#jumped right back into crime fighting no doubts or fear. on the other hearing that my ravaged and tortured body was paraded around as a

[ccbatman]

actually so sick how they made steph into a martyr for everything wrong with gotham when she lived her whole life trying to prove that she was everything right

[slasherhaven]

Hello, if it's not too much could I maybe get Otis/Baby calming their SO down after SO sees a murder for the first time? Maybe reassuring the SO they aren't gonna kill them?

Otis Driftwood and Baby Firefly calming their S/O down after they witness them murdering someone:

Otis Driftwood

You had just ran, after breaking out of your frozen state anyway. You had only come to visit your boyfriend, the last thing you expected was to see him brutally murdering a man in the living room whiling cursing him out, you would later learn that this man had been an escaped victim. Of course, you were never meant to see it.

You had been frozen, stunned by the scene, but when Otis lifted himself away from the victim and noticed you, you knew you had to move. When his gaze settled on you, blood-splattered face dropping slightly, you turned and ran right back out the door.

It was a lost cause, you knew that. The house was far away from anything else, from anyone or any main roads, you would probably tire before you reached help. But you didn’t even make it to the end of the property before Otis caught up to you.

The whole time you could hear him shouting after you, along with his rushed footsteps. You were just nearing the property line when you felt a hand grab your arm, pulling you back to crash against him. You fought and thrashed against his hold, crying and pleading with him to let you go, but he just wrapped his arms around you and held you tighter.

He attempted to shush you but you continued to thrash and shout at him. It was long before you began to wear yourself out and you accepted that nobody was going to help you and he wasn’t going to let go, so you stopped fighting but the crying didn’t stop. You just saw your boyfriend brutally murdering a man, covered in blood and unfazed by it, of course you were emotional.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, okay?” you finally started processing Otis’ words properly, actually hearing what he was saying. “I’ll let go but ya gotta promise not to run, alright?” he told you but you weren’t sure how to respond. “Y/n?” he prompted an answer and you just nodded, agreeing but not trusting your voice. 

Like he promised, Otis released you. As soon as he let go, you jerked forward away from him, and turned back to him. You were looking at him with fear in your eyes and he couldn’t even blame you, and he couldn’t blame you for running, what else were you supposed to do?

“What...what the fuck, Otis?” was all you managed to say and you were even surprised you were capable of asking that. 

“Just come back to the house with me” he didn’t answer and that only worried you more. What was he hiding? 

“I’m not going back in there!” you exclaimed, eyes widening slightly. There was no way you were walking back into the house where a dead body was just laying after being killed by your boyfriend.

“Don’t worry the others are cleanin’ up” Otis assured you, or at least attempted too. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear in that moment.

“Cleaning up?” you were in disbelief. “Who was that guy?” you asked. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know” Otis scoffed, as if the question was ridiculous. 

“Did he...break in or something?” you asked, hoping that there was a better explanation for all of this. Yes, Otis would have still killed someone but maybe you could deal with it if it was in self defence.

Otis knew what you were doing and he knew that he had to decide whether he tells you to truth or not. “No. Baby brought ‘im back” he decided to be honest with you.

“...you’ve done this before” it wasn’t even a question, it was a statement. Maybe, deep down, you had known something was wrong. You knew Otis was...strange and morbid and violent with people, maybe you were just in denial, kept pushing away any concerns and ignored what was right in front of you this whole time. All those red flags that you over looked where now overwhelming you.

Otis didn’t respond to that because he didn’t need too. “C’mon” he reached out to take hold of you, to take you back to the house, but you stepped away from him. “Fuck” he muttered to himself, trying to figure out how to approach this, he’s not exactly the most sensitive person.

“Ain’t gonna hurt ya” it was more messed up that you believed him but he had never given you a reason not too before now. He had never hurt you, he had never been violent or aggressive towards you even though you had seen him act that way towards others. “Promise” it was sincere. Damn it.

“You’ve got to explain everything...” you told him. He couldn’t leave you oblivious, he needed to tell you everything that he had been hiding if he ever wanted you to be able to trust him again. Plus, you knew that he wasn’t about to let you leave without making sure you wouldn’t go to police or anything.

Otis agreed to tell you everything as long as you returned to the house with him. You just didn’t expect the grotesque confessions he was about to make. One murder was one thing...but what you were about to learn couldn’t be easily overlooked.

Baby Firefly

All you had wanted was to go to your girlfriend’s house and spend some time with her but instead you found her in the living room of her home, standing over a man with his blood everywhere. Before she noticed you, she had muttered something to the body, before kicking them and laughing a little to himself. 

“Baby, what the fuck is going on?” you asked, giving her the benefit of the doubt that she has a good reason or explanation for all of this. She was your girlfriend and you loved her, of course you wanted this to be one big misunderstanding despite the evidence right in front of you. Surely there had to be a reasonable explanation...

“This prick didn’t know how to do as he’s told” she sighed, dropping the knife she had used to kill him. 

“Baby...?” you asked, quietly processing the scene. She had definitely killed this man and she didn’t seem to care at all.

“Baby! Did you deal with-” Otis’ voice caught your attention as he came into the room, but he stopped talking when he saw you, realising that you were seeing far too much. “You better fucking deal with that” he ordered his sister, pointing at you.

“I will” Baby rolled her eyes, acting completely unfazed by everything that was happening.

That’s when you realises that this hadn’t been an accident, it wasn’t a case of self defence, both of the siblings were involved in this person’s death and you had to leave. Without even thinking, you spun around and darted for the door. 

“Hold on, hold on, hold on” Baby jumped into action quickly, hurrying after you. She caught you just as you reached the door, quickly slamming to shut just as you began to pull it open. “It’s alright, Doll, we ain’t gonna hurt ya” she assured you when you turned to her and she noticed your tears. 

You had no idea what to do or say, you were just frozen and staring at her with wide teary eyes. 

“It’s all going to be okay, come one, let’s get you outta here” her tone was surprisingly comforting considering the brutality she was able commit only moments before. You knew you could leave, there was nowhere for you to run, you just had to trust that she wouldn’t hurt you. 

So, you barely nodded, but Baby placed a hand on your back and guided you to her bedroom. Once you stepped into her room, she closed the door and sat you down on her bed. 

“What did you do, Baby?” you asked carefully, finally finding your voice. 

“Don’t worry, we ain’t gonna get into trouble” she assured you, as if that was your main concern. You hadn’t even thought about the possibility of her getting arrested for murder, you were still processing the actual crime. 

“You killed him...” vocalising it was even worse, Baby had killed somebody. Right in the middle of her living room and now you were sitting in her bedroom with her. God, his blood was still on her... 

“Aw I don’t like hidin’ things from ya, I just didn’t want to scare ya” Baby sighed. She didn’t make a move to sit beside you, instead standing in front of you. Probably so that she was between you and the door in case you tried to make a run for it. 

“Well, I’m pretty fucking scared now” you nearly scoffed. The tears had stopped rolling down your cheeks but your eyes still felt watery.

“I know, I’m sorry” her apology seemed oddly sincere.

“Can you just explain what is going on?” you pleaded, desperate for some sort of explanation. 

“You sure you want that?” she asked, giving you an unsure look. 

“You just killed someone!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air as you stood from the bed. She killed someone and now she’s asking if you’re sure you want an explanation. You needed one. 

“And look how you’re reacting to that!” she threw her hands up as well, matching your theatrics.

“Baby!” you snapped, needing her to tell you what was going on and stop avoiding the subject. 

“Sorry! Okay!” she apologised again, finding herself glad that the two of you could fall into some sort of familiar banter, even with how frightened you were.

Baby agreed to tell you everything and you would soon learn why she had been so reluctant to do so, but she had to be honest because it was obvious to you that something was very wrong in this house.

She didn’t know how you would react but she was sure that it wouldn’t be good. What she did know was that she would be there to comfort and reassure you, no matter how you reacted. 

[sunshineseung]

Interrogation // Bang Chan

🍄 | genre: smut  ☁️ | pairing: Bang Chan x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 2.0k 🌸 | includes: kinda hard dom!chan, sub!reader, detective/suspect roleplay, spitting?, degradation/praise, handcuffs, oral (f!receiving), spanking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, hanjob/oral (m!receiving), cum swallowing, lil aftercare, wholesome end :)

☀️ | synopsis: You’ve been thrown in the slammer for robbing a casino, and the detective needs a testimony from you, but you won’t fess up. Guess he’ll have to get it out of you the best way he can... well, not really. This was your boyfriend’s idea to roleplay this, but he looks so hot in the detective outfit that you couldn’t turn down his cute little pout :(

🌊 | collaboration: this is part of the Summer Time Love collaboration hosted by @milkym00n​ ! here’s the full masterlist to every other work in the collab! go support the other authors that took place in this please. they’re all super talented! thank you!

“Where’d you hide the money?!” Chris slammed his fist down on the table, standing up across from you. Your wrists were handcuffed behind the uncomfortable wooden chair you sat in. You kept shaking your head, refusing to fess up. “Tell me where the money is!”

“I’ll never tell you where the money is, pig!” You hock up a loogie and spit right in his face, never wavering your façade. He wipes the spit off of his face, rubbing his wet hand against his button-up shirt. 

“You better tell me where you’re hiding the damn money, bitch.”

“Make me.” You smirk up at Chris, lightly giggling as he catches on so you can finally get to the good part. 

This whole interrogation scene was Chris’s idea, not yours. He practically begged you to roleplay with him just this once with an admittedly cliché idea. You couldn’t say no to those puppy eyes, though. They always melted your heart. Now that the scene started, you were pleasantly surprised how good of an actor your boyfriend, or in this case, your prosecutor, is. Not to mention how hot he looked in this black button-up dress shirt, tight black dress pants, a leather belt, a slim black tie, and some shoes that you honestly didn’t care about. He looked like an absolute gentleman, although it was too bad that he wasn’t going to be fully dressed for too long.

“Oh, make you?” Chris raised his voice, walking around the table to be next to you. He looked down at you, unable to move from your seat, legs spread with a pleated skirt covering your upper thighs. “And how would I go about making you talk, pretty girl?”

“Maybe but your loud mouth to good use, hm?” You spread your legs more causing Chris’s eyes to drift downward to where you needed him most. He smiles, getting onto his knees after twisting your chair from under the table so he didn’t have to bonk his head. “Good boy~”

“You’ll regret talking down to me, princess.” Chris slides his rough hands up your thighs, grabbing your panties and pulling them down your legs. Your skirt still covers your crotch, Chris’s hands resting on your knees while he looks up at you. “Gonna talk yet?”

“Don’t know, have you make me cum yet?” You roll your hips against the chair, biting your lip as he stares at your cunt, pushing your skirt back up your body to finally reveal your pussy. He licks his lips, eager to dive in. He grabs your hips and pulls you to the edge of the chair, wrapping his arms around your thighs before finally bringing his tongue in contact with your cunt. The whine you let out is painfully lewd, but Chris eats it up.

“You taste really sweet for being such a sour bitch, you know?” Chris laughs at his own home as his tongue flutters through your folds. You ride your hips against his face, feeling his mouth explore your aching pussy. An arm of his comes off your thigh and goes to your cunt, his fingers pressing against your entrance as he sucks at your clit. “You want me to finger you, little girl?”

“P-please finger me.” You forget about the whole roleplay for a second, desperate to feel Chris stretch you out with his fingers.

“Then where’d you hide the money, baby?” Chris hums against your clit, his fingers still teasingly circling the rim of your pussy. “Only good girls get to cum on daddy’s fingers.”

Despite the countless times Chris has made you cum with nothing but his fingers, you still have the audacity to say “I d-doubt your pathetic fucking fingers could get me even close to c-cumming.” If you’re stutters didn’t make it obvious enough, the shaking of your legs gave Chris a clear signal that your words were nothing but empty. Still, he wanted to see you sob from how good he makes you feel.

Accepting your challenge, Chris dives two fingers into your dripping cunt, already making you moan like a bitch in heat. His expert fingers curl into your sweet spot while they trust in an out of you, his lips still wrapped around your sensitive clit. His other hand slaps your thigh, making you yelp in shock, not that you didn’t like it.

“You want to know where I hid the cash, pretty boy?” Chris lightly bites your clit for a second to make you whine after your sentence. If your hands were free, they would have been combing through his hair by now. Unfortunately, all you can do is curl your toes and tighten your hands into fists. “Make me cum and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Chris’s eyes are focused like you’ve never seen them before, and finally looking down at his lustful faces makes you whimper. You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as the movements of his fingers quicken, increasing in intensity. He truly knew your cunt like no other partner you’ve ever had in the past, and because of that, he always knew when you were close without you even saying a word.

“Cum on my face, princess. Give daddy what he wants.” Even in roleplay, Chris can’t help but call himself ‘daddy’ at every chance he gets. You bucks your hips into his face, your legs going limp as you cream on his fingers, whining his name loudly as you cum for him just like he asked. Your thighs tighten around his head, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to ride you through this orgasm while your hips roll against his face. “Good girl, baby. Such a good girl.”

You catch your breath as Chris stands up, scanning your face for any sign that you’ll crack and tell him what he needs. A smirk returns to your face as you close your legs and look up at him. “The money’s in the back of my car under the seat. It’s long gone by now, though.”

“Long gone? Where?”

“If my boys did what I told them to, my car’s five towns over as we speak, and they aren’t stopping anytime soon.” You wiggle in your seat, a weak attempt to escape your restraints. “If you know what’s good for ya, you’d let me out of these cuffs. I know you want to fuck me properly now, don’t ya?” 

Chris hesitates, walking around your chair to put his hands on your shoulders from behind you. “Your boys, huh?” Realizing what he was calling back to, you fear that you’ve unleashed Chris’s jealous side, something you haven’t seen since he made you see stars in a dressing room. “How many boys play with this pretty pussy?”

“That’s none of your business, pig. Now let me go.” 

“I don’t think I will, slut.” He lifts you out of your chair from under your arms, tossing you onto the table, your ass in the air as you’re bent over. “You’re gonna know what a real cock feels like tonight, little girl.” 

You hear his pants unbuckle from behind you, your legs spreading just enough for your cunt to be on full display for Chris. You can’t see, but Chris is throbbing at the sight of you ready to be ruined. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds, collecting your wetness before making any attempt to slip into your hole. 

“Dumb whore thought she could get away with this crime without any punishment, huh?” Chris laid his hand down on your ass in a spank, leaving your ass stinging after the hit. He grabbed the skin he’d just slapped before plunging his cock into you, making you feel full within seconds. The way his length stretched you out made your eyes shut tight, the pleasure pulsing through your body without giving you the chance to think or breath. “You’re so much better with my cock stuffed in you, huh?”

“Such a big cock, but you don’t know what to do with it, do ya?” You attempt to laugh at Chris, but his hand lays another swift spank across your ass. His dick is pulsing inside you, hard as a rock as it twitches against your walls. You’re purposefully tightening around him, teasing him with every flex of your lower muscles. “I bet you’re gonna cum within seconds, big boy.”

“Stupid fucking slut doesn’t know when to shut up.” He leans forward and grabs your hair wit his fist, pulling your head back without lifting your torso off the table. He starts thrusting into you, his pace rough and deep right from the jump. The way his cock hits so deep inside you is nothing you haven’t felt before, but it’s so jarring that it can’t help but feel like a new experience every time. Drool seeps out of the side of your mouth and onto your chin as Chris easily fucks you dumb.

Chris’ other hand holds your hips tight enough to bruise, keeping you still against the table as it shakes under you. Your cunt feels so tight around him, he feels almost light headed from the pressure around his fat cock. His tip hits your cervix, your pussy aching for release sooner than expected. He knows your body too well to roleplay like this.

“You feel so good, sweetheart... I mean, bitch.” Nice one, Chris. His grip on your hair fluctuates between painfully aggressive and light as a feather. As much as he wants to cum inside you, he fights the urge to release suddenly and holds out just to prove you wrong. As much as he knows he isn’t a minute man, he doesn’t want this roleplay to turn into shaming him for cumming too soon.

Your eyes roll back as he hits your sweet spot over and over again, every stroke slamming into you better than before. The sounds echoing through the room can only be described as lewd, loud skin slapping and wet noises filling the air. The only thing more lewd than the bodily sounds are you and Chris moaning for each other, both still painfully holding onto your characters for the roleplay until it becomes too much.

“W-wanna cum...”

“What was that, baby? Say it louder.”

“I’m about to cum.”

“Louder, bitch.”

“Channie!~” Breaking character, you whine his favorite nickname loudly as you cum around his cock, the walls of your pussy tightening around him one last time before your creamy release covers his cock. You feel your wetness drip down your thighs as he continues pounding your cunt to chase his own high. “Chris- Chris-“

“Shhh, I’m almost there, angel.” The hand that was once in your hair is now petting your cheek with the back of his fingers, feeling the heat radiating from your flushed face. “Knees, now.”

“Huh?”

“Get on your fucking knees, Y/n.”

He leans off of you, allowing you to stand up with weak legs and quickly (but purposefully) fall to your knees in front of his cock. Chris’ hand jerks himself rapidly, his red tip oozing precum right before his orgasm. You stick your tongue out and look up at him, Chris biting his lip and squinting his eyes shut as he pumps his cock with a tight fist.

You hold his wrist still at the base of his cock, Chris’s eyes immediately flying open to watch you take him into your mouth, sucking his tip just enough to make him groan and cum down your throat. Your tongue is covered in his white release as he pulls out of your mouth, the sensitivity being too much for him. He stares down at you as you swallow his load, licking your lips to secure every drop.

“You’re a really sexy criminal, you know?” He chuckles, pulling you up into his arms and pecking you on the lips as he takes the handcuffs off of you. “So, where’s the money, darling?”

“I’ll pay for takeout, how about that?” You both laugh as you take his hands and push him onto the bed to cuddle with him, soon getting up to pee and coming right back. “You want pizza?”

“Pizza would be great, but can we wait a minute before ordering? You just ate...”

“What do you m- ... Oh my god, Chris.” You shove his lightly before pulling him right back to you, his joke absolutely tickling him pink. “You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“It’s fine, I ate too.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“Love you too!” <3

[tssidesfics]

Requests: Analogince where they’re human and also single dads? And they all meet because their kids fought and got called to the principals office

Virgil's POV

Upsides to being a single father to a child with ADHD: you got to raise a beautiful, special boy with a sharp mind. You got to teach him all the coping mechanisms you'd painstakingly learned over the years to cope with his condition and watch as he lit up over the things that brought him joy. You got to watch as he zipped from topic to topic, brighter than the sun, mind racing at a million miles an hour. You got to be the first person to hear about his beautifully creative ideas. You got to have a reason for living, all yours and wonderful, that you didn't have to share with anyone else.

Downsides to being a single father to a child with ADHD: you had no one else to pass the buck to when he got in trouble at school.

"It'll be fine," I chanted to myself for the billionth time as I turned off the ignition and unbuckled myself, gripping the steering wheel and forcing deep, measured breaths. "It'll be fine. He probably won't get expelled for this. This is his first fight and you don't even know why he got into a fight. You didn't raise a bully, so he was probably defending himself or another kid." Terror clasped me around the throat and squeezed. "But what if you did raise a bully and you didn't realize it, and now you've sentenced your son to a life of crime trying to make up for the hole in his heart where his father should have loved him oh God I broke my son!"

Immediately, my therapist's voice spoke up in my mind. You're catastrophizing again, he said in that obnoxiously aware, gentle way of his. Calm down. Take it one step at a time.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, focusing on the feeling of my stomach and then my chest expanding with air. I let it out through pursed lips, a quiet whistle in the exhale.

I'd played through scenarios like this a million times in my mind. The second Cassie told me, five months pregnant with tears streaming down her cheeks, that she didn't want the baby, I'd prepared myself for any possibility. I'd created contingency plans and contingency plans for my contingency plans, because I knew how much harsher the world would be on him. With a grandparent, his biological mother, and me all with ADHD, there hadn't been any doubt Drew would get it, too, and I'd prepared for that. I'd prepared for the possibility that poor grades and emotional dysregulation would put him on the back foot and even get him expelled. I'd taught him all the coping mechanisms I could. I'd tried to show him as much love and patience as I could muster, and I'd show him the same now. We'd get through this. We would make it through this.

