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dalamjisung · 2 months ago

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A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 3: X marks the spot

genre: finally some fluff! still some angst, but some fluff too!

word count: 5804

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you need spencer back home. so spencer comes back home. simple as that.

a muted shade of green masterlist

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author's note: you folks are amazing! thank you so much for the support and I know this chapter is a bit duller (aka famous filler chapter) but y/n needs a break from pain and suffering all the time lol <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

“She knows who I am.”

That is the sentence that sets off Plan B.

Spencer’s instructions are clear: call Penelope and go to the BAU. Office Kaper is to stay with you at all times until you enter the FBI and even then, he will personally deliver you to her caring hands, and for once, you don’t argue. In what has been a very dark past few days, you think that Penelope’s bright colours might do you well. “I have to close the shop,” You tell him on the phone, already changing from your sleeping shorts into some jeans, but keeping his hoodie. Right now, you’re not focused on appearances; you’re focused on getting the hell out of there.

“That’s fine, but keep Officer Kaper with you. Was the envelope delivered to my place?”

“No,” You breathe out, backpack on and ready to go. Nodding to man that has become your loyal companion, the two of you walk out of the building like any civilian couple. It’s unsettling, watching a man that is not Spencer wear his clothes, but he had to blend in so you two didn’t stand out.

“And he’s wearing my clothes?”

You turn to look at Officer Kaper and you snort despite the situation. “As best as he can, though he is considerably shorter than you, Spence.”

“You’re calling me Spence,” He says, and even his voice sounds a bit more at ease. Somehow, in the midst of this craziness, you two find time to ease back into what once was and you manage a small smile despite the anxiety rushing through you. “I missed that.”

“I miss you,” Is what you say back, and you blame it on the adrenaline of being outside, so open and vulnerable to prying eyes. “I… I feel safer when you’re here.”

“I know,” You swear you hear something skin to a smile on his voice. “I’m on my way back.”

“Yeah, in like three days,” Talking on the phone and closing your shop is no easy feat. You’re no genius and having to split your focus onto two different tasks is quite hard, but you manage. You don’t want to let him go yet, scared that one you can’t hear his voice, he’ll be as good as gone.

“No, I’m on the jet right now, I should be landing in an hour.”

You shouldn’t feel this happy about having Spencer come back this soon and probably in the middle of an active case, but when a psychotic killer starts sending you handwritten letters, you feel entitled to being a little selfish, even if guilt and anxiety are mixed it like the perfect emotional cocktail. “You didn’t have to,” You say, biting your nails when you finally grab everything you need and lock the door behind you. “Spence, I– thank you.”

“You need me home,” Is all he says before announcing he has to go.

The silence doesn’t make things easier. Now that you don’t have to split your mind in two to multitask, you can fixated on the fact that this is serious. This is quite serious– Cat Adams has just confirmed she knows you. She has also, however, confirmed she does not know where you are, and just like you told yourself before, you have to believe that there is something better than this out there. There is a moment in time, reserved and crafted by the sisters of fate, in which Cat Adams gets bored with you. You are no longer a struggling rat under the weight of her paws, and she is no longer entranced by how you try to wriggle out of maniacal grasp. In another moment, another sliver of an alternate reality, Cat never even finds out who you are. You like that reality a bit better, because then you also don’t know who she is, and the knowledge of her presence and her impact on Spencer’s life is as weightless as a feather.

While the city passes by you, the taxi ride to the FBI not as quick as you’d like with the early morning traffic, you allow yourself one more scenario. One more reality.

In this one, you live in an apartment with muted green walls. Your furniture is that fancy, dark shade of oak and you don’t have to keep your books on the store; instead, you have space to add them to your decoration. You have shelves and shelves of books lining your walls and you think you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than that place. The windows, large and usually covered by cream blinds, are open to allow some sunshine inside. In this reality, you’ve told Spencer all about the benefits of sunlight to your books– none of them true, of course, but he still pretends to believe you, and he still opens the windows before leaving for work. This time around, you dream big– in this alternate life, Spencer never even met Cat Adams. He never even applied to the FBI, in this odd, hallmark version of your story. It doesn’t really matter what he does, but all that matters is that you get to be with him. You get to wake up next to him, to talk to him, to call him… hell, you even get to kiss him!

This reality, as utopian as it seems, it’s fragile, though. Unrealistic. Spencer loves his job, you know that now. A world where you keep him from it can’t truly be a perfect world, not when he’d be so, so unhappy without his team standing next to him. “Ma’am,” Officer Kaper calls. “We’re here.”

“Oh!” Grabbing your backpack, you follow him inside, feeling a bit awkward at the way people started at your with puzzled looks on their faces. “Wait! Before you leave, this is for you! You mentioned your daughter likes stories and that she’s about five or so, so these should be fun!” Children’s book is one of your secret passions, and you’re happy to see him smiling as he looks through the titles.

“You really didn’t have to, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I really wanted to, though,” You smile. You need some light in your life as you walk those beige hallways. “Let me know if she wants more– her dad is a hero, so we have a special deal at the store for you.”

“I’ll tell little Jane that a very nice lady from work gave her new books then,” He says, nodding as Penelope rushes to your side. “Call me if you need anything else, Miss Y/L/N, I’m happy to help. If it makes you feel better, you’ve been dealing with this exceptionally well. It can’t be easy.”

The validation has you pursing your lips, trying to hold back the need to hug him. In no way, shape, or form are you two close– to be honest, this is the most you’ve spoken with Officer Kaper during the forty-eight hours you spent together; and yet, his opinion seems to mean something to you. Your hands hide behind your back and you exhale sharply, nodding at him, eyes glassing over with emotion. “Thank you,” You whisper, head whipping at the familiar sound of heels waddling down the hall. “I’ll uh, I’ll go… but thank you. For everything.”

He just nods, leaving with a wave and a smile.

“Either you joined the FBI since we last saw each other or this sweatshirt belongs to a certain genius man,” Penelope says, looking at you with the ghost of a smile. If you didn’t know any better,

“What? Oh. Yeah, I borrowed it from Spence,” You mumble, hands nervously fidgeting with your backpack. There isn’t much of anything inside, and you think you got flustered when you had Spencer on the phone telling you to get ready to go. All you remember is packing your toothbrush, a couple of books, and some underwear. “Oh, sweet girl,” Penelope sighs, her arm light on your shoulders, guiding you through those horrid halls. You think you hate the FBI headquarters more than you hate Cat Adams, and that is saying something. “Everything will be okay. Boy genius is on it, and he’ll figure this out in no time.”

“Seven days is quite a lot of time,” It’s not fair, how your words make her frown, but you have no one else. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can control them because this is what you’ve been dying to do since you first left that goddamned office, seven fucking days ago. And that is your regret– not talking to Spencer when you had the chance, not letting him talk to you, not… not letting him be therefor you. “God, seven days is a lot– it’s a whole week! I don’t know what you believe in, but if you’re Catholic, God created the Earth in seven days and– well, six days and Sunday he rested, but honestly, semantics. And it’s a whole week, one-fourth of a month. Seven days, and– and–“

“I am not judging you, because I am the biggest yapper of this team,” Penelope cuts right in, hand up in the air between you two. “But you need to breathe. I know seven days is a lot. And I hate that you’re in a position that you feel like you need to count the days. But there are no better people to have on your corner than this team. I promise you, Y/N, and– look!” She shakes her phone in front of your face. “Lover boy just landed! He’ll be here soon, so for now, please sit down and drink some tea?”

The door in the end of many, many hallways later is her office. You don’t really understand the juxtaposition of Penelope Garcia, and that’s okay– you might not understand her, but at least, with her, it feels like what you see is what you get. She wears her authenticity on her sleeve and you actually feel at ease around her because of it. There is not an ounce of ambiguity, not a shred of secrecy coming from her. She looks at you– really looks at you– and in her eyes you know how she feels. Penelope, unlike the rest of the team, is not a trained profiler, and even though you are quite limited in your knowledge of what exactly a profiler like Morgan and JJ does, the internet provided you with enough general background that you know just how… proficient… they are in hiding their own selves from the world. Apparently it’s a part of the job, but at one point, you have to wonder just how intrinsic is the job and their overall selves, and if when Spencer comes back home, does he leaves the job behind or is he always on the clock?

“Here, it chamomile,” The mug is bright pink and purple, and despite the room being dark and cold, you see how she has made it her own. The figurines and stickers on the screens around you make you smile weakly, sipping on the tea while sitting down next to her. Her screens are locked, and you are thankful for that– it makes you feel like at least someone is trying to separate you and the world you never wanted to know existed. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug a little, finger running around the rim of the cup. “I… I’m scared. And this feels really stupid, you know? It’s not even about me, but I’m the one kicking a fuss about everything,” Shaking your head, you let out a big exhale, like you have been holding it in for the longest time. “All because of a silly crush, oh my god…”

“Wait… Wha– What…?”

