fitting overhead.

“But you have my head.” The skull whispered from inside the box before he grabbed for the chest. He touched the metal of the latch and screamed, the noise escaping the corpse before you and the skull inside the box. It was an ear piercing, unholy noise which burned your ears and made your head swim in agony. The horseman clutched at his chest and the stump of his neck, his gloved fingers pressing into the gored wound of his neck as he wobbled towards the wall and grasped at it for balance.

“Fuck.” You cursed before you whipped the chest open and grabbed his skull by its eye sockets, hanging it over him as he slid down the wall and screamed again in agony, twitching against the wood.

“If I give you your head, horseman, will you indebt yourself to me? Your previous contract will be null, and you will only serve me.” You announced.

The horseman writhed before going deathly still. He laid like a corpse for a moment or two before shakily he braced his arm against the floor and pushed himself up. With a shudder he got onto his knees and kneeled before you, his neck dipped to expose the sore, congealed wound of his decapitation.

“I... I will serve.” The horseman gurgled.

“Then I give you your head to end your torment, Alcott Glyn.” You promised before you held his skull between your palms and lowered it to the spinal column of his body.

There was a great groan as the spine extended from Alcott’s body and snapped to the skull, holding it in place as the eyes burned bright with purple light, the colour of blackberries, rolling in his skull as he reached and clasped at the bone, howling as light burned from the base of his neck and enveloped his skull with a whoosh of purple fire. The fire abated quickly as the moonlight disappeared behind the curtains and the skull shimmered as muscle and tendons swarmed the bone, linking and covering the surface before the he howled, and skin crept from his neck to his face, covering the surface in a perfect alabaster coating. His eyes however, remained voids of black, the centres beautiful blackberry lights in the dimness of your home. Black waves of hair grew from his head, dripping over his shoulders like ink as he howled, leaned against the old wallpaper. They finished growing with a crackle of fire, purple flames licking at the ends before it disappeared, leaving a heaving, black eyed creature curled against the wooden floor.

Your mouth hung open as you watched the horseman shake against the wood, heaving as he reached to clutch at the hair that draped from his previously naked skull. The inky waves slid through his gloved hands and was quickly marred with dirt and blood before he peered at you through the curtain, looking at you with the purple lights in his irises which were sunken back into his skull. His lips parted before he took a deep breath, wheezing out dust and muck, coughing like a goose before he kicked the chapped skin and crawled closer to your feet. He only looked at you, staring before one gloved hand whipped out and snatched your ankle, holding it tightly in an iron grip.

“Bound to your bloodline again...” he growled, “Humiliating.” Before he pushed himself back and stood, swaying on his legs like a new-born deer as his balance came back to him. Having a head was a heavy burden.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You breathed as Alcott slammed the side of his head and beat dirt out of his ears.

“Of course, you don’t. None of you ever do. Now I’m bound here to you until the day you drop dead and rot. Why can you never let me die?” He growled in a worked-up fury, flinging his hands to the windows before he stalked to the door, his boots slamming against the wood. He swung it open, and his mount brayed in greeting, throwing its giant head back before it caught sight of you and snorted, bowing it’s neck like a graceful Swan.

“You are all the same!” The horseman shouted before the moon was revealed, a cloud moving away from its white surface. He shuddered and you watched the skin on his face disappear with the muscle, revealing the purple lights in a bare, burning skull. As the cloud recovered the moon, the base of his neck flared with purple smoke and fire, revealing the scar where he was decapitated, and his face reappeared.

“I gave you your head back, Alcott!” You shouted after him.

The horseman shivered and turned back to you, looking at you with his haunting eyes, both hands gripping the pommel and stand of the saddle, “How do you know my name?” He whispered in questioning.

With a small breath, you locked your lips nervously and ducked back to the table, grabbing the little diary from you bag before you stood on your porch and held it out to the wraith, “Maria wrote about you.”

He growled and snatched at the book, and you let him take it with a painful smile, “I know the townspeople killed you. They betrayed you. I don’t know what happened to Maria.” You confessed.

Alcott opened the diary and flicked through it before he looked at the night sky, “She lived in mourning the rest of her life. They institutionalised her after they found her carrying my head, wailing through the town. She died, high on cocktails of medicines, with her head buried in the soft soil of a flower bed.”

The revelation was something of a shock and you looked at the undead man in front of you with a bitter, pitying look.

“You watched her die, didn’t you?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

The horseman scoffed, “That was the curse after all. To terrorise the town for their betrayal. But not her. I used to try call to her from the window, but she never could bare to look at me. Eventually they gave her more cocktails and she stopped coming to the window all together.”

“Jesus Christ.” You cursed.

“Such foul language.” Alcott sneered as he snapped the diary shut in his gloved hand, “She died from the madness and grief. That is the fault of the town and its yet another reason to run into each of these homes and tear their heads from their bodies.” Alcott spat furiously. As fury overtook him you could see the white scarred seem of where his head had been replaced burning with smoke the purple fumes puffing from it like a new wound before his neck popped and cracked, sending his head to the left, hanging on by a thread of flesh to the other side. You let out a screech and clasped your mouth as the horseman gurgled and reached for his head, grasping it by the hair before he groaned and dragged it back into place, snapping the vertebrae back into place with a twist and a squelch of bloodied tissue. It cracked again quickly, and Alcott held the top of his hair tightly with a groan as the smoke poured from his mouth and his head twisted backwards like a ghoul, spinning on his neck before it snapped again and came free, rolling over the floor to your feet as a skull. The flesh and hair melted in waves of muck from its surface, and you shakily took hold of the skull again.

The horseman stumbled left and right as he reached towards you for his head.

“MY HEAD, WITCH!” He howled at you, but you dashed back up the porch steps and held it protectively.

“You are under my command. Anything against my wishes is against our contract...so you lose your head. Do you hear me horseman?” You blagged, hoping you were right, “So there will be no killing.”

“Evil, corrupt creature. I'll hang you by your feet and bleed you from the neck!” Alcott threatened as fire and smoke poured from his throbbing trachea. The smoke puffed before he went sent to the floor in agony, the black oak behind him creaking and swaying left and right as though the roots were snaking towards him. Sure enough, the ground rumbled, and the black oak’s roots exploded from the ground, snagging the horseman by his wrists and ankles hoisting him into the air as the branches hissed and his mount, Mallor, brayed and screamed, blood spraying over the fence from the horses broken throat.

It was a curse. You should have expected as much, but you shook as the tree cinched the man’s limbs, holding them tight before it pulled, making him scream in agony as his joints were pulled tight.

“Stop!” You screamed, and the tree stopped pulling, holding the horseman aloft still as it swayed and bent towards you, its branches touching your head as though trying to figure out who you were.

“He is mine.” You told the tree, “He will obey and submit to the laws of his contract.”

The tree groaned, it’s roots wiggling in the cold, hard earth for a moment before it dropped Alcott like a sack of grain and settled down quietly, smacking at the horse inching closer to its trunk.

Alcott touched at his neck as he rose, swaying as he cracked and snapped his joints back into place like a disjointed puppet.

“Are you going to play nice now?” You asked as the man wheezed in front of you. When he nodded you offered him his skull back and watched the skin and flesh cover its surface again before he snarled behind his curtain of overgrown hair, blackberry-coloured lights burning the void of his eyes.

“You truly are her kin if that disgusting thing listens to you.” He snapped as he headed for his horse and mounted the saddle with a quick bounce on one powerful leg, his thighs locking tight around the beast’s sides as it bucked and brayed. Alcott turned his horse and tipped his head with a wave of purple smoke and fire, “Call on me then, witch, and see what havoc I can wreak for you.” Alcott laughed bitterly as he turned Mallor onto the cobbled drive and rode onto the road, his face becoming bone and flesh intermittently as the clouds passed overhead.

“I’m not a witch!” You screamed after the horseman, but he was gone into the mist and the trees, unlikely to have heard you cursing against the stairs of the porch as you collapsed.

#headless horseman x reader #alcott glyn x reader #headless horseman x gender neutral reader #headless horseman #alcott glyn #dullahan x reader #dullahan #dullahan x gender neutral reader #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster boy #monster bf #monster boyfriend x reader #monster reader inserts #reader inserts #my writing #original works

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amjustagirl · 4 years

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Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her.

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

Wordcount: 7.8k

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics.

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!).

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time.

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out.

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter.

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball.

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party.

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back.

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air.

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory.

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head.

Why on earth did he agree to this again?

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’

His glare softens by a fraction.

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting.

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here.

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down.

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’

‘Hm.’

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews) when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey.

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively.

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender.

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree -

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek.

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest.

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness.

Then he takes a breath.

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end .

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands.

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn.

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts.

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders.

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even worse .

Much, much worse.

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand.

He ends up face planting directly into her chest.

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – ,

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt.

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed.

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.

He takes her hand with a rare smile.

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband.

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees.

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough.

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product.

He appreciates that.

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal.

He likes that.

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify.

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules.

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer.

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls.

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently.

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings.

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together.

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes. He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so I know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb.

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’ on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way.

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod.

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other.

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north.

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself.

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant.

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course.

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night.

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands.

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence.

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify.

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle.

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind.

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’.

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before.

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze.

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant.

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways.

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day.

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on.

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially.

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time.

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss.

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her.

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain.

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars.

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up.

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer.

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air.

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands.

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look.

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either.

He finds himself wondering about them.

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text.

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two?

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion.

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’.

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him?

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers.

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card.

Oikawa Tooru .

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further.

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer.

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’

He blinks. That was unexpected.

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance.

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb.

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’.

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined.

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache.

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’.

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance.

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause.

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her.

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground.

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales.

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’.

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him.

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips.

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips.

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no – it’s always going to point towards her.

They move in together after that.

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards.

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife.

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while.

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep.

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much.

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold.

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning.

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob.

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly.

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other.

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell.

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way.

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’.

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them.

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in -

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place.

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open.

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’.

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal.

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat.

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath.

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.

He waits.

Then his phone buzzes.

Ah.

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.

“Omi?”

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first.

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind.

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what I want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’.

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face.

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles.

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date.

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again.

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two.

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more.

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party.

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association.

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread.

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name.

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make.

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’.

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake.

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out - pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead.

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability.

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud.

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser.

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist:

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

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marauder-exe · 4 years

Text

Prompt List #2

Welcome to my biggest prompt list ever

if you wanna request something from this list, just use the character and ‘ prompt 34 from prompt list #2′ thank u!

Theres like 200 so be wary

Angst

“I love you ! Is that what you wanted to hear ?”

“I love him/her, and I know that I shouldn’t.”

“Can you just shut your mouth ?”

“wHY DO YOU KEEP LYING TO ME ?”

“We both know that I should walk away, but I can’t.”

“Wait, he/she has a girlfriend/boyfriend ?"

“I lo—-” “No, please… Don’t say that. You love her/him, not me.”

"Could you just take this pain away ? It hurts, so much… Help me.”

“You’re safe here, I got you.”

“Don’t ask her out again, please… You’re killing me, every single time you ask that.”

“Look, he/she wants you, just make him/her happy.”

“If you go, I’ll know that you never loved me.”

“We never were just friends, and you know it.” “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

“SHE WAS CRYING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!”

“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” “But you are the only one who deserves it.”

“I know for a fact that you’re not “fine”.”

“You’re looking at me like.. you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

“What happened between us?”

“Nothing has changed!” “Yes it has, and you know it.”

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt this badly.”

“You said you needed space. You were 5,000 miles away for a year, and you’re still unsure. I’m starting to think that an entire universe apart wouldn’t be enough space for you.”

“I remember when he/she/they used to look at me that way”

“I want you to list every lie you ever told me. Then I’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t hate you. I hate that after all of this, you’re still trying to lie to me”

“I can’t keep this secret for you anymore.”

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for.”

“Why she/her/them? It could have been anybody, and you chose to betray me with her/him/them.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“And I thought you loved me."

" And I thought I loved you."

" Aren't you even going to cry?"

“I didn’t expect you to wait forever. I just hoped…”

“Did you always know that you were going to leave?”

“If you cry, I’ll stay, and if I stay that will just give you another reason to hate me.”

“I’m addicted and at this point I don’t think anything could make me stop.”

”If you wanna know, then ask.”

“You never asked because you knew I wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“We grew apart, and at this point I’m glad.”

“Find somebody else to kiss your ass.”

“When are you going to stop clawing for something that’s never going to happen?”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

“It was easier to believe that the you I knew was dead than deal with the fact that I still have to see you every day.”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

Fluff

51. “You’re hair is really soft after you wash it.”

52. “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

53. “You smell really nice.”

54. “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

55. “I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.”

56. “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

57. “Here, let’s share the blanket.”

58. “You’re comfy.”

59.“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

60.“But I want to hear you sing.”

61.“Don’t get up - I’ll do it.”

62.“Care to give me a back scratch?”

63.“I think I love you.”

64.“Your bed head is really cute.”

65.“How about a kiss?”

66.“You made this for me?”

67.Aw, you’re blushing.”

68. Uh oh, I know that look. What do you want?”

69. “Let me help you with that.”

70. “I don’t want to forget this moment.”

71.“Are you really flirting with me right now?”

72.“I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

73.“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

74.“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

75.“This movie is really scary, but you’re into it so I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?”

76.“Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.”

77.“Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything”

78.“No, it’s fine. I can wait until you’re done talking to them.”

79.“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

80.“You’re a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly.”

81.“I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

82.“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

83.“My friends get so annoyed by how much I talk about how sometimes.”

84.“No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

85.“I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

86.“ You are so beautiful — So fucking beautiful. “

87.“And just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?”

88.“Wow, you look even better in the daylight.”

89.“I don’t remember ever having this many hickeys. But I don’t mind.”

90.“We could order pizza and just stay like this all day.”

91.“It was always you.”

92.I love you in every possible way.”

93.“I didn’t mean to love you so much.”

94.“Don’t you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head.”

95.“Duck, you idiot!”

96.“Hey. Pal. I’ve got a wand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

97.“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

98.“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

99.“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

100.“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror..”

Sarcasm

101.“Define normal.”

102.“Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?”

103.“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”

104.“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”

105.“It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.”

106.“I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”

107.“And you wonder why you’re still single.”

108.“Remind me to kill you. Please.”

109.“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

110.“She’s crazy. And just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, there’s a crazy underground garage.”

111.“She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips.”

112.“If my day gets any worse, I’m asking hell if they’re having an exchange program.”

113.“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”

114.“My middle finger salutes you.”

115.“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel.”

116.Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”

117.“Oh darling. Go buy a brain.”

118.“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

119.“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.”

120.“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

121.“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”

122.“What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”

123.“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

124.“I need therapy after this.”

125.“You didn’t get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly.”

126.“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.”

127.“I think you’re weird.” “I think you’re boring.”

128.“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.”

129.“Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.”

130.“I’m gonna hit you so hard, it’ll make you ancestors dizzy.”

131.“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”

132.“Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!”

133.“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”

134.“She’s hot, but she’s evil.”

135.“Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.”

136.“I already know that I’m going to hell. At this point it’s really go big or go home.”

137.“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”

138.“So stick that in your juice box and suck it.”

139.“Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway.”

140.“Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

141.“Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.”

142.“Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation.”

143.“You’re questioning my methods.” “I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid.”

144.“Wow, somebody needs a Happy Meal.”

145.“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”

146.“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

147.“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.

148.“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

149.“Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already hate you, that’s not going to change.”

150.“You make no sense to me.” “Welcome to my life.”