I nodded, resolute, even as doubt and worry niggled at the back of my mind. I'd raised Drew alone, without any support from my parents or Cassie, working a call center job that barely paid enough to live off of. I'd demanded a child psychiatrist the second Drew started displaying symptoms and beat the system for the help he deserved. I'd beat the system for the help I deserved. I was a badass. I was a badass.

I got out of the car.

The two people at the front desk--a woman with strawberry blonde hair and a baby-faced guy--looked over, presumably torn from their conversation, when I walked through the door. The woman swiveled her chair to face me with a friendly smile. "Hello there," she said. "How may I help you?"

I forced myself to look her in the eyes and strained through a smile. If you act like a weirdo, it'll just make things worse for Drew. "Hey," I said. "I'm, uh...Drew Griffith's father. You called me and--"

"Oh!" She gestured to the side, at a door that read: PRINCIPAL MOROZOV. "He's in there."

I looked over and gulped, staring in fear at the door. "Say, uh..." I smiled at the woman as politely as I could. "You wouldn't happen to know the correct social etiquette for talking to the principal after your son gets into a fight at school, would you?"

She gave me a funny look. "Huh?"

"Never mind." I hung my head in defeat and commenced the walk of dread to the front door of the office. The wall facing me was all glass, which meant I could see inside. Two adults, one natural-haired in a polo shirt with his arm around one of the kids in the chair beside him and the other behind a desk, looking stern. I couldn't see the other two kids or any other adults.

And then Principal Morozov spotted me through the glass and shit, I was out of time.

I took a deep breath and opened the door. "Sorry it took me so long," I said, hoping that was the right thing to say. "It was hard getting off work."

"It's all right," Principal Morozov said. "We haven't even reached Mr. Accardo yet."

"Hey, Dad," came the halfhearted voice of Drew, hidden behind a chair too big for him, especially when he slumped in it like that.

I peered over the top and smiled at him softly. "What the heck, kid?" I asked.

"He called Patton a freak." Drew pointed at the kid in the middle, with a busted nose and--oh God.

He had scattered burn marks across the right side of his face, with two differently-colored eyes and a scowl.

"So of course you had to beat me up," the kid sneers. "Because that's a perfectly rational, healthy thing to do."

The third kid--Patton, I presumed--bounced in his seat, humming in distress. His father, a man wearing glasses and a polo shirt with a tie, rubbed his back.

"I don't see why my son has to be here," the other father said, looking at Principal Morozov. "He didn't do anything."

“Patton sits alone at lunch time and doesn’t have any friends,” the principal said. “We think if he tried to get along with his peers better, he’d have a happier time here.”

“Or, you know, you could make an effort to teach your students not to bully kids who are different from them,” I grumbled.

“What was that, Mr. Griffiths?”

I hesitated, glancing up at Principal Morozov, then back at Drew. On one hand, I wanted to lead by example: teach Drew that it was okay to stand up to authority for what he believed. On the other, sometimes, you had to pay lip-service to authority just to stay out of trouble. It was a lesson no child had the mental capacities to understand, but I supposed I’d have to do my best to teach him, because if I gave Principal Morozov cheek, he might expel Drew.

“Nothing, sir,” I said, feeling like a child cowering beneath the glare of my teachers again. I prepared to search for the bullshit in the story I was about to get fed and asked, “What happens now?”

"I'd prefer to wait for Mr. Accardo," the principal said.

"Roman teaches at a high school," the bully grumbled, slouched over with a glare fixated on the desk. "He's probably in the middle of class."

"Then you're going to have to stay after school to address this," Principal Morozov told him sternly.

"Whatever."

I had a very bad feeling about that kid. The scars on his face told a frightening story. He could just as easily be bullied for those as Drew got bullied for his ADHD and Patton for being a loner, which probably meant he turned that abuse outward and attacked others for their perceived differences in a never-ending cycle of abuse.

What? I could be bad at people and have a special interest in human psychology. Those two things were not mutually exclusive.

Suddenly, the door banged open. I jumped out of my skin, clamping a hand over my chest and struggling to breathe levelly, eyes crushed shut and body frozen. Then I heard the babbling.

"I'm sorry!" The principal's door opened. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. The kids were in the middle of rehearsal and--Janus, what happened? I'm so sorry, Mr. Morozov." A frazzled man with warm skin rushed inside and sat down next to the bully--Janus--hastily hugging him and turning his attention to the principal.

I frowned at the scene. I withheld judgment and looked at Principal Morozov as he said, "All right. Now that you're all here, there are going to be some serious consequences to what happened today."

********

"I can't believe you let him give me detention!" Drew whined. "Janus deserved to get punched!"

"And you deserve to die abandoned and unloved in a ditch, steeping in your own feces," Janus snapped.

"Janus," his father, Roman, said firmly, kneeling down and taking him by the shoulders. Janus tried to turn away from him, but Roman lightly shook him and made him meet his eyes. He softened. "I know how much you're hurting, but a hero never redirects his pain onto others. There are other ways."

"What if I don't want to be a hero?" Janus snapped. "What if I want to be the bad guy?"

"I don't believe that," Roman said gently, adjusting his bangs. "I don't think you do, either."

Janus turned from him sharply, crossing his arms and glaring at the asphalt. He sniffled.

Drew glanced up at me in confusion and I rubbed his back. "Sometimes," I said gently, "when people are hurting, they deal with that by hurting other people."

"That's stupid," Drew said with the blunt confidence of a ten-year-old.

"Maybe a little," I agreed, "but humans aren't always logical." Drew wrinkled his nose. "I know. It's so annoying, but it's true. You're not always logical, either. Remember when you burst out crying because your pencil broke?"

"Dad!" Drew turned bright red.

Roman chuckled. "So." He stood up and crossed his arms. "You're the little rascal who dared challenge Janus to a duel for--Patton, right?" He looked at Mr. Davis--or Logan, as he'd introduced himself--who nodded. "You're the rascal who challenged Janus to a duel for Patton's honor," Roman finished.

"He was being an asshole," Drew protested.

"I'd say it's not my fault he uses that language," I said through a wince, "but it's definitely my fault he uses that language."

"I'm the same way with Janus, don't worry." Roman chuckled--a low, rumbly sound. He turned back to Drew. "You're got a paladin's heart and a temper. I was a lot like you when I was a kid."

Drew snorted. "You think you're cute, don't you?"

"He's always like this," Janus said, shoving in front of Roman. "He thinks it's so inspiring to talk about heroes all the time, like fairy tales are the best thing ever."

"That's gotta be annoying," Drew said, wrinkling his nose.

"It is." Janus stopped and scowled. "Don't relate to me!"

"Ew! You're a jerk! Get away from me!"

I exchanged a fond, exasperated look with Roman, who chuckled and squeezed Janus' shoulder. "Hey," he said, "maybe, if you apologized, you could have a friend."

"I don't want to apologize."

"So you'd rather another kid think you're a horrible person!"

Janus hesitated a moment before straightened his back. "Yes."

"I don't believe that."

I glanced over at Logan and saw that he was busy talking to Patton, kneeling on the ground and smoothing his hands over his shoulders in measured strokes. It seemed to soothe Patton. I looked at Drew.

"You know how it sometimes hurts you when you think about your Aunt Cassie?" I said softly, pulling him into my side as the shadow washed over his face.

"He called Patton a freak, Dad," Drew argued. "He's not even really my friend, but he's not a freak. He's just...different. Like me."

"I know, kiddo," I said, squeezing him against my side. "You don't have to give him a chance. He hasn't asked forgiveness, and you wouldn't owe him one even if you did. I just know you don't like to see people struggling alone."

Drew hesitated.

I looked over at Logan. "How's Patton?"

Logan glanced back at me, then looked at Patton. "Do you want to answer?"

Patton hesitated.

"It's okay," I said, not looking at his face. Patton hadn't made eye contact with a single person, including his father, since I'd met him. He clearly had more trouble with it than I did, and I wasn't always a huge fan. "I'm autistic, too."

Patton immediately perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah." I smiled, looking over the top of his head. I looked at Drew. "Can I tell him about you?"

"I'm ADHD," Drew told him, turning to him. "I got diagnosed last year."

"Oh cool!" Patton flapped his hands at his sides and bounced eagerly. "I don't, I don't think, because I'm actually pretty good at focusing most of the time and I have a really good memory, but Dad says autism and ADHD are really close together. It's really nice to meet someone else! I don't have many friends."

"Well, I guess you have me," Drew said. "I didn't get in trouble defending you for nothing."

Patton squealed and continued stimming enthusiastically. Drew offered a hug, which Patton considered for a long moment before accepting.

Logan smiled softly at the exchange and looked over to me. "You've raised a very kind son."

"More than half of it is all him," I said. "I do the best I can, but...I'm just one person. He's probably gonna hate me once he's a teenager."

"Nuh-uh!" Drew objected, charging over to embrace me around the middle. I smiled and hugged him close, squeezing him as tight as was safe. He grunted.

I caught Janus staring at us. I couldn't read his expression. He was glaring, but I had a feeling it wasn't anger. But clearly, Roman did understand it, because he knelt down and hugged him close, even when he tried to push him away. He just held fast. I thought for sure Janus would react badly--he hadn't wanted to be held, what was wrong with Roman?--but then he slowly relaxed and leaned against him. I still couldn't read him very well, but that...didn't look particularly resigned.

"You know," Roman said, pulling back after a long while, "I bet Drew and Patton would be willing to forgive you if you really, really earnestly apologized."

Janus shoved away from him, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground. "I don't want to apologize."

Roman sighed heavily, and Drew whirled on him. "You're such a freaking jerk!" he screamed. "What's wrong with you? Why do you have to be a jerk to everyone? I tried to be your friend and you just spit on me!"

"I don't want your pity!"

"It wasn't pity!"

"It's always pity!" Janus screeched. "You think I don't know what these scars make me? You think I don't know I'm a freak? If the fire didn't teach me that, then my parents sure did! I'm nothing! The only reason anyone would be nice to me is pity and I don't want anyone's pity! I just want to be left alone!"

Janus turned and ran. Roman chased after him frantically, never sparing Logan or I a glance.

Drew and Patton stood stunned. Drew looked at Patton, who stared at his forehead. "Well..." he said. "What the heck am I supposed to do now?"

Patton ran in the direction of Janus.

At that point, about the only thing for Drew and I to do was chase after his new friend, hot on the heels of his father.

We found Patton with his backpack unzipped, standing beside Janus' car door, already buckled in with Roman partway into the driver's seat, holding out a picture of a flower.

"It's ivy," Patton said. "It means friendship."

Janus stared at him through the window, unmoving. Patton, to my shock, held his gaze for one, two moments and then averted his eyes. Logan hurried over to hold him, clearly expecting Janus to reject him again.

Janus opened the car door. "Why would you want to be my friend?"

"He didn't say he wanted to be your friend," Drew sneered. "He just said it meant friendship, dummy."

"Drew," I chided softly, and he recoiled into my side.

"Because it's nice to know I'm not the only one who can't make any friends," Patton said. "I like having other friends who are special."

"I'm not special," Janus snapped.

"Dad says that being different is always special, because different people have discovered some of the coolest, prettiest things ever."

"It's true," Logan said. "Albert Einstein, Hans Christian Anderson, and Michelangelo. were all autistic."

"See?" Patton bounced and beamed at Janus. "So maybe we can all be different and special together and do really cool things one day! Like the three Musketeers."

Janus considered strongly. "I'm Athos."

"You can be whoever you want to be!" Patton said earnestly. "Then we can all have lots of musketcheer."

Drew, Roman and I choked on a laugh. Logan shook his head fondly. "He watches one sitcom that likes puns and he suddenly won't stop," he said.

Even Janus cracked a small smile. He accepted the paper. "Fine," he said. "We can have musketcheer."

Drew pouted. "Does this mean I'm your friend now?"

"Yes," Patton said firmly, looking at him.

Drew jumped, looking fearfully at Patton, who somehow managed to look intimidating while also avoiding eye contact. He looked up at me. "What have I done?" he asked.

"Made friends." I rubbed his back. I looked around. "We should probably get all these guys home. They've had a long day, and school will be letting out soon."

"I guess now that all our kids are friends, I'll be seeing more of you," Roman said to both Logan and me.

Logan hummed. "I presume so. Patton does not own a phone of his own. I can give you my number if your children wish to contact him?"

"I hate to say it, but you should probably get him his own phone," I said. "It's dangerous not to have one. If I ever lost sight of Drew...I'd rather he have a phone."

Logan considered this. "I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, for the moment, you'll have to go through me to reach Patton."

"Don't have to ask me twice. Here." Roman accepted Logan's phone and typed in Janus' number, then passing it to Drew, who stared at it for a moment.

I recited his number to him and he punched it in. "Don't worry, kid," I said. "One day, you're going to have to tell so many doctors your number that it's going to be emblazoned on your brain."

After all numbers had been exchanged, I shook Logan's and Roman's hands goodbye and let Patton and Drew embrace again. Janus stayed stubbornly in his seat, refusing any sort of affection, which kind of concerned me, but then Roman whispered, "This is the most receptive he's been since I started fostering him."

I nodded and smiled, leading Drew back toward the car. He looked at me. "I guess I have friends now."

I glanced back toward Roman's car as it drove away and caught Logan's eye as he loaded into his own. He smiled at me.

"Yeah," I said. "I think I might have, too."

[a-second-hand-sorrow]

We'd Better Get Cracking (Simon Kalivoda x Reader)

WC: 1322

Warnings: Language, semi-suggestive content (this warning will make more sense after reading lmao)

Summary: Night shifts at the grocery store can be so boring, but Simon always finds a way to mix things up.

A/N: Jesus Christ it's been so long since I've written anything, but the lack of writing for the Fear Street movies really pushed me back into it. I hope you guys enjoy this, I know I had fun writing it

Why the Shadyside Mall’s opening hours stretched so late into the night had always baffled Y/N. The sheer amount of crime in Shadyside was one reason she always questioned the opening hours, but also the fact that the whole mall was dead after 5pm, despite being open until 9pm. Manning the grocery store on closing shifts was always incredibly dull given the lack of customers, save the occasional high schooler coming in to sheepishly buy condoms or some other random item. The only thing that kept her shifts interesting was Simon Kalivoda.

The two had been friends since they were kids, and they were both ecstatic when they got jobs at the same place. By the time they’d started working closing shifts together, Simon realised just how boring it could get and took it upon himself to always make them fun. This promise was the reason why Y/N was currently watching her best friend since childhood stage some very provocative scenes using the remaining fresh produce they had in the store.

“For the love of God Simon, I want to know what happened in your mind to make you think that soft-core fruit porn was the way to go today.” Y/N said, shaking her head as she watched Simon’s intense concentration break before he turned to her.

“Would you rather a repeat of last Thursday night?” Simon said, raising his eyebrows as Y/N recounted Simon’s boredom-breaker from last Thursday.

“Simon, what the fuck are you thinking?” Y/N hissed, watching as Simon dropped a watermelon in front of the bread-slicer.

“Well, I’m thinking that everything else I’ve tried has gone through pretty easily, so why not try go for the gold medal of the ‘random shit in the bread-slicer’ Olympics?” Simon said, his eyes gleaming with absolute chaos.

“If you break the slicer there’s no way we’ll have jobs tomorrow.” Y/N said, looking around to make sure no customers had walked in. Although she always condemned Simon’s crazy behaviour at work, she loved seeing all the different ideas he would come up with each closing shift.

“I’ve been employee of the month for the last six months straight, management couldn’t get rid of me even if they wanted to.” Simon said, shooting Y/N a somewhat cocky smile that the girl just scoffed off. She watched as Simon fiddled with the different buttons and switches on the bread slicer, laughing when he jumped at the noise that signalled the machine was on.

“It’s showtime.” Simon said, his poor imitation of Beetlejuice earning a groan from Y/N. The pair locked eyes, and Y/N noticed a hint of softness in his eyes that almost stopped her in her tracks. Before she could think about that look for too much longer, she was rudely brought back to Earth by the sound of Simon’s gold medal attempt.

“Jesus Simon!” Y/N exclaimed, watching as the watermelon slowly made its way through the slicer. Simon let out a manic laugh, clearly shocked his plan had worked.

“I am never letting you doubt my genius ever again, Y/L/N.” Simon said, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N scoffed, unsure as to why her cheeks suddenly felt so hot.

“I never said I doubted you Kalivoda.” Y/N muttered, relishing in the proud look Simon gave her. Simon opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly shut it, widening his eyes when he looked at the slicer.

“I think we may have a problem, Y/N.”

“Yeah I fully thought we were gonna get fired after that so fruit erotica doesn’t seem so bad now. Please, proceed with your masterpiece, Kalivoda.” Y/N said, jumping off her seat on the check-out counter to move over towards Simon.

While Simon had his back towards her, Y/N took a moment to observe Simon at work. He always carried a crazed sense of joy with him no matter what he was doing, and Y/N had always loved that about him. He paused for a moment to survey his scene, and Y/N took note of the way he furrowed his brow and bit his lip. She suddenly felt the urge to turn away, her cheeks flushing almost immediately.

Simon quickly went back to work arranging a peach and a carrot in a manner that was certainly not safe for work. As she watched him Y/N came to a crushing realisation she had known was true but been fighting for quite a while. She had it bad for Simon Kalivoda. She cursed under her breath, realising that Kate’s incessant teasing was now annoyingly based in truth.

“Y/N, my masterpiece is ready. May I present to you, the fruit of my loins.” Simon said, his smile growing after the groan Y/N let out. He gestured towards the set up with a flourish, and Y/N instantly burst out into laughter.

“I gotta hand it to you Simon, that’s some impressive fruit porn. You take a class or something?” Y/N said through her laughter, examining Simon’s work closely. He laughed, looking over her shoulder at the assorted fruits.

“No baby, that’s all natural talent.” Simon said, and Y/N jumped at his sudden proximity. She turned around to face him, hyper aware of the limited space between them.

“Can I ask you something?” Y/N said after a stretch of silence, and Simon nodded, trying to keep his eyes from drifting any lower than her face.

“Why do you do all this?” She asked, and Simon cocked his head in confusion.

“Do what?” He said, and Y/N took in a deep breath.

“All the crazy shit every closing shift. You always have something whacky, and I certainly appreciate it but why? It’s a whole lot of effort Si.” Y/N said, and Simon’s stomach started to fill up with butterflies.

“I, uh, it’s for you.” Simon muttered, and suddenly Y/N was the confused one. Simon never mumbled, he was always open and outspoken.

“What was that?” She said, and Simon sighed, running a hand through his blond hair.

“I do it for you.” He said, and Y/N looked up at him with eyes like saucers. She didn’t say anything, so he kept talking to fill the silence.

“I remember how bored you got on that first shift, and I just hated seeing you like that so I decided that I wasn’t going to let you go a shift with me and be bored again. I’ve always liked seeing you happy Y/N/N.” Simon admitted, and although he never explicitly told her how he felt, he prayed to God she could pick up on the subtext.

Y/N gasped softly, and Simon could feel his heart thudding in his chest. “You’re such an idiot, Simon.” Y/N said, and before Simon could respond, Y/N was kissing him. His brain almost short-circuited at the feeling of her lips and hands on him. He pulled her closer to him, taking note of how perfectly she fit in his arms.

They broke apart, and Y/N rested her forehead against Simon’s, the only sound in the store their heavy breathing. “I have a terrible feeling we owe Kate some money now.” Y/N muttered, relishing in the sound of Simon’s laughter.

“I think she’ll just be glad she doesn’t have to hear me pine over you anymore. I swear she was this close to locking us in a closet together until we made out.” Simon said, and Y/N snorted at his comment.

“You realise we still have to close up shop right?” Y/N said, and Simon groaned, hugging her even tighter.

“Surely we can go home and if anything happens to the store then we can just skip town.” Simon said, placing soft kisses to Y/N’s head. She reluctantly broke away from him, pulling a face at the puppy dog eyes Simon shot her way.

“The quicker we close up, the quicker we can be making out at your place.” Y/N said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Well, I guess we’d better get cracking then.”

[heavenunderthemoon]

Olly, Olly, Oxen Free {Hotch x daughter!reader}

Warnings: PLEASE, be advised of the SEVERE mentions of gun violence, murder, death, etc. This is a heavy piece, so please, please, please, do not put yourself at risk to read this, if you would like to know the plot without reading let me know and I will accommodate as best as I can!

This is set in “100″, so, daughter!reader is currently trapped with foyet in her childhood home. Alright, enjoy. 

"Y/N."