“I know,” You laugh at yourself, that type of chuckle that is so dry and void that even you worry. Underneath it all, underneath all the anger and the confusion and the disbelief, you think you just feel… dumb. You feel stupid. Like you’ve played yourself, and poor Spencer doesn’t even know. “How stupid am I? Getting a serial killer on my back, all because I liked a boy? And it’s not even like he likes me back, so this is all just… so fucked up. I wish I could go visit her and tell her that I don’t have Spencer, not like how she thinks I do.”

“You like Reid?” Her smile is so big that her voice comes out all weird and squeaky. “You actually have a crush on little boy genius?”

“I–“ The hesitation in your voice is obvious. “I did. Spence is just so kind. And gentle, and loving, and he has this huge heart, you know? He used to bring me coffee every day he visited, and he would tell me all these really cool facts about the most random things, and I swear, I loved listening to him talk.” Without even realising, you’re smiling, wide and true, for what it felt like the first time in forever. You bring your legs up on the chair, hugging your knees close just to feel that sense of security it brings you, grounding you in the moment. The memories of your time with him, your favourite customer, are precious to you; and much like old time treasure, you hide it in the depths of your mind, away and untouched by prying hands of people around you.

Except, Cat Adams found your map.

And X marks the spot.

It’s just a matter of time until she finds the golden chest and picks at the lock.

Slowly, your smile slips away. “But now… now things changed, you know?” You gulp, not having the capacity to face the pitiful look she gives you without crying. And you’re tired of crying.

“You didn’t change. Reid didn’t change, he’s still the same kind and gentle and loving man…!” You’re almost swayed by the desperation behind her voice. Penelope is a great friend and you can’t believe you were once jealous of her, but even then, you grimace. It’s not like you don’t want to let yourself be guided by these feelings– you want to let the butterflies loose, you want to allow yourself the giddiness of being with him, you want to have this quintessential girlhood experience, but the threat looming over your head pushes you down and away. You’re scared and you have all the reason to be.

“Haven’t I?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. “Anyways, at the risk of sounding like a middle schooler, it’s not like he likes me either.”

“Y/N, he– he’s different,” Penelope whispers, reaching for your hand. “He’s afraid of germs and rambles a lot and he’s been hurt before, but please, if you just give him a shot, I think you could be really good for him.”

“How would you know?” You’re not trying to be rude, you even smile a little, but the question stood– how would she know? You two had very limited interactions.

“Because he talks a lot about you, and… well,” She confesses, chuckling like she had just done something naughty. When she points at the screens though, you gasp. “I know more about you thank you think.”

That makes your blood run cold. “You– what– what did you find out?”

“Not as much as I could’ve!” She quickly promises, turning to the screen and quickly pulling up a file. The first thing you see is your driver’s license, and you wince at the picture. “This is all I managed to get before Reid put a ban on me!”

“He put a ban on you looking me up?”

“Yes, he said he didn’t want to cheat and that he wanted to wait for you to tell him whatever you wanted to tell him,” Her words come out so fast you barely understand them, but it still tugs at your heart. “He said you didn’t know who he was because you didn’t know he worked for the FBI, and I tried telling him that’s not all he is! I did, but Reid is a stubborn, stubborn genius and wouldn’t listen to me! But he is, Y/N, he is much more than this job and–“

“I know that,” You whisper, eyes running through the documents on the screen. Degrees, past addresses, old jobs, family… and past relationships. Your body tenses up at the small list of names, one in particular making you gulp, glancing quickly at Penelope. “This is all, right? You… you didn’t dig more, right?”

“Yes, this is all! I promise! To be very honest, I could find anything I wanted, but as I mentioned, I’ve been banished and threatened with a long, long lecture on privacy laws.”

Her words echo in your mind for a moment, eyes unmoving from the bright screens. “Anything?”

Penelope looks at your with hesitation. “Anything that has been online, yeah. Why?”

Sitting back down, you take a deep breath and nod. “Show me Cat Adams.”

“Oh… Oh, Y/N, no, no no no, I can’t–“

“Yes, you can! You just said you can find anything and, honestly how hard would it be for me to pick up my phone and Google her? If the FBI made the arrest, I’m sure media has picked it up!” Before you can even reach for the device, Penelope is grabbing it, hiding it behind her. “Penelope, please! This woman wants to kill me, I deserve to know what she looks like!”

Your voice is hushed, the undertone of desperation seeping through every word. “What if she gets out?”

“Y/N, she has a life sentence, she’ll never get out.”

“You don’t know that!” This is what scares Penelope, the way you screech in panic, hands flying to the neck of the hoodie and tugging it away from you like you need it to breathe. “You don’t know that and I need to know what she looks like! Please, Penelope, I’m begging you!”

The tension in the room is palpable, but you know you got through her when she sighed. “I’m doing this for your protection,” It’s more like she’s talking to herself, so all you do is nod quietly, getting up and walking to the back of her chair. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” You are holding your breath while you squeeze the back of her chair, trying to keep yourself upright for a moment that could easily throw off your balance.

In all honesty, you are not sure what you’re expecting. The little you know about black widow killers comes from a fictional world of made up characters, a place where the fantastical magic of made up stories meets the trauma ridden lives of turbulent characters. In them, these killers are beautiful. In fact, their beauty is their weapon, right before their grace and intelligence. It’s almost sick, how you remember liking those stories so much you once called it ‘a form of female empowerment’, and just thinking about it has your stomach tied in a bunch of knots, each one pulling and tugging at you in a rhythm that is too chaotic to not have you hunched over, panting next to Penelope like the photo she pulls up on her computer has just punched you in the gut.

Because despite all your silent prayers, Cat Adams, in her orange jumpsuit and messy prison hair, is gorgeous. It’s something about her eyes, so cold and distant, yet holding an invitation that even you might not be able to resist. Is this how she draws men in? Is this how she drew Spencer? “I–“

“Garcia, what are you doing?!”

Both of your turn around at the same time, both of you shocked at the sight of Spencer, in all his sweater vest glory and red face anger, marching towards you both. “Take it down.”

You have never heard him sound so cold. “Spence, I asked her to pull it up. I was curious.”

“She should’ve known better, she’s an FBI agent!” Now he is screaming, and you can’t help but feel overcome with a familiar type of shame. Part of you, a specific part you left back in New York, expects him to to keep screaming. It’s the part of you that unconsciously pushes the tea mug away. It’s the part of you that looks at the door and feels relieved to see it unlocked. It’s the part of you you’ve been hiding from him and everyone else you met since you’ve moved.

It’s the part of you Spencer just noticed.

“I’m sorry,” He says, squinting his eyes at your so quickly it’s almost imperceptible. Almost. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed, I’m just–“

“On edge,” You whisper, nodding in agreement. “We all are, Spence. Don’t scream at her, please.”

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry,” This is more like him– shy eyes casted down between glances here and there. “I just don’t want you wasting your time on someone like her. She doesn’t deserve it.”

No one says anything for a while. Until you notice it.

“Spence,” You mumble, smiling a little in an attempt to ease the high emotions in the room. “You cut your hair.” It’s shorter now. His shaggy curls still peek out, but it looks more… grown, even if it enhances his boyish charm.

“I did,” He mumbles, blushing a little. For a second, he looks at Penelope, like he’s asking her what to say and what to do. “It was getting too long.”

“It looks really good.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” God, you love when his voice gets low and airy like that. Garcia is looking between you two with a certain kind of spark in her eyes and it makes you shift on your feet. “Uh, shall we go home?”

“You’re going back to your apartment?”

“Yeah, Officer Kaper said that the letter came with the batch of mail they got from Y/N’s apartment, so it’s safe to assume she has no knowledge of her current whereabouts,” Spencer picks up your backpack without even asking, smiling at you innocently. “I reviewed the security footage you sent of my apartment entrance and there is no suspicious activity happening during the days I was gone. And, well, you know, I’m here now. She’s safe.”

No one will ever understand the amount of relief you feel in that exact moment. “Thank you for coming back.”

“You need me home,” Is all he says before guiding you away. When you turn to say bye to Penelope, she is smirking, giving you two thumbs up and a giggle. In the midst of all this mess, you actually feel happy to have someone allowing you to enjoy a moment of silliness. “Are you okay? Do you feel a bit better?”

“Now that you’re back, yeah,” You sigh, sticking close to him as you pass by a group of agents. “Officer Kaper is really sweet, but he’s not you, he’s not–“

“Familiar,” Spencer says, but you shake your head.

“He’s not my friend.”

“And I am?” The hope in his eyes crushes your heart. You never meant to make him feel like you had left him behind, but you know you have pushed him away when he tried to stand by you.

No more.

“You are, Spence,” You breathe out, hand gently falling on his arm and squeezing it adoringly. “You’re my favourite customer and I guess now you’re my living room-mate. But you should really sleep in your bed tonight, okay?” The joke is just an attempt to make him smile, and you’re happy to see it works.

“Will you sleep next to me?”