Drama

151.“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”

152.“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”

153.“Don’t think I forgot about what you did last time.”

154.“I know you lied to me.”

155.“I’m not even sorry.”

156.“You backstabber!” 157.“I never want to see you again.” 158.“You never mattered to me.”

159.“I knew this was a bad idea.”

160.“Rot in hell.”

161.“It was supposed to be a secret!”

162.“No one loves me.” 163.“He/she/they is/are so petty…” 164.“You made me cry.” 165.“I don’t know who you are anymore.” 166.“How DARE you?!” 167.“I know you’re not talking to me…” 168.“I SAW you with him/her/them!”

169.“Just leave me alone.”

170.“What did you do?!” 171.“I told everyone that I didn’t want to talk but I’m actually dying for attention.”

172. “Just admit that was extra…”

173.“I forgive, but I don’t forget.” 174.“Did you see what he/she/they was/were wearing?” 175.“So what if I had sex with your ex?” 176.“There’s something I have to tell you…” 177.“I can’t do this anymore.” 178.“You weren’t there for me when I needed you the most.” 179.“I never loved you.” 180.“It’s too late.”

181.“Quit ignoring me.”

182. “Don’t you get it? It’s because I love you!”

183.“I love you. I’m sorry.”

184.“I don’t want to be friends.”

185.“Can we please pretend I never said that?”

186.“Friendzoned again.”

187.“You should’ve loved me when you had the chance.”

188.“Fuck you for toying with my emotions like that.”

189.“I was there for you when no one else was!”

190.“Alright – I can tell a ‘no’ when I hear it.”

191.“I’m sorry I acted so creepy.”

192.“Fuck. It’s like what they say – nice guys finish last…”

193.“I’m tired of keeping this secret. Even if you don’t love me back.”

194. “I knew that’d be your answer. That’s why I never told you before.”

195.“When I said I loved you, I meant it.”

196.“Is there any part of you, deep down, that might love me back?”

197.“You were the one that left all those notes for me?”

198.“You’re in a relationship with another person – you know this can’t end well.”

199.“We agreed this was just physical!”

200.“I love you. I know you don’t love me, so don’t say it back.”

Ahhh im sorry that was so long, but if you read all the way to here, your a real one.

Again i write for all Hp characters! Feel free to use these prompts as ur own

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liquid-luck-00 · 4 years

Text

Consolation + The “Talk”

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 9: Consolation and Day 10: The “Talk”

@biodad-bruce-month

Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

This got a little long, sorry not sorry

~~~~~~~~~~

One week, one week has passed since Damian started school in Paris. One week since the tower of lies that Lila has built began to crumble and fall.

By the beginning of the next day she had backed off all her lies about the Wayne family but she just re-doubled all her efforts on lies that included Prince Ali, Clara Nightingale, and Jagged Stone. But the tower she had built was going to fall.

And Damian was ready to bring an end to this liar’s reign.

So you can trust that he would find a way to avenge his sister without the use of violence against her, especially in Paris, and especially knowing his father’s mantra of vengeance not revenge. But revenge is needed. So, Damian made a few phone calls. Over the course of the next week he would have enough video and audio evidence to prove his little sister is innocent. But what would really put the icing on the cake is if he could convince the principal to hold a career day or week. Granted it shouldn’t be too hard, he is the only blood son of Bruce Wayne after all. So, telling his sister that he would meet her after fencing practice he went off early in search of principal Damocles. He found the man quite simply and was it far too easy to convince the man to go to career day parents of the students will be able to come in to do you demonstrations or speeches as well as anyone else who they would like to invite.

---

Damian left for his fencing practice which left me packing up my things getting ready to leave. I was one of the last ones out so of course something had to happen. Adrien came up to me then “hey Mari can we talk.”

‘Sigh’ “If this is about the highroad again Adrien. Her lies are hurting people it doesn’t matter if you think it’s right, she’s hurting people’s futures their chances it…” He cut her off, great this is going wonderfully.

“It’s not that, well it is that but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” He was stumbling over his words and she softened her expression slightly “Marinette what’s the difference between infatuation and love?”

“What?” That was not what she was expecting. This is confusing, and where was this coming from anyways. Never mind why “can you explain it to me more I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around the question.”

He had sheepish smile and started “I. I love ladybug but I’m not sure if I love her or what she represents more”

“You don’t know if you like the idea of her more than the person who she is?” Marinette asked him seeming to understand where this conversation was going.

“before we go even further down this rabbit hole, Adrien why don’t we meet up somewhere more private”

“why? “

Marinette simply pointed towards the door “We seem to have gained an audience”

There at the door was Alya filming but unknown to her someone else was behind her. “Bean we have to go” Alya you jumped at the sound of Tim’s voice.

“OK Tim I’ll be out just give me a minute,” Tim nodded and left Alya having scurried off when she was found out. “I’ll text you place and time to meet up and talk further that is if you’re still confused about your feelings about this girl”

“Sounds good and thank you Marinette” he whispered as she left the room. Once she got to the car she glanced at him oh no, was the only thing that went through her mind “you look like a cat who ate the canary Tim spill” she was moving in to tickle him to get the info out. “Fine, fine, fine I give I’ll tell, but” she shot him a look. “only if you make me some coffee, today feels like an all-nighter”

“Deal! Now spill”

“Damian set up that next week there is going to be career days for the entire week at the school.”

“Okay” she nodded her head understanding where her brothers’ train of thoughts were heading. “The career week will be the perfect opportunity to expose the rest of Lila’s lies. At least that’s what you and Damian are hoping to accomplish isn’t it.”

“Mari, you do know you’re my favorite sister” Tim replied with a smirk that would rival even Damian’s.

So, the two of them got to work. Damian may think he’s clever and the most discrete out of everyone, but he wasn’t able to pull off hiding the cameras and microphones well enough that Mari wasn’t able to figure it out. This means they are going to have plenty of video and audio evidence use against the liar.

Now when Damian got home from practice the three of them really set out to destroy the liar. With all the audio evidence as well as the footage proving it was Lila speaking Marinette made several phone calls.

Jagged and Clara were both on board completely and wholeheartedly, especially after hearing what was going on. With those two she called the principal and he had agreed to keep them as a special surprise for the last day.

She called her father and he was willing to fly out to speak on one of the first days. Her father also happened to be able to get into contact with Prince Ali, and once hearing of everything that was going on, he to agree to come and speak.

Damian had called the Kent’s so Lois Lane, Clark and, and Jon were all going to come to speak, well Lois Lane in Clark were going to speak, Jon was coming to hang out with his two best friends.

Once Mr. Kent heard it was going on well it wasn’t long afterwards for Barry Allen to come to speak about forensics science, Oliver Queen to speak further on different aspects of business, and several other members of the league who seem to have fallen in love with Mari.

Everyone knew that as soon as Lila saw the names on the list, she would be tempted to spread the lies about every single one of them, so they would continue to record everything that was said in the class.

And who’s to say that a couple of the heroes may or may not make an appearance was well, but it was to be determined if Lila lied about them or not. Within the hour the three Wayne siblings knew, oh they knew this liar would not have a chance to escape. And anyone left believing her by the end of the week, well they felt sorry for those poor souls who still believe her every word.

---

After about two hours getting our allies ready for the incoming slaughter of the liar I met up with Adrien. And that was different.

“Mari” Adrien seem unsure of how to start. We had we decided it would’ve been best to meet up at the Wayne Enterprises Paris branch that way we can have a conference room to discuss it somewhere private, I won’t have to worry about people eavesdropping. Well everyone except for my brothers but it’s a price I’m willing to pay. “This is the first crush I’ve ever had, I, I don’t know…”

“Adrien I’ve known you now for about a year. You are quite honestly still sheltered. Well that’s the best way I can describe it.”

“What I’m not! I’m no?” Adrien began to stutter because that was not where the conversation was originally going.

“Adrien you are still quite sheltered. The way you think things should be handles when it comes to lies or personal space is the same way that people deal with the paparazzi and those are not the same at all. But I’m saying that because it’s normal to be confused when it comes to a crush. I had a crush on you for the longest time and was unsure how to act on it. I got to know about you a bit more and the crush well it changed.” He was looking at me shocked by my proclamation.

“How? Why? What are you mean? I’m not.” Adrien seemed a little taken back before he finally decided what he was going to say. “You said had?”

“I had the biggest crush on you until I learned you were a coward, or what seemed like cowardace. You decided that someone you didn’t know was more important than the person you claim to be a friend. This past week has shown me that you are a pacifist, not a coward, but you strive for peace with everyone. but that’s not how everything goes. I learned that about you that’s what made me move on. So what is it about this girl that makes you stay or is there something about someone else who makes you want to stay with them instead?“ He was silent he wasn’t staring at me, but he was starting off into space. He seemed to not know exactly what to say, but the thought was there.

“Ladybug she’s my…” He was about to say something but stopped himself, almost as if he knows her as more than just the heroine. But that is not possible the only ones who interact with her while in the mask are now her family and…

“Your Chat Noir” she said it’s so calmly and as such a fact that he just stared at her calm and unblinking until the inevitable freak out which cost him to pass out. Great now she’s stuck at a conference room trying to revive her partner who doesn’t know she’s his partner. Once he finally came to, she just watched as it to make sure he wasn’t about to faint again.

“I’m not! I can’t be! I’m not superhero, that’s crazy Mari your” he was rambling. In the past month she has perfected the Batman Glare and well Adrien was getting it, because she was not believing the bullshit that was coming out of his mouth.

“Are you paws-itively certain about that Chat.” He went silent, but doesn’t know if it was because of the pun or because she called him Chat.

“How?” Adrien whispered to her.

“Well I figured it out since it seemed like you knew Ladybug more than just a hero.” She stated hoping that her identity was not compromised. “anyways Ladybug’s your partner but what were you going to say afterwards”

“she’s my partner and my best friend. She’s the person who may know me the best out of everyone, except I think that goes to you now” he began to chuckle, but it evolved into full-blown laughter and Mari couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“You know it makes a lot of sense of your Chat. Chat is always carefree and bubbly, but he always makes sure to keep it professional. Sure, flirting in the middle of the battle isn’t the best. But knowing Adrien and Chat Noir are the same person makes the whole so much more. What’s the word complete” she muses tapping her chin.

“Ladybug is the hero Paris deserves. But I don’t think I love her. I thought I did. I thought about this a lot, I love that when I was with her, I was free. I don’t know the girl underneath the mask. But I do you know the girl beneath the mask is strong and courageous. She is undoubtably amazing. But maybe you are figuring out my identity snapped things into focus, because I love the way I feel around her. But I also love the way I feel about my friends. Thank you, Mari.”

“For what I haven’t said anything this was all you.”

“Exactly, I needed someone to hear me, and not force me into a conclusion they thought was best. And at this point you are my first true friend. Can we. Can we be friends again Marinette?”

Mari looked at him for a second and then broke into a smile. “Of course, Adrien we’re friends”

“Good now let’s bring down a liar”

---

Of course the week leading up to career week was unexpectedly full of lies, all coming out of the Italians mouth. Oh, Barry Allen yeah she met him on Central city oh Oliver Queen she once saw him at a charity event in Star City oh she’s practically Lois Lane and Clark Kent‘s daughter, Jonathan their son, is her best friend. The list goes on and on. Everyone on the left side excluding Adrien do believe every word that came out of her mouth. The three in the very back on the right side, being herself, Damian, and Chloe couldn’t contain their laughter. This usually resulted in a Alya yelling at them from laughing that of course Lila wouldn’t be lying and then defending Lila as she began to cry her crocodile tears.

The entire school was informed that the entirety of career week was mandatory and missing a single speaker would be equivalent to failing a midterm for and class, meaning there was no skipping at all.

Monday

Today there were three guest speakers, them being Bruce Wayne, Prince Ali, and John Stewart.

Prince Ali was the first to go up go up and just let’s just say that many people we surprised that he did not do go green charities but in fact did children’s charities called a few things in the question specifically from Rose and Mylene.

Luckily for Lila she didn’t lie much about John Stewart, who spoke of his time as a marine and about currently being an architect, but that was a short-lived victory on her part, when he showed up as the final school guest at the end of the day as Green Lantern. He gave her a speech about honesty and the importance of discipline and hard work in order to succeed.

Bruce spoke about honesty and a hard work when building a company as well as the importance of working with reputable companies and brands.

At the end of the day she had two ceases and desists, one from Prince Ali and one from the Wayne family.

On the bright side a new Wayne charity was in the works alongside Prince Ali for children’s medicine.

Tuesday

Was Barry Allen who spoke about pursuing forensic sciences and the work he does alongside the police.

Wonder Woman who was speaking as an ambassador of Themyscira, and way at being an ambassador entailed.

And Mayor Bourgeois spoke on what it means to be a part of the political and legislative sectors of the government.

Again, Lila received two cease and desists from Barry Allen and Wonder Woman respectively.

Wednesday

Went similar to the previous two. Oliver Queen spoke about ways to modify businesses and expanding them in order to change with consumers.

Wang Cheng, Marinette’s uncle, spoke and gave a demonstration of cooking techniques for the school.

Tomoe Tsurugi, Kagami’s mother, spoke about fencing and also about ableism against disability, mainly that even being blind she can hand many fencers their asses without breaking a sweat.

Lila only received one cease and desist.

Thursday

Nora, Alya’s sister, spoke of being a professional boxer and the training she does for it.

Lois and Clark gave a joint presentation, and of course Alya wanted her idols to review her blog. And well that did not go so well for her, Lois tore her interviews with Lila apart stating she gives no further evidence and simply takes what the girl says at face value. However other interviews she did provide more links to her information which prove she is a capable journalist, but there is room to grow.

The Kent’s also presented Lila a cease and desist, luckily for Alya she hadn’t posted anything in the past two weeks since Marinette’s return about anything Lila had said, and she was glad for that right now.

Friday

Jagged Stone and Clara started Friday with a mini concert, that included a special duet with the two artists. Jagged spoke about Rock’n Roll and the changes and subcategories of the genre.

Clara Nightingale spoke on the pop side of the music industry and how she got started at a young age, as well as her background in dance and choreography.

Gabriel Agreste was the final speaker, we’ll he was on video call actually, and spoke on the fashion industry, the standards that come with the consumer market, and the way public opinion shapes brands and companies.

Gabriel was about to log off when Jagged walked in front of the camera.

“Too true Agreste, public opinion does shape the way many of those who have spoken this past week” many don’t know this about Jagged but mess with his family and he will not hold back. “That is why you should know, your model, Lila Rossi has had a total six cease and desists field against her this past week. As un-Rock’n roll as it is Clara and I will be adding two more to that list. I will also be suing for defamation of character as well. Clara?”

“Lies and cheats, make for poor feats. I will also be suing as well for defamation of character. This has made me so mad I can’t even come up with a rhyme.” She called out to the crowd.

“So Agreste, how will your totally not Rock’n Roll model affect your business?” Jagged asked. Everyone was watching the screen for Gabriel’s reaction.

“It would seem it is best we terminated contact Miss Rossi. Also, Adrien.” The poor boy practically jumped in his seat.

“Yes”

“There will be no contact between you and Miss Rossi until we are able to discuss this further. Goodbye”

The entire school was in a shocked silence. This final day as set up so the whole school would see it altogether.

Lila began to cry until she became furious. She jumped from her seat and yelled. “You did this! You set me up! You ruined my entire empire Marinette!” She was glaring daggers at me.

“If it’s any consolation to you Lila you made me miserable for eight months. You took my friends, those I’ve known since I was practically in diapers. You made my life hell and if that’s consolation to you fine. I will also be suing you for slander and defamation of character. But just know this I have people who genuinely care for me and I’m sorry if you felt threatened by me to blame all this on me, but I don’t care about your opinion or the opinion of those who turned on me without batting an eye not anymore.” It’s so liberating to say that to them. Oh, a weight has been lifted off my chest and so I walked out of the school side-by-side with Damian, Adrien, and Chloe with my head held high. And for the first time and I can’t remember when I could breathe. They weren’t going to hold me down any longer.