You sprung from your place on the floor, watching your brother retreat past the living room, his feet happily climbing the old route he used to take in the childhood home he was raised in. You  doubted he forgot it so soon, even with his young age. This was the house they had made home. Over the last year, you would've done anything to be back in this house, surrounded by the memories of your past life. The life in which you weren't forced into the witness protection program, abandoning all of your friends due to a serial killer hellbent on destroying your father's life.

Your hand reached out, gently grabbing the cellphone extending from the hands of your mother's.

"Dad."

You forced herself to sound calm, composed. Sitting only ten feet from you was a man who had previously shoved a blade into your father's abdomen just to prove a point. You figured seeming weak wasn't particularly a good idea.

There was the hum of an engine, one that you knew well. When you was younger- much younger- you used to wait up for you father to come home from cases. Most nights you fell asleep before he came back, but on the rare occasion you actually made it past midnight, you could hear that very same hum of his government issued SUV pulling into the driveway, subsequently causing you to dart out of  bed to jump into his waiting arms. It never mattered to you that you would receive a scolding from your mother for not going to bed at a proper time, not when you would see the smile that grew on her father's face when you accomplished your goal.

That smile, so rare and so blinding, hardly even captured in pictures. Your father was a tired man, a hardworking man, a dedicated father, but all of his good qualities had hardened into stone from the heat of his job and sometimes you feared that eventually, even you might not be able to crack that tough exterior. It seemed silly, sure, but your mother used to be able to find the chinks in his armor, used to make him laugh and smile and love and then one day she couldn't and who was to say that it wouldn't happen to you too?

"Y/N/N, I love you, you know that?" He used the nickname Jack had accidentally given you. When he was just learning to talk, the boy was unable to fully pronounce your name and you had been stuck with it ever since. You used to hate it- or, at least pretend to, but you could never yell at Jack. The boy was too good at absolutely melting you.

Your father's voice, which was typically strong and gruff, came out a bit cracked. It filled you with a sinking feeling. If your father wasn't composed then how the hell were you supposed to be?

The man who hoisted you on his shoulders every Fourth of July to see the fireworks better, or grabbed every spider that made you scream for your life. The man who taught you how to swing a baseball bat and then immediately yelled because you whacked him right in the knee. A fearless, strong, admittedly taciturn man that was making abundantly clear the ambiguity of your future.

You swallowed down that fear, you couldn't afford to be afraid right now. Y/E/C  eyes looked up to your mother. She was still beside you, looking at her daughter as if trying to engrain every single facet of your face in her mind, burning the image of her daughter into her memory.

"I know, I love you too." You didn't know how you managed to keep your voice so even but to anyone listening it sounded like a normal conversation. She could almost imagine they were sitting at a dinner table (something they hadn't done in a year because of the Witness Protection Program).

Pass the salt. She would've said.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, Bug." If you hadn't been so worried that you might die soon you might've found yourself scolding the man not to use that nickname anymore. After your friends had slept over in seventh grade and heard your father use it you were teased relentlessly, but now you didn't mind it. You didn't mind your father using a nickname you hated. You didn't mind a lot of things now that you were facing death, serial killer breathing the same air as you and your mother, standing in your living room, staring at you with cold, calculating eyes.  

It's funny how little things matter when death enters the picture.

"Remember when I taught you to drive?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you glanced to your mother, trying to keep your face void of emotion.

You hadn't learned to drive. You had begged your father, of course, but he had said no. You remembered the fight that had ensued, his words loud just to overpower your teenaged protests. "There's no use learning to drive when your mother's here, sometimes me, and the metro, it's useless. It would do you better to learn something more useful, like shooting a gun."

Oh.

The sinking feeling returned in the pit of your stomach. Or maybe it just never left. Your eyes hardened with resolve over what you knew her father was asking you to do, and you nodded.

"Yeah."

A tiny breath of air left your parted lips, and even with the confusion laced on her mother's features and the amusement playing on Foyet's, your mind cleared a bit.

Frontside. Trigger press. Follow through.

"I'm a terrible driver." You murmured to her father. Your hand began to sweat at what he was asking of you. You recalled the shooting lessons. It had been a year or so ago, the man wanting you to be prepared for anything and then he had been shot and you hadn't seen him since. Even with the little practice, you hadn't been too bad, but this was nothing like the shooting range. This was pointing a gun at a killer and hoping to anything that was good and holy that you didn't miss. Even so, who said you could get to the gun before Foyet got to you?

"You're good enough."

Good enough. You wanted to scream.

Foyet rose from his spot on the floor, and Haley stiffened in her place.

"I think that's good enough, right, Y/N?" The way he moved, eyes trained onto you, alight with a kind of...mischief? Yes, mischief. Like an adolescent boy who just found his father's stash of fireworks. His body moved like a predator. Refined, sophisticated, and calculated.

And, as he moved closer, you could smell him. He didn't smell like you thought a killer would smell. Though, to be fair, you hadn't ever given much thought to the scent of a killer. Maybe you thought that someone capable of such dirty, heinous crimes would smell as such. Like the rotten core would seep through their pores and become a putrid scent recognizable to those surrounding him. Instead, he smelt clean. Like laundry detergent and freshly washed hair. The hand that didn't hold the gun reached up, taking a strand of your hair into his fingers and running it through them deftly.

"Don't touch me." You pushed him back on instinct and, not seeming to expect such force, the man was shoved back two steps. Rather than cocking the gun right then and there, Foyet looked at you with interest and then, he did something you didn't expect. He smiled.

A laugh fell through his lips. It bubbled and boiled and hit your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Wow, you've got a feisty one, Aaron. I think she gets that from you, the old ball and chain over here is a bit of a whiner." He chuckled to himself like he said the world's funniest joke, and you glared.

"Leave them alone." Your father may as well have been on mute because the killer paid no mind to his orders.

He breathed in a deep sigh, looking at you with those same bright, calculated eyes. Then, as if coming to a consensus, tilted his head. "How about this, how about you go hide, I'll give you a head start, and then I'll come find you."

You could feel her mother bristle from beside you, quiet whimpers coming from her mouth. The hum of the engine played in the background, and the wind chimes on the front porch sang a tune with the breeze. "No." You said firmly.

Foyet pouted, going to stand closer to the two. With each step he took closer to the two of you, it felt like a nail going into her coffin. You could see the twitch in his hands, as if itching to plunge a blade into your mother's flesh, yet, you couldn't just leave your mother. You couldn't leave her to die.

"Ah, come on. You're a teenager- a teenage girl, no less, aren't you guys supposed to be fun?" His tone was teasing and coupled with his non-imposing figure, he shouldn't have been able to chill you with his words but the way his eyes bored into yours they did.

You felt a hand on your elbow, a nudge and you glanced back to your mother. Haley was smaller than you, it had been that way for about a year or so now. You had hit a growth spurt once you entered high school, inheriting your father's height, and it caused you to be a couple inches taller than your mother. Her eyes were filled with tears that were streaming down her face without care. You had seen her mother cry more than most daughters should.

Haley liked to cry at night, after putting her children to bed. She didn't think about how often you stayed up, listening to the sobbing on the other side of the wall.

A hand cupped your face, and you leaned into the warmth. How many fights had you two gotten in over the past year? You had always been a daddy's girl. He was never home, and it left your mother to be the 'bad guy' in most situations. And then, you all had been forced to pack up your lives and vanish. That year had been filled with nights of yelling at each other. Fights about small things. Like, your music playing too loud, or drinking too much coffee. And big stuff too. Like, you confronting your mother about having an affair.

Your relationship had been rocky. But, she was still your mother. She still reminded you to wear a coat when it was cold out, or washed your sheets when you felt sick. She made your favorite meals when you were sad, and bought  nail polish that she thought you would like. She was your mother, and you didn't think you would ever be able to ignore that.

"Y/N, go." Her words were stern, and it reminded you of a scolding. But your mother's lips were tugging at the corners, and she was caressing your cheek so softly that you thought you would collapse right there. Your heart clenched at the sight of your mother.

Would this be the last time you saw her? The thought made you want to scream, cry, and punch something all at once.

For the first time that afternoon, you let your mask slip. Your eyes welled with tears, lip trembling. "Mom, no." it came out shaky, and you didn't have to turn around to see Foyet smiling at the way he could make an entire family fear for their lives in a mere couple of minutes. You could simply feel it.

Haley nodded, both her hands cupping your face now, scanning it over and over again. Your eyes, a fierceness to them that mimicked her own. A button nose that sat above rosy pink lips. On your chin, a small scar. You were an adventurous child. You hadn't been afraid to climb the monkey bars despite being far too small for them and when you had fallen off, you had busted the skin open. Haley remembered being panicked, seeing you covered in blood, rushing you to the hospital, to find that you were calmer than she was. That's how you always were. You were never scared. You were brave and fearless and kind and even if you played awful, punk alternative music that made Haley's ears want to bleed, you were such a sweet girl with a big heart. The mother stood on her tiptoes, kissing your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, trying to burn the memory of her mother's lips on your forehead in your mind. And when you opened them again, you tried to burn the image of your mother as well. Even now, red eyed and sniffling, your mother was beautiful. Everyone always told you, you looked just like your mother. Haley used to have blonde hair. It had passed her shoulders and you used to beg her to play hair salon because of it. She had cut it after the divorce and you had a suspicion that it was because she craved change. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, just like yours. It made her skin pull taut when she smiled. Her nose was soft and dainty- something you had always been jealous of.

What if you never saw your mother smile again?

Haley was nodding, nodding and patting the girl's cheek and it took you a moment to realize she was speaking once more. "Go, baby. I'll be okay."

No, you won't. You wanted to say. You wanted to let your body fall into your mother's arms and have the woman hold you like she did when you were a child. You wanted to feel your mother's hands run through your hair and hear the woman sing you to sleep. You didn't care how childish it seemed, you just wanted your mother.

Your shoulders shook and you fought to keep your emotions from consuming you.

"I- I love you." It was a desperate attempt at closure but it did nothing to make you feel better. It only made your mother smile.

"I love you too." Haley gave one final pat before a light shove and you felt numb. You couldn't feel yourself hand the phone to your mother, nor could you feel your feet move in the desired direction. Everything in you felt like it was simultaneously being doused in cold water and burned in hot flames. Your mind kept screaming at you to go back. Turn around, grab your mother and hope for the best but you could hear Foyet talking with your mother now and she knew that your father had told you what to do next.

It was weird.

All the nights you had spent in that stupid witness protection program, closing your eyes imagining you were back in your childhood home. You would pretend you were back in your room, waiting for your father to come home. You would pretend your mother was putting Jack to sleep and you would pretend that everything was normal. Now you were back and everything was wrong.

Focus.

After teaching you how to properly use a gun, Aaron had told you where one could be found in cases of dire emergencies. Your feet stepped lightly, moving as swiftly as you could. The laces on your converse slapped against the sides of the shoes and you silently pulled open your father's nightstand. It hadn't been touched since you all had moved out.  It was normal upon first glance. A couple of papers, reading glasses, sleeping pills. You knew better.

You pulled at the string on the bottom, the false top giving in immediately and revealing the silver .38. You grabbed for it, cocking it as quietly as you could. The weapon was heavy, yet, familiar in your hand. You thought that in a time like this you would be more shaky, but all you could focus on was your mother's quiet sobs from the living room a whole story down.

The sound gave you hope. If she could cry, then she was alive. You pushed on with that thought in mind, rounding the corner. Just before you could head back downstairs and possibly take down Foyet, you heard it.

Gunshots.

Your mother cried out the first time, but it was completely silent after the second two. Just the light thud of a body hitting the floor.

You bit down on your cheek to keep herself from screaming. The taste of blood followed soon after. Your hand rose to your mouth, attempting to muffle the cries that attempted to escape.

"Y/N!" A sing song-y voice called out. There was a thumping sound on the stairs and after a sickening moment, you realized it was the sound of your mother's body hitting the wood. He was dragging her up the stairs, wanting to display her just how he liked. Your eyes burned and you let the tears fall down your cheeks without care. They dripped off your chin, falling onto your shirt. It was a band t-shirt. Your mother hated it, said that the swords were too violent, but she allowed you to wear it anyways.

You darted into the closest door- Jack's old room- eye's scanning your surroundings for a plan. Whatever Foyet was doing, you knew you didn't have much time until he was coming after you.

"I just wanna play, Y/N. Come out, come out wherever you are." He sang out. He must've taken your mother- your mother's body, you corrected yourself bitterly- to your parents bedroom. With a chilling realization, you remembered you had been there only moments before. He was close to you.

Your eyes landed on the closet, overflowing with toys, even months after not being in use. Jack tended to get whatever he asked for- not that he was spoiled, he was just hard to say no to. It wasn't difficult to squeeze into it, leaving the door open a crack. The gun sat in your hands ready and waiting.

You steadied the sound of your breathing.

How was you going to tell Jack about mom? Well that was a bit optimistic, now, wasn't it? Presumptuous of you to think you would live through the next five minutes to be able to tell your little brother that our mother was dead, You thought bitterly.

"I think I'll lay your body right next to your Mom. You'd like that, wouldn't you? So you can be together?" He was in the hallway, and even with the barrier of Jack's door and the closet door, the sound of his voice made you shiver. It was smooth, charming, even. If you hadn't known he was a complete psychopath you wouldn't have given the man much thought. You wouldn't have thought him capable of doing the heinous acts he had done.

There was a creak, the door opening to the room and your arms rose slightly. Your eyes were peaking through the crack, your heart racing. You could see the man moving into the room, searching for his next prey- and that's what he thought you were. Prey. He thought you were an easy target. Everyone did.

Everyone thought you were just some stupid kid. Some people said it outright and others just assumed. You could tell when you first met your father's team, some of them had stereotyped you as well. They had asked her about school and about boys and gossip, because they assumed that was all you were capable of speaking about and then you had surprised them by mentioning books and Neo-noir films. You were accustomed to being underestimated. And you were betting your life that George Foyet was doing the same.

As soon as you saw the man move into the middle of the room, you sprung. The door flew open and before you could hesitate, you pulled the trigger. Pure shock could've been the reason, you were able to get out of the room. Or perhaps you had managed to shoot him in the head and end your family's suffering once and for all. You weren't sure because you were moving purely on instinct. Your feet carried you through the house, jumping over toys and broken chairs and bloodstains that weren't there before.

"You bitch!"

Okay, so he was alive. He was chasing after you but you didn't look back. You jumped into the linen closet, out of breath but not allowing yourself to pant as you wanted to. You could hear the slight groans of the man as he made his way through the house, though it was farther, as if he was walking in the wrong direction. You had slowed him down, that's for sure. The gun in your hand felt warm, like a pat on the back, but the thought of your mother's dead body lying somewhere in the house sat in the back of your mind.

Where was Jack? You thought briefly. You had to trust that he was safe. Trust and pray that whatever their dad had said to him had made sense. You hoped he couldn't hear anything that was going on. That he didn't hear the sound of your mother being murdered and you shooting the killer.

You  felt the towel shelf press into your back, but you didn't dare move anymore. You were sure Foyet hadn't died now. If anything, you might've made him more angry.

It smelled like fresh laundry in the small space and it reminded you of Sunday nights. Your father was usually home, cases typically being taken during the week and coming home Saturday nights. That's why you liked Sundays so much. You liked waking up to the smell of pancakes while your father played a Beatles album. He would sing into a spatula and twirl your mother around the kitchen. And Haley would laugh and tell him to stop, but she never actually meant it. And, when he noticed you coming down the stairs, he would take you in his arms- no matter how big and tall you had gotten, he never stopped doing it. He would spin you around as well and when you was little you would dance on his feet, but when you were older, your bare feet would touch the cold hardwood floor.

Your mother would do crossword and pretend not to notice that your father was giving not-so-subtle hints every so often. Your father would have you catch him up on what you had been up to that week, and you would have to help Jack read through the comics because he didn't really understand the jokes. Sundays were your favorite days because instead of being a separate family like they were every other day, they were all together and it felt normal.

You closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Sunday.

A large clatter rang out, effectively snapping you from your thoughts. You could hear footsteps, fighting, yelling. It was hard to tell how long you waited in the closet, gun pressed to your chest. You could hear someone outside the door, light footsteps against hardwood.

The light on the bottom was obscured from a large shadow and you tried to prepare yourself. What would death feel like? Maybe you was selfish, or maybe you were a coward, but you didn't want to know. You wanted to stomp your foot and say that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that your mother was dead. It wasn't fair that you were about to die. The door was ripped open and you extended your arms, about to shoot blindly, when you saw who was before you.

"Woah, hey, Y/N. Y/N, look at me."

You had stopped crying long ago, but your entire body was shaking. There was so much tension in your shoulders, it felt like somebody had tied you up entirely, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of you. You hadn't realized it before, much too focused in getting as far away from the serial killer in your house as possible, but when you had shot Foyet, some of his blood had splattered onto you. You could see it now that the light was on it. It sat on your hands, partially dried and partially wet. And you could feel some of it on your cheeks.

You wondered what you looked like.

Derek stared at you. Your eyes were wild, darting between the gun in your hands and the gun in Derek's. Your cheeks, flushed as they were, were painted lightly with splattered blood. The only evidence of previous tears were puffy eyes, but you hardly seemed weak right now. You seemed...feral.

"Y'N, it's me. You're safe. it's me, it's Derek. Put that gun down." It was strange. It was like you could see his lips moving, you could see that he was speaking but you couldn't hear the words. All you could hear was the sound of your mother's body hitting the stairs one at a time.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

"He's dead. Y/N, he's dead." The sound came back all at once. Everything came back all at once.

You could see people behind Derek. There were cops and medical examiners, flooding in and out of your childhood home. They all seemed to be moving toward the same place, all in the direction where you had fled. They were heading toward the body, you realized. The body of your dead mother. There was the faint sound of sirens, and there was chatter. You wanted to yell at them, scream for them to be quiet. And then you saw someone else.

Your father was coming toward you. He was covered in blood. Who's blood was that? Was that your mother's? Was that Foyet's? Movement caught your eye.

JJ was holding someone in her arms, he looked confused, pointing at his sister, eyes alarmed at the weapon in her hands and the Jaraeu woman seemed to be trying to turn him away. He was asking for you.

'Y/N/N?' He said.

Your shoulders dropped, the weapon falling into the Morgan man's waiting hands. You stepped forward. Despite your sudden awareness, everything felt like it was in slow motion. The world was moving with resistance, and you opened her arms, almost crumpling in relief when Jack squirmed away from the blonde agent and ran into your waiting arms. You scooped him into your arms, sitting him on your hip.

"Y/N!" Despite all the chaos around you two, you let yourself focus on your brother. He seemed fine. Confused, surely. He had looped his arms around your neck but his eyes squinted at the blood on your cheeks that hadn't been there before. His little eyebrows furrowed, and he reached one hand to poke your cheek. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

Jack loved you. Before you two were put into witness protection program, he didn't see you all too much. You were so busy with school and hanging out with your friends, that you hadn't even been home very often. Then, you didn't have much of a choice.

You  liked showing Jack your music- the clean versions, of course. He would scrunch his nose at certain metal heavy bands, but you assumed he liked most of them just because you did. He liked to play cards with you, and have your draw him funny sketches. And when he would have bad dreams, you never hesitated to let him sleep with you.

You felt multiple sets of eyes on you, your father pulling you into a hug. They all pretended not to notice you flinch. You kept your eyes on Jack.

"I'm fine." You took a hand, running it through the boy's ruffled hair from hiding god knows where. He giggled at the action, and you let your hand rest on his cheek for a moment. Your mother was dead somewhere in this house, her body laid across the floor, slaughtered. You swallowed down the rising bile in your throat.

"Let's get you checked out, yeah?"

[ecto-american]

Liar Liar

Phic Phight Oneshot for Ectopal: After an argument with her now grounded son, Maddie wishes that Danny wouldn't lie to her-and Desiree overhears. [TransDanny]

The OG prompt: After an argument with her now grounded son, Maddie wishes that Danny wouldn't lie to her-and Desiree overhears.

Potential TW for trans-related venting and implied violence, but there’s nothing graphic

on FFN and AO3

The front door opened, and Maddie frowned as she glanced at the clock that informed her that yes. It was definitely hours past his curfew.

No lights turned on, but she still could tell from the faint light of the one kitchen light, the light that the family just never turned off so that they could see at night, that it was definitely her son doing his best to remain quiet. And now that she knew he was safe, all of her fears about if he was okay and his safety melted away and allowed for anger to start boiling.