His question is not that unexpected, really, but it still makes you freeze in place. “Uh… What… What do you mean?”

“Sleep next to me,” His bluntness doesn’t help with the way your cheeks fire up. “I know you’re scared, so if you’re next to me, I’ll be watching over you at all times. I’m a light sleeper, so even if something happens, I’ll wake up. We can put pillows between us, if the thought of me that close to you makes you uncomfortable and–“

“It doesn’t,” You say before you can give up on it. “I just… I know you’re a germaphobe and I don’t know how many germs can be shared when you sleep next to someone and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Actually, when you sleep next to someone, there is an exchange of bacteria and skin microbes when we turn and move around, but your brain compensates by releasing the ‘happy’ hormones because you’re sleeping next to someone you care about, so I wouldn’t mind the former much considering we would wake up pretty content.”

Someone you care about. You hold your tongue back from asking him if he cares about you– at this point, you should know he does. You shouldn’t need the reassurance, as nice as it would feel to have it, but you really, really want it. In a time where everything is uncertain, you pray so that Spencer can be your constant. “Okay,” You nod, hand slowly slipping down his arm, brushing yours fingers through his, before letting it go altogether. Looking down to the ground, embarrassed with your own courage, you follow him out of the building. “The subway is that way.”

“We’re getting a taxi,” He mumbles, signalling one down as he spoke. “I don’t think public spaces with that much visibility are a good idea for now. I don’t want you paranoid, Y/N, but I need you to be careful, okay? Subways, buses, all of these get crowded and they have a large amount of surveillance. We still can’t figure out how Cat found out where you live or who is her connection that got your name through the UPS delivery, but we’re not stopping until we do, I promise you that. For now, we just ask that you be careful around people.”

“I work with people. I have to talk to them to sell them stuff… I can’t lose my store, it’s all I have!” The two of you turn to face each other on the back of the car. He is shaking his head before you can even continue, and when you feel it, the warmth of his hands covering yours, so much bigger and steadier to the point that is like he’s holding your fists in his palms, you hold your breath.

“You won’t,” He whispers, shaking his head so gently that wisps of hair fall over his forehead and you have to fight the urge to push it back. “Y/N, you won’t. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

“Okay,” The trust you have in Spencer is enough to have you nodding along. Until the car stops in front of his apartment, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and you make no effort in letting go of his.

It’s only when it’s time to pay for the ride that you pull away, faster than him in getting the money to the driver. “Hey!”

“Be faster next time, boy genius,” You say, smiling tiredly while walking next to him through the hallways of his building until you reach Apartment 23. Using your key in front of him, the one he gave you when he went away, feels weird and oddly intimate. “Do you want this back?”

“Keep it,” Spencer says, giving you his trademark tight-lipped smile. The way his shoulders sag a little as soon as he is inside the familiar apartment has you frowning. He is exhausted, tired from flying and rushing through the city, but he still made the effort to come get you at the BAU. “What do you want for dinner? We can get some pizza.”

“I have leftovers in the fridge,” You mumble, suddenly too out of place in the apartment you know at the palm of your hand. Standing in the entrance, you just look at him, watching him walk around the apartment so carelessly and you wonder if Spencer knows just how meaningful it is for you to have him back home. “I bought groceries, don’t worry, I didn’t use any of your food or anything like that.”

“I wasn’t worried, but now I am. I told you to be comfortable Y/N.”

“I am…” You mumble, moving to sit down on the armchair.

Under his watchful gaze, you’re not sure how much Spencer can get out of your behaviour right now. It’s a bit sad that you’re even thinking about this so consciously, observing him as he observes you right back. You know you will never win a battle of wits against the genius across the room, but no ones knows you better than yourself and that is currently your only leverage in this entire situation. But… why do you even need leverage? What is this war you have started with yourself and pulled poor Spencer in without even letting him know? The blanket you adore so much is right by your feet and you pull it up to cover your whole body, all the way up to your face. At this point, you don’t want him reading you because you’re afraid of what he will find. Specially because you don’t know what he will find.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” When he sits on the corner of the chair, your body dips to the side, rolling closer to him. “Are you hiding?”

“Yeah.”

“And why are you hiding?”

“Because you’re an avid reader,” Even you want to cringe at your own words. “And I’m not really sure what story I’m telling, right now.”

His laughter takes you by surprise– this has to be the loudest you’ve heard Spencer be. “Y/N, what are you talking about? I’m not going to read you!”

“Spencer, you can’t help it! It’s what you do– I see the way you look at me, okay? I know what you’re doing, and I have to say I am not a fan!”

With one tug on the blanket, your face is exposed again with hair all over it. But then you see his smile, and it looks so honest and happy, like a version of him you thought you had left behind days ago. “You think I’m reading you?”

“Are you not?” You ask, sitting up to try and look at him with a serious expression.

“No, Y/N, I’m not looking at you because I’m reading you.”

There are moments in your life, unique and specific in their own credits, that you are sure you will never forget. The day you decided to leave New York is one of them– you bought tickets last minute and left with only a rucksack you found in the back of your closet. On the way to the airport, you called your parents, waking them up at three in the morning to tell them they were going to need to ship your stuff to a PO box address. Y/N, where are you going?, your mom cried out. What is going on? To which all you said was I’ll tell you when I can, before hanging up and throwing your SIM card out of the window.

Opening your store was high in the list too. Not the day that you conceptualised it or rented the place– the day you truly opened it. The day your first customer, your favourite customer, walked in, that’s the day you truly opened the place. The day he bought a book and promised to come back again.

Of course there are other dates, too; simpler dates. Birthdays, christmases, random family dinners. The small things that build-up to be big memories. But then there are the big things that are even bigger memories, and you’re intimidated, with the size of it all. It’s too big, too tall, and when you fall, it might just be high enough to break all your bones, but not kill you completely. No… that would be too merciful.

This– Cat Adams, Spencer, the box– this is not just big.

This is huge.

In comparison, tonight is not all that big. In fact, his living room feels quite small now that both of you are back inside. The green walls descend and it’s just you and him, squeezed close in an arm chair you both love, surrounded by books you both love, and you still can’t help but feel afraid. This is as small as it gets, as monotonous as it gets, and yet, this is the most scared you’ve ever felt, because no matter what you do, it’s like you can’t stop climbing– you go higher, higher, higher. His words, replaying in your mind, keep pushing you up, without any regard of how you’ll ever come down.

Truthfully, you don’t want to come down, even if he brings you down gently.

“Then… why do you stare at me, Spence?”

He doesn’t answer you, shaking his head slightly before looking away and clearing his throat. Uncomfortableness doesn’t look good on him, and that is saying something, coming from the one person who thinks everything looks good on him. “I uh, I’ll heat up some of those leftovers. Shall I get you some, too?”

Spencer might the profiler, but you are still able to read the blooming colour in his cheeks. “Yeah,” You say softly, I would love some, Spence.”

Dinner with him is peaceful. You’re learning how to live this new life with a plus one. You learn his habits and his quirks– you learn that he likes to put ketchup on his pizza and that he drowns his coffee in sugar. That despite his immense IQ, he still can’t quite cook for himself– or prefers not doing so. That he made sure his cleaning lady came during the times he was away to avoid small talk and human contact. You learn, through a lot of trials and a lot of success, that you are his one exception.

For you, Spencer is malleable, and he has no qualms in moulding himself to your needs, except… except you don’t want him to do that. You don’t want him to be someone he’s not and you don’t want the Spencer you know and adore to be someone curated just for you.

“I’ll go take a shower and change into some comfortable clothes,” He says after he finishes eating. “Thank you for the food.”

“No problem.”

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You can keep that hoodie. You look good in it.”

Just like that, you chuckle, shaking your head when he disappears behind the bedroom door. If Cat Adams has the map to your past memories, Spencer Reid has the map to your future ones.

X marks the spot.

And for him there is no lock to pick– the door is wide open.

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misscinnamonroll16 · 10 months ago

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This is what my blog has become, just brozone and trolls. Have a fanfic. this is part one of Please for God's sake, rest

Normality had fallen over the band of brozone. Hanging out and catching up. Ever since coming back to Pop Village, Clay, Floyd and John Dory were all staying in Rhonda until they finished moving all of Branchs survival supplies and such out of the rooms that he had made for them. That's what they were currently doing, moving the boxes of stuff. John Dory went to lift a box of stone spear heads, he got part way up when his back gave out. John let out a yell and fell to his knees, dropping the box. The other bros came rushing in to see what was wrong. They saw John Dory knelt down on the floor, shaking slightly. "John, you ok buddy?" Bruce asked, slowly reaching his hand towards his brother to check on him. "Please don't touch me right now." John said quietly while gritting his teeth. They could hear the pain in John's voice. Bruce sat next to John Dory, placing his hand next to JD's in case he wanted the comfort. "JD, what happened? Are you ok?" Clay asked as he sat down near John as well. Branch and Floyd looked on, concerned and wanting to help. "I finally blew out my back." John mumbled grumpily. At first none of them caught what he had said, so they asked him to repeat it. "I blew out my back, ok?!" John said, frustrated. "Oh John." Bruce said softly, gently placing his hand on JD's back. John let out a little yelp, his hair flaring out like he had been electrocuted, Bruce removed his hand immediately. "John Dory, I understand that you don't wanna be touched right now but it can't be good for your back to stay in the position you're in. Let us help you get to bed or at least the couch." Floyd suggested, gently taking John's hand, ready to help him when he needed it. "Nah, I'm good. I should be fine in a little while." John Dory responded, shifting so he was fully laying on his stomach. "I'll go get Dr. Moonbloom." Branch said, exasperated as he walked out the door and to the elevator. Branch took the elevator to the surface in search of the doctor.