~~~~~~~~~~

Just for to clear this up Marinette is the youngest out of all the children. She and Damian are the same age but he is older by a few months.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden @meme991001 @wannajointhecrabcult @melicmusicmagic @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @fidget-eep @miraculouslydumb @iamablinkmarvelarmy @laurcad123 @hauntedwintersweets @fc-studios @fusser90 @madking-warqueen @buginetye

#bio!dad bruce wayne #b ! dbwm2020 #bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #miraculus ladybug #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #maribat #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #ml marinette #marinette dupain cheng #lila salt #ml lila #class salt

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letstrywritingmaybe · 3 years

Text

I Can Make Your Heart Race

Summary: They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so then what’s the way to a woman’s? Obviously you have to get her heart racing. In which scare tactics does little to impress a scientist, instead it backfires on the detective. Well, maybe not completely.

“So, you don’t believe in ghosts?”

“There’s no scientific evidence to back up their existence.”

“Then you won’t have a problem visiting a haunted house with me.”

“Haven’t you had enough of those? We went to so many with the kids.”

“You can just admit you’re scared, Miyano.”

“I’m not. I’ve seen enough corpses to last ten lifetimes.”

“Yet you changed your major to forensics.”

“Toxicology, so no bodies.”

“Touché… Come on, it’ll be just like the old times, the kids miss you. It’ll be fun, and it’s Halloween!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Fine, then you have to tell Ayumi yourself that you’re not going.”

“… I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Neither am I.”

Everything is going according to plan. It’s been months since they last spoke given their busy schedules, that and it seems as if she was avoiding him like the plague when he was dating Ran. Forcing him to spend all of his free time with his then girlfriend, evidently this did nothing to save their relationship. It was mutually agreed that they’re better suited as friends, so they broke it off. Only then, did she agree to allow him to hang around her. She figured he needed the company to nurse his broken heart, but the truth is, he just missed her.

Ever since they reverted back to their identities leaving Conan and Ai in the past, he can’t help but feel that they left something else behind too. He spent weeks trying to figure out what was missing to no avail. Until he overheard Sonoko trying to convince Ran to go watch a scary movie with her, the latter refusing the invitation, claiming there’s no fun in being scared half to death clinging to the theater seat. That’s when he realized what their problem is. Shiho stopped relying on him the moment he became Shinichi again. Gone was the little girl who would hide behind him, seeking the comfort only he could offer her. She’s always been independent, but even more so now that she no longer has to worry about the Black Organization looming in every corner. She doesn’t need him to protect her anymore, but he still wants to be her hero.

He devises what he thinks is a full proof plan given their history. He’s going to make sure he’s there to scare away any monsters hiding in the dark. He can picture it now, a shadowy figure jumping out at them around the corner. She’ll scream and grab onto his arm, pressing herself against his back then he’ll soothe away her worries and tell her there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not real and he’ll be there to protect her. It’s perfect.

Her expression remains impassive as they walk by yet another jump scare, they’ve long lost track of the detective boys running off in terror to find the exit. He keeps hoping the next trigger will be the one to get her, but so far this just seems like a casual stroll. She’s not at all phased when another masked man pops up in front of her, she simply walks past him to the next room. It isn’t until they’re almost at the end that she breaks the silence.

“That’s twenty minutes of my life I’ll never get back.”

“You know it’s more fun if you actually get scared.”

“Do you want me to go back and pretend to be terrified? Would that make you feel better?”

“Forgot it, let’s just go.”

“Now who’s in a sour mood? What’s wrong?”

“I just thought you would be at least a little scared…”

“Nothing scares me anymore Kudo. I’ve already been through hell and back. These people parading around in cheap makeup and fake blood is nothing compared to what we dealt with.”

“… I know… I just wanted you to need me…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You and your hero complex, Kudo! You really should see someone about that…”

She trails off, a small smile on her lips. Even though her words are a bit harsh, her expression is anything but. She looks up at him, meeting his eyes, the atmosphere in the room shifts. He feels his heartbeat quicken as she continues to speak. It was supposed to be the other way around, but she’s never been one to play by the book.

“…besides, isn’t it enough that you saved me from my real life demons?”

“… you saved yourself Sh… Miyano.”

“Perhaps… but you helped me realize I’m not alone.”

Her smile widens, eyes sparkling even in the dim lighting. The thumping in his heart accelerates, he doesn’t quite understand why he’s reacting this way around her. All too soon the moment breaks, she turns towards the exit asking if he’s ready to leave. He can only nod his head, she quite literally took his breath away. He can still feel his heart pounding with every step he walks closer to her.

Also available on ao3 <3

#shinshi #coai #because I’ve missed just writing fluffy things #happy Halloween y’all hope you’re having a better day than I am #I low key think about having a holiday series but I keep telling myself to let this ship go

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razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

The Sound of Thunder (Spoilers)

This post contains spoilers for the future direction of The Sound of Thunder. If you do not want to read spoilers, stop here.

The Sound of Thunder is basically inspired by Silence of the Lambs with Lightning playing the role of Hannibal Lecter and Fang stepping into the shoes of Agent Clarice Starling.

The story opens with Fang be sent to interview Lightning in a secure facility. Amodar wants to get her insight into a case since someone has begun to commit murders that are eerily similar to those committed by Lightning. The critical difference is that while Lightning killed sister, she often focused her ire on the younger sister whereas the present murders seem to show greater anger toward the older sister.

Lightning’s sister, Serah, is currently in protective custody, her whereabouts unknown.

After a brief conversation, Lightning taunts Fang but takes an interests in her, revealing the differences between her murders and the present murders.

That’s where the first chapter finishes.

The basic idea of the story is fairly simple. Fang is going to try to put together the clues to identify the murderer while bodies continue to pile up.

Things get increasingly tense when Yuna and Rikku are abducted. Yuna’s father is a powerful politician, and he demands that something be done. What disturbs Amodar and Fang is that the two aren’t actually sisters. However, when asked about this, Lightning tells Fang that it isn’t necessarily the blood relationship that matters, so much as the bond between the two. After all, she didn’t just target any old pair of sisters. Lightning always went after the sisters that were the closest.

It is during this time that Serah Farron apparently disappears from police custody. After consulting with the witness protection program, Fang discovers that the murders have occurred in areas not far from Serah. She believes that Lightning’s ‘admirer’ is trying to finish what Lightning started by killing Serah.

Lightning just laughs when she’s told this, telling Fang that her ‘admirer’ would never be so crass as to take what’s hers, not if they know what’s good for them. Fang points out that Lightning is stuck behind bars, but Lightning merely smiles and tells Fang that she’ll be out soon enough.

Fang begins to believe that Lightning knows exactly who the killer is. This belief is further bolstered when forensic analysis shows that the weapon and style used to kill the latest victims is archetypical of the veterans from Lightning’s old unit in the military. Many of them simply vanished off the face of the earth after the war, and still others were lost in the conflict but never confirmed dead.

With the days passing and Braska (Yuna’s father) growing more desperate, he decides to use his political clout to force a meeting with Lightning. Lightning was a former soldier, someone who loved the outdoors and a good bit of exercise. These days, she’s cooped up in one of the most secure cells in the world.

His offer is simple. If she can give information that allows them to save his daughter and Rikku, he will have her transferred to a new cell on a deserted island. She will still be confined, and the island itself is so isolated that escape would be meaningless, but she will get more time outdoors, and a cell that allows her to do some indoor exercise.

Amodar urges Braska to reconsider, but Braska is adamant. It is at this point that Fang’s sister, Vanille, disappears. Fang is horrified, especially when a cryptic message left at the scene suggests that the one responsible is indeed the killer. She seeks out Lightning’s advice, only to find that Lightning has already been transferred as is being held in another secure location.

Dr Jihl Nabaat tells Fang that she should hurry. As Lightning’s former warden, she protested the move, but was overruled. She doesn’t think that Lightning’s new minders will be able to hold her. They don’t know what they’re dealing with.

Fang hurries to the location where Lightning is being held.

Meanwhile, Lightning is being wonderfully civil. She has passed on information to Amodar indicating that the killer is a former colleague, someone who grew up in a broken home, someone who grew to blame someone in his life that he viewed as something between a sister and a lover for his ills. During their time on the front, they came to understand one another and she learned that he planned to enact his own bloody vengeance on the world.

His name? Caius Ballad.

During a seemingly uneventful dinner, Lightning begins her escape. Faking a seizure, she lures the inexperienced guards close enough for her to kill them and take the keys. She then takes their weapons and sounds the alarm. As the backup team rushes to her ‘cell’, Lightning begins to systematically hunt them down, wiping out the entire team. She does this by wounding some of the members to lure out the others and erode team discipline while using the bodies of the guards she killed as props to draw attention at critical moments.

Rather than attempt to escape through the front door, Lightning instead takes advantage of the building’s geography to escape first to the roof and then over to a nearby building where she kills someone else, takes their clothes, and disguises herself using a hat to hide her hair. She even changes her gait and simply walks out of the building as reinforcements rush into the original building.

Fang arrives on the scene shortly after, and Lightning actually stays to watch her. When Fang somehow manages to trace Lightning’s steps via intuition and cunning, Lightning ambushes her. Rather than killing her, Lightning knocks her unconscious, but not before leaving her with a few clues.

When Fang regains consciousness, she tells Amodar what she has learned, and she finds out that Caius Ballad isn’t really the one responsible. Instead, when they track him down, they find out that he’s been dead for years. In fact, it looks a lot like Lightning killed him herself. The isolated cabin he was in was also rigged with a trap that killed most of the team sent to apprehend him.

Following Lightning’s tip to investigate the ‘chains of the past’, Fang delves into Lightning’s history. She discovers evidence that after Lightning’s parents died, she and Serah became abnormally close. At this time, they were badly let down by the system. They lost their house. They had to resort to begging to survive, and Lightning ended up joining a gang to make ends meet. It was during this period that Lightning’s kills were believed to have begun. This relationship only deepened until Serah met Snow Villiers. This enraged Lightning who saw it as a betrayal.

Lightning went to war only to return and find that Serah and Snow were going to get married. It was around that time that Lightning’s killings began to ramp up. Fang believes that Lightning saw Serah marrying Snow as the last piece of her family abandoning her and leaving her all alone. It was notable that in the car accident in which Lightning’s parents died, Lightning never lost consciousness whereas Serah did. Lightning spent three days in that ravine trapped next to the dead bodies of her parents trying to get out of the wreck and save her sister. The other driver would escape charges due to political connections but would later be killed during a robbery gone wrong.

Snow would later be killed in a car accident, but the more Fang investigated the matter, the more certain she grew that it wasn’t an accident at all. That was when Lightning’s killings took on an even more gruesome style, culminating in the hideously awful murder scene where Lightning forgot to cover her tracks. Some of her hair was found on the scene, along with fingerprints. This was how Lightning was caught.

But something about the old case files bothers her. Looking more closely at the wounds on that last, pivotal set of murders, Fang notices that the older sister was actually harmed more than the younger one - something closer to the current murders. Moreover, the knife work isn’t quite as expert as in Lightning’s older murders.

She doesn’t know quite what to make of it, but as she delves into the archives containing Lightning’s old records, she finds a note about a location very dear to Lightning: an old beach house in Bodhum. It was never hers, but her family used to walk past it every day. Fang has a hunch, and she follows it to the beach house.

There, she discovers that although it should be abandoned, there are signs that it has been lived in recently. Preparing herself, she makes her way inside. She finds Yuna and Rikku huddled together in a dark pit. She tries to call it in, but there is a jamming device in place. She is about to leave and call for reinforcements when she spots a familiar bit of clothing nearby. It belongs to Vanille.

Fang can’t bear to leave. She presses onward and finds Vanille unconscious and strapped to a chair. However, before she can leave, she is ambushed and knocked unconscious herself. When she wakes up, she finds herself staring into the face of Serah Farron.

Suddenly, it all clicks in Fang’s mind.

Lightning was never the sole killer. She and Serah had been killing people together, right from the start, most likely beginning with the driver who crashed into their car and killed their parents. The reason they’ve been killing sisters is because they don’t very highly of them. They see them as not being close enough, of not caring about each other the way Serah and Lightning do. In fact, Fang remembers that as close as the murdered sisters generally were, there were always rumours of friction and occasional arguments - imperfections in Lightning and Serah’s eyes. After all, alone and with none one else to turn to, Lightning and Serah always had each other. How could they respect people who couldn’t even manage that?

When Fang tells Serah this, the other woman is impressed.

Fang also explains her suspicions about what happened later. Snow’s accident wasn’t an accident. Lightning sabotaged his car. Serah says that is exactly what happened, and she framed Lightning for the last murder to get her arrested and killed. However, Lightning surrendered and avoided being killed, and she was then put out of Serah’s reach for revenge since she genuinely loved Snow.

Her plan was to then commit more murders knowing that Lightning would be drawn out. This succeeded, and she went after Vanille to get to Fang since she thought Lightning found Fang intriguing, and Lightning hates it when people mess with her stuff.

Sure enough, Serah is still talking when Lightning arrives.

The two sister square off. In the midst of their battle, Fang manages to free herself and Vanille, and they run for it, saving Yuna and Rikku along the way. The beach house is destroyed in an explosion when Serah, who starts losing, detonates a trap she’d set beforehand.

This spells the end of the two sisters.

Or so Fang thought.

A few months later, having received a commendation for her efforts, Fang gets a letter. It’s from Lightning. She thanks Fang for a most interesting adventure, especially the chance to reunite with her sister. Fang doesn’t have to worry. Lightning has other scores to settle and other people to kill, and she wants to see how far Fang can go.

A few days later another letter arrives.

It’s from Serah. In her words, she tells Fang that the world failed her and Lightning. They spent years afraid, wondering what new horror the next day would bring in. She talks about how often Lightning came back home bruised and beaten from her work with the gang, and how often Serah had to steal and lie to get essentials. She tells Fang that she and Lightning are going to settle their score one day. She hasn’t forgiven Lightning for Snow, and she probably never will, but she has other people to go after first.

A few days later, two sets of murders begin. They’re no longer targeting sisters, but Fang knows who is responsible. She joins the special team Amodar is putting together to catch the two sisters.

X X X

Author’s Notes

So, yeah, there is an unedited stream of consciousness of the ideas I had regarding where the story would go. Obviously, it’s very rough, but this was the ‘skeleton’ of what I thought might happen. Had I written it in full, I would have fleshed it out and tinkered with it a lot.

#final fantasy xiii #fanfiction #the sound of thunder

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queen-bunnyears · 4 years

Text

Murder on your mind ~ Tom Holland

Pairing: DCI!Tom Holland x DI!reader

Summary: Inspired by my love for B99, and my guilty pleasures Silent Witness and Luther. What more can I say.

Wordcount: 5,4k+

Warnings: This is about a serial murder investigation, so it does discuss murder, violence, a chase, guns and shotwounds, a caraccident, unconciousness. They swear. Mentions of alcohol. A small kiss.

Okay if you need help understanding uk police ranks, (I did) I looked it up. So we have a chief inspector who in this case is the highest rank. Directly under him come the DCI’s (Detective Chief Inspector). Then a DI, (Detective inspector) and for today the only other rank I use is an officer, which is lower in rank than the others.