"Daniel James Fenton," she finally called out. The figure froze, and she flipped the light switch on. Before her was her son, looking as guilty as ever. One hand was on the wall, guiding him as he approached the stairs, the other holding onto his binder and shoes. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"...Um...Can I plead the fifth?" he asked weakly. Her frown deepened.

"It's nearly two in the morning, and on a school night!" she scolded. "Let's not even talk about how you snuck out right now." His shoulders slumped. "You could have been dead for all I know!"

"I'm sorry," he replied quietly.

"Where were you?" Maddie asked.

"I was at Tucker's, we got caught up playing video games," he said. Maddie scowled.

"Tell me the truth," she said. Danny scowled back.

"I am!" he insisted.

"Then how come Pamela called me?" Maddie asked. At the name of Mrs. Manson, Danny paled.

"...She called you?" his voice croaked out.

"You bet she called me," Maddie snapped. "What were you thinking?"

"I wi-I just!" Danny cut himself off as he seemed to struggle to find his words. "I'm just wanting more freedom! I'm an adult now! I can legally buy cigarettes!" Maddie couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Well I wish you wouldn't lie to me!" Maddie argued back. Danny flinched at her words. "And maybe if you didn't, I'd let you have more freedom! But you lied about going to your room, you lied to me just now about where you were, and I already know that you're going to lie to me when I ask you what you and Sam have been doing!"

"We weren't doing anything!" Danny half-yelled back. "We fell asleep binge watching one of her true crime shows!"

"Don't lie to me!" Maddie told him.

"I'm not!"

Maddie made an angry grumbling noise, crossing her arms.

"You're ground, all weekend," she informed him. Danny didn't respond; he simply made a face at her. He brushed past her to angrily stomp up the stairs. She didn't bother snapping at him over that too.

"So you have wished it, so shall it be."

Maddie turned around rapidly at the voice. It wasn't Danny's...and Jazz was miles away at college…But what she did hear was Danny slamming his bedroom door shut. She'd get onto him about that in the morning.

A quick inspection, and she found nothing, and she decided to just call it a night. She went upstairs herself, pausing at Danny's door to listen. She could hear Danny shuffle around for a moment, though after a moment, she saw his light go out and heard his bed creak as he rested on it. She just knew he was going to fall asleep in class tomorrow. Maddie sighed, and she went into her room.

Jack was just coming from the bathroom with a light yawn, and she felt guilty.

"Did we wake you up?" she wondered. Jack gave her a small smile and shrugged.

"It's okay," he assured her. Maddie huffed.

"No, it's not," she insisted. "He should have been home. He was over at Sam's house until about ten minutes ago. Pam called to complain about it."

"Ah, he's just doing what teenagers do," Jack replied. Maddie frowned as she got into bed.

"Well that mentality is how we end up grandparents way too early," she reminded him. Jack gave a light sigh as he also slipped back into bed.

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed. "I'll talk to him about it soon."

"Thank you. He's pretty mad at me right now," Maddie turned her bedside lamp off. Jack chuckled.

"He'll probably be mad for a bit, but he'll get over it," he reassured her. He switched his own bedside lamp off as he got settled back in. "Night, love you."

"Love you too."

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

Despite the late night, Maddie was up early. She could hear that Danny was already up and getting ready in the bathroom, so she didn't feel the need to say anything to him just yet. They could reserve any conversation for after school.

By the time she came downstairs, Danny was in the kitchen staring at the toaster, backpack on the kitchen table.

"Morning, sweetie," she greeted him warmly.

He gave her a somewhat dirty look, and he mumbled a cranky and short "morning" in response. She opted to ignore his attitude for now, and she went over to the coffee maker. While she was waiting for Danny, she had gone ahead and scheduled the coffee maker to start making coffee, and man was she glad. It was already pouring, and it smelled great.

"Danny, do you want a cup of coffee?" she asked him. He glanced over, and he shook his head no.

"Mm no thanks," he replied.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"I slept like shit."

Maddie glanced at Danny in surprise, and he stared back at her, equally as confused. Danny never cussed at her.

"Cause you stayed out all night, huh?" Maddie lightly accused, leaning her hand on the counter.

"No, cause I slept with my binder on and now my chest hurts," he snapped back. Maddie frowned.

"You're not supposed to do that," she told him.

"Well maybe if I wasn't fucking born like this-," he began but cut himself off. He looked so confused, and Maddie was too. Not at the statement. She had no doubt that it was true, but where did all this cussing come from? He knew better than to talk to her like that, and it was so...weird. Danny glanced back to the toaster, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I...I uh…" Two pop tarts popped out of the toaster, and he quickly snatched them up. "I gotta go. Bye."

"...Have a good day," Maddie called after him, staring as he quickly walked out, and she heard the front door close. She made her cup of coffee, and she got to work.

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

She jumped as their ghost alarm went off, but Jack and Maddie wasted no time quickly collecting their things and rushing out the door and into the RV. It led them right to the scene. A fight against Amity Park's most popular ghost and another fairly familiar ghost, a green skinned woman with flowing black hair dressed exclusively in blue.

Maddie messily pulled into a parking spot off the side of the road, and Jack immediately hopped out. Maddie followed suit, and she hurried towards the action.

"Stop granting every damn wish you hear! I swear, it's ridiculous!" she could hear Phantom yell.

"I'm merely giving people what they ask for," the woman, Desiree Maddie believed she was called, replied smugly.

Phantom looked like he was gonna say something more, but stopped when he seemed to glance over and notice their arrival.

"Let's just finish this," he said instead, and he blasted her, only to miss. The woman smirked, but it was quickly cut off by a secondary blast from Jack.

"Jack!" Maddie gasped in excitement. "Excellent shot!" Jack grinned proudly, firing another. Only to miss, as sorta expected.

"I do not have time for this!" Phantom scowled. Maddie rolled her eyes. What the hell does a ghost have going on? He pulled out the Fenton Thermos and sucked the other ghost in.

"You ever going to return that?" Maddie called out sarcastically.

"It's my thermos! You gave it to me!" Phantom called back, immediately giving her a weird blank look. Maddie narrowed her eyes.

"We didn't give you anything," she replied. She held her hand out expectantly. "Give it back."

Phantom opened his mouth to rebuttal, only to get blasted. It knocked him back and made him drop the thermos. Maddie dove for it as Jack fired more shots, and she was thankfully able to grab it before it hit the ground. However when she looked up, Phantom was gone.

"Mads! Did you see that!?" Jack asked. She looked up at him with a proud smile as he jogged over to her.

"I did!" she replied cheerfully. "You've gotten a lot better!" Jack puffed up proudly. "Where did Phantom go?"

"Dunno," he admitted, and his shoulders immediately fell a bit. "After I got him, he flew off. Musta been scared." He offered his hand out to her, and she accepted it.

"Probably," she agreed. She held the thermos up. "Least we got this back though." Jack nodded. "We'll put her back in the Zone later. Let's get some lunch."

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

Maddie made a point to make sure she was upstairs so that she could make sure Danny came home on time, given his grounding situation. While she waited, she began to make some cupcakes. As she was mixing batter, she heard the front door open and close.

"Hey Danny," she greeted from the kitchen. She glanced at the clock. He was ten minutes later than he normally would have come home, but it wasn't enough for her to say anything.

"...Hey mom," came the reply. He stepped into the kitchen, and Maddie glanced at him, only to do a double take. His right cheek was badly swollen from a bad bruise. Maddie immediately wiped her hands on a dish towel, staring at him.

"What happened?" she asked, stepping towards him. He stared at her in confusion before putting his hand to his face. He pressed his lips tightly together and didn't answer. She asked once more, more firmly. "Danny, what happened?"

He opened his mouth to say something, only to choke on nothing and close his mouth again. Maddie went to the freezer to get an ice pack. She motioned for him to sit down. He sat at the kitchen table, and she pulled a chair up to him. She pressed the ice pack to his face, and he took it from her, leaning his elbow on the table.

"I'll only ask you one more time," she began, only for Danny to angrily cut her off.

"I got beat up today, okay?" he replied, sounding exasperated. Maddie blinked.

"By who?" she asked. Danny gave her a sour look, and he refused to speak. "Danny…"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he finally spoke. He began to stand up. "Look, I'm fine. It's not a big deal."

"It's a huge deal!" Maddie argued. She grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to sit back down. "You're going to tell me what's going on right now. Who hurt you?"

"Just some dudes at school," he tried to keep his answers short. But Maddie was having none of that.

"But why?" she pressed. Danny stayed quiet. "Daniel James-"

"What do you want me to say, Mom?" he snapped. "That I constantly get my ass kicked for being queer? That every day I get reminded that they think I'm some freak that shouldn't be allowed to exist? Let alone in any kind of relative peace? People don't like me. Why do you think I want to get my name changed as soon as possible? Why I've been begging for surgery as a birthday gift? It's so that when I go to college, nobody will know."

"...I had no idea," she said slowly.

"Yeah, I know," he said shortly. He got up, managing to evade her touch again to go for the stairs. Before she could say anything else, he was upstairs, and she could hear his door closing.

What had gotten into him? Maddie had never heard Danny talk about any of those things to her before. How long had these feelings been going on? Why had he never talked to her before about this?

She forced herself to stand and return to her baking. Mindlessly, she began to fill her cupcake tray up with batter, slipping them into the oven when she heard noise in the basement. She frowned, quickly setting her timer before going down.

Phantom was there, looking through her stuff. Snooping around. He was carefully looking around, muttering to himself as he hunted for...something.

"Can I help you, Phantom?"

The ghost jumped, turning on his heel.

"I'm looking for the wishing ghost so I can undo a wish," he replied. She raised an eyebrow at his blunt honesty.

"What wish?" She asked. Phantom scowled, narrowing his eyes as he seemed to think hard.

"That's private," he replied. She glared back at him, but then it hit her.

"Well I wish you wouldn't lie to me!"

Her son couldn't lie to her. Because of the wishing ghost still trapped in the thermos. She hadn't had a chance to empty the thermoses of ghosts she had Jack had caught over the past two weeks.

"I suggest you leave through that portal then before I blast you through it," she said. "The wishing ghost is staying here with me." Phantom narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her.

"Not without that wishing ghost," he replied. Maddie picked a blaster off the table near her, pointing it at him. He held his hands up defensively. "Whoa, take it easy. Why do you want Desiree so bad? Don't you normally throw the ghosts back into the Ghost Zone anyway?"

"I do, and let's start with you," she replied. She pulled the trigger. It hit Phantom square in the chest, pushing him into the open portal. She quickly stormed up, slamming the closed button.

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

It was hours before Danny finally came down from upstairs. She knew that he had stayed upstairs, for once, instead of sneaking out again, from occasional footsteps and the sound of him talking on the phone. Maddie had actually just gotten off the phone with him, having called him to ask what he wanted from their favorite Chinese restaurant before she sent Jack out to pick it up. Soon as Jack was out the door, Danny came out of his room and downstairs. She gave him smile as he came into the living room.

"Hey sweetie, dad will b-"

"I know about the wish."

Maddie instantly felt guilt wash over her as Danny stared at her with a frown, arms crossed. She stayed where she sat on the couch.

"What makes you say that?" she questioned. Danny's lips tightened, and she knew that he wasn't going to answer her. "Danny-"

"And I know that you know about it!" he accused. "I've been through this kind of thing before! Why haven't you undone the wish yet?"

"Because you don't need to be lying to me!" Maddie finally snapped back as she got to her feet. "For once, I'm getting honest answers from you after almost three years of constant lie after lie!"

"And you're okay with this being how you get those answers?" Danny talked back. His fists balled up, though they stayed by his sides. "Instead of making me feel okay and comfortable telling you these things? Or wait for me to be ready to say something?"

Ouch. Maddie flinched, and she just knew that had Jazz been here...she'd be absolutely agreeing with Danny. And she knew in her gut that Danny was right. Maddie's shoulder slumped.

"I know," she said quietly. Danny looked completely taken aback. "...But why haven't you said anything? You know your dad and I love you so much. I had no idea you've been in this much pain."

Danny stared at the ground, shifting to lean against the doorway.

"...I didn't want you guys to feel like you were bad parents," he replied. "Because you're not. It's not your fault everybody else sucks, or that I have to wait for surgery or to get my name changed and everything. And you can't fix it. It's just how it is."

"Dad and I would have started fighting harder for you had we known," Maddie said softly. "All we ever want is for you and Jazz to be happy and healthy."

"Yeah, I know," Danny half-grumbled. "It's just...It's just how it is. And I can't even tell the therapist that, cause she keeps pushing back everything if I hint at being depressed about it."

"If that's the case, we can find a new therapist," Maddie replied. "One that'll take you more seriously." Danny shook his head.

"No, it's okay. I'll be done with school this year, and I'll be seeing a new one anyway when I go to college," he said. Maddie frowned.

"But still-"

"Mom, it's fine," he interrupted. He smiled. "Seriously." She sighed. "Please, just. Undo the wish."

"...Okay," she finally agreed. She began to walk towards the basement, only to pause, turning to him. "But first." Danny raised an eyebrow at her. "What were you and Sam doing up so late?" Danny gave her a sour look, rolling his eyes.

"...Sam's been having a hard time lately. Lots of girls at school bully her for the same reason as me, and it's just been hitting her super hard lately," he explained. "I was up late with her cause she was crying so much, and we fell asleep while I was holding her to make her feel better."

Maddie's heart twisted a bit. She truly wish she had known. And she already made a mental note to march into Casper High first thing Monday morning after having a long phone call with Pam that night. A call to Vlad too, to get in touch to see if he'd help hire a lawyer. She had absolute hell to raise, and a school she was ready to sue.

"But seriously," Danny's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "I'll eventually come and tell you these things when I'm ready. Don't rely on dumb ghost wishes."

"Yeah, I know," Maddie replied somberly. "I'm sorry, Danny." She took a few steps towards him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. After a moment, she felt him return the hug. She let go, cupping his cheeks and making him lean down a bit so she could kiss his forehead. "I just worry about you. I want you to feel like you can always come to me. You're my baby boy."

"I know, Mom," he smiled. "And I will when I need you, but I'm not a little kid. I can handle a lot of things on my own."

"Yeah, but you're still my baby," Maddie sighed. Hell, he and Jazz were both taller than her by now. They definitely got that from Jack. Or in Danny's case, he got nearly everything from him. Almost a mirror image the older he got. Danny's cheeks flushed a bit.

"Mo-om."

Maddie chuckled.

"Come on, let's go undo the wish. I have the wishing ghost still in the basement," she said. She paused. "But once we undo the wish, will you honestly tell me how you knew?"

Danny stared at her for a moment, seemingly thinking. And he nodded.

"Yeah. After dinner, just you and me," he promised. "I'll tell you the whole story. Start to finish."

[hopelesshawks]

History of Us Part 35- The Storm

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Masterlist Kofi

The plan, both that of the reunion squad and that of the pro heroes, goes to shit almost immediately. Your father is a smart man and the compound reflects that. Almost immediately upon breaching the entrance, the pros realized that the information they had on the building’s floor plan was incorrect. They were also wrong about the compound solely being occupied by you, Dabi, and your father. Several lower level villains have been kept on retainer precisely in case of a situation like this. Not only had Shoto and the others not been able to sneak past the pros to try and find you but the pros had actively requested their help as things rapidly devolved.

Then your father finally made his appearance in dramatic fashion, and that’s when things really went downhill. Literally half the compound was blown sky high as your father released a massive flurry of shadows racing out to push back the heroes. Several of the pros on scene are immediately knocked out of commission, leaving the smaller villains to run into the city and cause trouble. Tamaki is one of the first to recover, quickly organizing some of the remaining heroes and sidekicks into squads to track down the villains now racing towards the more densely populated commercial area nearby. “I’m trusting you to handle Black Storm,” he tells Endeavor. The older man only gives him a nod before Tamaki is off to try and minimize the damage being done.

Shoto starts to worry as he realizes he still hasn’t seen you but before he can begin searching properly a familiar voice stops him in his tracks. “There you are little brother, I was worried you might not show,” Touya grins. Shoto’s eyes narrow at his brother, his quirk itching to be released as he stares him down. “Where’s (y/n)?” Shoto all but growls. “You sure she even wants you to find her?” Dabi teases, his amusement at the situation palpable. “Absolutely,” Shoto replies without even a hint of hesitation or doubt. “Tell you what, prove you really are dad’s perfect little experiment and beat me. If you can do that much I’ll lead you right to her. I’d hurry if I were you too, her daddy dearest didn’t take too kindly to finding heroes at our door and poor (y/n) is his favorite punching bag,” Dabi grins. “With pleasure,” Shoto growls before lunging forward.

This is a disaster. You’ve managed to only bump into one sidekick who’d made it deeper into the remains of the compound but even that small fight had been enough to aggravate your injuries. Your vision swims as you rush towards the sound of the fighting. You know your dad’s been using quirk enhancing drugs lately and the pros aren’t prepared for that kind of firepower. You want nothing more than to just sit down, close your eyes, and try to heal yourself, maybe even take a nap, but there’s no time. You’re the only one who can stop your dad now. You know it in your gut. So you push through the pain and the slight dizziness to keep moving. You’re nearly knocked off your feet as a series of explosions shakes the compound, followed by an all too familiar battle cry of “DIE!” Fear surges through your veins like ice. You’d recognize Bakugo’s voice anywhere and even if you couldn’t there’s not exactly a ton of explosive heroes who threaten to murder villains out there. Bakugo would never come alone, which means more of your friends are surely in the fray and in danger. You grit your teeth, focusing on them and your determination to save them, and start running towards the commotion glowing only faintly but enough to hold you together.

Shoto has never fought this hard his entire life. He lands hard on his side but quickly rolls to recover and get back on his feet. He throws up a wall of ice, partly to slow Dabi’s progress as he comes surging towards him, but partially to stave off the after effects from using his left side so much. Sweat pours off his forehead as he desperately tries to hold off from overheating. As Dabi burns through his ice, Shoto launches himself forward to meet his brother halfway. He’ll be damned if he loses this fight. He has to get to you, especially if what Dabi said about your condition is the truth. For a single moment Shoto manages to pin Touya down but before he can do anything more he notices Dabi’s gaze is focused not on him but something off to the side. “Your girlfriend finally joined the fray,” Dabi grins, causing Shoto to immediately snap his head that direction to find you. Relief floods him at seeing you alive but he’s snapped back into the moment as Dabi suddenly engulfs the two of them in flames, causing Shoto to rear back with a curse. “Don’t get distracted baby brother, this fight isn’t over,” Dabi taunts as he uses Shoto’s momentary distraction to get the upper hand. Fire and ice both emerge as Shoto is filled with another wave of determination. He’s so close to getting you back, he won’t let you slip through his fingers again.

The chaos is even worse than you thought when you finally get to where all the fighting is. All around you your friends and various pros are battling villains. Buildings further down the street are burning where Tamaki is trying to keep the villains contained to a smaller area. To your right Shoto is locked in combat with Dabi and frankly it takes your breath away. Shoto is magnificent. You’ve never seen him look so resolute before and you distantly wonder if that’s the real reason Dabi exposed your location: to see this side of his younger brother. You probably could have stood there just watching the two of them forever but a loud crashing noise to your left jerks your attention away as you watch Endeavor hit the ground hard after your father had thrown him. Your stomach sinks when you notice what rough shape he’s in. You knew this would happen the moment you found out your father was using quirk enhancers but it’s still unnerving to see the number one hero struggle so much. You look up to see your father grinning like a mad man, clearly delighting in the pain of a man he once claimed to love like family. More importantly, however, you also can see the characteristic black veins crawling up the side of his neck. Steroids or not, your quirk still comes with a price. Your father is just about to deal what looks suspiciously like a fatal blow as he gathers a large mass of shadows into both hands but before they can reach Endeavor you jump in front of the fallen hero and unleash your own blast of shadows to dissipate your father’s.