Branch returned with Dr. Moonbloom, explaining the situation the best he could. Dr. Moonbloom examined John, giving him a routine check up before getting to the root of his problem. The doctor pulled out a portable x-ray machine (cartoon logic) and further examined John Dory's back. "Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is I finally get to try out my new sedative. The bad news is he's going to have to be on bed rest for at least a month, maybe more. He pulled the muscles in his lower back pretty badly." Dr. Moonbloom said, excited to use the new sedative. "But wouldn't moving his cause him more pain and hurt his back even more." Clay asked as the doctor readied her syringe with the sedative. "That's what the sedative is for. It's going to take away all his pain for a few hours and make him feel pretty good. As for moving him, I brought my portable gurney. That way moving him won't hurt his back even more." The doctor said, pulling a portable cloth gurney out of her bag (again cartoon logic). Dr. Moonbloom stuck John with the needle, injecting him with the sedative. After a few minutes, she instructed them to move him on to the gurney. A little apprehensive at first, Clay and Bruce started to move John Dory. They moved John Dory to the nearest bed, by that point he had started to doze off. Dr. Moonbloom handed Branch a prescription for pain killers and instructions on how often he can take them and side effects and such before heading off. The brothers looked at John Dory, he was barely awake and singing some intelligible tune. "Are we sure he's gonna be ok?" Floyd asked, just as worried as the rest of them. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Dr. Moonbloom is a very good doctor. But I think her sedative might be a little strong." Branch said as he set the pain killers on the nightstand.

The brothers decided to take turns watching over John Dory, making sure he doesn't need anything when the sedative wears off. Bruce goes first watching John, looking at him in a similar way to when they were little. The way he'd look at JD before bouncing on him to wake him up on Christmas morning or on one of their birthdays. Bruce got up from the chair he sat in next to the bed and reached over to remove John's goggles. They slipped off with ease. As Bruce removed John Dory's jacket, he was reminded of when they were younger and John would help Clay and Floyd take off their jackets after playing in the snow or rain. John Dory would always take theirs off first then his own, Bruce was simply returning the favor all these years later. He unbuckled John's fingerless glove and tucked it into one of the pockets on his jacket, taking note of the tan lines on his hand. His brother almost looked naked without all that on him, Bruce couldn't remember ever seeing John Dory without those silly goggles. Bruce chuckled to himself as he made himself comfortable in the chair and pulled a book out of his hair. The book was an old trollings book that he managed to find, he had read to his kids last night, remembering when their grandma had read it to them when they were little ones. "Guess I forgot to put it back in the kids' bookcase." Bruce said quietly to himself before deciding to read the story aloud to his sleeping brother.

#trolls #brozone #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls bruce #trolls john dory #branch trolls #fluff with angst #idk how to tag this #idk how to write

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jpmarvel90 · 1 year ago

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Don't let me down - Final Part

Masterlist Scarlett Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Relationship: MamaScarlett x 16 yr old Reader

Summary: With Y/n still healing from her injuries, she now has to face her abuser in court. The difference for her this time, she has a family there to support her.

Word count: 7418

Y/n's POV:

"I got you sweetheart. Just use me for balance." Mom instructs me as she helps me to get out of the car. I'm still a little dopy from all the meds I got at the hospital, so it's proving to be a bit difficult to get to my feet with my crutches. "Here let me help." Dad says taking my other arm and helping me to my feet. "Laura, honey. Could you go and open the door for us please?" Mom asks, holding out the keys to my girlfriend.

I watch as she grabs the keys and rushes to the front door. My eyes don't leave her until she's disappeared into the house. "Someone's in love." Mom teases me, making dad laugh. "Shut up." I mumble, making them laugh more. "Come, let's get you inside. You ok on your crutches." Mom asks me and I nod, taking my new walking aids she's holding out to me.

With a bit of a struggle, I start to hop my way towards the house. Mom stays close behind me and dad to my side just in case I fall. The first obstacle I face is the few steps leading into the house. Having never used crutches before, I find it difficult to get up the steps and into the safety of the house.

I smile when I see Laura rushing around the living room, moving the footrest into place, and grabbing a couple of blankets. "Let's get you on the sofa and we can think about some lunch." Mom suggests, guiding me into the living room. Laura takes over in helping me get comfortable on the sofa and props my casted leg up with a pillow.

When I'm comfortable Laura dashes off to the kitchen to help mom with lunch, whilst dad sits next to me fussing over me. "Are you ok? How's the pain? Are you comfortable enough?" He rushes out a number of questions, making me smile. I can't believe I got lucky enough to have a dad that cares about me so much. "I'm doing good dad. I'm sore but I'm also aware that I'm going to be in pain for the next few weeks." I respond, resting my hand on his.

He looks up to me with a warm smile. "I'm never going to get used to you calling me dad." He shares, squeezing my hand and pressing a kiss to my forehead. "If you're like this with me, I can only imagine the emotional wreck you're going to be when Cosmo starts talking!" I tease him. "Talking of Cosmo, when do I get cuddles with my little brother? It's been three days since I've seen him!" I pout. I won't tell any of them this, but Cosmo is definitely my favourite. He's so cute and he's my snuggle buddy. It's exactly what I need right now.

"Melanie is coming around to drop him home in a couple of hours and you can hug him until your hearts content." He responds making me smile widely and giving a little fist bump, making him laugh.

After a few minutes, mom and Laura return to the living room with plates and drinks in hand. Laura is holding a plate with some sandwiches on and hands me a glass of juice. "Thanks babe." I smile at her, puckering my lips for a kiss. She chuckles but gives me what I want and slips into the spot that Colin had just vacated. "You ok?" She asks me quietly, but I can feel mom's eyes on me too. "I'm hungry, so thank you for this." I smile at her, taking a big bite from my ham and cheese sandwich. "How's your pain?" Mom jumps in, clearly not happy with my answers.

"Still manageable, but they gave me a good dose before we left the hospital this morning." I respond as she nods, still looking at me concerned. "I'm fine mom." I reassure her, not wanting her to sit there and worry about me. "Well, any pain, let us know and we can get you the relevant pain killers." She instructs me and I easily agree. I have no plans to let the pain get too much!

Dad thankfully puts the TV on whilst we eat, otherwise it would have been awkward silence with everyone's eyes on me. As I'm eating, I keep thinking about how lucky I am to have my parents. I've been hurt badly before, but it was at the hands of my parents, so they didn't give me any love and care. This is all so alien to me. But it's nice to know that they care about my wellbeing.

I hadn't initially planned on calling them mom and dad. But when I was in pain, I wanted my mom. Scarlett had proven to me that she is sticking around and wants to be my mom. Ever since I've moved in here, she has done everything to make me feel safe and loved. Calling her mom felt good. It made me finally feel like I was home with a family.

I'm so glad that I did because their reactions were everything I could ask for. Knowing how much it means to them to have the title of mom and dad, makes me happy and is another element of proof that they are my family. I finally feel happy. I have everything I could ask for.

With lunch finished, we sit enjoying each other's company. Though when the doorbell goes, I get excited to see my little brother again. I can hear mom greet Melanie and Cosmo at the front door and wait in anticipation. "You're cute when you're excited." Laura teases me, making me pout. One that she is quick to kiss away. "Dad's still in the room." Dad calls out to us, making Laura blush. "Makes up for all the times I've walked in on you and mom sucking face." I retort, making his mouth drop open, no response found.

Thankfully, our conversation can't carry on as mom and Melanie walk into the living room, Cosmo in mom's arms. I hold my arms up and make grabby hands to my little brother, making mom laugh. She thankfully, doesn't keep him away from me and I hold him close. He starts babbling at me with a wide smile as I chat back to him. "How do you have this affect on him?" Dad asks me. "I'm just that likable." I respond, making them laugh.

"How are you feeling sweetie?" Melanie asks me, taking a seat. "I'm doing better now I'm home." I respond. "I was so worried when your mom called me. I'm glad that you're doing ok." She smiles at me. I notice that everyone else has disappeared out of the living room, with Laura saying she was going to grab me a hoody as she noticed I was cold. I didn't even realise that until she pointed it out. She knows me so well. "You've got lucky there." Melanie points out, nodding her head towards the stairs where Laura just disappeared. "Yeah. Not quite sure how I landed her." I chuckle in return.