“And then the remaining time of today's briefing is for DCI Osterfield, he has a case he would like to discuss,” your boss says. Harrison stands up from his seat, and picks up the clicker for the screen.

“Thank you, Miss Carter. So, anyone who likes to take a guess about the crime?” he asks, and immediately hands fly up. “It was committed just an hour ago. Janssen?”

“Money laundering,” Janssens confident voice thunders through the room. He often wins these betting games, but mostly because nine out of ten times it is indeed money laundering. Harrison shakes his head.

“Too bad, it is definitely a big break in,” Claire says next to you. You shake your head. For a break in he would be talking with the uniform officers, he wouldn’t have needed to discuss it. Unless the stolen items are over a million, but then the news would surely have spread across the city already, and the new apps hadn’t put anything online yet.

“Hostage situation?” Jimmy shouts from the desk behind you. Jimmy always wants it to be hostages, because he is the only negotiator at the station. But hostages are way too uncommon, the chief would have told you about it. You know what it is the moment Harrison points at you.

“Too bad, you are all wrong. Y/n, like to take a last guess?”

“Murder,” you say, clicking your pen and closing your notebook. You cock your head to the side, “And it must be real nasty if you wanna discuss it,”

“Bingo! So we have a big ol’ murder on our hands,” Harrison says, clicking to the next powerpoint slide. A photograph of a bloody crime scene comes up. “And it is not just on our hands,” he clicks and points dramatically to the man who comes up on the screen, “This is Tom Holland, DCI in Southwest London. He is gonna be helping me because,” the next slide shows three almost identical scenes. “It’s a serial!”

“Ohh Tom is a handsome colleague. I would love to do a stake-out with him, if you know what I mean,” Jimmy bends over his desk and whispers to you. You shake your head laughing.

“Jimmy, you have a problem in need of fixing. Have you tried going on a date?” you whisper back. You don’t move quickly enough, and his playful slap hits you on the back of your head.

“For the record, you are way too excited about this,” Claire says, and DCI Osterfield blushes slightly.

“I just want to catch him, and not be a total mood ruiner while informing you,” he replies, clicking to the end of the slideshow.

“Does anyone recognise something from an old case? He works really neat, so Holland thinks it might be someone who has done it before,” The briefing room stays quiet as no one answers. You shrug your shoulders.

“Well please dig in your memory today, anything you remember might help. We have to solve this. I will need assistance, and chief told me detective Y/l/n has just closed her last case. Wanna help me?”

“Yeah sure,” you say, folding your hands underneath your head. The pictures look awful, and nothing like you have ever dealt with.

“Great, we leave for the crime scene after this,” Harrison says, and you nod at him, “Okay, that concludes the discussion. If press asks you about it, direct them to me or to the PR people, don’t tell them anything,” he walks back to his desk while Carter stands up.

“Good luck today, don’t forget to apply for the training day next week,”

“Okay so what is the deal Haz?” you ask. You sit in the car, on your way to the crime scene. He drives, and you drink from the Starbucks cup in your hand, trying to get them to warm up. Police cars are always terribly cold.

“There were three murders last week in Southwest, and tonight one on our area. As you saw in the pictures, it is all done almost precisely the same. So naturally we have to go there, because it’s our area, but the DCI from Southwest will be joining us as well, because he has worked this case for days now,”

“Do you know him?”

“Tom and I were together in high school, and at the Academy. We are good friends. He is an excellent detective,” Harrison tells you. Harrison was in the year above you at the academy, but you never really interacted with classes other than your own. You fall silent, not having much else to say. Your mind goes to the slide show of the victims. All the same position, almost the same place of impact. The photograph of this morning's victim flashes before your eyes.

“Any info on the victim already?”

“Sally Stars, 33, she is a tourist from the US,” you see the image of her again. Small woman wearing a yellow raincoat, lying on her back. Her shoes next to her body, no bag or anything. A big red spot on her chest where the bullet pierced her skin. One shot, quick kill.

“Where in the US?”

“Phoenix, Arizona,” That tells you precisely nothing. Although you don’t know what you hoped for.

“Other similarities between this case and the others, beside how they look?”

“All of them are tourists. It is a drama, working together with all the embassies,” he sounds bitter. The happy, teasing Harrison is gone now. At the station you can joke around, but as soon as you go out it becomes serious business. You hope this case can be solved quickly.

“DCI Holland, please let me through,” you hear a voice say. You look up to see the man from the photograph walking up to you. Removing your gloves you come up from your crouching position next to the victim.

“Goodmorning DCI Holland,” you extend your hand and he shakes it. You put your globes back on while you introduce yourself, “I am detective inspector Y/n Y/l/n. I will be helping you and DCI Osterfield with the case,”

“Great,” he says, before turning away to Harrison. “Please tell me there is anything different on this one,”

“Not as far as I can see Tom,” Harrison says, a thoughtful look in his eyes, “but you know more of the case, does anything seem different to you?” Tom takes his time inspecting the crime scene. He lifts things, ruffles through the bagged evidence and asks for some extra pictures. When he returns to Harrison and you his face looks almost angry.

“It seems like everything is the same,’ he says, suddenly he slams his hands down, “the fucker did it again. No fucking mistakes, how does he do it?”

“Something will come up,” Harrison says. You look around you, staring at the forensic experts who were bagging the evidence. The answer had to be here somewhere. Then you see a young man bag something a few metres from the body, at the edge of the scene.

“Hey, wait!” you scream, and you walk over to him, carefully stepping on the cleared ground. You almost smiled at what you saw, “Is that a,-”

“A phone,” DCI Holland says and he hurries over to where you are standing. You grab the bag from the stunned mans hands, and take out the phone. It feels icy cold through your gloves, and you see water drops on the side.

“It is soaked from dew and the rain this morning, I hope the lab can get something out of this,” you say, handing it over to Harrison, “It’s turned off, please keep it that way. If they dry it properly it might still work and that makes everything much easier.”

“This is new, the other bodies didn’t have a phone on them,”

“It’s his first mistake,” Harrisons says. You frown.

“Why do you think it is a man?”

“A wild guess, wanna bet on it?” he replies absently. Then he gives you the phone back, “what do you think of this? Does it tell you anything?”

“Old iphone, not a special model, Iphone 5. The case suggests that she is a big Harry Potter fan, that could explain why she was in Londen,” you take the case off the phone and grab the wet piece of paper that sits behind it, “And I wager she has a room in a hotel near Victoria's station. These are directions from there. To the right, past Victoria theatre, and so on. Call the station, they should be able to find the hotel,”

“That’s not right,” Tom says. His mouth is a thin stripe, and his forehead is wrinkled in a frown.

“Sorry what?”

“They already found her hotel room, near Covent Garden,”

“Then were would this lead to?” you wonder, inspecting the note closer.

“That is a very good question.” DCI Holland says, and he walks away. You stare at the piece of paper, as if it would start speaking if you look at it enough.

“Well, let’s go to this adress then,” Harrison says. You take a photograph of the paper and carefully put the phone back in the evidence bag. The ride is quiet, both you and Harrison deep in thoughts about the murder.

“Hello, I am detective inspector Y/l/n, and this is my colleague DCI Osterfield,” you show your badge to the man at the front desk. “We have some questions for you, regarding an ongoing case. Have you seen this woman?”

He inspects the photograph carefully and looks at Harrison. “Yes sir, I saw her yesterday. She came in to rent a safety box for a week. I can show you, although you need her permission to open it, or an official order.”

Harrison looks at you, and you shrug. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Can we see the box please?” he asks, putting his badge back in his pocket.

“Of course sir, follow me.”

“Nothing interesting in the locker, nothing in her hotel room. The first conversations with her family shows nothing of interest. There is no connection between them. Just the tourist thing. So based on that we have to assume he is killing at random,” Harrison is on the phone. He has big blue circles underneath his eyes. Probably matching yours. The second day on a murdur case is always heavy, as most of the evidence is processed, and the first results from the lab come in. You hear some murmurs on the other side and Harrison ends the call. He looks at you.

“Tom is on his way to us. He will bring his map of evidence and everything he gathered with the old cases,” you nod absently, looking at the giant board filled with photos, and the map. Red dots and lines all over the place, but it doesn’t make sense yet.

“Tourists don’t know the city well, so he might be able to guide them somewhere under false pretenses,” you say, “So maybe a cabbie? Who else moves anonymously through the city like that? I wanna see the CCTV,”

“There was no CCTV in the other cases,” Harrison tells you while typing on his laptop, “But we are lucky, they just placed a new camera at the shop across from the entrance of the park. They might have something. The officer should have sent,-” his voice trails off when he opens his mail and sees the file. Behind Harrison you see the door open and DCI Holland walks into the room. Harrison looks up.

“Tom, great, we were just going to watch the CCTV I texted about,” he starts the recording. The street on the screen is empty. “This is 21:00. Forensics guess she died around midnight,”

The screen stays empty as the video goes on to 21:00. At 22:38 a man walks through the screen with his dog. The small clock in the corner ticks through, 23:00, 23:30, 00:00. Just as Harrison wants to stop it you see something move in the corner.

“There,” you point at the bicycle that comes into view. A man is riding it, and when he turns into the park you and Tom see it at the same time. You shoot up, pausing the screen. 01:04.

“That’s her,” Tom says. Limp, on the back of the bicycle sits a woman, “is she conscious?”

“I don't think so, see here, he hits a bump and she doesn’t react at all,” Harrison says, playing the shot again.

“Does he return later?” you watch the remainder of the video three times, but nothing appears.

“He is smart, uses another exit. Who knows what happened after this, we need more on him,” you say, noting the times and details in your book.

“First we need to know who he is. Did they run facial recognition already?” Tom asks, turning to look at Harrison, who shakes his head.

“No, we are the first to see this material. Get the boss, I want to run this man through the system immediately.”

“I know him,” Carter says. She sits up straight in her chair and starts the tape again. She pauses it right as the mans face is in view. “Jason Sanders, ex police officer. He used to work for me back in the 90’s. He has grown older, but I am like 99% sure it’s him.”

“If he is an ex copper his face should be in the system,” Tom says. You just nod, noting down the name, and opening your laptop to start a google search. Two clicks and you are on his facebook profile.

“Yes he is a perfect match. Look at these pictures,”

“Okay, I want Claire to run a background check,” Harrison says, pointing at her. “Names, friends, family, address, possible gun registration, workplace. I want to know everything you can find. First, run his face through the system, I want to be sure it's him,”

“Sure, that should take about an hour,” she immediately opens her laptop and starts typing. Tom clears his throat.

“So, two of us have to go to the lab and talk with the forensic experts. And one needs to go through the three cases, see if we can find a new link. I have stared at the cases for hours now so I think it’s best if one of you takes a fresh look.”

“I will do it,” Harrison replies just a second quicker than you, “Y/n can go with you to the lab. I believe Henry will do the post-mortem, so she is probably happy to go with you.”

“I will tell you one more time Haz, no funny business between me and Henry,” you say with a stern look on your face, but you smile afterwards. Harrison always jokes about the doctor at the lab who has a small crush on you. In return you tease him endlessly about the defense attorney who is just a bit too sweet and open to Harrison for it to be professional.

“Well if the two of you are done wasting time can we leave, Y/l/n?” Tom is at the door quickly walking outside, but his harsh look doesn’t go unnoticed by you and Harrison. Harrisons shrugs his shoulders and you follow Tom through the door.

“Can you tell us anything interesting?” you ask Henry who is standing in front of a big window that shows the postmortem room. You look inside, shivering at the sight of the body on the table with all it’s organs stashed neatly beside it.

“There are so many interesting things to tell,” he laughs at Tom’s annoyed face, “Let’s get to business,”

“Please,’ Tom sighs, causing you to roll your eyes at Henry behind his back. Henry points to the large body bag on a table in the far corner of the room.

“That’s her. Full postmortem will be done tomorrow, it’s busy, but here is what we already can confirm. Victim is female, nothing weird about her body or anything like that. He probably killed her with that one clean shot. She has been drugged, we found alcohol and ketamine in her blood,”

“Just like the others,” you add. Henry nods and walks through the lab to a screen. He clicks on some buttons. A file opens, and you see a tinder profile and some messages.

“But Jackie ran tests on her phone, and there was a damned good reason he kept the other two.” You look up interested at those words, nodding to Henry to continue, “She was on Tinder, trying to make friends to go out with during her stay. She has texts with a man whom she had a date with last night. He called himself James, and had a random model photo on his profile,”

“Did you run that profile through the computer? Anything?”

“We can’t track the phone that belongs to the profile. We are waiting for access to the profile so we can see his other messages, that should be here later this afternoon. There is a possibility this is the way he finds and contacts his victims,”

“Shit” you say. Tom looks at the text chain unmoving. “Holland, are you okay? This could be a breakthrough.”

“Yes, could be. But we know nothing yet. Nothing is sure,” he says curtly. He walks to the door. “You let us know when the rest of the data is in,” he opens the door, gesturing for you to come after him. You stretch slowly, and smile at Henry.

“Thank you so much for your hard work, this could really mean much for the case,” you say, sending a provoking look towards Tom, “And I am sure my colleague here is just as thankful, don’t mind him, he has a bad day.”

“No problem Y/n, see you later,” Henry replies, sending a broad smile your way. You nod one last time before following Tom outside.

“What was that?” the anger in his voice is apparent. You smile sweetly and pat him on the shoulder.

“That, DCI Holland,” you pause shortly and look him in the eye, “was common decency. Be kind to the lab, and they will be kind to you. That applies to more things actually,”

“Don’t tell me what to do,”

“Don’t be unkind then,” you say, smiling at him, ignoring the irritation that burns within you. Damn that man. But you have dealt with a lot of unkind, bitchy police officers in your days, you won’t let him bring you down. You walk towards the car, grabbing the key from Holland's hand. “I’ll drive,”

Stakeouts are your least favourite part of being a detective. Nothing is worse than sitting the entire day, hoping for something to happen. You always called it the most boring aspect of your job. Even paperwork was more exciting. Problem was, you were very good at stakeouts. You somehow always noticed the change in a pattern that pointed to whatever you were looking for.

You sit across Harrison, your teacups on the table between you. The cafe is extremely busy, but you barely hear the noise around you. Your head is in filter modus. Tinder hadn’t yet given access to the account, so you and Harrison went to the place “James” had met up with Sally. You have been sitting here all day, going over some paperwork to pass the time, and with every hour your hope of seeing the person who pretended to be “James” dies a bit.

“What do you think will happen if tinder James is not Jason?” you wonder, stirring in your tea. Harrison looks up at your words.

“Well I am sure it has to be him. All the clues point to him,” he says, taking a sip of his tea. “The CCTV, suspects report, psychology sketch, background. His clean kills, any good copper knows how to clean up after himself. And we can’t find him at his home, because his wife kicked him out,”

“Good for her,” you mumble. Harrison chuckles, chugs the remainder of his tea and puts his papers in his bag. “Wait where are you going?”

“To the office. Tom is here to do the rest of the day with you. It’s only two hours.” he says. He gets up and stands up. He walks away, then turns around. He puts his hand on your shoulder. “Try not to kill him please,”

“Ha ha. I will try,” you say,

The hours with Tom are absolutely boring. He doesn’t even really look at you, let alone talk to you. And again, no one shows up. When the cafe closes you and Tom pack up your stuff, and walk outside. Then you feel your phone buzz. The screen flashes; Henry.

“Hey Henry”

“Are you in a car?”

“Almost, why?”

“Get in there and drive to Borough Market,” you turn to Tom and start walking faster.