You think you hear Endeavor say something behind you but the words fall on deaf ears as you watch your father’s face twist into a grimace of betrayal and rage. “I should’ve known you’d choose them,” he spits before unleashing another torrent of inky blackness shooting towards you. You widen your stance to brace yourself and then unleash your own torrent back with your right hand, using your free hand to brace it. “After all I did for you, this is how you repay me? You traitorous bitch,” he accuses, his voice roaring over the sounds of battle around you. Rage burns through you at his words and you embrace it wholeheartedly as you continue to push back against him. “All you did was abuse and traumatize me,” you bite out. Your head is throbbing but you can’t let up, not now, not when you’re so close to ridding yourself of your father for good. “I did it to make you stronger! You could’ve been the most powerful person in all of Japan, we could’ve built an empire together!” he responds, as if somehow that justifies how he’s treated you; as if that empire wouldn’t be built atop the corpses of innocents. “I am strong. Stronger than you. In spite of you, not because of you,” you shout.

After that final declaration, you’re done talking. Instead you close your eyes, grit your teeth, and you think of every single time your father abused you, every time you lashed out at those you loved because of the trauma he ingrained in you, every time you suffered because of his crimes. You think of your poor mother who works double and triple shifts so she can provide for you. You think of that fateful day your father brought you into work and traumatized you out of his own selfish desire to mold you into what he wanted you to be. You think of all of the pain and hurt and anger and you pour it into your quirk even as black veins start to crawl up on your own skin, even as they climb up your forearm, then your shoulder, then your neck, and onto the right side of your face. Your entire right side feels like it’s on fire but you push and push through until you finally start to feel the resistance from your father giving way as his quirk overwhelms him. You hear yelling and it takes a minute to realize that the raw, pained sound is coming from you as you push and push and push until finally you feel the resistance fade completely and the shadows you’d sent out connect with your father. You gasp as you finally release your quirk although you notice the right side of your body is still on fire. Your head feels fuzzy and your vision is definitely swimming but you push through it. You have to make sure it’s over. Your father sways on his feet, eyes empty and black veins completely marring his face. After a moment his body collapses to the ground completely limp and relief floods through you.

It’s over.

It’s finally fucking over.

As the adrenaline slowly starts to drain out of you, you hear someone call out your name. They sound panicked. Why do they sound panicked? You turn to the source of the voice slowly as the world starts to spin around you. You vaguely recognize Shoto’s alarmed face as he sprints towards you before everything goes black and you collapse.

A/N: This took me literally all of yesterday to write and was difficult to start but holy shit am I happy with how it turned out. We’re entering the home stretch ladies and gentlemen.

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso @sunaispretty @shot0stea @todoplusultra @oliviasslut @lapysllazuly @immah0e4fictionalmen @cinnamonruts

(Bold means I couldn’t tag you)

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 5 Damian x reader

Pulled away to another world, Y/N uses magic science and a Little bird to help her get back home and possibly be rid of an apocalyptic event. "So, will you succumb to your doubts completely or step into the sun of this new world?"

" A few days, but I didn't expect the entire week, thank god for Molly." The emotional stress I had felt in the beginning influenced the behavior of the scales on my skin it took more hot water and hydrogen peroxide than I had originally would have needed. Even after all that, my skin was turned ashen and my breath was so shallow that Nightmare could lap from it as if it was his water bowl. The scales I have removed were not ready for healing uses yet, at least not for another three days. Nightmare had remained at my side barely even moving from his spot curled up on the pillow next to mine, the only time he moved is when Molly came over. Molly would drop off the homework, she told me she took the written project to Damian and he was ready to deliver it when it was due in 10 days from now. Molly would come by every day at 4, made sure I and Nightmare ate and rested well, told me about herself self and left. And I thank god I'm feeling better after all of that.

Today was Friday and I still wasn't feeling the best even after she left, Nightmare crawled up onto my lap while I had sat on the couch watching the news. I never liked watching the news but considering that I had an unexpected visitor I had hoped to find out more. I'm not disappointed, Vigilanties that appear in Gotham with the exception of Nightwing who occasionally visited from Blüdhaven the sister city of Gotham, and the character Red Hood an anti-hero who fights for his own needs, he arrived in Gotham a few years ago and became a crime fighter. Then there were the other three, Red robin seen with the dynamic duo Batman and Robin, seen all over Gotham. All of them well known and on the news constantly in a large group even that fight bad guys of all sorts a from a clown, to plant creatures and more.

"Wow their just like them." I feel a wave of nostalgia float over me, I remember what it was like at home. In Minnesota. With the tall evergreens and the marvelous lilacs that mom would grow in our backyard, my family, and friends. Everything at least before all the drama in New York happened. "Dear God, I'm becoming an over-sentimental sad sack I can't think of them now, not yet." I get up from my seat to head to the kitchen Nightmare jumping off me when I hear a knock from my balcony. I continue my walk to the kitchen to peer out at it, I didn't see anything there even so I open it. Nightmare runs out before me hissing at something on the left.

"Nightmare what are you-Oh...." Robin stares at me from the railing of the balcony. He's leaning back on it a scornful look upon his face. Confusion settles in me as I just stare at him.

"Are you sick?" He asks walking to me while doing so.

"Y-yeah I was out too long in the rain." He stops just in front of me.

"Don't you bring an umbrella with you?"

"Not that day," I clear my throat a little. "why are you here?" He pauses as if coming up with the reason shocks even himself. He arches his arm back behind his back, slowly moving his arm out.

"My box! So you did take it," I exclaim grabbing the box tenderly opeining the lid, I smile sadly looking at the glinting scales inside the box. " did they help you." I look back up, his faces move to confusion.

"I stole them from you and you're asking me if they helped me?"

"Well, you also needed it more than me, and I can see it did wonders. Your up and running again." I start hacking for a strait minute and grab onto the railing. I look up to the door moving to pick up Nightmare. "Would you like to come in for some tea," NIghtmare squirms in my arms jumping out when I enter the kitchen from the balcony. I open the cupboard and pull out the only three kinds of tea I have, setting aside the box with the X on it. "There's peppermint, cinnamon chai, and pumpkin if your interested." He stares at me from the entryway.

"No thank you," He says " I need to leave, I wasn't supposed to be here anyway." I set the pot on the stove anyway and pull out the pumpkin tea and my favorite mug with Arab henna designs decorating even the inside. I look back to the outside, he is still standing in the entryway shifting uncomfortably.

"You Know, the fact that you haven't left yet contradicts your own words, Robin." I pour the hot water over my tea while I wait for him to answer. He stirs slightly moving back and forth on his feet.

"I'll come back tomorrow," I spit out my tea.

"What didn't you say you weren't supposed to be here?"

He shrugs pulling a grappling hook from his belt and swang off. If I wasn't feeling so sick and had just spat out some tea causing me to cough some more, I would have gone after him. I just stared out through the night air as the familiar feeling of dread washed over me, I close the door to the outside and look at the box. NIghtmare gave me a look moving the box and pawing the X on the top.

"We can't call him yet, didn't you hear, their back. If I call him now it compromises everything they have worked for," I pick up the box and move over to the couch, Nightmare followed suit, we both laid down, me clutching the box. "We can't do anything yet anyway, it violates the treaty. We have to wait for the first kill."

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

True to his word he came back, he arrived sometime after Molly left, I don't know exactly when he arrived but I know it wasn't long. It was 2 pm when Molly forced meds in my mouth and put me to sleep. It was 2:40 when I heard him clatter in my kitchen nearly killing him with the broom. He was making tea he brought, he told me that he said it works for sore throats, even though it's just lemon juice, water, and honey.

" You realize this is twice you have broken and entered into my home right?" He tsked crossing his arms from his where he is seated across from me.

"The first time was not on purpose."

"I mean you did break my window."

"I crashed through it."

"Pretty sure that there was broken glass I had to pull out of you and sweep off my floor." I laugh for a little bit while he grunts in his seat in front of me.

"Hey why are you here anyway, You dropped off my box, you're healed up why are you back?"

He moves forward resting his arms on the table. "what do you know about the Crows?"

My mug shatters the pieces scattered on the floor, my hands are shaking and that feeling of dread washes over me again.

"Oops sorry, my hands must have slipped even as I'm feeling better I see I didn't recover all my strength, haha..." I stand up to get the broom.

"They killed three people that day," I froze turning to Nightmare who was resting on the counter, his ears are folded back, his hair also standing on end." six were maimed they were monsters that said their names in the third person. They said they are looking for 'the scaled one' and I believe they are looking for you." The air becomes cold around us to a literal point where I can see my breath.

"They drew first blood," The words finally sink in my fears had manifested themselves, I know that I should have guessed it when I saw him but I had hoped they weren't going to be in physical form yet. I rush to my closet pull another box out from the top, a black box big enough to hold a dress, bearing the same markings as the smaller one. I bring it to the table Robin and I are seated at and set it down pulling off the top.

"How much do you know about The Crows already?" I begin pulling out the things inside one by one, recalling their names and what they are for, looking for my com piece.

"That's what I'm asking you, what is all this?"

"They come from an interdimensional planetary void, The Crow where once a proud and advance society until the gave up their freedom for more knowledge, Jal-sein holds their control now. They are dangerous and they are after the very thing that nearly killed everyone on my earth. Ah! Found it!" I move to my living room pushing away my coffee table setting it on the ground making sure there is enough space. Robin had moved up from the kitchen a worried look set on his face.

"What is Jal-sein? What is this other earth aren't you from Minnesota?"

"Yep but here's the thing," I press the silver X on the com and it starts calling, lights flicker in the room from the device as the figure forms."I'm from another dimension actually."

The figure in the holographic com finalizes and I smile at the old man I see.

"Hello Y/N, I suppose they have found you then? It good to see you even in such circumstances?" His voice is grim and shallow, he sounds older than usual and his head is covered with a silver helmet with tubes coming from it.

"Yes, they have, It"s good to see you, Professor X."

[crystalirises]

The World Moved On, but You're Stuck in the Past

Ah yes, Villain Dream who does not see himself as a villain my beloved <333 Honestly, I'm not really sure what Dream and Wilbur's current evil (are they still villains??? Dream probably not cause the poor guy got tortured oof and maybe not Wilbur cause... I don’t know, is he being evil??? Is he okay??? I don’t know what these characters are up to) plans so just... have this flimsy idea cause I don't know what they're planning XD

TW: Mentioned Blood, Implied Murder, Villain Dream who does not realize he's the villain and so justifies the crimes he did, and Insane Revived Wilbur Soot

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/80235868

He was free.

Wilbur was the first face he saw once he took his first step into the outside world, splatters of green blood decorated the obsidian floor and walls. The revived man was standing with a sword, leaning against it while he waved Dream over with a smile. He tried not to be disgusted by him.

“How does the sun feel on your skin? I remember the day you brought me back, the sun was rising in the distance and I never felt so alive. It’s good to be back, right Dream?” He met the man’s eyes, those dark pools seemingly darker than the day that he had died. He still looked like he’d just recently gotten out of Limbo, and Dream had no doubt that the man had been neglecting his own care. He could only hope that he didn’t have to drag the man’s ass out of Limbo again due to his own negligence. Besides, Wilbur had a point. He looked down at his fingers, basking in the sunlight that shone down upon them. It felt nice against his cheek. “The warden had been difficult to fight but, I guess I just got lucky. You know, I made a new country.”

“D-did… you?” He coughed, pressing a hand against his mouth. It had been so long since he’d spoken. He felt cool glass touch his skin, glancing over to see that Wilbur was handing him a water bottle. Dream didn’t hesitate to snatch it from the man’s hand, drinking the water quickly even if it meant he’d had to pause every now and then just to cough. He hadn’t had clean water in a while. Wilbur watched him with narrowed eyes, a smile on his face before Dream noticed what the man was now holding. His mask. He reached out to grab it. “Another L’Manburg—?”

“L’Manburg is now a fucking crater.” He flinched, a memory of Quackity flashing in his mind. His scars still stung, even if he was used to the pain. Wilbur pressed the mask against his hand, rolling his eyes while a sneer stretched across his face. “This new country will be better. It will.”

“... if you say so…”

“But, let’s not get on the wrong foot here. We’re friends now, allies even, right Dream? You brought me back from that shithole and I paid my dues by setting you free? But who’s to say that our little friendship should stop there, hm? Y-you know? I-I mean you’re all alone now, like me.” Dream gritted his teeth at the reminder, his hands curling into fists. How far he’d come. Now he was at the bottom with Wilbur Soot of all people. No best friends to hang out with. No mother to cry to. No fiance to love and hold. And all because of children who couldn’t realize their place in his world. “So I was thinking. You need a place to stay, hm? Well, why not stay with me!”

He raised a brow at the suggestion. Allies with Wilbur? And with a country involved? That was not going to end well. Dream glanced over at the prison, his throat drying and his knees buckling under the weight of his fears. He didn’t care for Wilbur, but what choice did he have? “Deal.”

“Good man!” He recoiled when Wilbur wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Wilbur’s stare stayed on him for a while longer, and Dream could already tell what he was thinking. He scowled at the thought. He didn’t need the man’s pity. So what if he was thinner? He could still beat the resurrected fool in armed combat. “Y-you know, Quackity has his own nation too.”

“I know.” Las Nevadas, he’d heard Quackity mention it before, and even the warden had mentioned it once. Wilbur had a determined look in his eye, a dark one that Dream knew all too well. Except somehow he felt that they had swapped roles, Dream had directed Wilbur to cause L’Manberg’s destruction, and now Wilbur was directing him. He sighed but followed after the madman. It wasn’t like he had anything else on his schedule. But he wasn’t sure if he could even face Quackity after… Dream placed the mask over his face. He would not let Wilbur see his worry or his doubts. He needed an ally, especially now more than ever, even if it meant having to help Wilbur in the destruction of another nation. “What plan of attack are you proposing? What did Quackity do against you? I will join you Wilbur but I would like to hear an explanation first.”

“He didn’t want me in his nation.” And oh how the world changes. Dream tried not to scoff at the ridiculous answer. He’d felt the same way when L’Manburg was made, who was he to judge a clearly unstable man? Wilbur had stretched out his arms, resting them against the back of his head like a man who had nothing to stress about. Dream didn’t like how it felt to stand next to him. He felt short, weak. He clenched his teeth together, feeling them grind against each other. Dream could only hope that Wilbur didn’t make him his lackey. He would kill the man and send him back to Limbo if he so much used Dream like that. “He let Purpled, Sam, Foolish, and some weird slime monster into his nation. He… he even stole my son from me… the fucking asshole.”

Fundy was with…

“You created a new nation to spite him?” Dream looked away, wishing that he had his old lime jacket instead of the dirty prisoner outfit that he wore. The warden had made sure that the uniform didn’t come with pockets… after the first incident. “Must you get into another conflict?”

Dream stopped listening once Wilbur began his tirade on Las Nevadas and how he wanted a rivalry with Quackity. He didn’t care for the resurrected man’s shenanigans. Dream was free, and that was all he needed Wilbur for. Getting a home and an ally were added bonuses. He nodded along, pretending to listen while his mind drifted to what Wilbur had mentioned. Fundy was in Las Nevadas, and he sided with Quackity. His heart began to beat even faster in his chest, an ache spreading over his entire body. How long has it been since he’d even last seen his fiance?

He should pay him a visit.

 ---

 “Should I add breaking and entering into your list of crimes or should I message Sam and let him see for himself?” Those weren’t the first words he had expected to hear once he’d managed to sneak into Fundy’s little cabin. He had tried knocking, a lot, but nobody had come to the door. Dream had checked through one of the windows and had found Fundy curled up in bed. He hadn’t come there to talk… not really. He just wanted to see Fundy again. The fox hybrid glared at him from the end of the small bedroom, his claws out while he clambered to a sitting position. His eyes were narrowed into slits, and Dream only had a second to realize why Fundy hadn’t begun to growl at him. There was a baby fox hybrid next to Fundy, but they were fast asleep. “Get the fuck out of my house. Don’t think I won’t hesitate to call the warden on your ass.”

“I wanted to see you.” Fundy rolled his eyes at his words, shaking his head before plopping back down on the bed, careful not to actually disturb the sleeping kid. Dream tried to keep himself from prying, but it was hard not to. He hadn’t seen his fiance in so long, and now that he has, there’s a lot of details to take note of. For one, Fundy was living in a cabin far away from where anyone could find him. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, and despite being threatened, Dream had noticed the fox hybrid’s sluggish movements. The way his eyes seemed to blink open and close like he was processing that Dream was really in front of him. Not to mention, Fundy had a kid. When did that happen? “Wilbur broke me out a few weeks ago—”

“Why?” He stopped, glancing over at Fundy who had curled up again, a hand resting on the back of the kid’s head. Fundy’s eyes were closed, his breath harsh and filled with controlled rage. Dream leaned back against the wall, shoes scraping against the floor while he adjusted his mask. He used to be comfortable not wearing his mask around Fundy, but now, he couldn’t even fathom what they were to each other. He swallowed down the bitter taste in his throat. He did what he had to. No matter what he had to lose in the end. Still. Seeing Fundy this way, seeing the world move on without him, it felt like he had been drenched in lava. How dare everyone move on? Did his words mean nothing? Did his actions mean nothing? Had they not thought of what he had meant at all? Everyone moved on, and didn’t bother to listen to him. Fundy had turned to glare at him, a tired yet furious look in his gaze. “Why the fuck would you bring Wilbur back?”

“I needed someone to help me escape from prison. Wilbur would have done anything if I’d asked him to—” He jumped before a pillow could slam into his face, glancing over at Fundy whose glare hadn’t wavered. He wasn’t sure if it was his reflexes or Fundy’s exhaustion that saved him from getting hit. Dream sighed, placing a hand against his chest. This is why he hadn’t wanted to talk. He wasn’t a fool, he knew how his own fiance would react to him being free. “None of you would have helped me, anyway. Wilbur was my safest option. Besides, I memorized the revival book and I wanted to see if it worked. I know Eret and Phil tried to bring Wilbur back before—”

“You’re playing god again. I’m not surprised, you’ve always been like this, haven’t you?”

“What…?” Dream glanced over at Fundy, slowly moving to pick up the pillow that had been thrown his way. He handed it over to his fiance who quickly grabbed it from him. “I don’t…”

“Since the start, we’ve all been puppets in this game of yours, haven’t we?” He watched Fundy hug the pillow closer to his chest, the fox hybrid burying his face. Maybe he couldn’t stand to even look at him. “This whole world, our lives, we were just dolls for you to play and discard once you’ve gotten bored. Wilbur had been the perfect doll, doing what you wanted in the end. Tommy is your least favorite, isn’t he? Since he’s always getting in your way? You hate him.”

“I hate the trouble he’s caused.” He huffed. It felt like no one really understood him. Dream leaned back against the wall, knowing that the longer he stayed near Fundy, the higher the chance he’d get his mask scratched. “Tommy’s with Wilbur over at his new nation. He’s untouchable if I want to keep my alliance with Wilbur, but I believe that I might be able to co—”

“You’re still the same Dream who got imprisoned, glad to know you haven’t changed a bit. Gods, what did I ever fucking see in you…” That stung. Dream glanced over but Fundy had chosen to lay back down again, nuzzling his chin on top of the younger fox hybrid’s head. A part of him couldn’t help but envy the display, wondering if he and Fundy would be married if he had only succeeded and hadn’t been imprisoned. Whose kid even was that? Dream stood up, catching Fundy’s attention again. In a better world, he could have shown everyone that he had been in the right. Then his best friends would still be his friends. Then his mother would still see him as her duckling. Then his fiance would have still married him and they could be living in a quaint cabin together. “What was I to you Dream? I was a puppet too, I know, but what role was I suppose—”

“I want you back.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but it was too late. He was only glad that his face was covered by the mask. Fundy stared at him, an incredulous look morphing across his face with every second that ticked by. He watched Fundy pull the kid closer to himself, like he was scared of… of what Dream would do. “Can’t we try again? I could show you my intentions. I-I could convince you why I’m in the right. We-we could work together! We don’t need Wilbur or Tommy, it could just be us! Everyone’s moving on, and everyone’s changing, so why can’t we try again? This would be a new chapter in our lives. Please. Please, come with me. Please, star.”

“You hurt my dad. You hurt my uncle. And now you’re asking me to go with you?”

Fundy laughed, shaking his head. “Fuck you.”

The fox hybrid sighed, turning away from him. “Get out before I call the warden.”

A heavy air fell over the room.

Dream sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Fundy. Goodbye.”