"You're not a bad catch yourself Y/n. Don't talk badly about my granddaughter." She playfully scolds me. Calling me her granddaughter catches me off guard and I suddenly become very interested with the baby in my hands. Keeping my gaze on Cosmo I decide now is as good a time as ever to talk to her. "Uh. About that." I start, not wanting to make eye contact. "Calling you Melanie seems weird. Especially as I'm calling those two weridos hiding in the doorway mom and dad." I start, calling out my parents whose presence is very obvious.

We both laugh when we hear whispered shouting and the sound of them scurrying away. "What I mean is. Would you mind if I called you grandma like Rose does?" I ask tentatively, still focusing on a smiling Cosmo. When there is no response, my whole body starts to tense, worried I've made this awkward. Though a soft hand under my chin, brings my gaze to meet Melanie's whose is glossed over.

"I would love that Y/n." She tells me, her voice full of certainty. "From the day you were born I have loved you with everything I have. Getting a chance to be your grandmother is everything that I've wanted. Getting to see you happy here with Scarlett and the family, is perfect. So yes. Please do call me grandma." She shares, cupping my face as a few tears fall down my cheeks. "Thank you." I sniffle as she pulls me into a tight hug, careful of the baby between us. We both quickly compose ourselves and are soon talking about something entirely different. Seems like we're similar in not enjoying lingering on things that make us cry!

The rest of the afternoon is nice as we spend it together and I'm excited for Rose to come home so we can have the movie night that I promised. Mom and Laura went out shopping to get everything that we're going to need. When they come back in, they're laughing together over something, making me look to dad and grandma. "Should I be worried how well they're getting on?" I jokingly ask. "Oh, shut up Y/n/n. Surely you're happy I get on with your mom." Laura jumps in, clearly having heard my comment. "Besides, we bonded over the trauma of seeing you hurt." Mom adds on. "Anyway, shouldn't one of you be going to get Rose?" I ask, quickly changing the subject. Dad jumps up after realising the time and offers to go and get her.

An hour later and the front door swings open, Rose rushing through the house. "Sissy! You're home!" She cheers, jumping on the sofa next to me and wrapping her arms around me. "I missed you." She tells me as I hug her. "I missed you too Rosie." I respond. She pulls away and scrunches up her face as her gaze lands on my eye. "It's looking yucky today." She points out as I chuckle at her blunt response.

My eye has completely swollen shut and when I caught a glimpse in the mirror in the hospital bathroom, I winced at it myself. It's a lovely shade of dark purple and reminds me of some of the injuries I suffered at the hands of my adoptive parents. Not that I would ever say that to Scarlett as I think that might push her over the edge.

"What movie do you want to watch?" I ask Rose, moving the subject on from my injuries. "Uh. Can we watch Toy Story?" She questions in return, and I respond with a wide smile. "Yes! I love it and it's Laura's favourite." I share and that makes Rose even happier. "How about we order some food and then we can get settled in for the movie. As it's Friday, we can maybe even watch the second one two. Mom, are you staying?" Mom suggests before turning to grandma. "I would never miss out on movie night!" She responds making Rose cheer.

It's a lovely evening, probably one of my favourites since I've moved here. It's calm but I'm surrounded by my family. Laura is snuggled into me on the right and I have Rose on my left, her head resting on my shoulder. We have pizza for dinner and eat far too many snacks. But it is so worth it!

Rose falls asleep near the end of the second movie and Scarlett coos over how cute she looks asleep with my arm wrapped around her. "I'll take her up." Colin offers, walking over and carefully lifting Rose into his arms. "Laura, would you like to stay?" Mom asks. "Oh uh. If that's ok?" Laura responds in surprise. "Of course. But the door has to stay open at least a few inches." She warns me with a pointed finger. "Seriously mom. I'm fresh from surgery and not very mobile at the moment. What do you think will happen?" I ask her with a raised eyebrow. "Rule still stands Missy. Now, shall we start the journey to get your upstairs?" She raises and eyebrow at me before standing and holding her hand out to me.

I quickly say goodbye to grandma before she leaves. She promises to come back tomorrow and I'm excited to spend some more time with her. I then move my focus on to the stairs in front of me.

Between mom and Laura, they get me to the bottom of the stairs. I hand my crutches to Laura and place my butt on the step. Mom then takes my injured leg carefully, holding it up as I use my arms to shuffle up the stairs. The doctor suggested this was the easiest way to get upstairs without the risk of falling. It's not the most elegant, but I make it work.

When I'm at the top of the stairs the two of them lift me up as my arms are already aching. I then hop into my bedroom where Laura helps to get me into some pyjamas. Turns out I lose a lot of dignity when in a full leg cast! We eventually get into bed and Laura makes sure that my leg is elevated before getting under the quilt next to me. "Are you going to get any closer or you just going to cling to the edge of the bed?" I ask her, almost insulted that she's not cuddling up to me. "I don't want to hurt you." She explains, fiddling with the hem of the quilt. "I'm fine babe. I'd be far more comfortable being able to snuggle with you." I defend.

She looks at me with a frown for a bit and then slowly moves closer and rests her arm over my waist. "Is this ok?" She asks tentatively. I move my own arm around her shoulder and pull her closer and press a kiss to her head. "Perfect." I respond. It's so often Laura that holds me, but my currently situation makes that difficult and I'm actually enjoying being the one to hold her for once. It's not long until sleep starts to wash over me and, with Laura's soft movements over my stomach, it doesn't take me long to fall into a deep, much need sleep.

__________

Over the next couple of weeks, Laura is amazing. She's been the best girlfriend that I could ask for. She drives me too and from school as Mom has started to work longer hours. I'm basically waited on hand and foot. When we're at school, her and the team help me out as much as they can. I've still been going to training and matches but I've been helping Coach Saunders from the side lines. I hate that I'm not able to play with them, but I feel somewhat useful from my position on the bench.

I'm using it as a distraction as this week I have my date to appear in court and provide a statement against Mr Woodstock. I'm really nervous and I'm worried about having to share everything that's happened to me. Mom and dad have been really attentive of me, checking in on me regularly. I've assured them I'm ok. It's going to be a horrible experience, but I'm doing as well as I can be in the situation.

Come the morning of the court case I'm a nervous wreck. I didn't sleep well, and I couldn't stop going over what I needed to remember. I knew that mom wasn't sleeping either as I heard her walking around during the night. I think she feels a little helpless and she's probably also nervous as she's going to hear about some of the things that happened to me that I've not shared with her before. It's not going to be fun for any of us.

Grandma has Cosmo today and will be picking Rose up for her to stay with her. We've not really talked much with her about what's happening as it's hard for a 7 year old to understand. But she's happy to be having a sleep over at grandma's tonight.

I just about manage to get myself ready into the pant suit that mom had bought for me to wear. Thankfully, it's a wide leg and I can fit the leg over my cast.

I finish my hair and I then start to make my way out of my room. Thankfully, dad is coming out at the same time and helps me to get down the stairs and into the kitchen. As we turn the corner, I see a familiar dirty blonde sat at the island, chatting with mom. "Lizzie?" I question, making her turn around and stand from her seat. I notice that she's dressed in a suit herself. "Hey kid." She greets me, walking over and giving me a cautious hug.

"What are you doing here?" I ask her, as she helps me to a seat. "I wanted to be there to support my niece." She tells me with a soft smile. I'm shocked she would do that for me. I'm so grateful that she wants to support me. But I also know how much of a support she will be to mom. "How are you feeling sweetheart?" Mom asks me as she places some pancakes in front of me. "Nervous." Is the only word I'm able to get out. "I can understand that. Just remember we are all here for you and Danny is going to do a great job in helping you out. You are so brave for doing this. I just know you're going to do so well." She reassures me, pressing a kiss to my head.

I don't eat a lot. I mainly move the pancakes around my plate whilst the adults talk. I feel slightly sick and I'm worried if I eat, it'll just give my stomach something to throw up with all the nerves I'm feeling. Thankfully, mom and dad don't push me to eat and we're soon out of the door on our way to the courthouse.

Lizzie sits in the back of the car with me and holds my hand tightly. It's the quietest car ride I've had. The radio is playing quietly, but no one is saying anything. Thankfully, we get to the courthouse pretty quickly and I'm shocked when I see my girlfriend waiting for me on the steps leading up to the building.

As soon as she sees our car, she rushes down the steps and opens my door to start helping me out. "What are you doing here?" I ask her. She was meant to be in school today and practice this afternoon. "I ditched. There was no way that I'm not being there for you today." She responds, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before helping me to start the hard task of getting out the car and on my feet.