“Get in the car Tom!” you almost shout as you run towards the driver side. Your emergency senses kick in, adrenaline courses through your body.

“We got to his profile, he has a meeting there in less than 10 minutes. Seventeen year old Canadian girl,”

“Shit,” you curse, and you slam the car door behind you. Your fingers fumble to get the key in the lock, but when you have it you immediately drive away. Tom hasn’t even closed his door properly. You put Henry on speaker and push on the button you put your sirens on. In front of you the cars make way for you.

“We’re driving, tell me everything,”

“We just got access to his profile, and we saw the meeting. At Borough market, 6 PM by the fudge stand. Harrison is at the station, he won’t make it in time. Look for Jason, and the girl has blonde hair, blue eyes. Her Tinder says she is nineteen, but we looked her up and she is seventeen. Harrison told me you two are closer, so hopefully you’ll be on time. He is on his way. I have to go,” you hear the beep that signals Henry has ended the call, and you take a quick left.

“Do you need me to navigate?” Tom asks. He is checking his gun, and picks a weapon stick from the glove compartment. You start to shake your head, but then you nod.

“It’s rush hour, could you check the streets I need to avoid?” you are calm now, your initial surge of energy is slowly leaving your body, making room for your more rational side. Tom is looking through his maps, and reassures you that you’ll be fine with the usual route. No detours.

“Could you check my gun Tom?” you ask, and you lean forward so he can grab it from your belt. He hesitates. “Come on I ask you to. You won’t even touch me. Quickly now ‘cause we are almost there,” He grabs the gun and starts to check it. You see you are getting closer to your destination, so you switch off the sirens. No need to alert everyone you are coming. Two minutes later you see Borough Market appear.

“Okay we both get out and walk to the stand. Do you know where it is?” Tom shakes his head. You park the car, put your gun back in your belt and cover it with your coat. “Luckily I do. Follow me, stay close, we don’t want to attract attention.” You walk towards him and he wraps his arm around you so you are close to him. It is an old tactic, one you have done about a million times with Harrison. You look like an uninteresting couple, and your heads are close, so whispering is easy. Perfect cover. But you feel Tom’s arm burning through your coat. That never happens with Harrison.

“Okay, lead the way,” he says, you shake your head to get rid of your thoughts and you start walking towards the market. You see the fudge stand, but no one suspicious around there. It’s busy, the market is closing soon, and the sellers are trying to sell their last bits.

“Do you see anything?” Tom asks, and you shake your head. You see a plate with testers for fudge and you walk over there. With the fudge in your hand you seize the opportunity to stand still and observe the whole market. Then you feel Tom shake your shoulder.

“There, at six.” you slowly look to your six o’clock, and you see a young girl. “She matches the description. We ought to approach her,” Tom says. You nod and step towards the girl, but then you freeze. At the other side of the market, close to your car, you see a man. Jason. You are sure, and then you see him dragging another young girl with him.

“Tom it's not her, there he is,” you don’t realise you are running until you feel yourself push people out of the way. Jason and the girl are about 50 metres away from you, but there are many people between you. Jason pushes the young girl in the back seat of a car, and you hear yourself shouting.

“Stop! Stop!” You run as fast as you can, but you feel your gut sinking. You are too late. As you see Jason step into his car you memorise his number plate. You try to throw yourself before the car, but you are too late to stop him from driving away. You pull your gun out, but you realise it is of no use in this busy street. You could hit his tires, but then he might swerve and hit some bystanders. You curse loudly.

“In the car, now!” you hear Tom shout from behind you. You start to run again, and launch yourself into the driver's seat. Your sirens blare, your tires screech, but you have him in vision. As you are driving you recollect your breath, and next to you you see Tom fastening his seat belt.

He calls Harrison, who says he can already see your car. Without looking away from the road you ramble the number plate to Tom, who repeats it for Harrison. You hardly hear their conversation, but you do feel the blood pumping in your ears. The car before you is driving unsteady, as if Jason is not yet sure what he is going to do.

“Where is he going to go? It is rush hour, traffic is awful! And he drives towards the city centre,” it doesn’t make sense to you. Until you see him diving towards a bridge over the Thames. Then it clicks.

“Shit, he is going to drive off the bridge!” you shout. You look to your side, and in Tom's eyes you see the same conclusion you just came to. Your mind races, searching for a solution. You see the car before you change lanes. You push the gas harder, accelerating and you also turn to the left lane, “I am gonna block him!”

“Are you sure? We might get hurt,” Tom panics. His hands are gripping on the side of his seat, his eyes wide from the adrenaline. Or fear, you don't know. Before you the car goes to the left, heading straight towards the rather fragile looking railing of the bridge.

“He will hit the seat behind me, not us,” you say, changing lanes, “I am like 75% sure this won’t end up getting us hurt. Badly.”

“That is not very comforting, Won’t he push us off?”

“No I don’t think so, trust me Tom!” you are driving faster now, and his car is almost near the edge. The last seconds before the hit seem like ages. With a bang the car hits the side of yours, precisely in the backseat of the driver side, as you predicted. You moan in pain as you feel the impact.

“Get out Tom! Catch him.” you scream, trying to cover up the fact that you are in pain. Getting your own door open appears impossible, and you use your gun to smash the window to get out. You feel adrenaline rush through your body, your mind blank, nerves numb. Your moves are by instinct, and when you see Jason run towards you, you throw your body towards him, blocking his way and bringing him to the ground.

“Jason Sanders, you are arrested on the suspicion of triple murder and attempted murder. Anything you say now can be used later in court,” you say as Tom gets the handcuffs on him. Behind you the other police cars all stop, and you hear Harrisons voice as you shakily get up.

“What was that!?! Y/n that was not safe!” you ignore his worries. First you need to see the girl. You stand beside Jason's car opening his backdoor, and you try to lift the unconscious girl out. Another officer takes it from your hands. “Are you hurt?” Harrison continues as he comes to a halt next to you.

“No I normally leak blood out of my side,” your adrenaline rush slowly comes to an end, and you feel the pain now. Your head feels heavy. “Probably cut it when I climbed out of the window. Also, I might have a concussion from the hit,”

Ten minutes later you sit in the open back of the ambulance. The victim is in the bed inside, and you were relieved to hear she had only passed out from the shock, but furthermore she was fine. After they checked on her a medic found time to stitch the scratch on your side. After their close examination your injuries are deemed minor. A deep scratch that looks fine after it is nicely stitched up and wrapped in bandage. After careful inspection of your head, they conclude you don’t even have a concussion.

But after that, you catch some faint whispers about shock and mental damage as they sneakily look at you. A blanket is wrapped around your body, and a few moments later, you also receive a cup of tea. And another blanket. You are about to run away when Harrison walks up to you. He clears his throat when he sees you, and gives you a quick hug.

“I have a lot of things to say, but none of them matter now. Well done on getting him,”

“Harrison, they keep putting blankets on me, I don’t want the blankets,” you say, shrugging them off and giving them to him.

“You’re in shock” he says, putting the blanket back over your shoulders. You shrug it off again.

“Yeah, not really. And even if, that wouldn’t mean I need blankets, I need booze,”

“Booze and a concussion are a terrible combination,” Harrison shakes his head at your comment.

“I don’t even have a concussion or pain meds. Really, I am fine. Where is Tom? I probably have to say sorry for risking his life.”

“Only if I file a complaint with HR,” Tom's voice makes you sit up straight and look around you. He walks around the corner of the ambulance. “Something I won’t do,”

“Oh great. Well I am sorry anyways. It was way too risky.”

“You executed it perfectly,” he says, a hint of a smile on his face, “Now I believe you said something about a drink, didn't you?”

Harrison laughs with you, but then excuses himself.

“You two go have that drink, I need to fill in all the paperwork. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,”

“Your loss,” Tom says, before turning to you. “Let’s go?”

“Lets go.” You say, smiling as he offers his hand to help you up. You think of slapping it away, but then you feel the stitches pulling in your side and you decide to take up his offer. Just this once.

~ One year later ~

“I can’t believe you had to almost kill him before he dropped his bitchy act,” Claire says laughing as she gives you the paper back. You and Tom shine on the cover of The Guardian, a press photograph taken on the night of Sanders' arrest. “J. Sanders locked up, evidence overload in serial killer case” the headline says.

After the arrest things moved slowly, Sanders his lawyer was a very persistent man. But now, months later the court case was wrapped, Sanders' guilt proven, and the judge ruled for the maximum sentence.

“Yes, his resting bitch face was a pain during that investigation,” you chime in, taking a sip from your beer.

“I am glad I dropped it though,” Tom says next to you, his arm wrapped around you. You smile, pressing a kiss on his cheek. So much has changed.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield #my writing #queen-bunnyears

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messy-nonbinary · 4 years

Text

It’s Always Been the Pretty Boy

Warnings: mentions of murder; serial killer; swearing

Paring: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader | NCIS x Criminal Minds crossover

Rating: PG 13 for murder

Summary: Morgan and Torres are fighting over Y/N while they have to do a joint investigation and Y/N eventually just goes on a date with Spencer.

This is fairly long sooo... Sorry for that

----

Y/N was spinning in her chair, watching as the orange walls around her spun. “You okay, Y/N?” Ellie asked. Y/N stopped spinning and smiled at her. “Yeah I’m fine. Just waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Nick asked as he walked into the bullpen, drinking his coffee and handing Y/N a bag of her favorite chips. “Oh hell yeah! Thanks, Nick.” Y/N said as she opened the bag. “Yep. Last bag in the vending machine.” He said, sitting down. “We’ve got a case, get your bags and let’s go.” Gibbs said as he grabbed his stuff from his desk. Everyone stood up and followed him to the elevator. “But what about McGee, Boss?” Nick asked. “He’s meeting us there.”

----

At the scene, Y/N took pictures, Nick collected evidence, while Tim and Ellie talked to the couple that found the body. “What do we got, Duck?” Gibbs asked. “Well, two GSWs, one two the stomach and one to the head. See the amount of blood here? That says that the shot to the stomach was made before the one to the head. I suppose to weaken the man. But as usual, we won’t know more until the autopsy.” Ducky stated.

----

Everyone finished at the crime scene and once they showed back up to the bullpen, they noticed 3 people standing there. “Uhh Boss? Who are they?” Tim asked. “Leroy!” Vance called from the top of the stairs, next to two people he didn’t recognize. “These Agents are with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. You’ll be working on a joint investigation. I’ll leave you to make your own introductions. Play nice.” Vance chuckled as he left for his office.

The two agents upstairs made their way down and in front of the others. The taller outstretched his hand toward Gibbs. “Hello, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is my team. SSA’s David Rossi, Jeniffer Jareau, and Dr. Spencer Reid.” He said, pointing to everyone respectively. “I’m Agent Leroy Gibbs, these are agents Nick Torres, Eleanor Bishop, Tim McGee, and Y/N Y/L/N.” Pointing to each respectively. Once introductions were out of the way, everyone exchanged information.

“Soo what makes you think it’s a serial killer? Nick asked. “Well, so far we’ve had 4 victims, all killed the same way, and all have or are working for either a branch of the military.” Hotch stated. Y/N stood up. “Boss, I’m gonna go check up on Ducky and Palmer.” Gibbs nodded. “Mind if I come with you, Sweetness?” Derek asked and Nick glared at Derek. “Sure. Follow me.” Y/N said.

Gibbs got a phone call. “Yeah, Abbs? On my way.” Gibbs said, putting his flip phone back in his pocket. “Who was that?” Hotch asked. “Our forensic analysis.” Gibbs said. “Mind if I come with?” Gibbs shook his head. “Sure. But we’ve gotta make a stop first.” Hotch nodded and followed behind.

“He still uses a flip phone?” JJ asked. “Yep. Refuses to upgrade.” McGee said.

----

“Alright Ducky, what do you have?” Y/N said cheerfully. “Ah! Y/N! Where’s Jethro?”

“He’s in the lab. Where’s Jimmy?”

“Oh something came up with Breena. Who’s the fine young fellow?” Ducky asked looking at Derek. “Ducky, this is Derek Morgan with the BAU. Derek, this is Dr. Donald Mallard, or Ducky.”

“Oh..FBI, I bet Jethro is not too happy about that.”

“He is not.” Y/N said, chuckling. “So, Ducky, what did you find?” Derek asked. “Apart from the two GSWs, this young man is quite healthy. There is also some adhesive residue on his wrists and ankles.”

“Time of death?” Y/N asks. “I’d say around 18:30-19:00 hours.

But I did find something rather peculiar.” Ducky says as he picks up a small petri dish with a piece of paper in it. “I was just about to take it up to Abby to see if there was any.”

“What is it?” Derek asks. “It’s a piece of paper, it just has the number 6 on it. It was lodged down his throat. Almost like he was forced to swallow it but refused.” Ducky said. “Does this mean anything to you?” Y/N asked. “No, I’ll see if any other bodies had something shoved down their throats.” Derek said as he dialed the number for Garcia.

----

“So what are you doing?” Nick asked, walking up to Reid. “I’m creating a geological profile based on where all the victims were abducted and disposed of.” Reid said without looking away. “Does your friend always flirt with women he’s just met?” Nick said.

“Usually. But I’m sure you're the type too.” Nick looked at Spencer confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you wear tight shirts when you really don’t have to. You just want to show off your physical shape. Whenever Y/N walks by you you subtly flex your muscles and puff out your chest. So either you like her, or she’s smart enough to not give you the attention you so very much desire.” Reid said as he turned around and looked at Nick, mouth agape.

They heard snickers from the others. “Oh shut it McGee.” He said, sitting down at his desk.

----

“Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs! What took you so long?!” Abby yelled. “Abbs..”

“Right!” Abby stopped when she noticed Aaron. “Gibbs, who’s this?”

“Agent Aaron Hotchner.” Gibbs said with a sting in his voice. “With the BAU.” Hotch held out his hand to Abby and reluctantly, she took it. “I’m Abby. So, what I found was some DNA that wasn’t our Petty Officer’s, it was animal fur. Like, dog or cat hair. I can’t tell what just yet. But, was able to see where he was last seen due to a credit card transaction he made about 30 miles away at a coffee shop. I found camera footage that showed him talking to someone, then being led away by that same person.” Abby said, pulling up the video.

“So he must have somewhere else he keeps the victims. But since there was no physical evidence of torture, it must be psychalogical.”Hotch said.

*Beep*

“Oh! It’s Ducky!” Abby said, answering the facetime and showing it on her screen. “Hello Jethro and Abby!” He said. “Hey, we found a piece of paper lodged down our Petty Officer’s throat. It has the number 6 on it.” Y/N said. “There must be two more bodies we don’t know about. I’m having Garcia check on it now.” Derek said.

----

Sure enough they found two more bodies, two parents Kevin and Maria Grant, in the marines. They were both shot in the stomach, forced fed the piece of paper, and then shot in the head. The mom had a number two, and the dad had a number one. Police thought it was their 14 year son, Lyle Grant, but they had no real evidence to support that.

---

“Garcia said that Lyle doesn’t have any addresses under his name. But something has come up. There’s a missing person. Female, brown hair, and physically fit. Fits the female portion of our victimology.” Derek said, putting the phone on speaker. “Okay Garcia, try looking for something in the comfort zone under the parents’ name.” Rossi said. “Nothing.” Garcia said. “Who was Lyle’s legal guardian after the murder?” Ellie asked. “Got it, strange voice I’ve never heard before. After killing his parents, he went on to live with his Aunt Jamie Frank…”

“And where is she now?” Ellie asked. “She died about 4 months ago.”

“That’s our trigger. Garcia look for something under her name.”