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

Yogurt, you are there in spirit

AKA sleeping while dads argue in front of you

[berjhawn]

Day & Night - Intro

Bruce Wayne / Batman X Reader (Lady Light) x DC 

Warnings: Pushy guys, attempted abduction, men not taking no for an answer, past trauma, lies, ETC

Summary: (name) or Lady Light as she used to be called ran away from her duties (amongst other things) and disappeared to Gotham where she unknowingly meets Batman’s normal counterpart Bruce Wayne. Things happen and Chaos ensues, when it comes down to it will Bruce be able to break down these walls (Name) has built for herself and will he be able to deal with the truth of things. 

(A/N) so this is a little Batman and reader i’ve been working on, it started out as one thing and ended up as something else. it’s already finished so when i’ll have a schedule for the updates. i really hope you guys like it. i’m trying some new things to try to get my mojo back. um... yeah bruce might be a little out of character but i wanted to try sonething out and well we’ll see how it goes. please do not hesitate to tell me what you think. for this story reader will have the ability to chage things about herself so there is no set hair color or eye color. Also yes Lady Light is my OC she is one of a kind so please don’t use her in any other stories. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why had this day turned into shit? I woke up this morning in a good mood. My hair and makeup looked amazing. I made it to work early. I had a decent night of tips. I even met a couple of hot guys who were not total douchebags. Overall, it had been a pretty good day. So why then, on my way home did I have to run into these assholes?

“Hey there baby, looking good.” I hear a male voice say from behind me and I roll my eyes.

Just ignore them.

“What’s the matter sweetheart, you think you’re too good for us?” Another male voice asks, and I clench my fist so tightly that my fingers were turning white.

Keep walking. Do not hurt them.

I keep my thoughts on repeat as I continue down the street until a man twice my size and built like a brick house steps into my path. His brown eyes looking me up and down hungrily. My stomach churned.

“Wanna join us for a little party?” He asks and I narrow my eyes at him.

“No.” I answer my words filled with finality.

“Come on, you don’t mean that.” He adds as he reaches out to touch me.

I instantly step back out of his reach causing his hand to miss my shoulder and fall to his side.

“I do mean it. Now, move while I’m still asking nicely.” I demand making him chuckle at me.

“Or what sweet cheeks? What are you going to do?” He questions moving towards me again and I suddenly realize the guys from before are still there as they stop me from moving back any further.

I feel a hand touch my waist and I instantly slap it away.

“Do not touch me.” I state anger filling my words.

“Come on, just play around with us. You’ll enjoy it.” The man from behind me says and I roll my eyes.

“I seriously doubt that.” I retort making his friends laugh at him.

“Let’s go baby,” The big man says reaching out and grabbing my arms holding it dangerously tight.

“You have three seconds to get your hand off of me.” I warn my jaw clenching.

“Or what? What are you gonna do?” He challenges as he jerks me into his chest.

Fuck this shit.

Using just a hint of my super strength I grab the wrist of the hand that was holding my arm and giving it a quick squeeze make him fall to his knees. A cry of pain leaves his lips making his friends come to his rescue. I feel them move behind me and I smirk as I twist just right to send the big dude flying into them. Wiping my hands against each other, I place them on my hips and cock an eyebrow at my attackers.

“I’m going to give you one more chance. Apologize, and then be on your way.”

“Why would I apologize to some freak?!” The big guy yells and I narrow my eyes.

“Cause if you don’t,” I walk closer to them my eyes slowly starting to glow as brightly as the sun. Fear fills their eyes and I do not even need to finish my sentence. My eyes speak for themselves.

“I’m sorry,” Big guy instantly yells out as he tries to scramble to his feet. His buddies following suit.

“I’m sorry, what?” I add folding my arms over my chest.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” They all yell out and I smile.

“Good, now remember, treat ladies with the respect they deserve, or I’ll find you.” I warn and their faces pale. “Bye-bye.” With a quick wave of my hand, they jump to their feet and race away.

Taking a deep breath, I look to the sky and seeing the moon glowing brightly let out a heavy sigh. I knew Gotham was a dangerous city, but after everything that had happened in Metropolis, I had needed a break. A break from being a hero and fighting crime. Plus, a break from him. My heart winces at the memory and I shake my head.