"You really didn't have to do that. We've got our exams soon." I grimace as I fight the pain from the unusual movement to my leg. "Well, luckily for me, I have this really smart girlfriend who can tutor me if I need it." She smirks at me as Lizzie passes me my crutches. "Ready to head in?" Dad asks me as he and mom flank my sides and Lizzie follows from behind. I nod and we start to make our way to the entrance.

The security guard sees us coming and kindly holds the door open for me and Danny meets us in the lobby. He greets each of us and goes over the proceedings for today. They're currently in session right now and I'll be giving my testimony after the next recess.

Danny takes us into one of the side rooms and we go over everything one more time. "I actually think that today may be easier than we expected." Danny starts to talk, taking us all by surprise. "Why is that?" Mom asks. "He's been very explosive in court. Even his lawyer looks fed up with him. He's said a couple of things that have contradicted his own statements. I don't want to get your hopes up, but I'm hopefully that the cross examination won't be as tough as we anticipated." Danny explains.

You'd think that would help to put my nerves at ease, but I don't let it get to me. I still want to be prepared for the worst. I can't be caught off guard today if I'm going to do a good job. "He's made this case into a bit of a circus, and I believe he only pleaded not guilty to try and get his fame. But it's a closed case and that's frustrated him." Danny answers after dad questions his motives.

I try to remain focused, but all I can think about is the fact that I'm about to see Mr Woodstock again. I feel a hand take mine and I look down to see familiar rings. I turn and see mom's concerned gaze on me. "Everything is going to be ok, and we'll be right here." She reminds me and wraps an arm around me, providing me with comfort that I desperately need right now.

A court aid comes in and notifies us that a 10 minute recess has just been called. I decide now is the time for a quick bathroom break to allow me a moment to compose myself. I can do this. I know I am telling the truth and I can help ensure that he gets what he deserves. I just need to be brave.

Scarlett's POV:

I'm so nervous for today. I can't even imagine how Y/n must be feeing right now. She's been quiet and barely touched her food, but I couldn't force her to eat, especially when I had done the same. I wait anxiously for her to return from the bathroom with Laura. I know that she needed a minute, but I don't want to leave her side today.

I give her a big smile as I see her walking, well hopping, down the hall back to us. Danny then guides us into the courtroom and directs us to a row of seats. But before we can get there, my eyes land on the man that has hurt my daughter in more ways than one.

I feel sick as he smirks in our direction, and I move my body to block his view of Y/n. Though it doesn't stop him calling out to me. "You can't even protect your daughter when she's living in your own home!" He snarls at us. I can see Y/n's whole body tense, but she keeps her head up, ignoring his comment. "Dean that's enough!" His lawyer scolds him. Danny's right, he does look completely fed up with his client.

As well as Y/n has been able to ignore Mr Woodstock's comment, I can't. He's right. I promised that she would be safe with me, yet she's already had a two night stay in the hospital. "Don't listen to him. He's trying to get a reaction from you." Colin whispers to me as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me away from the staring match, I have with the man who abused my daughter.

He's right and I shake this feeling and turn to focus on my daughter. She needs me at 100% right now and not feeling sorry for myself. Lizzie and Colin file into the row first then I follow, helping Y/n get into her seat. Laura then takes the spot the other side of her, and Danny sits on the row in front of us, turning to reassure Y/n.

"Miss Y/l/n, thank you for giving your testimony and coming in here physically today." The DA greets Y/n, holding his hand out to shake Y/n's. She gives him a tight lipped smile whilst he explains what's going to happen and we all listen intently. Almost as soon as he finishes talking, the judge returns to the room, and we take our seats for the session.

I notice Y/n's hand tapping at her leg, whilst her eyes dart around the room. She's trying to ground herself, so I reach out and take her hand hoping that the touch might give her some comfort. She squeezes it in return, turning slightly to mouth a thank you.

"Your honour, I'd like to call Miss Y/n Y/l/n to the stand." The DA states, making Y/n's whole body tense. Laura and I both stand to help Y/n to her feet as Danny moves to the aisle. He waits for her to stand and moves to kindly escort her to the stand. As they're walking, I hear a chuckle from the defence bench, and I start to fume when I see him laughing. "Now that's an injury I didn't do!" He laughs out loud. "Mr Woodstock, please refrain from calling out. You are already on a warning." The judge scolds him, but his smile doesn't falter. It makes my blood boil and it's taking everything in me to not go over there and punch him.

Y/n once again ignores him, making me look at her in awe. She has such strength. Danny makes sure she's settled and comfortable before returning to his spot. Laura scootches closer to me and I take her hand in mine. I think that we both need it.

"Thank you, Miss Y/l/n, for coming in today and providing us with this testimony." The DA smiles at her. "You're welcome, Sir. But please call me Y/n." She responds, with as confident a smile as she can.

DA: "Of course. Now Y/n, you were in the care of Mr Woodstock for 19 months. Is that correct?"

Y/n: Yes sir. I was moved to his foster home when my parents passed away.

DA: How many kids were in the home when you arrived?

Y/n: There were three others. Four including myself.

DA: What was it like when you first started living there?

Y/n: It was ok. He kind of left us to it. There was food in the fridge, and we made sure to do the chores. But we didn't see him often. I liked it because it meant that I was able to join soccer at school and make some new friends. My previous parents hadn't been so accommodating.

DA: So, it wasn't actually a bad living situation?

Y/n: No sir.

DA: When did that change?

Y/n: I couldn't give you an exact date. But more kids started to move in and at one point there were 14 of us. This was maybe after about three months. This was when he started to drink. The more he drank the more angry he got.

DA: And when you say angry, what would set him off?

Y/n: Anything really. If something was out of place in the house. If we were late home or there wasn't beer in the house. Sometimes you just had to pass him and he would get angry at you for being there.

DA: What would happen when he was angry?

I watch as Y/n pauses, she takes the glass of water in front of her and uses her time to calm her breathing. She's already spoken so well, but this is where the questions are going to become more difficult.

Y/n: It started with yelling. He might throw things. One day I yelled at him because he threw a glass near one of the younger kids and that was the first time that he um. That he... he hit me.

I feel tears prickle at my eyes as I watch Y/n share this. You can see the turmoil in her own eyes as she talks. Colin reaches around and wraps an arm over my shoulder. He looks to me and I see that his eyes are also glossed over.

DA: Did he ever hit the younger kids?

Y/n: Not at first. Us older ones tried to make sure they were kept out of his way. But we weren't always there to protect them.

She shares, her head dropping as if she's ashamed she wasn't able to do more to protect them. But she was just a kid herself. That wasn't her responsibility.

DA: When the defendant would engage in physical violence with you, was it just one hit or multiple?

Y/n: Uh, that depended on how angry and drunk he was. It was common to get a slap or a punch here or there. But when he was really angry, he would become terrifying, and it was like he didn't have control. There were times that we were beaten until we were unconscious.

Mr Woodstock: Yet you still didn't learn!

There's a collective gasp at his outburst and the judge hits his gavel. "I've told you once in this session Mr Woodstock. One more outburst and you will be removed into custody." He threatens.

DA: Did you ever get treated at the hospital?

Y/n: Only if Mr Woodstock took us. He would only do that if it would be something that the school might pick up on or we wouldn't heal on our own.

I can't believe how well she is speaking right now. The pain is evident on her face, but she is answering clearly and concisely, just like Danny coached her. Not once has she allowed her gaze to move to Mr Woodstock, even when he had his outburst. I'm so incredibly proud of her and I'm lucky that I get to call her my daughter.

DA: This next question may be difficult, so please take your time if you need to. Are you able to tell us the most severe injuries that you have received from the defendant and what led to that?

My breath hitches at the question. I'm not naive. I know she's been through more than I saw when she first moved into our home. But knowing that I'm about to hear it now makes me feel sick.

Y/n does take a moment as she collects her thoughts. She takes another sip and I notice that her hand is shaking as she drinks. She is doing such a great job of hiding how nervous she is.

Y/n: I was playing with Freya, one of the younger kids at the home. Whilst we were playing, I accidently knocked over one of the bottles of vodka that was sat on the kitchen table. The crashing sound got Mr Woodstock's attention and I could hear his loud footsteps coming down the stairs. I told Freya to run and not say a word so she would be safe whilst I focused on clearing up the large shards of glass.

Of course, she protected the younger girl. She always has been so caring. She would have known she was in for it when Mr Woodstock got there but she made sure the little girl was safe over her own safety. Y/n takes another deep breath and I notice a shake appear in her voice as she starts to talk again.

Y/n: Within a second of his being in the kitchen, he had lifted me off the ground, his hand tightly around my neck as he pinned me to the wall. He was yelling at me for making a mess and how much that bottle had cost. His grip was really tight and made it difficult to breathe. He then uh....

DA: It's ok Y/n. Take your time.

I want to just get out of my seat and wrap my arms around her and protect her from the world. To take away all these bad memories.

Y/n: H-he punched me in the stomach and threw me onto the floor. I landed on the glass, and I could feel it cut my skin. The cuts stung when the spilt alcohol hit them. I was so scared. I had never seen a rage like it before. I thought he would go too far this time.