“Umm we have an abandoned veterinary office that she used to own but is now owned by the state and set to be demolished.”

“Address Garcia.”

“Already sent.” She said as she hung up. “Morgan, JJ, Rossi, you’re with me.” Hotch said. “Torres, Bishop. Come on.” Gibbs said and all of them left.

“So, since we are here for a bit, let’s get to know each other.” Y/N said, sitting next to Reid and McGee. “Y/N you should’ve seen it. Dr. Reid made Nick turn as red as a strawberry.” Tim said. “Ohh what’d you say?” Y/N asked. “I just pointed out the obvious. He clearly likes you in a romantic sense.”

“Ha! He wishes.” Y/N laughed. “You don’t like him?” McGee asked mockingly. “Ha. Ha. No, I don’t like him like that. I mean yeah, he’s a great guy but he’s not my type.” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Really? I-I mean he’s confident, strong built, and he seems somewhat willing to settle. Statically, that’s what most women go for.” Spencer said.

“What people find attractive can’t be put up to stats, Dr. Reid.” Tim said. “Yeah. And besides, you’re more my type anyway.” Y/N said, looking at Reid. He turned bright red. “You’re-You’re I’m- your what-”

Y/N chuckled at the chaos she created. “I think you broke him.” Tim said. “Yep. You’re my type. Speaking of, wanna catch dinner after this case? I know this amazing restaurant downtown.”

“I- sure.”

---

“Alright listen, Y/N is taken.” Nick said, pulling Derek to the side. “And I don’t think your advances are really gonna work.” They had just arrested the unsub and found the missing girl, all they had to do was finish up searching the building for anything else they may have missed.

“Oh really? Who’s she taken by?” Derek smirked. “Well- she’s not like- taken, taken. But she will be. After I ask her out when we get back.”

“So she’s single. Thanks for the heads up man.” Derek said, patting Nick’s shoulder and laughing. “Wait! What I mean is- She’s going to choose me over you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep. She barely knows you. We’ve known each other for so long now.”

“Riightt. But I can tell she doesn’t like you. I notice behavior, remember?”

“Yeah well you’re behavior noticing skills are not as good as you think.”

“Guys! Are you two seriously fighting over Y/N right now!?” Ellie yelled. “No!” Both Derek and Nick said, going their separate ways.

---

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” Reid said. “It's just a day. I’m sure they can find something to do until then.” He said as the elevator dinged. Everyone piled out of the elevator and into the bullpen.

Y/N grabbed the rest of her stuff while Reid asked Hotch if they could stay for one more day.

“So, Y/N..” Nick said as he walked up to Y/N. “I was wondering, if you wanted to go get dinner with me tonight?” Y/N looked up and Nick. “Yeahhh no. I’ve got plans.”

“With who? Him?!’ Nick said, pointing to Derek. “Nope.” Y/N turned around and smiled at Reid. “Hey Spencer you ready?”

“Yep. He can hold off for a day.” Spencer said, smirking at Nick and Derek who both had their jaws dropped. “Okay Pretty Boy, I see you.” Derek said as Reid locked arms with Y/N. The two walked towards the elevator.

“This is your fault.” Nick said, glaring at Derek. “She never liked you anyways, Nick.” Ellie said, patting him on the shoulder as she left. “Ellie’s right you know. You didn’t even stand a chance.” McGee laughed as he left. “I wanna beer.” Nick mumbled to himself. “Let’s go then.” Derek said. “We can wallow in our sorrows together.” He said laughing. “Sure, let me get my coat.”

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #ncis x criminal minds x reader #x reader #asks are open

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actuallybarb · 4 years

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The Aftermath ~ Part 9

Summary: y/n finally goes to a safe house and lo and behold, still isn’t safe. y/n, like thor, has no regard for lawn maintenance

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma

Word Count: 3744

A/N: yes i did indulge more sleepy trope, you’re welcome, but there’s a lot of angst right before it

//////////

Happy was outside of the school with a car, waiting for me, when I got out of my last class. I had to finish my chem test during lunch, but that was fine, because it was sloppy joe’s that day, and I prefer to know the kind of meat I’m putting in my body. I talked to the rest of my teachers about being gone for the week, and with Mr. Morita backing me up, none of them put up a big fuss.

“Hey, Happy.”

“Ready to go?”

“You have my stuff, right?” He nodded. “Then I’m ready.”

“Woah, you're the guy who works for Spider-Man!” Eugene stopped beside me while he was walking to his own car and his jaw dropped to the floor. “Are you taking Y/N so she can be an Avenger?”

I slapped my hand over his mouth and slowly started heating it up. “Eugene?” He looked at me. “Shut up.” I took my hand off before I could do anything more than scare him, but he looked like he was ready to piss himself. “Remember how I turned into a lava monster in London and killed a lot of people?” I whispered. “Now someone is trying to kill me for it. So I’d appreciate it if you would keep all of this to yourself, okay?” He nodded, and I took my hand off his shoulder. He hurried away. “Let’s get out of here before anyone else recognizes you, Happy.”

“Happy? Y/N?”

“Hey, Pete,” Happy called over my shoulder.

He stopped beside me. “Are you going to the compound?”

“The detectives are insisting I go to a safe house, so we compromised.” I leaned close and whispered, “One of the detectives wants Spider-Man’s autograph. Think you can make that happen?”

“I’ll practice my cursive,” he whispered back with a smile. He pulled me into a hug and said, “Take care of yourself, Y/N. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“You too, Pete.” I threw my backpack into the back seat and sat beside Happy in the front, which took him by surprise, but he just started the car and drove away.

“So, you and Peter?”

I looked over at Happy and scowled. “Nothing’s happening, no matter what Sam says otherwise.”

He just shrugged. “Hey, I haven’t heard anything. I just see the way you two look at each other.”

Despite my best efforts to keep my heart under control, it jumped at his words and the butterflies started flapping around in my stomach. Could Happy read minds? The thought had crossed my mind before, but now more than ever I thought it was true.

“Like what?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Y/N, it’s just the look.” He glanced at me again, but I was actively avoiding eye contact. I knew if I did look at him I would just start crying, and I had avoided crying this whole time. But damn it, Happy was going to try. “You doing okay, kid?”

“Fucking peachy.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” He pulled off the road and into a five-minute parking spot, then turned and looked at me head on. “You can’t run away from this, Y/N. Try as you might, this is the real world, and it’s scaring the shit out of everyone. Why didn’t you come to Pepper after your mom disappeared?”

“I never thought to,” I admitted. “Sure, I hang out at the compound and get to pretend that I’m a superhero every other weekend, but I’ve known everyone for maybe two months? I — it just —“ I hung my head, the tears burning the corner of my eyes. “I’m just a kid, Happy. A kid that no one is especially attached to. I still had my dad, and I thought it could be handled.” I gestured at the car and him. “Clearly that isn’t the case.” I quickly wiped away the tears that had spilled over, hoping he didn’t see.

Well, he did. And he surprised me even more by pulling me across the center console into a quick hug. “You mean a lot more to everyone than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. Bucky nearly broke my arm for the keys because he wanted to be the one to pick you up. Pepper started calling private investigators the second you got off the phone last night and had FRIDAY checking cameras. Sam was ready to fly over all of Brooklyn to look for your dad. Don’t sell yourself short.” He pulled the car back onto the road and we slowly made our way to the compound, my chest a little less heavy.

Bucky practically dragged me out of the car and into a bone crushing hug the second Happy put it in park. “Thank god you’re okay.”

“It was a two hour drive, Bucky,” I said back. But I let myself completely relax in his arms. This was probably the safest I had felt in the last three days, and my body was feeling the difference. “Can we go inside?”

“‘Course.” He let go, but kept his metal arm wrapped around my shoulders. He grabbed one of my duffel bags and slowly walked with me into the compound. “Sam has a fat stack of pancakes waiting for you.”

An equally bone-crushing hug came from Captain America, and I almost broke down completely. “You’re okay, Y/N, we won’t let anything else happen to you.”

Anything else. God, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Because he knew what had already happened, but so help him if he wasn’t going to try and stop whatever happened next. “Thank you.”

“Come on, I got pancakes burning on the stove.”

Bucky put the rest of my stuff in my room, and the rest of the evening everyone watched movies and ate popcorn and tried to ignore the mounting terror that was growing in my throat.

It was around midnight when I walked into my own room, too tired to turn the light on. I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed, jeans and all, but I felt something wet and sticky when I laid down completely. This wouldn’t have been the first prank pulled between myself and the Star Spangled Man with a Plan, but this felt different.

“FRIDAY, turn the lights on.”

I almost threw up. The sheets of my bed were covered in blood. I could feel it seeping into my clothes and hair. Who the hell got into the compound? Who the hell knew I was coming?

I started screaming — a perfectly natural response to the situation — and Wanda burst into my room. Her eyes were gleaming red and her magic was dancing on her hands. “Y/N, what the hell?”

I sat up completely and tried (and failed) to keep my voice from quivering as I said, “Wanda, can you call nine-one-one and get the officer from the patrol car in here, please?” She ran away quickly, already shouting out to FRIDAY.

I had seen enough cop shows to know not to move, because even my hair became evidence the second I laid down. “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Y/N, what the hell, Wanda just told us —“ Sam and Bucky came crashing in, but stopped short at the sight of me covered in blood.

“Can one of you grab my phone and call ‘Detective Peralta?’”

Sam stepped forward and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah, this is Y/N Y/L/N’s phone. She has a couple things she wants to tell you.“ He put the call on speaker and held it close.

At this point, I was moving from my unbelievably-terrified phase to unbelievably-frantic phase. That didn’t make my urge to cry any less potent, but it at least helped me get through the next conversation. “Jake? Can I call you Jake? I feel like you’ve seen so much into my life in the last few days that I’ve earned the right to call you by your first name. Anyways, if you knew who you had just talked to on the phone you’d piss yourself. You’ll never —“

“Breathe, Y/N. Just shut up for a second and breathe.” I inhaled sharply, which was a bad call, because now all I could smell and taste was blood, which almost made me throw up all over again. “Okay, what did you call me about?”

“I’m laying in a pool of blood and I need you and the Nine-Nine to get here and do your fucking jobs because I’m freaking out.”

“Are you still at the safe house?”

“Yeah, and I don’t know where your patrol car officer is, but shouldn’t they be out here protecting me?” I would’ve kept chewing him and his precinct out, but Sam took the phone from my hand and gave Jake the ‘OK’ to come to the compound.

Wanda ran back with the officer behind her, both breathing heavy. “I brought. The officer.”

“About fucking time,” I muttered.

You’re acting like a bitch, Y/N.

Yeah, well, you unknowingly lay down in a pool of blood and tell me how pleasant you’re feeling afterward. ‘Frantic’ had left the building and ‘pissed as hell’ had taken full residence in my attitude. And the brunt of it was directed at the undeserving.

“Can you take some goddamn pictures already so I can get out of these clothes?”

“I, uh, should really wait for forensics.”

I groaned and looked at Bucky. “Do me a favor and give me something to throw.” He just stepped forward and held out his metal arm.

“How ‘bout something to hold onto.”

I ended up getting blood between the grooves of his plating, but Bucky assured me it was easy to clean. It took over an hour — even with all of their sirens — for the Nine-Nine to get to the compound, and another half hour on top of that for all of their pictures to be taken before I could shower and change clothes. Do you know how humiliating it is for a teenage girl to have to change and leave behind blood-soaked clothes for an entire forensics team to investigate and study? I hope you never have to know for yourself, because nothing made me want to claw my own eyes out and burn myself alive more than that.

I used Wanda’s shower, because her room was just across the hall, but I refused to sleep in a closed room anymore. I refused to even close my eyes, because it seemed that every time I blinked some other sort of shit hit the fan.

“Y/N?”

I was so fucking tired of hearing the sound of my own name.

“What’s the message this time, Jake?”

He didn’t bother sugar-coating it. He handed his phone over and I was too tired to stop the panic I felt in my throat as I looked at the barely-legible letters.

I will always find you.

“They are really milking this whole ‘five word message’ thing.” I handed his phone back to him. “It’s my blood, isn’t it?”

“You’re way better at this than you let on. Yeah, it’s your blood. Hopefully we can get something from the video footage, but given all of the connecting evidence, I’m thinking whoever is responsible will reach out in some way.” This was the part where he sighed heavily and looked disappointed in himself. “Unfortunately, because of the current state of the investigation, the FBI is going to be taking over this case. They’re already on their way to start their own investigation.”

“Of fucking course.” I stood up and started pacing, and before I knew it I was throwing pillows across the room. I reached for his glass of water and was ready to throw, but someone came up behind me and pulled my fingers away before I could cause any real damage. “Hey —“

Jess stood behind me and set the glass on the table. “Don’t start pulling that shit, Y/N. You haven’t thrown stuff since you were twelve.” Jake awkwardly stepped out of the living room, but it didn’t matter; you could’ve heard our conversation no matter where you were in the compound

I wiped at the tears on my cheeks. “Well I was twelve last time my parents left me, so, old habits.”

“Don’t go back to that, you’ve come too far.”

“Of course I’m acting like a twelve year old, that’s how I feel!” I groaned and grabbed another pillow, but this time I threw it at her. “I lost both of my parents in less than three days just when we were getting back to a good place! And all I want to do is scream and cry and burst into flame, but I have to be the adult and keep it all together when I feel like I’m dying!”

I didn’t care about how badly I was crying. I didn’t care about much of anything. I just wanted to finally have something as tangible and damaging in front of me as I did inside of me.

“Don’t tell me that I’m moving backwards, because I’m doing everything I can just to stand up straight.” I left her and ran through the front door, all the way to the edge of the property.

In Avatar: The Last Airbender, Iroh says lightning can only be handled by someone who is in balance. Well, that’s not necessarily true. Creating it, sure. But harnessing it from a different source? That’s a lot of emotion that has to be channeled into draining the power from one source and using it for yourself.

And boy did I have plenty of emotion.

I pulled the energy straight out of the sky. (Thor who?) It probably wasn’t the best idea, considering the sprinklers made everything in sight slightly damp, but I didn’t care; I couldn’t get fried, and anyone else stupid enough to follow me out here would soon learn a very important lesson.

My hands were glowing white with electricity. And I just kept pulling more and more of it out of the sky until all I could see was white.

And then I let it all go.

I screamed until my throat was raw. I screamed until I saw red. I screamed until there was nothing left in me, and then I kept screaming. The ground around me caved in and the blackened grass started smoldering and I still screamed.

And then I sobbed. I knelt on the grass and sobbed.

////////////

I was determined to just sleep outside that night, but the adult-ier adults had a different idea. It was Bucky who finally braved coming outside and getting me. “C’mon, Y/N, let’s get you in bed.” He ended up just carrying me back to the compound, but instead of going to Wanda’s room — where I thought he was headed — he skipped that hallway completely and chose the next one.

The one with Peter’s room.

He lightly kicked open the door and gently put me on the bed, but someone sat beside me on the bed. My eyes flew open, ready to attack, but when they adjusted to the darkness, I just gasped and jumped into his arms.

Peter.

“Take care of her,” was all I heard Bucky say, and I felt Peter nod, but I didn’t dare look up. For a girl who’s barely known him for a year, I’ve become strongly attached to Peter Parker, and I was realizing now that he was a constant in my life that I sorely depended on (not so good in the long run, but I could worry about that later).

“How did you get here so fast?” A part of me wanted to look at his face and know it was Peter, but I kept my head in the crook of his neck, listening to his steady heartbeat and reassuring myself that was all I needed.

“Doctor Strange. Sam called him after you ran outside.”