I force the memory from my head and continue back on my way home. Maybe a tub of ice cream and some take-out would raise my spirits.

~~~

Bruce stood on the roof of a building catty-corner to the alley where the event had taken place. He had watched the altercation with curious eyes. He had met her earlier that day when a Dick had wanted to meet with him at a little restaurant nearby. At first Bruce had been surprised about the location of their meeting but seeing his oldest smile brightly at the beautiful waitress cleared up any questions he had previously had.

Flashback

Bruce walked through the restaurant door and gave the room a once over before his eyes landed on his oldest son’s figure. The boy was smiling brightly as he talked with a (H/C) waitress who had her back towards Bruce. Dick’s eyes glance past her and landing on Bruce give him a quick wave. Bruce unbuttons the buttons on his suit as he closes the distance between them. Reaching the seat, he swiftly slides into the booth seat across from Dick.

“Hey Bruce, glad you could make it.” Dick starts making Bruce nod. “Bruce, this is (Name).”

“Hello.” Bruce says his eyes glancing up to look at her politely but as they move back to look at Dick, he had to do a double take his eyes landing on the beautiful waitress in front of him.

“Hi.” (Name) replies softly a smile filling her lips.

Their eyes meet and Bruce swears that she was like the sun. Her bright smile and shining (E/C) eyes made his heart race in his chest.

“Nice to meet you.” Bruce adds a smirk on his lips.

“Nice to meet you too.” She replies shyly. “What can I get you to eat?”

“I’ll just take a coffee.” Bruce replies quickly and she nods.

“And you’ll have the deluxe?” She adds as she turns back to Dick.

“Yes ma’am.” He replies a smirk filling his lips as he tries to flirt with her.

“Coming right up. I’ll be right back.” She replies smiling at them both before she turns and walks away.

Bruce can’t help but stare after her as she walks away. His eyes unconsciously look her up and down examining every inch of her. From her hair down to her feet which were uncharacteristically in a pair of dark blue high heels. Normal waitresses would not be caught dead in high heels and he would know. He had dated enough of them. The sound of Dick clearing his throat brought Bruce back from his staring.

“I know she’s pretty Bruce, but we have to talk.” Dick jokes making Bruce glare at him.

“What did you need?” Bruce asks as he leans back in his seat.

“Nothing, just wanted to have lunch.” Dick replies making Bruce cock an eyebrow at him.

“Right.” Bruce says leaning forward to rest his arms on the table.

“And I might have wanted to talk to you about Damian.”

“What did he do this time?”

“Knocked over a meth lab over in Bludhaven. Almost got some innocent people killed.”

“I’ll talk with him.” Bruce concludes his eyes catching sight of (Name) as she makes her way back over with his coffee and Dick’s drink.

As she sets the mug of coffee down in front of him, she gives him a sweet smile. Bruce offers a polite smile in return as he reaches out to pull the coffee closer to him.

“Thank you (Name).” Bruce says and her smile brightens.

“You’re very welcome.” She replies a tinge of rouge filling her cheeks.

Bruce had to admit he was having some unsavory thoughts about her at this moment and it was driving him crazy. He usually didn’t feel this way about a woman this fast. He wanted to touch her, but he held back.

“(Name) how long have to you worked here?” Dick asks pulling her attention.

“Only a month or so. I just moved here from Metropolis.” She says and he looks through his eyelashes at her to see that she was surprised at what she had said.

“Metropolis, huh, why would you want to move here?” Dick asks and Bruce must fight the urge to kick his son under the table.

“Well,” She pauses for a moment her eyes turning sad and it made Bruce furious. “I wanted a fresh start, I figured why not Gotham.” She answers honestly making Dick and Bruce eye each other in surprise. People didn’t usually move to Gotham for a fresh start. In fact, they ran from Gotham. “Sorry, but I have to go, if you need anything please don’t hesitate to ask.” She says as she quickly moves away from the table.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Dick asks as they both stare off after her.

Pretty doesn’t cover it.

“I need to go.” Bruce says as he finishes his coffee off. “I’ll talk to Damien.”

“Thanks Bruce, tell Alfred I’ll be late tonight. I have a mission with Babs.” Dick adds and Bruce nods.

Standing up he makes his way toward the door when he almost runs into her. She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was walking and almost ran smack dab into him.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention.” She says quickly as she chastises herself.

“It’s fine (name).” He says and she relaxes. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.” She replies offering him a soft smile. She goes to walk past him when he stops her.

“This might seem forward of me, if it is, I apologize; but if you’d like I can show you around Gotham sometime.” Bruce hears himself ask and even he is surprised. Had he really asked her that?

“Um,” She starts her body radiating how uncomfortable she was.

“I’m sorry, forget I asked.” He quickly adds as he goes to walk past her.

“I’m sorry, wait.” She calls as she gently reaches out to grab his arm. “I’m a little uncomfortable, I won’t lie.” She pauses giving him a chance to turn back to face her. “But I didn’t say no.” She adds and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Oh?” He says and instantly wishes he could smack himself.

“Yeah, um, I’m off tomorrow if that works for you.”

Fuck, he had an important Justice League meeting tomorrow.

“Tomorrow works.” He answers making a mental note to push the meeting to later.

“Cool, um I’ll meet you in Robinson Park about noonish then?” She asks and he nods.

“Works for me.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then Bruce.” She says a bright smile on her lips.

God she was gorgeous.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says flashing her a smile before she rushes off back to work.

End of Flashback

Bruce did not know what to think about what he had just witnessed. Who was she really? The fact that his interest in her wasn’t swayed by the sudden discovery surprised him. Against his better judgement he follows her and when it’s quiet enough he makes his presence known to her.

“Pretty interesting display, you showed back there.” He says making her stop in her footsteps. He watches as she turns towards him with a worried look on her face.

“Are you here to lecture me?” She asks worry turning into anger.

“No, I thought you standing up for yourself was admirable.” He answers honestly and she softens. “What are you doing here in Gotham?”

“Look Bats, I came here to get away from Metropolis, funny I know, considering its right across the bay, but this was the only place I could think of.”

“Who are you really? I’ve seen your eyes before.” Bruce says as he remembers the bright glow of them.

“Can we talk about this inside?” She asks pointing to her apartment building. “Rather not air my dirty laundry out here if you don’t mind. I won’t run, I have no reason too.”

Against Bruce’s better judgement he nods.

“Cool, I’ll open the window when I get there.” She replies as she turns from him and heads into her building.

Bruce moves to the roof as he waits patiently for her to open her window. His mind starts to run wild with thoughts about who she could be. She wasn’t a villain, that was certain. She just did not have that air about her. He had been wrong before though. A few of his exes could attest to that. The window opens and he stealthily makes his way into it.

Will Continue on the 22nd of January.

[theharellan]

Written for Stories of Thedas Volume II. Pairing: Solas & Cole (platonic) Prompt: Library

Masks upon masks. The Winter Palace is strange to Cole, who attends at the Inquisitor's bidding and finds himself at a loss for how to help. Solas comes upon him with ideas for how to cope with the deadly Game.

Read on AO3.

Couples spin on the dance floor, turning and turning, going nowhere and everywhere at once. Their heads fill with daydreams, one gazes into her partner’s eyes through their masks, imagining the hidden corners they could lose themselves in. Another, all he sees is the faint outline of a knife in his companion’s skirts, so all-consuming he almost forgets the steps. A third, their eyes bore holes into the other’s heads, hate springs from love eternal. His eyes dart from one couple to the next, glimpses into minds fraught with thoughts of a Game no one ever really wins.

He breathes in and feels the air catch in his throat. Honeyed words mask the taste of poison, cold compassion, they understand only so they can hurt. It isn’t right, it isn’t fair, it isn’t–

In the blink of an eye he’s in the library, surrounded by pages that whisper the words of yesterday. Not so sharp against his skin. Below, a dead man in the shape of a Warden pretends to stare at a plaque, praying no one will look at him twice, fearing they might see his valourous wings are clipped. It’s still a hurt, a tangle, but he’s trying to help. Cruelty does not become him. He lets out a breath he forgot he was holding, hands coming together to pull at his sleeves.

Oh.

He had forgotten about the uniform. The fabric doesn’t come away at his touch, no matter how hard he tugs.

And he misses his hat.

Cole wonders how long he will wait here, alone with his panic clawing at his throat. In the Spire he spent months isolated, forgotten by all save the one who no longer cares to know him. Suddenly the soft, inviting lights which illuminate the halls of the Winter Palace seem as cold as the dark cells they had kept Rhys in, clapped in irons for crimes Cole committed. Anxiety squeezes every inch of him. He counts the beats of the music that drifts from the distant dance hall, just to assure himself only minutes have passed since he came here.

A door opens behind him, and he nearly jumps into shadow, the Veil waiting to envelop him, drawing him from prying eyes, but a familiar face waits on the other side. “Solas!” he gasps, relieved and ashamed that he had doubted, but grateful most of all.

Solas shuts the door behind him, turning the handle so the latch doesn’t make a sound. “I thought I might find you here.”

That gives Cole pause. He hadn’t known he would find himself here, until it happened. “But I don’t read.” The books here are newer than those kept in the Pit, some hum with the occult, others recount poems about the shape of a woman’s hips, but he still doesn’t read. There isn’t a question in his tone, but Solas hears it, all the same.

“This place can be overwhelming for anyone, even without accounting for your abilities. Books carry meaning, but without eyes upon them those meanings are static. Far easier to take in,” he answers as he walks towards him, gait stiffer than usual. His feet had forgotten what it was like to wear shoes. Solas has been quiet that evening, quieter than usual, the stem of a glass glued between his fingers, bottomless. He lets his hat do his talking for him, the Drasca’s dissent lived on atop his head. He stops beside Cole, leaning upon the marble rail, gloved hands bearing weight. His eyes turn upon him, no brimmed hat to hide behind. “Are you all right?”

He pulls on his sleeves, this time he thinks he feels a thread come loose. “Yes... No? There are two faces for every person.” The Left Hand smiles and laughs, she comes alive, but inside it’s cold and cruel. The rose withers upon the vine. He finds the thread with his finger and pulls, but it doesn’t break. It unravels, further and further, if he keeps going his whole sleeve will be an unspooled mess on the floor. “I don’t know which to look at. I-I don’t know how to help.”

Solas reaches out, subduing his worrying hands with a single, steady touch. A gentle gesture, despite the blood which stains them. Sometimes they do not seem so different from his own, they remember the bodies because forgetting would be worse. Killer’s hands, but there is no deceit in their tenderness. Solas wraps the thread around his finger, string bright white against his brown glove, and he tugs. It snaps, suddenly brittle, and falls to the floor to be swept away by a servant who will never know they were here. A comforting hand is placed deliberately on his shoulder blade, and Cole stills. He inhales, eyes snapping from the abandoned thread to Solas. There is kindness in his eyes, quiet assurance. He has seen this all before and he will make it easier to bear. So many tricks just to make it through a day, an evening, an hour. “You will not find much compassion in these affairs, any help you offer will be perceived as duplicitous, a means to get what it is you desire.”

“Then I… shouldn’t help?”

He hesitates, delaying his answer with a moment’s deliberation. “The choice is ultimately yours, but their comfort should not come at the cost of your peace of mind.” His hand slowly falls from his back as Cole turns his advice around in his head. “While we are waiting for the Inquisitor to call upon us, rather than mend the missing pieces in strangers’ lives, perhaps I may help you.”

“Help me?” He searches Solas’ eyes for answers, compassion seeking solace in pride. They are quiet, revealing only as much as intended. Cole chips at the cracks in the rock and hopes for water to spring forth, but he guards his sorrows like a wolf guards her den.

“Would you care to learn how to dance?”

A dozen thoughts pile into the spirit’s head, most too quick to catch, but he grasps one by the tail. “Do spirits dance?”

Solas claims spirits are people, and each day that belief is realer in Cole’s own mind, reinforced by the Herald and Solas himself. He need not change to be loved, or understood, he need only be himself. But if he is a person, then he is not a person the way Varric is, or Cassandra, or even Solas. There’s a touch of sadness in the corner of his smile, as though he is sorry the question needs to be asked. “I suppose it falls to us to answer together,” he replies patiently with an offered palm.

Uncertain how it will help, but ready to trust that it can, he takes Solas’ hand.

“Listen closely,” he says, but he declines to speak again. Cole’s instruction takes a different turn, a manicured glimpse through a window into Solas’ soul.

“Delicate hand folded like a paper crane between my shoulders, her eyes shine like the gold she deals in when I take to the dance.” Josephine had poured so much into tonight, all her smiles and favours, anything that will see the Inquisition prevail. “She didn’t think you would be asked to dance, but she was afraid if you didn’t learn, someone would.”

“Her time was likely better spent elsewhere,” he agrees, “though nothing would have given me more pleasure tonight than refusing one of Celene’s court. Listen again, parse the thoughts which cloud the memory and see how we move.” Cole nods, and concentrates. He remembers the palm tucked in the valley between Solas’ shoulders, and he moves his there. His feet, too, he moves in line with his hips. It’s strange, focusing upon his own body and the space it takes up in the world. Lighter now that he has chosen compassion, but still very much real, empty only in the seconds the air rushes from the chambers of his lungs.

He feels eyes upon him, questioning, searching for confirmation before the music dares move them. “I’m ready.”

When Solas steps forward, Cole steps back, like they’re two puppets on the same musical string. He clips his strides, travelling farther faster than Solas can hope to without magic to carry him there. Awkward at first, but with each beat he feels him join with the dance that exists in his head. Old melodies, half-remembered, play in distant memories. Like the sky he knew it, once, but made himself forget. Dancing wasn’t always this way, was it?

Solas remembers. Feet too full of motion to keep his thoughts safe in his head, they spill onto the fabric of the world where Cole breathes them like his own. Memories of moving on a dancefloor to a familiar tune, swaying with the stars themselves, spinning until they parted from the earth. He swells with pride, a beast alive beneath his ribcage, it thrives and fights and inspires. When they dance the heavens and the earth move, and an empire holds its breath. It fears what dread the dawn will bring, but his People find freedom in the impromptu steps.

“What are you two doing here?” A voice snaps the string. Halamshiral looks different than it did heartbeats ago, all the magic hidden in dark corners (all the elves, too). When Cole turns to see the servant who disturbed them, he’s surprised to see a bare face behind her plain mask, and a second later cannot recall why.

With silver eyes she stares at him, unblinking. “She can see me.”

“A consequence of our dance, I believe.” Yes, he can feel it. Solas fades with each passing second, growing distant as his hand falls from his waist. “It will fade in a moment.” He speaks as though she is not there, but he’s waiting. It’s another dance, only it’s Cole’s turn to lead.

Cut loose, he turns his attention to the woman. Fear flows through her veins, the dagger beneath her sleeve is ready to open theirs. Beneath the steel, her heart wavers. Stranded between duty and love. “I’m warning you-”

“There’s still time,” he says. “She waits for you beside the fountain where you wished away Your Lady’s collection.” There were wiser things to do with gold, but oh how they’d laughed with every dream plunged into the water.

Cole steps forward and she braces, but not fast enough. “Forget.”

Time is unmade behind her eyes, and she slips the mask from her face to rub the last place she’d been kissed. Gone as quickly as she came, with new purpose in her step.

“It seems you found a way to help someone, after all,” Solas remarks after the library door has shut behind her. “You never fail to impress.”

Something in him shines brighter, bolstered by his pride. “Thank you.” He falters, looking down at his feet, curling his toes inside their boots. “I’d like to try another dance, if you think there’s time.”

A laugh coloured wine red parts Solas’ lips, punctuated by a snort that makes Blackwall down below look around for its source. “I believe there is time for one more,” he says, outstretched palm seeking Cole’s hand. “Since you have devised a way to put off intruders, I daresay we have all the time in the world.”

It isn’t a lie, but neither is it true. Like the golden caprice coins that shine beneath the lovers’ reunion, Solas’ words glow like wishes.

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part III

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

The investigation was still underway a week or so later, still without even a semblance of a lead to go on, or at least not a favourable one. Auntie Purah still had yet to take the Slate into the lab as she’d promised, which was understandable. She was still in deep mourning, after all. I, however, still got up at six o’clock each and every day to make my way to the site, as if the murderer would one day just walk out into the open if I waited long enough.

Truth be told, despite my conscious efforts to suppress it, a part of me deep down was growing weary of one fruitless search after another. Most of the cases I’d led up to this one had been closed within a maximum three days. Admittedly I’d even begun to consider ways to dispose of the fatal evidence I’d been carrying with me since the start of all this. No one but Paya and I knew of its existence, and no one but us would ever have to. Besides, if these egregious felonies truly were the designs of the organization—which they had to be—there was no way I’d ever find any clues leading toward the perpetrator’s true identity, let alone that of their ever elusive boss.

And yet, every morning when I returned to the scene of the crime, with officers bustling about and those who remained of my family sitting quietly in another room, I was reminded of my ultimate purpose. It wasn’t a matter of being able or unable to catch my godmother’s killer. It was one of necessity. Letting them roam the streets as they pleased was not even a part of the equation. I hadn’t spent the better part of the last decade toiling away to reach my current level of authority as a detective investigator simply to throw it all away as soon as my will was tested. That wasn’t what Auntie Impa, nor what Mother, would’ve wanted. I had to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

What happened next, however, would make my distress up until then seem almost laughable.

I was made aware of it via wire on one muggy afternoon at my office, when I’d decided to work on typewriting up some reports. I picked up the phone only to hear the wails of one distraught Auntie Purah on the other end.

“Zelda, it’s terrible!” she cried. “The Slate—Impa’s Slate—I’ve looked everywhere, and so have Paya and Symin and all the men here on duty, but I—it’s...we can’t—we haven’t...” The poor, old woman was hyperventilating, creating awful static noises through the speaker’s papery membrane.

“Auntie, it’s okay. Calm down,” I urged gently. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“Alright...” A few moments of silence went by before I heard her voice again. “Thank you, dear.”

“Not at all. Now, what were you saying about the Slate?”

“It’s been stolen.”

I froze, breath stagnant and eyes glued to the edge of my desk. “It’s—what?”

“Stolen,” she repeated, only deepening the pit forming in my stomach, from where my heart was now pounding. “Right out from under our noses. We’ve searched high and low for it, but there’s been no sign of it, or the thief.”

I had to reign in my voice before I’d start shouting at her. “H-How can you be sure it was stolen?” The vigilant Link’s eyes now bore into me with intensity from his place by the file cabinets.

“The lock on the safe,” blubbered my auntie, “the one in the study that it’s always kept in. You know the one?”

“Yes?”

“It was broken, and the safe was empty.”

“But...that’s impossible.”

“Precisely!” she cried, giving me a start. “I still haven’t the foggiest how they did it.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

With that, I hung up and prepared for immediate departure, my assistant just a few paces behind me. I had to see this for myself.

Surely enough, when we arrived, the safe’s lock was destroyed beyond repair, and there was nothing but dust to be found inside. Unsurprisingly, the thief had been careful to leave no fingerprints behind, just as the killer had been. For now, though, it was too soon to say for certain that the same individual was behind both crimes.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed the lock mechanism had been melted. My eyes widened. “That’s not something you see every day.” Constable Fyori crouched down beside me, then gave a similar reaction when he noticed the cause of my astonishment.

The thief had to have been someone with access to a welding torch or something along those lines. There certainly weren’t many who fit that description, save for the police. In fact, the whole reason they were issued out to a select few officers was for this very purpose, but situations requiring said officers to break locks such as this one using such extreme methods were few and far between. Nevertheless, the possibility stood.

It was for this reason that I finally gave in and decided to take up the case with the chief detective once we’d finished here. As always, Constable Fyori accompanied me thereto.

Chief Bosphoramus’ office was neither too grand nor too modest, not unlike my own, though it still clearly belonged to someone of high rank. It resided on the third floor of the three-storey building where my dear colleague and I made our livelihoods, boasting a broad view of the deceivingly peaceful streets below.

“It seems UC3680G662LL was the only officer on the scene who was equipped with a cutting torch,” relayed the old man, hunched over the records lain across his desk. “Unfortunately, however, he resigned just yesterday.”

I waited a number of seconds for him to follow up with something useful, but to no avail. “So...what? You’re saying we can’t go question him now? Because he ran away?”

He clasped his fingers together in front of him, looking at me like an elementary school principal. “That is what I am saying, yes.”

I wanted to growl like a bear as imitated by a child, but I held it in. “You do realize what this means, don’t you?” I scoffed. “No doubt he was a member of the organization sent to steal the Slate after killing its owner.”

“Now you listen here, Inspector.” The chief’s tone turned serious. I closed my mouth. “You of all people should know that not a single square inch of this town is safe. Not even this precinct.”

“Yes, but Sir, surely you agree that this entire case has ‘Yiga’ written all over—”

“Are you mad?!”

His thundering voice made Link and I jump. The room fell silent, the chief’s eyes flickering between the door and the open window behind him.

Then he rose from his seat to close the shutters. “Have you some sort of death wish?” he continued at an infinitesimal volume in comparison.

I bit my tongue, restraining the urge to retort with, “Whose fault is that?” for I knew I would only be spinning my wheels. There’d once been a saying in this city: “When one sheep leads the way, all the rest follow.” And Chief Detective Bosphoramus was a perfect reflection of this. Every last member of the force was the same. Weak-willed curs. Shirking from their sworn duties and hiding away behind their shields of specious ignorance.

But despite the virus of cowardice festering throughout the bureau, my partner’s lasting air of calm resignation reminded me that no one could truly blame those affected by it.

The power that the Yiga organization possessed over the town was beyond compare. Those on City Council were nothing more than their puppets, and likewise were the police. Fear and massacre were the whips they raised to drive us all into submission and to punish any and all who had the will remaining to fight. But the one group who’d dared to challenge their might, who’d stood tall ever in the face of their tyranny, had been my godmother’s company. Thanks to her intelligent mind and righteous heart, the people had been given access to technology that would keep them safe, to a degree, from crime, and little by little, the company had developed into a beacon of hope for the town and its inhabitants. Until now.

Now, that hope had been snuffed out, like it had never been anything more than a week and vulnerable candle flame, flickering faint against the darkness of obscurity, in the first place.

Later that evening, when my gaze happened upon the knife block sitting on my kitchen counter at home, my steps halted. The scars on my arms left over from my last couple of years in secondary school—the period in my life following the yet unexplained events that had taken away the one I’d cherished most—had only just begun to fade. Even so...

I shook my head, turning my back to the kitchen. But then, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder once more. I recalled the rush of adrenaline that took hold each time my skin was breached by icy steel. It was true that letting my emotions control me would get me nowhere, but maybe...maybe just this once, I could at least do something to assuage them.

Then the image of the gaping, dark red hole running straight through Auntie Impa’s neck flashed before my eyes. I covered my mouth, quickly swallowing the bile rising up from the bottom of my throat. The idea slipped my mind that very instant.

It wasn’t until the following day’s investigation that a substantial piece of the puzzle finally revealed itself to me.

For it to have taken a whole two days to find wasn’t all that unbelievable. Even I had to admit, although my stepsister was a spineless, tattling suck-up who’d always received far more credit and affection than she was worth, no one could have imagined her ever turning criminal.

Even so, I was certain that what I discovered there in her bedroom went against the expectations of all. Upon my entering, a faint glow of teal and tangerine peaking through the floorboards caught my eye. I went to lift the plank doing such poor work of hiding the thing from sight. There it was, unscratched and in perfect working condition, its screen lighting up and displaying that dastardly riddle I’d been confronted with several days prior and still didn’t know the answer to.

Although the mystery of where it had disappeared to had been solved, its reason for being here of all places was still unclear. Why would Paya have gone to such lengths just to get her hands on the Slate? It was difficult to imagine there being any information contained therein that she would want so direly to be kept secret from the world. She and her grandmother had been close since before I’d become a part of their family as a six-year-old.

Then something hard and marble-sized went flying across the floor when struck by the pointed toe of my shoe. I gave chase, soon realizing what it was when it slowed to a halt just before the south-facing wall of the room:

A bullet.

I didn’t even need to perform a striation comparison; anyone could clearly see that it matched the one I’d pried out of my mother’s memorial shrine. Whatever blood might’ve been here at one point must have simply been wiped up, and she must have stolen Link’s revolver with whatever methods she’d used to steal the Slate. Without a doubt, this room was the true crime scene I’d sought after since day one of the investigation.

But even in the face of this victory, I could hear the voices of those who would oppose me ringing in my ears. “Paya’s the mastermind?” they jeered. “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?” But at this point, this case had already pushed me far beyond the boundaries of my patience. I didn’t have a single damn left to give about how flawed my logic might or might not have been. All that mattered now was that I had a suspect, and so help me, if I was correct in my line of thinking as suggested by the evidence, this criminal would receive no mercy.

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 10 (Finale)

“Under the Knife” - Part 10 (Finale)

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,800-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, talk of violence, talk of death

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: Well, we are finally at the final chapter. This has been such an incredibly challenging story to work on, but I have learned so much from this process that will no doubt help shape my future stories.

Thank you to all of the readers who have liked, reblogged, commented, messaged, and reached out to me. This has been the best response I’ve gotten on a story and it has filled me with a level of appreciation that I wasn’t expecting. <3 

With the sappy stuff out of the way, please enjoy the final chapter of “Under the Knife.”

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy​ @a-person-unlabled​ @germansarechill​ @rentheanonymous​ @liadamerondjarin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Taking into account that Henry Urik was left-handed, I was able to throw my head back, causing him to falter, and then lean to my right in order to escape his grasp and not have my throat sliced open. This gave me enough time to get back to the table and get my hands on the gun.” 

“Unfortunately, the gun was empty. It’s common for killers to use unloaded or fake guns as intimidation techniques with their victims. My mistake gave Henry enough time to stabilize himself and grab hold of me again, resulting in a mild concussion and being knocked unconscious until a few hours later. Luckily Dr.Lecter was able to fight, thus saving me until Special Agent Crawford and his team could come.” You looked around and saw a few people taking notes while others just nodded their heads. Checking your watch, you saw that you had a few more minutes left to fill up. “And with that, I have time for one or two questions before we leave.”

The lights faded up a little bit, nothing too harsh for you. You quickly scanned over the larger than the normal crowd in your lecture hall. 

The fact that you, a survivor of the Virginia Scalpel, were giving a lecture on the case had attracted the minds of not only your normal trainees but the higher-ups as well. 

It was a slightly dizzying feeling to see the faces of management in your lecture hall, but that could also be the still healing minor concussion from a serial killer slamming you into a table a little less than a week ago. Either way, you took this time to sit on your desk and drink some water as you pointed to one of the trainees in the first row.

“I don’t want to bring up anything too triggering, ma’am, but I--”

“Kid, if I wasn’t okay enough to jump back into the shitstorm named Henry Urik, I wouldn’t have agreed to be here today.” A scattering of chuckles echoed through the hall. You were glad to hear that your lighthearted comment helped ease the tension in the room. “Please, continue. I’ll be okay, I promise.” The agent nodded and took a breath, whatever they were going to ask must have been weighing on their mind enough to scare them. You could tell that they were trying to hide it, but your ability to read people's subtleties was strong.

“Thank you, ma’am. I wanted to ask for your advice. What should we be aware of if we’re ever in a similar situation with an unstable or unpredictable suspect? What do we do?” 

You nodded and thought for a moment before you responded. You had a feeling that this type of question would come up now or through an email later on. Fiddling with your ring, you spoke.

“To be honest, you have to be able to assess everything at the moment. I may have seemed to have a handle on the situation externally, but internally? I was a quivering, frantic, and terrified mess. With Henry’s focus being solely on me, I knew I couldn’t just sit there. I knew that if I froze, it could have cost not only my life but also Hannibal’s.” You took a deep inhale through your nose before continuing. The thought of losing Hannibal hurt your heart. “My advice: really focus on the suspect. What are they saying? How are they saying it? What are they doing? Are there any mannerisms o-or phrases that hint at any sort of soft spot?” 

You held up a finger and turned to your computer, scrolling back through your presentation until you found the slide you were looking for. It was a diagram showing how all of the victims tied to Henry as well as Henry’s symptoms. You turned back towards your class.