Tears are now falling freely down my cheeks and I can hear sniffles coming from Laura. She knew a lot of what happened to Y/n, but I'm sure that doesn't make hearing any of this any easier.

Y/n: Whilst I was on the floor, he repeatedly kicked me in the stomach and then once to the head which knocked me out.

DA: What happened after?

Y/n: Harriet, she found me and got one of the other kids to help carry me up to our room. Whilst I was unconscious, she cleaned my cuts and stayed with me until I woke up.

DA: And did you receive any medical treatment?

Y/n: No sir. Mr Woodstock said if I even thought about going to the hospital that he would kill me. He also called in sick to school for me so no one would be able to see the damage.

There is a silence as we all take in what she has told us. This was just one occasion. I can't imagine the fear she must have lived in.

DA: This is another difficult question. But I have to ask it. Did he ever sexually assault you or any of the other kids.

Y/n: No. Well, I guess I can only confirm for sure that he did not with me. I don't believe he did with any of the other kids. But I would not be able to say that with certainty.

I didn't realise how much I needed to hear that. I let out a breath of relief. There was a part of me that was terrified that she had experienced far more pain that she had shared. But hearing her confirm that she had at least been spared that pain, is a small bit of solace I can take.

DA: Thank you Y/n you are doing so well. I just have two more questions for you. The night that the police were called on the defendant, could you explain how you had come to be injured that day?

Y/n: Whenever we had guests, Mr Woodstock would make sure that we all looked our best, the house was spotless, and he was sober. After a misunderstanding, my biological mother and Mr Osborne had come to the house looking for me. As he wasn't expecting them, Mr Woodstock was drunk when they arrived. When I returned home that evening, he was angry at me that they had come by and seen him in that state.

DA: Thank you Y/n. Is there anything that you'd like to add to your testimony?

I watch as Y/n ponders the question. We knew this was going to be asked but she had always declined adding anything. But for the first time her gaze moves to the defendant's table, and she locks eyes with Mr Woodstock.

Y/n: I've not had an easy life. My adopted parents were just as bad as Mr Woodstock. When I was moved into his home, I felt relief that maybe I was able to get a childhood that I had missed out on. Yes, I may have had more freedom and the chance to make new friends. But what you don't see is the effect that Mr Woodstock has had on me internally. I struggle to trust people, which is very hard when you're trying to build new relationships. I'm constantly questioning my worth after being told that I'm useless and unwanted. I have both mental and physical scars all because of that man. He made my life hell and I'm grateful that he is finally being held accountable for his actions. I just wish I had the courage to step forward sooner. But I will say, for all the pain I went through, some goodness came from it all. I was reunited with my mother, and I have a family now. I'm in a place where I am safe and loved. Somewhere you always said that I would never get. Well, I proved you wrong Mr Woodstock. I'm finally happy.

Pride overwhelms me at her words. I still have an endless stream of tears running down my cheeks as my emotions are all over the place. Her gaze moves from that horrible man to me, and I mouth 'I love you' to her and give her a teary smile. One that she returns easily.

DA: That was very well said Y/n. Thank you for taking the time to come and share your experience today. I understand that this is very hard for you to have to relive, but we appreciate you being brave enough to share your story. The state has no further questions your honour.

My heart starts to beat harshly against my chest as the defence lawyer stands behind his desk unbuttoning his suit jacket. I pray he goes easy on her. Not breaking her down and making people question her truth. There is nothing I can do but watch what is about to occur.

"Your honour. I cannot in good conscience cross examine this witness. I have no evidence to the contrary of Miss Y/l/n's testimony and the outbursts from my client have added to her statement. It would be immoral for me to question her honesty when I believe her words. So, with that said, the defence rests." We are all in shock as he declines to cross examine taking us all by surprise.

"Are you serious! You're not going to defend me?!" Mr Woodstock shouts at his lawyer. Keeping calm, we watch as he whispers something to Mr Woodstock who looks frustrated before reluctantly accepting whatever it is he said. "Your honour. My client would like to adjust his plea from not guilty to guilty on all accounts." There's another collective gasp from the audience in the courtroom. That was not how we saw this going.

"I cannot say that I don't appreciate the unnecessary use of federal funds for this court case. But I appreciate you changing your plea before more can be wasted. I will call a recess until Friday when I will sentence the Defendant." The judge hits his gavel and court is dismissed. "Miss Y/l/n, you're free to leave the stand now." The judge smiles kindly at her whilst Danny moves quickly to help her.

We all jump up and move to Y/n, taking our turns to hug her. When it gets to me, I hold her tightly as we both cry in each other's arms. "You are incredibly brave for doing what you did, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you." I tell her whilst cupping her face. "Thanks mom." She returns through a small smile. "You did a great job Y/n. You spoke as someone far beyond your years." Danny compliments her as I finally let her go from my grip. "All thanks to your help." She replies but Danny shakes his head. "That was all you." He defends.

"How about I go and grab the car and we can head home and get some takeout to celebrate?" Colin suggests and we all agree. "Come on, I'll escort you out." Danny says, as we make our way out of the courtroom and towards the exit of the courthouse.

When the door opens, we're met by a flood of bright flashes. I look around and see paparazzi surrounding us.

Scarlett who is the girl?

Why are you in court?

Is she your secret daughter?

Who hurt her?

I quickly move to Y/n's side as Laura stands protective on the other. Danny walks slightly ahead to block the view on my daughter as Lizzie flows behind as we basically block her in and hopefully from view of the intrusive cameras. I avoid every question being shouted at us, and focus on making sure my daughter makes it safely to the car.

Thankfully, Colin doesn't take long to arrive at the bottom of the steps and the security guards have come over to help too. We get Y/n in the back of the car and all slip in as quickly as we can so we can get away from this madness.

When we're around the corner and out of sight, I turn around to see Y/n breathing heavily on the back seat. "Are you ok? I'm so sorry about that? I don't know how they knew we were there." I rush out hoping she doesn't blame me. "It's ok mom. You couldn't help it." She responds, giving me a half hearted smile. "It was bound to come out at some point." She adds on. "Yeah, but this was not how I wanted it to. I wanted to control it, so you were as safe and as comfortable with it as possible." I share, frustrated that it's come out like this. "Seriously mom it's fine." She reiterates so I leave it for now.

When we get home, we all change out of our nice clothes and into comfy alternatives for our lazy evening. The atmosphere is completely different. It's lighter now. "Why did you ask them to call you Y/n in there? Danny had mentioned about courtroom protocol." Laura asks Y/n, whose gaze dropped to her hands. "I don't like my name?" She mumbles. "What do you mean?" Colin asks. She then looks up shyly. "Y/l/n is the name of the people who hurt me most. I didn't want him to keep using it whilst I testified." She admits almost scared to do so.

"Then let's change it." I state confidently. Both Y/n and Colin's heads snapping to look at me. "I think we need to address the rumours before they get out of control. I would love it if I could introduce my daughter to the world as Y/n Johansson." I smile at her. "Let us adopt you. You've always been my daughter, but I want it to be legally so. I want there to be no doubt that you are part of this family and I'm your mom." I'm practically begging her. I just hope that she feels the same.

"You're serious? You both want that?" Y/n asks, looking to Colin now. "Oh kiddo. I don't need a bit of paper to call you, my daughter. But adopting you would make me happier than you'd ever know." Colin shares with a teary smile. "So, what do you think?" I ask her as I wait for her response, my heart thumping in my chest. Y/n looks around to Lizzie and Laura who are both smiling widely at her. "Ok, I'd love that. You've given me everything I could ask for. Everything I thought I would never get. Thank you so much." She responds.

At those words I'm out of my seat and wrapping her in a tight hug. "Thank you for coming back to me and giving me a chance to make things right with you. I can't tell you the happiness you have brought to my life by being here again. I promise you that you will always have a safe home here. I love you so much my sweet girl." I tell her as I hold her close. We have cried so much today, but this time it's happy tears and I couldn't be happier.

Y/n's POV:

I can't believe it. They're actually adopting me. They really do want me to be part of this family. There was a time that I thought that I wouldn't be able to forgive Scarlett. But now I can look back and see that she thought she was doing what was best for me. She had no control over what would happen to me. She trusted that the state would keep me safe. I can't blame her forever.

She has done nothing but prove herself since I moved here. She has given me so much love as well as a dad, a sister and brother. Hell, she's given me this huge wider family too. It's surreal to me that I have that now. As we settle down, I cuddle into Laura, who wraps her arm around me and places a kiss on my head. "Are you ok?" She whispers to me so the others can't hear. "I'm happier than I've ever been. I've got the most amazing girlfriend I could ask for and a family I never thought I'd have." I respond truthfully, moving my head so I can connect my lips with hers. As I pull away, I look into her gaze and just see love in return. "I got my happy ending."