I did finally look up at him, and tears I didn’t even know I had left decided to make an appearance. “Yeah, you never would’ve made it past the police line.”

He smiled softly (I would never get over that smile) and then leaned back. “Get some sleep, Y/N.”

He immediately felt the affect his words had on me. My heart jumped and started racing, my breathing picked up, my fists clenched. “Hey, hey, hey.” But one reassuring hand on my neck and jaw and I calmed down. Slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” I choked out, “because I can’t lose anyone else I care about.”

I don’t remember falling asleep. I only remember a tangle of legs and Peter’s heartbeat under my ear.

////////////

Quentin Beck was holding me by the throat. “You couldn’t stop me from killing all of those people. You couldn’t stop me from hurting Peter. And now you can’t stop me from taking your parents.” MJ and Ned and Flash and Betty and Peter and Mom and Dad all formed out of the rubble and then disappeared before I could save them. Beck squeezed my neck tighter and tighter —

I gasped awake. I couldn’t breathe deeply enough, my lungs refused to fill completely, and it was still dark enough outside that I couldn’t see anything around me. “It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.” I rubbed my hands over my eyes, trying to erase the nightmare, but it wouldn’t go away; Beck’s hands around my throat were still there, like a phantom pain.

Then a hand gently grabbed my leg and I heard a yelp as I blew a gust of air at whoever it was.

Peter landed on the ground with a thud.

I crawled to the edge and let my adjusted eyes focus on his outline. “Shit, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed his elbow for a second but then looked up at me. “Are you okay?”

“I just airbended you off the bed and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

He stood up and sat beside me, his hand finding mine. “You weren’t breathing, Y/N. You were choking on air and it was scaring the hell out of me.”

“It-“ I wrapped my fingers around his and took a shaky breath, finally feeling like I had enough air. “It was just a nightmare.”

“Okay.” He glanced around and his eyes landed on the alarm clock. 5:13. “Want to go train?”

I was fucking exhausted. But at this point, I was taking Jake’s word and waiting for the next move. So maybe training would do some good. “Yeah, okay.”

We trained well after the sun came up. Peter kept to the higher alcoves of the gym, while I liked to stay on the ground. But we did a couple ‘blindfold rounds’ until we could easily pick each other out amongst the ‘noise.’

“One more blindfold round,” he said through his teeth. One of the bots clipped him in the side and he was leaning heavily, but he insisted. “As hard as you’ve got, FRIDAY.”

We tied our blindfolds around our eyes one more time and took our stances. At this point, we weren’t just practicing our gifts; we were (at least I was) letting go of our inhibitions toward each other. My attention was on him and the bots and nothing else. (If I wasn’t sure how head over heels I was for this guy, I was pretty positive about it now.)

“Three.”

I wiggled my fingers in anticipation.

“Two.”

Peter’s shoes rubbed against the floor.

“One.”

Don’t ask me how the tech worked. I still have no idea how they managed to create simulations that were actually tangible, but I was really grateful, because it meant Peter and I got accurate practice. I rolled forward, a shot barely edging above me, while Peter immediately went for the high ground, dodging the bots that tried to keep up.

I didn’t just try to feel them while they were on the ground, I honed in on the metal surrounding them and the electricity coursing through them. I ripped the bots to shreds and made them collapse in on themselves and caused sparks to flash across the room when I doused others with water.

Peter jumped on top of different bots and used his taser webs to take most of them down, but he threw some my way, and vice versa. The whole point of the training session was to build trust, and we were trying our best to be successful.

I couldn’t feel any more bots with electricity in the room, and Peter came down to the ground, but before either of us took our blindfolds off, I felt someone else step onto the mat. Someone I didn’t recognize.

I formed a water whip and wrapped it around the foreign person, then I ripped off my blindfold, only to see my water whip attached to thin air. Or —

“Who the hell are you?”

They were invisible. But I knew without a doubt that a person was on the other end of my whip. I walked closer and froze the rest of the water around their body with jagged edges leading to their head — at least what I assumed was their head.

“I said,” I reached my hands out and tried to find some purchase, “who the hell are you?” My fingers wrapped around what I assumed was their throat and I squeezed.

His facade gave out quickly. I didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t matter; FRIDAY was always monitoring.

“Hey,” Peter said quietly and put a hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t relent.

“Answer the goddamn question, or you’ll have more to worry about than some slight freezer burn.”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. They’re coming for you, Y/N, and they won’t stop until you’ve paid for what you’ve done.”

My grip lessened, just a bit. “When?”

“Soon.” A haggard cough escaped his lips. “You really shouldn’t have left your friends so vulnerable.”

My eyes went wide, and just as my grip slackened some more, Wanda and Sam barged into the room. Her red magic kept him trapped, and Sam put duct tape over his mouth. “FBI is already on their way. How did you know he was here?”

“I just did.” I let go completely and let the water thaw to a puddle. “How fast can we get to the city?”

Sam’s eyebrows creased. “Strange could have you there in seconds, why?”

“Something else is going to happen, and it’s going to happen there.”

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries @yougottalovefandoms

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman far from home #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x mj #marvel comics #mcu #reader insert #avengers #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

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‘You come here often?’ ‘Well I work here.’ Part 4

This was prompted by the lovely AO3 user LoafofCat! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [Read complete on AO3]

‘You know, if you just wanted to see me, there would be easier ways.’ ‘Bold of you to assume I come here only to see you.’ Nines smiled looking up to Gavin, who was just untying his apron and sitting down in front of him with a coffee of his own. ‘Am I wrong then?’, the human asked and Nines huffed, letting his head fall. ‘No’, he admitted. ‘Okay, so let me get this right’, Gavin laughed. ‘I had to propose to my boss to get thirium drinks on the menu as a “costumer asked for it” and it might help us crank those numbers up, just so you could plant your ass here in your break?’ ‘It did get you more costumers though’, Nines shrugged pointing to the other tables. ‘That’s not- Nines, do you think I care about this shop? I just work here; I don’t care if… You know what? Screw it. Nice to see you, Nines.’ ‘Nice to see you too’, the android chuckled. ‘How are you?’ ‘Can’t complain. What do you have there?’

Nines looked down on the tablet in his hands. ‘Oh, just work. A case.’ ‘You are on your break and brought work?’, Gavin asked, looking at him sceptically. ‘Tina was right, you really are me just with a little less personality.’ ‘Being nice and polite doesn’t mean not having a personality. You were just an asshole.’ ‘What technically is a personality trait’, Gavin argued, taking a sip from his coffee. ‘Now come on, tell me about your case!’ Nines frowned. ‘I really can’t tell you, it’s-‘ ‘Confidential, I get it. But come on, I’m a former cop I can keep a secret. For old time’s sake.’ The android eyed Gavin and how he looked so eager to get information. It was cute in a way, how he looked in between his eyes and the tablet in his hands. Maybe that’s why Nines showed weakness and caved in.

‘Okay, but you really keep this to yourself. We are investigating a series of murders. They don’t have anything in common in regard to victims or how the deed was done or staged, but at every crime-scene we found the picture of this man.’ Nines flipped through the pictures of the different crime-scenes until he reached a few portraits. They weren’t really the kind of pictures you would expect of a cold-blooded serial-killer. Not after the few flashes of gruesome staging, Gavin caught a glimpse of as Nines had searched for these. They all portrayed a middle-aged man with a small belly you could easily get if you worked long hours in the office and were too exhausted afterwards to do sports. The pictures looked like they were ripped right out of a family photo-album. The guy was at the beach smiling at the camera with a cocktail in hand. The next one showed him in what Gavin supposed to be his home with a small dog on his lap. Then next to a ridiculously oversized barbeque grill all shiny chrome and reds.

Gavin lifted a brow at Nines. ‘Yeah, sorry Nines, but no way this is your killer.’ ‘I ruled it out as unlikely, too’, the android nodded. ‘Although you can never know with people. At the very least it’s a lead. Maybe the killer knows this man. As much as this is a lead, it is also our only link.’ Gavin shrugged, leaning back. ‘Well, why haven’t you solved it then? I mean, you can scan his face and get a name, age, address, likely even social media as creepy as they designed you and Connor. No offense there.’ Nines sighed. ‘As creepy as I might be designed, my scanner has its limits too. I can’t get a name to this man, not even an age. Scanning him just returns an error. Manual research in the police databanks also hasn’t brought up anything yet. We also can’t exactly go around asking for this man. If he is the serial killer, as unlikely as it might seem, we would only alert him.’ Gavin nodded absent-mindedly, staring at the photo, pulling the tablet closer to zoom in on some details. ‘Honestly?’, Nines said frustratedly. ‘We’re all currently waiting for the forensics to find more evidence on the bodies. It’s quite frustrating, but at the same time no one really minds if I spend a bit longer on my break with you.’

Gavin couldn’t help but let out an exaggerated ‘Awww’ at that, Nines reprimanded with an annoyed but amused look. ‘Nah, really thanks, looking at your tablet for what, ten minutes? This was already more exciting than the whole damn month. The most action I had was a drunk guy I had to escort out because everyone else was too chicken shit to risk getting vomited on.’ ‘Understandable.’ ‘Not the point. I mean, I’m happy here, I guess. It is decent money and I have more time for my cats at home. Also, maybe not being confronted with what humans are capable of is nice for a while. But I can basically feel my brain rot here.’ ‘That is also understandable’, Nines huffed. ‘Maybe search for some outside work activity? Something new to learn and keep you active mentally?’ ‘Like what? Knitting?’ ‘If you want that?’ ‘You know what? Maybe not the worst idea. I’ll see if I can find anything and when I have I will-‘

Nines never got to find out what Gavin would do afterwards, as his colleagues called him, pointing at the growing queue. The human sighed. ‘Well, my call to duty’, he announced and walked over to press a quick kiss to the android’s temple. ‘Was nice chatting with you, babe. Good luck with your case.’ ‘Yeah, you too.’

It was a slow Tuesday, without many costumers coming in. The rush of office workers in their break had already stormed the small shop and rushed back to their workplace and now it was mostly a few students and the regular old granny circle in the front judging people and eating cake. Living the life. Gavin had already washed the entire stack of mugs twice now and was out of work, except for manipulating the radio until his co-workers began to wonder why the last song had been so long and found him messing with the system. Then he walked around, collecting discarded newspapers and cleaning the tables while his co-worker told him she would be out for a cigarette. He nodded and continued working until a sole costumer entered. Gavin quickly rubbed the table dry and hurried over, throwing the man an extra smile just in case he wanted to complain about having to wait a few seconds. ‘What can I do for you?’ ‘I’d like a coffee, please. Medium, to go with cream but no sugar.’ ‘Coming right up.’ Gavin was already going through the motions of preparing the coffee and turned around to hand it over. ‘Anything else…’ He trailed off, as he saw the man’s face, but he seemingly hadn’t noticed his slip. ‘No, thank you, that would be all.’

Gavin watched him leave again and was trying to decide what to do next. He couldn’t just leave; he was at work after all. But he couldn’t do nothing either. Frantically he looked through the shop and, in the end, shook his head, rushing past the counter. Outside his co-worker stopped him. ‘Gavin? What are you doing?’ Gavin blinked, but came up with an excuse fast enough: ‘Dude forgot his wallet. Can you take over for a moment? Sorry!’ ‘Sure, no problem. Just hurry, he’s already behind the corner.’

Gavin did hurry. But not to run after the man, but to pull out his phone. ‘Nines? Yes, hi babe I know you are at work, shut up, this is work. Li-Listen, yes. Shut up for just a second! I’m pursuing your office killer. Ye-Yes, exactly, the beach holiday photo model with the ugliest dog I’ve seen in my life. Now will you phcking get your ass here? I will pursue him you can track my phone. Wh- come on, it can’t be that dangerous, I’m still well trained now stop worrying and move your ass!’

He had become louder than he wanted and had caused the man he wanted to follow inconspicuously to turn around. He wasn’t really unsuspicious though, dressed in the silly coffee-shop apron and shouting at someone on the phone. Trying to play it down, Gavin instead tried the open approach: ‘Hey, you forgot your wallet!’ It only caused the man to bolt. So much for being a friendly, costumer-orientated employee. Gavin pushed it all to hell, lifting up his apron and running after the man. So, he did had dirt on him. Gavin followed him down the street and used a streetlight to take the corner with more speed. A mistake he later would regret as he ran face first into a fist that definitely wasn’t human. Seeing stars, he looked up from where he had fallen against the building. The chubby man was surprisingly agile and fast, unfitting to his overall completely average looks. And Gavin saw why: The skin where the man had punched him had retracted to show stern white underneath. The man was an android? Where the hell did he get all these modifications from? Cyberlife had designed all androids to be phcking inhuman models. But maybe that had been the plan. Being as inconspicuous as possible. Remembering the brief flashes of crime-scenes that made him pale. Oh no.

‘How the hell did some barista recognise me, huh?’, the android asked, holding Gavin by the throat, his toes barely touching the ground. ‘You are all over the news!’, Gavin tried. ‘I’m not. None of my doings have even been published yet.’ ‘Well, I was a cop once.’ ‘Were you? Well, who is your contact then? If you were a cop once.’ Gavin really hoped someone would turn the corner and see this to help him. Because the way the android’s hand clenched around his throat, lack of oxygen could soon be his least concern. ‘My boyfriend, okay? But I will never tell you his name!’ ‘Your boyfriend? Alright, thank you. After I killed you, I will go to him next. See if I can’t keep this information from spreading.

The pressure on his throat became almost unbearable, as Gavin saw a flash of white behind the man. ‘I highly doubt that’, Nines voice sounded through the alley and Gavin could see the gun aimed at his head. ‘Now let him down and go.’ The android in front of Gavin cursed, but complied. ‘You are arrested for the suspected murder of three people, as well as the attempted murder of this man. Turn around, hands behind your back.’ Nines handcuffed him, reading him his rights before making the call to the station to send a car.

‘Gavin, that was extremely reckless of you.’ ‘Hey, I got your killer, right?’, Gavin croaked with a cocky grin while rubbing his throat. ‘I solved a case you would have waited weeks on before even getting close to the guy.’ ‘Oh, please, I’m the most advanced android there is. I would have gotten him.’ ‘Yeah, but it was the ex-detective they threw out to replace with you that caught him in the end. Please, rub that into Fowler’s face for me, would you?’ ‘I most certainly won’t’, Nines stated. ‘I will emphasize your involvement in this case though, what at least should keep your employer off your ass.’ ‘Oh, what would I do without you?’ The android in Nines grip struggled against him, causing Nines to return his attention to him. ‘Urgh, get a room, you two!’ ‘Excellent idea actually. Gavin, how about after our shifts ended, we meet at my place? You know? To celebrate.’ ‘Oh, I’d love to’, Gavin grinned and winked the RK900.

The captive criminal got a glimpse of the gesture and regretted it deeply. ‘Oh, please, just kill me, would you?’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed

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woogyu · 3 years

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Funny Drabble Game

Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny (when requesting PLEASE add which prompt list it is from)

Can have up to 3 prompts per request + can send multiple requests.

They will all be written for fem reader. I’m very sorry about this, it is just because of what I know/have experience in writing.

Please format requests as follows; funny member prompt # or #s.

ex. funny member #12 + #15

ex. funny florist!member x student!reader #14

Send your requests/asks: here

~ prompts under the cut ~

crossed out = don’t request, usually for when I’ve gotten tired of a specific prompt coming up too often or I don’t like it

Drabble Prompts [credit; https://justforshitsandcackles.tumblr.com ]

“You’re such a fun drunk.”

“Since my dog likes you then i guess i like you.”