“While I knew a majority of this information before my encounter with Dr.Urik, I only knew the facts at face value. When he and I talked about his experiences with all of these doctors, Henry let his anger and annoyance towards these men out. His voice changed from the seemingly calm and confident man that had just had a gun pointed at me, to a frustrated patient who just wanted answers that he believed in.”

“Now if we want to talk about more physical tells, that is the premise for another lecture entirely. You can tell a lot about a person without either of you having to utter a word.”

You looked at the trainee, they were watching you, truly listening to everything you had to say. From the almost unnoticeably tensed jaw to the stiff posture, this future agent was using all of their power not to tremble in fear at the thought of being in a scenario like this. You saw the fear in their eyes.

“As long as you breathe, remember your training, and let yourself fully assess the situation at hand, you’ll do the best you can do. Trust me, there were two very distinct moments that night where I thought and accepted the possibility that I was going to die. That’s a risk we all take with this job. But I focused on what I could do next and kept going. And that’s what you’ll learn throughout your time in training and in the field. You cannot stop, you have to keep going.”

You ended with a smile directly to the trainee to try to calm their nerves even a little bit. They visibly took a deep breath and nodded, giving you a quiet “thank you” before writing something in their notebook. Your saw movement out of the corner of your eye. Will and Hannibal were now standing off to the side, letting you know that you were almost done. Will was more rigid than usual. You assumed he heard the part about accepting death and he did not like that thought. 

Hannibal caught your eye as he tapped his watch. Nodding, you looked back to the class, prepared to dismiss them. That was until you saw a hand near the back. Before you could say or do anything, the man with the raised hand spoke. 

“How were you able to confirm the Scalpel’s motive? What stood out with him that made him suspect number 1?” You took a slightly larger breath as you realized it was one of the assistant directors speaking. Blinking a few times and gathering your thoughts you tried to sound as professional as you could. 

“Well, we originally were looking for an active doctor. Someone who could have access to the equipment and drugs needed for these killings. But then we realized that it could be a former doctor who was now a patient of these doctors.” You gestured to the slide projected behind you. “As for motive, we could only theorize until we talked to Henry himself. And while talking to him face-to-face last week revealed a lot, we cannot actually confirm anything when it comes to his psyche.”

“But you said it yourself, he was frustrated at the answers that these doctors had given him. So wouldn’t the Virginia Scalpel murders be crimes of passion, making his motive emotional overload?” The man spoke. You were thrown off just a bit, but found your way back to correct wording.

“They actually weren’t crimes of passion. Those are usually impulsive and emotionally driven. The Virginia Scalpel crime scenes, especially that of Dr.Pencalt and his wife, showed us that Henry was methodical and purposeful.” 

“Yes, there could have been an emotionally charged aspect to it. He was upset with these men. I theorized with Dr.Lecter and Special Agent Crawford that these killings could have been some sort of pain relief for his headaches. The act of slaying these men took all of his focus, alleviating the pounding in his head.” 

“At one point, he said that killing was a form of mercy and life could be considered torture. So he could very well have just wanted to spare them from this mortal coil. Or maybe Henry saw these murders as a way of honoring them. Maybe there was even a thrill-seeking aspect that he got a kick from.” You stood up from your spot on your desk, feeling yourself getting a bit weary after so much talking over the last hour or so, and tried to politely wrap this all up.

“Where I’m going with this is the fact that we can theorize all we want-- Hell, we can even settle on what we believe his motive was. But that’s all it’ll be: A belief. We will never truly know because Dr. Urik was found dead in the woods behind his former office building, stabbed a handful of times, and had enough of his own paralytic drug in his system to take down an ostrich.”

They were out of your sightline, but Hannibal and Will both smirked at how well you had handled the situation. It wasn’t often that managerial positions were proven wrong in front of a classroom full of people. However, both of their smiles slowly fell as the assistant director continued.

“I guess his death is a breath of fresh air, right? You can sleep at night knowing that the Virginia Scalpel is no longer out there. No more target on your back.” The assistant director tried to say that as a lighthearted joke. Something to lighten the mood. But you forced a pained smile and spoke your mind.

“Yes. I am thankful that I don’t have to worry about a scalpel cutting into my cheek again, or almost slicing my throat, or finding Dr. Lecter chopped into pieces in his bed or maybe even Henry breaking his pattern and going after the last bit of family that I have left. I guess sleeping should be easier, shouldn’t it?” 

You looked directly at the man as you spoke, the gravity of your situation and the insensitivity of his statements hitting him. You shifted your gaze to the trainees that were in the first few rows and continued, straightfaced. 

“But I am curious as to what he would have to say and how that perspective could have helped us catch others like him. I hope that you all can find that same curiosity as I do. If we can catch them and talk to them, we could learn what makes them tick and get information that could help us catch the next one before it's too late.” You let a beat of silence pass, letting your words sink into the minds of the young ones. “Thank you all for your time. For questions regarding the Virginia Scalpel case, please contact Special Agent Crawford and he will see if you are authorized to view the file notes. If you need to reach me for any reason other than the Virginia Scalpel case, you all have my email. Stay safe out there.” 

You turned away from the class and shut down your computer, trying to gather your things as the room applauded. You raised a hand as a way of saying “thank you but please stop” and they all filed out of the room. 

“I think that went well despite Assistant Director Ass-Hat’s commentary at the end there” Will made his way to you, grabbing your jacket from the chair behind you and holding it in his hands, gripping it tighter than normal as if doing so would solidify in his brain that you were here and safe.

“Thanks. For someone with a shaken brain, I think I did pretty good today.” You joked back at your brother. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the beginnings of his brain spiraling with worry. 

If he was being honest, Will still hasn’t fully gotten over the events of last week. It was his exact fear almost coming true. And while he was forever thankful that you were alive today, he was worried that this near-death experience wouldn’t be enough to stop you from continuing to work active cases. The fact that you wanted to give this presentation so soon after you were released from the hospital validated his worry more and more.

“I still think it’s too soon for you to be back here.” 

“If you had your way, I would never step foot near this building again, Will.” You joke over your shoulder as you slide your laptop into your bag. “But I also think that that is just your way of trying to get me to be a 24/7 dog sitter.” Will huffed out a breath that sounded like a dry chuckle.

“I’m not saying that, but if you ask Winston or the others, I’m sure they would be all for that idea.” 

You finally turn fully to Will and lightly smack his arm. His face fades from a small smile to an unmasked face of worry as he looks down at the jacket in his hands that he is still fiddling with.

“I know this isn’t going to change your decision on whether or not you stay with Jack’s team, but I really don’t like that idea.” 

“You said the same thing the first time we had this conversation.”

“Yes, but that was before you got seriously injured while working a case.”

“I wasn’t seriously injured.” Will was going to interject, but you kept talking. “But I understand. What we do is dangerous. But I’m going to say the same thing I said last time: I have the chance to save lives, and that is a good enough reason for me to stay.” 

Before either of you could continue, Hannibal finally made his way over. His hand landed comfortably on your lower back for a long moment to alert you of his presence. 

You and Hannibal had talked about your mutual feelings for one another and agreed to start exploring a romantic relationship. That being said, you haven't told Will yet. Luckily, the gesture from Hannibal was easily passed as friendly to your unknowing brother.

“The assistant director wanted me to pass along his apology, (Y/N). He didn’t mean to insult you with his statements.” You waved your hand dismissively.

“I know he didn’t mean to. But it was a nice excuse to hand a ‘powerful male’ his ass in front of a whole room. I’m sure his ego will bounce back in no time.” You let a devilish smirk grace your features, earning a smile from Hannibal and a chuckle from Will. 

Hannibal looked to Will and saw how he was holding your jacket. Hannibal just offered his hand.

“I can take that, Will. You should go. You don’t want to be late for your own lecture. I will make sure your sister is safe.” 

The hospital discharged you, but you were still healing. The cut on your cheek was almost healed, but you kept a bandage on it to be safe. A scar would surely form, permanently reminding you of your first case. Most people would associate it with the fear of impending doom by the hands of a serial killer. But you were actually okay with it. You saw it as a reminder of what you were able to survive.

The most inconvenient thing was that you weren’t allowed to drive yourself. Between the healing concussion and the medications you were on, driving was not the safest thing. So Hannibal and Will took it upon themselves to compare schedules and be your drivers. 

When Hannibal had afternoon patients or had to work late on something, you would stay with Will. On days where Will was needed at work, you would stay with Hannibal. Sometimes you would stay in their homes, and sometimes they would crash on your couch. Well, Will would crash on your couch. Hannibal would share the bed with you, protecting you from anything that would try to get you physically or mentally. 

Even when you decided to stay at Hannibal’s home, you felt safe. The dining room was a bit haunting. But you knew that no matter what, if something felt off or if you were in any sort of danger, Hannibal would step up and help the best he could. 

Your boys (and the dogs) made sure you were safe no matter where you were.

 If there was anyone Will trusted to watch over you, it was Hannibal. He was the reason you weren’t the Scalpel’s ninth victim.

Will just nodded and struggled to hand over the jacket. Your heart ached because you knew how easily concerned he got when it came to you. But you could also see that he was trying to let go of some of that worry, letting himself see that Hannibal was a safe man to have in your life. You closed the gap between you and Will and wrapped your arms around him, feeling how tense and distraught he was. 

“I will text you as soon as I get home, alright?” Will nodded his head as he squeezed you just a bit tighter. You squeezed back, knowing he needed the reassurance. He pulled away and you patted his shoulder. “Don’t give your kids too much shit today.” 

You both snorted, knowing there was some truth behind the joke. Will said goodbye to Hannibal and left the room, leaving you and Hannibal alone. 

As much as you wanted to hurry up and get out of here, you had to lean against the desk as you zipped up your bag, really feeling your lack of energy now.

“Are you alright?” Nodding, you took a sip from your water bottle before speaking.

“Yes? Did a lot of talking and thinking today. I think I’m starting to get tired.” You let a chuckle-esque exhale come through your nostrils. “Gotta build my energy back up.”

Hannibal stood in front of you, gently placed your jacket down on the desk, and took one on your hands in his. To any normal person, it just looked like he was holding your hand to comfort you. But you knew him. He was gathering data: Pulse, temperature, if your hands were clammy, and whatever else he could find out. But he was also holding your hand to comfort you a little.

After determining your vitals to be manageable, he lifts his hand to brush a few strands of hair from your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek for a moment.

“I think it's time to go home and rest, don’t you?” Hannibal proposed. You nodded and grabbed your jacket from next to you.

“My place or yours?”

“Your choice, my love.” You couldn’t help but smile at the new and special sobriquet that Hannibal had started using more frequently. Hannibal kissed the back of your hand before helping you stand up, putting your hand on his arm to guide you out.

“I think my place tonight. And maybe we can stop at the store on the way and you can finally show me how to cook something worthy of the esteemed food artist, Hannibal Lecter?” Hannibal smirked at your dramatics.

“Do you think you’ll have the energy for that?” 

“No. But I’d still like to try.” You leaned towards Hannibal and felt a pleading smile make its way across your face, knowing Hannibal was already going to agree to your idea. He still pretended to think it over before nodding. 

“That sounds like a lovely evening.” You felt yourself wiggle just a bit out of happiness, Hannibal smiled at the cuteness of the motion.

Hannibal reached out and touched the doorknob, but before he could open the door, you were distracted by your phone buzzing in your pocket. When you looked at the caller ID, your feet stopped moving and your heart dropped. You couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or excitement. Maybe a weird mix of both.

Hannibal turned to you, watching your face carefully as you answered.

“(Y/N) speaking.” 

“How you feelin’, (Y/N)?” You hadn’t heard Jack’s happy voice in a while. You weren’t sure if this one was real or fake. So you proceeded with caution.

“I’ve been better, but I’m also doing a lot better compared to a few days ago.” 

“Good. Good...” Crawford trailed off, his mind obviously on something else. 

There was an awkward silence. You knew Jack was trying to figure out how to phrase something without stressing you out after the last couple of weeks. You knew what that something was and you appreciated the effort to try and not overwhelm you, but you didn’t like this small talk part. So you took a deep breath before kick-starting the conversation that you knew Jack was trying to ease into.

“I get the feeling that this isn’t a social call, is it, Jack?”

“No. It is not, (Y/N). We have another odd case that we could use your help with.” 

You felt your thumb subconsciously go to wiggle your ring. You knew this conversation was going to happen eventually, but even knowing that didn’t lessen the anxiety you felt. Hannibal stepped closer and took your hand in his, lightly running his thumb across your knuckles. You knew he was trying to ease your mind with the small gesture. You mouthed “Thank you” to him and smiled. 

Jack continued before you could say anything. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. But the sooner the better.”

“How about I get back to you tomorrow afternoon?” You stated more than asked. Jack agreed to that and hung up. Hannibal could see that you weren’t stressed but you also weren’t excited. 

“I take it Agent Crawford wants to borrow your mind again?” You nod your head, going back and forth in your mind about whether or not to take him up on his offer again or let yourself rest for a bit longer. “What’s stopping you from saying yes?”

“Not much to be honest.” You look at Hannibal and see him watching you, ready to react to anything you say or do. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” 

“Could you be my partner, Hannibal?” You ask and almost fear his response. You didn’t want to be a burden. But very quickly you are met with that lovely rare smile of his. 

“It would be an honor to be your partner, in life and on a case.” You smile as you lean towards him and he meets you halfway, pecking your lips softly, his hand smoothing its way to your back. The two of you pull away and he ushers you out of the room. “After all, someone has to protect that beautiful and reckless mind of yours.” 

You shot Hannibal a look as the two of you walked to his car, ready for one more relaxing night before jumping right back into the chaos.

[ilovefandoms102]

Part 3

Summary: You confront Sirius about his childish behavior, and some Slytherins happen to overhear your arguing. 

Taglist:

@judayyyw @bannerbubble

Part 1  Part 2 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Note: As always let me know what you guys think!

=======================

“I can’t believe you,” I sneered once Sirius and I made it out to the hallway.

“What?” Sirius asked, obviously getting agitated with me. 

“You’re a hypocrite that’s what you are Sirius!” I shouted at him, walking faster to get away from him.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Sirius shouted back at me.

“You and James pick and pick at Severus, and that’s exactly what your family does to you! And do you like it? No, you came to live with us!” I yelled, spinning around to face him once we got to a quieter space.

“That’s different Jags, and you know it.” Sirius whispered, looking at the ground.

“No it isn’t Sirius, it’s still bullying. You need to stop the childish nonsense. There is no reason you should be so cruel to Severus, he’s done nothing to you.” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“He hangs out with bloody Mulciber and Avery, and you know what they’re apart of,” he whispered.

“Even if they are death eaters Sirius, it’s none of our business unless they actively hurt someone because of their influence.” I said angrily.

Someone cleared their throat, we turned to see who it was. Well, speaking of the devil himself. Mulicer and Avery, along with several other Slytherins stood in front of us. 

“Relationship troubles Black?” Mulciber asked, walking past with a few fellow Slytherins.

“Wouldn’t be any of your business if I was Mulciber.” Sirius scoffed, pulling me with him to get away from them. 

The group stepped in front of us, some of them going behind us. We were surrounded. I grabbed Sirius’s arm, clutching my wand that was in my robe pocket. These Slytherins were ruthless, it was rumored that they were death eaters. People who were following a dark wizard to wipe out muggle borns and half bloods. Sirius’s family was in the sacred circle, or his parents were anyway. This dark wizard only inviting blood supremacists to join him. I stood on the other side of Sirius so my back was to him, ready if the people behind us tried to attack.

“Going somewhere Black? Potter?” Avery asked, whipping his wand out.

“Are you that threatened by us Mulciber that you had to bring all your little friends?” Sirius taunted, no doubt making the situation worse. 

“Sirius shut the hell up!” I gasped, watching as the boy in front of me pulled out his wand. I acted before he did, not letting him get the upper hand.

“Expelliarmus!” I yelled, flicking my wand. 

The boy in front of me, Lucius Malfoy, snarled at me. He retrieved his wand before firing a nonverbal spell at me. I blocked it with ease, both of us firing spells back and forth. I could feel Sirius’s movements at my back, him and Avery in a duel while Mulciber sat and watched. 

“Can’t even fight your own battles can you Mulciber!” Sirius laughed.

“Sirius are you trying to make things worse!” I yelled at him, but that split second I turned was the worst mistake I could have made.

“Crucio!” Lucius yelled.

“NO!” Sirius screamed.

I screamed loudly, the other Slytherins laughing at my pain. In that moment I was terrified, I was completely immobilized by the severe pain the spell had caused me. It felt like every bone in my body was breaking, I could feel each string of pain flowing down my body. I fell to the ground, twitching and convulsing from the pain. Lucius stood above me, his wand pointed at me. He had a sinister grin on his face, the image haunting. 

I now knew why that spell was apart of the Unforgivable Curses. I wanted to curl into a ball and die right then and there, tears were pouring down my face. My head fell to the side, my eyes trying to make sense of my surroundings. I could hear shouting, but it sounded as if I were in a tunnel. The sounds echoing in my ears, a ringing sound drowning every word. Then Sirius appeared in front of me, his form blurry as I was on the verge of passing out.

“Jags! Can you hear me? Sweetheart can you hear me?” he asked, pushing some hair out of my face.

“P-Pads I-I...it hurts” I croaked, barely managing to get the words out.

“I know darling, I’m going to take you to your room ok? I’m going to carry you.” Sirius said, hoisting me up before I could protest. I grunted as he adjusted me in his arms.

“I-I-m s-sorry Siri,” I whispered, burying my face in his neck. 

“What for love?” he asked quietly.

“What I said e-earlier, I like that you live with us..I didn’t mean that in a bad way.” I mumbled.

“I know my darling, I know.” he sighed.

========================

We got to the common room, the rest of our group already there. My brother jumping up from his spot beside Lily as soon as we walked in. Remus looking at me with concerned eyes, Peter’s eyes widened from his chair across from Remus.

“What the fuck happened?!” James demanded.

“What in the world?” Remus gasped.

“We were in a duel with Mulciber and Malfoy” Sirius grunted, setting me on the couch. Lily wrapped me in a blanket, grabbing some tea for Sirius and I.

“Sis, are you ok?” James asked, bending down to be in front of me.

“He used the Cruciatus curse on me James, Merlin’s beard I never want to go through that ever again.” I sobbed, Sirius setting on the arm of the couch by my head to stroke my hair. 

“That son of a bitch!” James yelled, standing up and pacing to the door.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Lily asked, standing to her feet.

“I’m going to find him, and kill him.” James gritted through his teeth.

“James no please, I don’t want you to get hurt!” I cried, Sirius laid a kiss on the crown of my head before going towards my brother.

“Come on mate, I already took care of it. Don’t upset her even more.” Sirius spoke softly to James who was still breathing heavily. 

“Prongs, you can’t just go out willy nilly, you have to think this through. If someone catches you-” Remus piped up from the table he was sitting at. 

“That bastard hurt my sister!” he shouted.

“Yes James, but you can’t just go by yourself!” Lily exclaimed. 

“Watch me Evans,” he sneered, walking through the portrait.

“James Potter don’t you dare!” Lily yelled, charging after him. 

We could hear their bickering as they walked down the hall, all of us frozen in our spots. I rubbed at my temples, a headache starting to form from how exhausted I felt. I started to get up from the couch before Sirius stopped me. 

“Woah now, take it easy Jagsy.” he said, taking hold of my arms when I almost toppled over. 

“I’m fine, I think I’ll head off to bed now. I’m exhausted.” I mumbled.

“Goodnight Jagsy, glad to see you’re alright love.” Remus said, smiling at me.

“Night Moony,” I said, smiling back at him.

“Goodnight guys,” Peter said.

“I’ll see you all later,” Sirius said, starting to follow me.

“I’m ok Sirius, stop hovering over me.” I sighed, starting up the stairs to my room. I heard footsteps behind me, turning to see Sirius behind me. I gave him a quizzical look.

“I want to make sure you get in alright,” he said, catching up to where I was on the stairs. 

“Pads,” I huffed.

“I’m not taking no for an answer Potter.” he said firmly, taking my hand as we walked to my room.

We made it to the room I shared with Lily, Sirius taking a seat on my bed. I gathered my pajamas, and other stuff I needed to get ready for bed. Sirius laying back on my bed, putting his hands behind his head. 

“Making yourself comfortable eh Pads?” I laughed.

“Your bed is much comfier than mine love, I’m staying with you from now on.” he sighed, closing his eyes.

“I don’t know how Lil would feel about that.” I said hesitantly. 

“So you wouldn’t mind me staying here if Evans didn’t room with you?” he asked, cracking a smile. 

“Ok. I’m going to get ready for bed.” I said, embarrassed that I walked into that. 

He laughed as I walked to the bathroom down the hall. I sat my stuff on the counter, taking a moment to process what happened today. I had never been in a duel that made me fear for my life. I could have died if Sirius hadn’t of been there with me. I thought about that war that’s upcoming, it disturbed me that people here at Hogwarts were joining the evil side. I shook my head, ridding myself of the thought, I got ready for bed. I walked back into my room, Sirius still laying on my bed. He had moved himself under the covers, his shirt laying on the floor.

“Are you spending the night Siri?” I chuckled, moving towards the bed. 

“I’m so comfy I don’t want to get up.” he mumbled, reaching his arms out to me. 

I snuggled close to him, burying my face in his neck. I inhaled his scent which calmed me more than my shower did. I was so in love with this man, I wished more than anything that he could be mine. I wish I could read his mind, see what goes on in that curly head of his. 

“Sirius,” I whispered, pulling back to look at his handsome face.

“Yes darling?” he asked, opening his eyes to look at me.

“I was really scared today...I-If you hadn’t been with me-” I whimpered, tears resurfacing.

“Shhh now darling, it’s all over now. I won’t ever let anything like that happen to you again. I don’t like you being hurt...” Sirius whispered, wiping away my tears with his thumbs.

“You won’t always be with me Siri,” I sighed.

“I could if you wanted me to baby,” he smirked, a playful gleam in his eyes.

“I would kill you if you were attached to me 24/7 Pads.” I chuckled.

“We’re in most of our classes together this year darling, better start getting used to it.” he smiled, kissing my nose.

We talked for a little while longer, most of it was Sirius cracking corny jokes to make me laugh. My spirit feeling much lighter than it did before. All because of this man beside me. My best friend, partner in crime, and the love of my life. The last part something he will never know. I got sleepy to the point I could barely hold my eyes open, struggling to stay awake.

“Go to sleep love,” Sirius whispered.

“Night Siri,” I yawned.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” he whispered.

[echotrinityme]

Foolish Chapter 6: A Capture

Henry was sitting alone beside a piece of white wall, he was drawing in the dirt with his switchblade. He absentmindedly drew circles and random stuff like butterflies, he was still avoiding Rupert.

Earlier, he heard Rupert's tone and he sounded desperate. He wondered if he also felt remorseful too...he doubt it.

A ladybug landed on his hand and he observed it wistfully, he wished he was the ladybug right now. A carefree bug with nothing to worry about, bugs didn't have to worry about relationships trouble.

He thought about his previous relationship, back when he was still a criminal. The person he was with before wasn't...a good person to say at least.

His name was Spike, he was a leader of a gang called the Rejects. Spike was mean, manipulated, charismatic, and had a high opinion of himself.

How did he managed to get with Spike in the first place was a mystery to Henry, he was desperate for companionship so he saw a opportunity.

Henry was in love with him even though Spike was bad news, however the relationship became more unhealthy and abusive as time goes.

Henry was lucky to get out of there as soon as possible, but since then he has trust issues. Not until he got arrested by Rupert Price, for some reason he wanted to connect with him.

So he started flirting with him, then it led to one of the best sex he had. Then when Henry joined the Government, he and Rupert started a friends with benefits relationship.

Henry promised himself that he wouldn't fall in love after what happened with Spike but he managed to fall in love with Rupert, however he suspected that Rupert doesn't feel the same way and he was right.

His words came into his mind and he wanted to sob but couldn't. He was numb and wanted to go crawl into a cave and die, he also slept with Calvin which made him angry at himself.

He sighed and blew the ladybug away, he watched it fly and he went back to doodling. He was so busy mulling over his problems that he didn't hear footsteps coming towards him.

Rupert came up to him quietly and he  sat down next to him, he stared at him but Henry didn't look at him. Rupert cleared his throat and Henry glanced up at him in fear.

"You ok?" asked Rupert, tentatively.

Henry shrugged his shoulders and went back to drawing, Rupert bowed his head down in and he stared at Henry's drawings.

"Look, I...I...wanted to say..." stammered Rupert, he was struggling to talk.

Henry glanced up at him again, he watched as Rupert was struggling to say he wants to say. Rupert was getting nervous, he didn't think of a way to talk to him.

Henry was getting annoyed with him, he stood up making Rupert jumped in surprise. He started to walk until Rupert roughly grabbed his arm, he was immediately pulled into Rupert's chest.

He tried to get away from him but Rupert's grip was strong, he quickly wrapped his arms around his waist. Henry stopped and he blushed,Rupert also blushed.

Rupert didn't plan on doing this but it made Henry stopped. They both stayed like that for a couple of minutes until Henry made a noise that snapped them out of their fantasy world.

"Why do we keep doing this?" whispered Henry.

"I don't know..." replied Rupert.

They still stayed like that for a few more minutes,until a noise interrupted them. They both turned to see the source of the noise, but didn't see anything.

Rupert got out his gun he carried if he  didn't have his sniper, Henry also got his gun. They both took an attack stance, and suddenly a dart came towards them.

They both dodged and the dart landed on the ground, Rupert saw a two Toppat members coming out. They were about shoot until Rupert shot their dart guns from their hands, they rub their sore hands and got out their daggers and started to attack them. Henry grabbed his own dagger and dodged, he kicked the other's dagger and before he can go farther into fighting the Toppat, a pair of arms grabbed him.

They wrapped around his neck and a click of a gun stopped everyone in their tracks, Rupert turned to see Henry captured a tall man with a red long mustache and a black tophat. He was wearing a fancy beige suit signalling his status as one the higher ups of the Toppat clan, the other two Toppats bowed and seized Rupert.

"Who the fuck are ya?" exclaimed Rupert, as he was struggling to get free.

"Heh heh, the name's is Right Hand Man." he replied darkly.

He tightened his hold on Henry making him wince, and Rupert face fell with sadness and anger.

"What do ya want?" demanded Rupert, he was still struggling. "How did ya managed to find us, without detecting the others?"

Right chuckled as he watched Rupert trying to escape his minions' grip but was failing, he looked down to see Henry was also trying to escape but couldn't cause of his strong grip. He smirked at him and Rupert and resumed to speak with them.

"We want him." he admitted evilly, gesturing to Henry.

"Why?" asked Rupert, he was bewildered on why they need Henry. He hadn't committed crimes since he was pardoned by the Government.

"He was one the best criminals in the history and he wasted on being a pathetic, government scum. We need him for our clan."

Rupert snarled at them and began to fight the Toppats again when Right told him something that made him froze in fear, "Nah uh, not so fast." he said lowly. He used his head to signal some other Toppats to come out.

"We think you might be interested in a little trade."

When the other members came out, they were holding a hostage but not just any hostage; It was Dave Panpa.

Dave was struggling and he gasped in shock when he saw Rupert and Henry, he was glad to see Rupert and was confused on why Henry as there. He was also crying and he looked like a wreck, Rupert growled again.

"You seem like you know our hostage." sneered Right Hand Man. "Here's the deal. We will give you him if you give us Henry."

There was a heavy silence after that ultimatum, Rupert felt his heart stopped and trembled for a bit in rage. He was given a choice... a tough choice, it was like time went slow and everything else was put into mute.

Rupert was contemplating his choices; if he chose Henry, Dave will be their prisoner. If he chose Dave, he'll be set free and they will have Henry. Rupert glanced at Henry and Dave, they both had worried looks on their faces. He sighed heavily and bowed his head in shame.

"Release Dave." whispered Rupert, softly.

"What?" asked Right, gleefully.

"Release Dave!" bellowed Rupert, making everyone including Henry gasped in surprised.

"Excellent, good choice." he chuckled happily. Right motioned the two holding Dave to let him go, they released him and he ran far away from them.

"Okay men, let's go. We have what we came for." said Right. He pulled out a syringe with a green liquid and jabbed it into Henry's neck, Henry was silently crying and he fell asleep.  

The two members holding Rupert let go of him to follow Right Hand Man, he was carrying Henry bridle style and turned around to smirked at Rupert who went to Dave.

"Before I go, here's a little present from me for being so helpful." he laughed sarcastically. Just then, he held up a lazer gun and shot Rupert.

Rupert landed hard against a back of the tree and Dave quickly screamed and went to him to check on him, The Toppats left and Dave shook Rupert to get him to stay awake, Rupert was loosing consciousness.

"Why did you that?" exclaimed Dave while panicking, but his words were muffled to Rupert.

His world went black and he passed out in pain.