“Tell them to fuck off.”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“I want to strangle you 99% of the time.”

“Could you not suck for five minutes?”

“The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed/bedroom too!”

“You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“Well thats tragic.”

“I’m too sober for this.”

“You are actually insane!”

“I think you’re actually satan.”

“It’s like -50 degrees in here.”

“Laugh at my jokes! They’re funny and you know it!”

“Sorry isn’t going to help when i kick your ass!”

“Don’t let one of them electrocute themselves or something.”

“Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

“Do you find this amusing, fuck face?”

“Holy shit! That thing is huge!”

“Don’t kink shame me.”

“I hope i’m never stuck with you on a deserted island.”

“I just cleaned that!”

“Don’t get sassy with me!”

“What do you have behind your back?”

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but the dog loves me more.”

“I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.”

“Bite me.” “If you insist.”

“Im not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“I need you to be my fake girlfriend/boyfriend.”

“Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?”

“You snuck into my room, at 4am..to cuddle?”

“If we get caught i’m blaming you.”

“What? No! I wasn’t staring..i-i was looking at something behind you!”

“I locked the keys in the car.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Define normal.”

“Do i get bonus points if i act like i care?”

“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and i don’t speak english.”

“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”

“And you wonder why you’re single.”

“Remind me to kill you. Please.”

“I’m listening to you. I’m just not paying attention.”

“She’s crazy. and just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, theres a crazy underground garage.”

“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”

“My middle finger salutes you.”

“I don’t think i could ever stab someone. I mean, lets be honest, i can barely get the straw in the capri sun.”

“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how i feel.”

“Somebodys cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”

“All due respect but thats a bunch of crap.”

“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”

“What did i tell you about calling him/her the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”

“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

“I’m not weird. I’m limited edition.”

“If history repeats itself, i am so getting a dinosaur.”

“You seem somewhat familiar. have i threatened you before?”

“Even when we were kids, i always kicked your ass!”

“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”

“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”

“She’s hot, but she’s evil.”

“Do i regret it? Yes. Would i do it again? Probably.”

“You’re going to burn in a very special level in hell. A level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers, and people who talk at the theater.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress. i’m a damsel doing damage.”

“Sometimes i question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

“Why should we date?” “Because we’re attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but i do not feel the need to date pie.”

“Why does everyone assume the worst of me.” “It saves time.”

“You’ve successfully cured him/her of anything interesting about his/her personality.”

“Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.”

“Wow somebody needs a happy meal.”

“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”

“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“You couldn’t handle me even if i came with instructions.”

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

“I’m so glad you could come.” “Cut the crap. give me a drink.”

“Where have you been all my life?” “Hiding from you.”

“I can tell that you think what you’re saying is funny, but…no.”

“If you pull out my earphones, i will pull out your lungs.”

“Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. thats cute.”

“I feel like a freakin’ soccer mom.”

“My ex? Yeah id still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or a baseball bat.”

“Such big evil in such a little thing.”

“For the love of fuck.” “Yep, thats me. i love to fuck.”

“Are you ready to go?” “Yeah. let me grab my machete.” “We’re going to sephora. no machetes needed.”

Clears throat seriously, “Yas bitch.”

“No road trip is complete without the snacks. So go in there and buy everything you can fit in a tiny cart.”

“I’m all for making you miserable by being insufferable, but unfortunately i have things to do today.”

“Come on, you can help me make conspiracy theories. If you make an especially good one, ill pay for dinner.”

“You know what? Why not? I haven’t ruined my life yet this week. Lets go.”

“Do these dark circles under my eyes say nothing to you about how i am doing?”

“If i didn’t know you better, id say you were trying to flirt by giving me books.”

“What are you talking about? Im hilarious!”

“Duct tape? Duct tape is not going to fix this!”

“What did you think? That you were going to fight him?”

“You’re blocking the view.” “I am the view.”

“Why are you on the floor?” “Tying my shoe.” “You’re wearing rain-boots.”

“Cant stop me from slaying!”

“Close your eyes and imagine it, all the dogs in the world.”

“Be careful, he’s so sweet you might get diabetes.”

“Would you reconsider if i was sober?”

“Stop running i’m wearing flip flops!”

“Why are you holding your boobs?”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking, more like far distance admiring.”

“You need to stop making her laugh! you’re ruining her makeup!”

“I’m sure i can get some kind of sexual gratification from just staring at him if i try hard enough.”

“I’m not sure if its a sexual thing or not.”

“I’m either in the mood for french fries or to rip someone’s head off. Hmmm. decisions, decisions.”

“If you’re not out of the shower in the next five minutes, i’m going to cut your fucking hair off to make your life quicker.”

“No, i will not dress up as a chicken.”

“I never told my extended family that we broke up, and now they want to know when you’re coming over for dinner again.”

“I need a date to my relatives wedding, and i’ve already asked literally everyone else i know, so i know you probably hate me, but please say yes. Otherwise they’ll try to set me up with someone, and they have awful taste.”

“One more sound and i swear to-”

“Sometimes when (name) texts me, i just pretend they didn’t so i don’t have to respond.”

“You gave our pigeon boyfriend the wrong beans!”

“If i’m like 50 and still single, ill marry you because tax benefits.”

“Please, never have children.”

“I know its like 11pm, but i’m on my way to your house with nacho fries.”

“Sometimes i wish i was gay so i wouldn’t have to deal with all these dumbass boys.

“You know, would’ve been nice if you told me your whole ass family was coming to this dinner! I look like a troll.”

“Im going to the party to pet the dog, no thanks drugs.”

“I hope in college i get some excuse to deck him. Maybe with a bottle or something, ill wing it and be like “oops, sorry shithead, my hand slipped.”

“What is this shit…i’m just trying to graduate.”

“Ooo, i sense attitude in your tone.”

“Guess who only got two hours of sleep? Me, lol, i’m gonna die.“

“I’m gonna strangle you.” “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Superheroes aren’t allowed in my house, especially after they’ve destroyed my living room. go away.”

“oh you’re coming. even if i have to drag you through the snow in your pajamas.”

“i swear you’re gonna end up getting like botox in your tits or something.” “well i mean-” “whAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen drabble game #seventeen funny #seventeen fanfic #seventeen #svt #seventeen requests

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thetomorrowshow · 4 years

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Slower Than Words Ch. 18

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More Patton today! I wasn’t a big fan of writing Pat before this fic lol, now I love seeing him. Hope you enjoy!

cw: hospitals, angst

“Say it again.”

Logan sighed. “Patton broke the Prophet's nose.”

“He had it coming!” Remus crowed. Logan tried to not smile, but judging by Remus's continued snorts of laughter, he failed.

It was two days after the successful mission that resulted in the takedown of the Haven. Patton was asleep, still in the hospital. The doctors were mostly concerned about what seemed to be melted portions of his ear canals, once they were certain that he was going to recover from his starvation.

Patton was dreadfully thin, little more than skin and bones, and yet he still smiled whenever he was awake, conversed excitedly with him, exchanged a few stilted signs with Remus, who was only just learning ASL. Right now though, in his sleep, he seemed less than content. He shifted regularly, the blanket curled in his fists, his brows drawn in a frown. The jacket he refused to let leave his sight was draped over the foot of the bed, smelling much nicer than it had earlier—Remus had taken it upon himself to smuggle it out of the hospital and wash it, only having just returned.

This was only Remus's second visit with Patton. Patton recognized him from the cult, and was thus not incredibly open to him, but he was polite, which was more than Logan could hope for. Patton being here, being alive, was more than Logan could hope for.

The mission had been stressful. Logan had been prepared to leave with two day's notice, yet it seemed that everything that could go wrong did. Logan wasn't superstitious, but he found himself thinking back to the night before leaving, when he'd told Remus that the plan was simple, and that they would have to try to mess it up. He should have knocked on wood.

First, nobody had bothered to tell him that they were fairly certain the cult had been relocating for the past couple of weeks. In small groups, people were exiting the settlement and only one person was coming back. Nobody had set foot inside the laboratory for days, instead, all residents were meeting in the communal dining area in the morning, and randomly moving to the church. For all anyone knew, Patton was no longer even in the Haven—and Logan knew, perhaps better than anyone, just how possible it was that the cult had 'disposed of the latest experiment'.

There was an entire squad sent by the FBI, as well as far too police and forensics workers, a handful of lawyers, two detectives, and several rubberneckers. For a stealth takedown, that was not exactly the team that Logan would have brought. They were too noisy, and visible from a mile away.

When they were halfway to the settlement, two tires blew. Logan had had to bite his tongue in order to not scream in frustration, but there was nothing to be done. Forty minutes later, they were back on the road.

Until a civilian's engine stopped.

Two hours later, they reached the Haven. It looked much like Logan remembered, except with the beginnings of a paving project for walks up to houses. There wasn't time to look around, though—Patton was possibly somewhere around, and he had to be found as soon as possible.

That ambition was quickly shut down, however, when they were confronted by the Prophets, backed by what seemed to be half the men in the Haven. What followed was a long discussion of rights, which only served to make Logan more and more anxious. He happened to know quite a bit about laws and rights, having been studying them over the past year—he was back in school part-time as a law major. He shared his insights and opinions with the only person he knew here: the detective who had been handling the case since the beginning. The man brought Logan's words into the argument, which, against his hopes, did not speed up the process.

Eventually, the Prophets became hostile, and some of the Haven men began to threaten with physical violence, which gave the police officers more than enough reason to arrest them. Logan was honestly surprised they hadn't acted immediately. He'd received the impression that the police force acted with very little (if any at all) evidence and responded violently to retaliation.

It didn't take too long to find Patton. Remus had told him in advance (rather sorrowfully, knowing he wouldn't be able to accompany the group) what cell his son was in, and Logan knew the halls of the laboratory very well. He'd been rather detached from his actions all day, even more so when they entered the Haven, and he finally realized that he was disconnected so as to not become violently ill. This was where he'd lived, imprisoned, for years. The people here had caused the death of his wife, had tortured his son. Logan was barely holding himself back from destroying everything he passed.

Once found, Logan didn't let go of Patton for an hour at least. The boy was shaking, his skin was cold to the touch, the bones that formed his face were clearly visible under taut skin. Still, he was alive, and Logan couldn't be happier.

The scientists hadn't stopped feeding Patton out of any seriously malicious intent. The cultists had abandoned all work in the lab in their preparations for escape, neglecting every experiment—including Patton, the only human experiment there.

Patton could walk, by some miracle, and was finally able to leave the building, Logan just behind him to catch him if he faltered. His son looked so happy, letting the sun hit his face. A lump formed in Logan’s throat, and he looked away from his bright eyes after ruffling his hair lightly, marveling at how long it was.

Seeing Patton punch the Prophet brought a smile so wide to Logan's face that he'd had to pull his bandanna back up, chuckling lightly in a way he thought he could pass off as a cough. All mirth vanished, though, when Patton's eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.

There was a flurry of activity, but Logan was the first to reach Patton. He gripped his son tightly, pretending that a tear did not slip out of the corner of his eye. He was going to be okay, he had to be okay, they had just been reunited!

Patton didn't respond to Logan's shaking of him. An animalistic sound tore from Logan's throat as he let the tears fall. The world closed in, smaller and smaller, until all that existed was him and his unconscious son who was certainly dying. Logan's hands were fists curled into the back of Patton's faded blue shirt, and he hugged his son to his chest, shaking off anyone who got too near.

Someone managed to tear them apart, and Logan fought. He kicked and yelled, tearing at their skin with his fingernails, trying to keep Patton is his sight as he watched several people lift him onto a stretcher and place him in the back of a van, before driving away.

Logan slumped against the officer holding him, hearing the man say something about stress and trauma to someone else. He managed to get control of his tears after a few minutes, sniffing and wiping his eyes on the inside of his sleeve. The detective was watching him pityingly, and Logan rolled his aching eyes. He didn't need this, these feelings. He had to focus.

The detective approached him cautiously, asking if he needed to leave to be with Patton sooner. Logan waved him off. They needed him here, he was the only one with insider expertise.

As he provided his opinions and knowledge, though, his thoughts were with a black van, speeding across a dusty desert to the nearest hospital.

Patton was still on oxygen, but it was no longer a tube down his throat. Just a small tube poking into his nostrils, and it looked like he would be off it very soon. He was going to need to meet with a psychiatrist, a physical therapist, and a nutritionist for at least the next six months, likely extending to a year. Patton was severely underweight and was having trouble keeping down food at the moment, but the doctors were all hopeful for a full recovery. In fact, they thought he would be able to go home within the week.

Logan had been busy prepping a space for him in the spare bedroom of his apartment. Remus had graciously offered to move to a sleeping bag on the living room floor—not that Logan was going to let him stay in the bed once Patton was home.

Remus eventually left the hospital room, muttering something about work. Logan continued to stare at his boy, constantly reassuring himself that Patton was indeed still there, and was not going to disappear.

They'd have to look into school, and Patton would be so confused. Of course, he did not need a higher education, but Logan had always had aspirations of any child of his becoming wildly successful. His love did not depend on this, though. As long as Patton was happy, he would be.

Still, if Patton desired to attend university. . . . Logan had homeschooled him as well as he could, and Patton could almost certainly attain a high school diploma. After that, what were Patton's interests? Helping people? He could become a teacher—it would be hard, but perhaps at a school for the deaf? Patton had always enjoyed his job working in the Haven kitchens, so perhaps a chef or a baker? Logan's mind spun as he thought of all the things Patton could do, a pleasure he'd always denied himself of in the past. Patton's world was open now, he could move up, he could do whatever he wanted. He was no longer restrained by the cult's strict set of rules and limited options.

Logan felt like a new father all over again—Patton's liberation seemed to have led to his rebirth. All the joys that had been missing from watching a baby grow up were now available, and Logan wiped away a tear as he imagined all the things his baby boy would grow up to be.

Patton woke with a start, pulling Logan out of his thoughts. Patton looked around frantically, only calming when his eyes fell on the purple-patched jacket laying at his feet. Before he could even ask for it, Logan had leaned over and handed it to him.

Patton pressed the jacket to his face, then froze. Logan waited patiently for him to bring it down, his veins filling with ice. Was there something wrong with it? Was Patton recalling something traumatic? What was wrong?

Patton sniffled, then let the jacket fall to his lap. His lip trembled as he clumsily signed, impeded by the IV in his hand, “Did you wash it?”

“Remus did.” Logan was still not sure what was wrong, but knew he did not want to have Patton upset with him already. “Is something wrong?”

Patton shook his head, but his face crumpled. It had to have something to do with the quality of the jacket before it was washed.

“Patton,” Logan tried to reason, “It smelled like that place.”

Patton shook his head more fiercely, tears spilling from his eyes. “It smelled like him!” he insisted. His hands shook as he signed. “It was the only thing left! You took it away!”

The heart monitor beeped as Patton cried harder. Logan was frozen, not sure what to do. Should he hug him? Turn away and let him cry? He still felt that he was right to wash it—it had smelled horrible—but he felt inexplicably guilty. He didn't want to see his baby boy cry, especially over something he'd done.

A nurse bustled in, and Logan stepped back hurriedly. The nurse checked Patton's vitals, tried to get him to calm down; Patton sobbed into the jacket, which he had brought back to his face, as if to try and find vestiges of the old scent. Logan felt utterly helpless as another of the hospital staff entered. He tried to look anywhere but at Patton's watery, accusing eyes, his own eyes falling instead down. As they were kept trained on the floor, he saw in his peripheral vision Patton tracing something, over and over, into his own arm.

Somewhere, deep down, Logan's healing heart broke a tiny bit more.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pens @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides

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