#scarlett johansson x y/n #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson fanfiction #scarlett johansson #celebrity fanfic #celebrity fanfiction

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popjunkie42 · 3 months ago

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Painted Blind Chapter Three

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Summary: What Feyre Archeron wants is simple: enough food, gold and safety to take care of her family. But when a terrifying fae beast crosses the wall and enters the human lands, she finds that simple, safe life slipping out of reach.

Part one of an ACOTAR re-telling inspired by the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros.

Chapter Three: Feyre learns the unintended consequences of becoming Feyre fae-killer. The Archeron family receives an invitation.

Thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta read, hand holding and advice!

I also have a beautiful commission art piece by June Page I’ve posted.

I’m really excited for the next few chapters as we get to delve into some more sister stuff along with exploring the human territory a bit more…

Chapter under the cut or Read on AO3.

The next morning, there were offerings at the door from the village.

It wasn’t until I had stepped outside in the morning to grab firewood that I saw our front stoop had been visited. There were…offerings. Lovely stacks of small gifts: an iron ring on a plain wooden dish, a pile of dried figs wrapped in a canvas bag, winter apples, a small carving of a wolf’s head, and a sprig of dried flowers.

No one from the village had ever given me anything before.

Coming here, my father, sisters and I had learned quickly that poverty hit this place too hard for begging to be of any use. The most well-off in our village still had lean times without bread and the refined folk down the road that deigned to come to market day would do nothing but sneer and kick at us. There was a line even for the burned and stale bread at the bakery. And tempting as it was, I refused to accept the occasional offers of ale at the tavern from the men whose eyes sparked after too many glasses themselves.

Richard Dannon had been good to his word, and had come to our ramshackle cabin just a few hours later with a purse of gold and breathless thanks. He eyed me the whole time as if I were some sort of dangerous beast that might turn and snap at him at any moment, just like the head I had brought him that morning. I didn’t ask what he planned to do with it.

The man in his fine suit and wan face had offered to keep some of the funds in the bank in Innisville - our old village, when we had been in society and not known the pains of hunger.

I said I’d consider it.

But I hadn’t thought about much at all, really, after scrubbing my skin raw and sleeping most of the day.

If my mind wandered anywhere it was to what Isaac and the gaggle of boys around our age would think; at how the other hunters in the village might greet me at the next market day. How I could walk past those who sometimes laughed at me or threatened me with a reason to hold my head high.

On the second day, the gifts were even more lavish.

Nesta and Elain’s eyes had gone wide as we all shuffled out in our blankets that morning. There was a bouquet of vibrant hothouse flowers that made Elain gasp. Dried meats and a small bag of flour and candies - a bag of peppermints.

For once, we hadn’t fought. Nesta’s eyes had glittered as she offered the bag to Elain, who deeply inhaled the sugary scent and selected one with delicate fingers, as if it were a sparkling diamond. Then she passed the bag to me, smiling wide, reveling in being able to share now instead of fighting over meager morsels.

I couldn’t remember, exactly, the last time I had tasted candy like this. But some recollection was buried deep within me, as the first taste of sugar flooded my memories, filling my mouth as I sucked.

A moment later we were all smiling at each other, laughing at the heady rush, at the crunch under our teeth and the tiny sweet memories of another life.

On the third day, the gifts were even more. Coins of all kinds. Bread rolls and pastries, and a small wheel of cheese. More flowers and dried up bits of the forest. And on the windowsill, a silver chain with a small stamped charm.

On the third day, as well, there were people waiting. Just a few - staring nervously as I cracked the door open and emerged, my sisters behind me.

A woman in fine black clothes approached me.

“I would ask your name, but everyone on the western shore knows it now.” Her voice was a hoarse croak, as if she had been screaming. Weary, bloodshot eyes seemed to confirm my suspicion.

“Um, I - sorry, I don’t know your name.” I remembered that once I had had lessons, etiquette, learning to curtsy and address all manner of people. My mother would be rolling over in her grave, now.

Gloved hands grasped my own tightly, and she shoved a folded letter into my hands, her eyes turning to shimmering pools. It had looked like she wanted to say more, but she had left a moment later - a weary trudge back towards the main road.

I made Elain read me the letter later that evening, when Nesta had gone to bed and father was snoring quietly by the fire.

Her son had fallen to the beast’s hunger. I didn’t let myself think as to whether I had seen his bones littered in front of the cave. She had written of her sorrow, and the hope that with his death avenged, her son would finally be at peace.

I didn’t know if I believed in that, if there was peace or anything at all to be had after we finally closed our eyes for good, if any old gods existed to guide us there. But I hoped for her sake it was true, or at least that the belief would let her sleep more soundly at night. Maybe we all would, knowing one such monster was gone from our lands.

I had hoped for the stability that came with gold, to avoid hunger and the cold, to maybe earn a little respect from the village.

I hadn’t expected anything like this.

An anxious part of me remembered the beast’s words, still so strong it was as if they rumbled through my chest. I am only what comes before.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was also on the third day that my father started acting strange, an unsettled gleam in his eyes as he stared into the fire.

His eyes had taken on a sharpness that had been absent for so long. And his attentions drifted back to me, to all of us. I would glance up from sharpening my knife at the table to find him looking at me, a crease in his brow, a small frown on his face.

As wary as I was, it almost felt good to see him like this - sharp, animated, and directing his attention towards me more than he ever had before. It reminded me of our life so long ago, when he had presided over a mighty wood-carved desk oiled to a shine and sat shoulder-deep amidst the richest treasures of the world.

When he had been…powerful.

That afternoon, we made our way to the marketplace for the first time since my hunt. We had walked together, even my father joining us with his cane, standing closer together than I could remember us ever doing. Nesta scowled, and Elain gripped my arm tight enough to pinch as we wandered through the square, meeting face after face filled with awe and wonder.

Some of them murmured my name, a strange, unsettling echo throughout the road. Feyre. Feyre Archeron. Fae-killer. A few even put their hands upon their hearts, and bowed in respect.

Bathed in blood, I heard someone whisper.

I didn’t know how to feel. My face was burning under all the attention, all the scrutiny. The village elders met us in the town square to shake my hand, the same ones that had turned us away again and again when we were at our most desperate.

Nesta had seethed beside me, only the smile of our father staying our words.

I didn’t have time for this. For any of it, least of all the nervous, unsettled feeling curdling in my gut.

I had things to do: I had to make change the best I could, for few in the village could exchange an entire gold piece. We had agreed upon some small initial purchases. Mostly I hoped that getting my sisters a few coveted items would douse those ravenous looks they gave every time the bag of coins sat upon the table. I needed to find a safer place to keep it than under the floorboards.

And I needed, desperately, to see the healer again. When I had first seen him a few days ago, he had done little more than give me a salve and poked around the bones in my hand as I tried not to scream. At least he had given me a tonic for the pain.

But I hadn’t been able to sleep last night, a burning numbness sometimes creeping past the pain of the shattered bone and torn ligaments. It was somehow worse. I had formed a new habit of pricking my fingertips with my nails, trying to coax some feeling back into them.

Fifty gold coins was fine. But it wouldn’t last my whole life. And I needed my hand to hunt.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The day after, father had mysteriously been gone in the morning by the time we all woke. He had returned hours later, his cheeks flush and three new dresses clutched in his arms.

He had hung them on the wall in display as I bit my tongue. They were simple, but made of fine fabric that draped well. Robin’s egg blue for me, slate grey for Nesta, and pale pink for Elain. We were to go to the market again, but as properly dressed ladies.

They had to cost at least a gold piece, perhaps even two.

I wondered how many gold pieces my hand was worth.

Still, something inside quieted me just for now. This was the first interest our father had taken in us in years. I felt it in the tension as Elain fingered the fabric reverently, as Nesta eyed hers with grudging approval.

So the next market day, I let him dress us as ladies. I didn’t say anything as we covered the new fine garments with our threadbare coats, paired them with our scuffed and worn shoes. He himself had brushed off one of his old suits as much as he could, shining a pair of impractical shoes from another time.

I had held out hope that things would return to normal over time, and we could slip through the market like any other unremarkable family with a few coin to spend. But no such luck.

The town square was full this morning, with more strangers in fine clothes than I had ever seen here.

All eyes looked to us as we shuffled through the stalls. Nesta kept her chin high and her jaw set, as I ducked into stores and stalls to escape.

Father was in fine form, smiling and shaking hands as we shopped. He made sure to seek out those in finer suits first.

“Feyre, come here!”

My father beckoned me with a warm, hopeful smile.

I sighed. I was negotiating hard for some dried beans, some rice. It had been a new irony to discover these market days: even with so many coins in my pocket, the merchants insisted on filling my arms with food and supplies, refusing to take even half of their worth. I had to fight: not to haggle, but to pay. I knew everyone here was as hungry as we had been, couldn’t afford such charity even as they insisted.

It was all right though, because it helped me ignore the shooting pains in my hand.

Father was entertaining in the square as we shopped: a rotund man about his age, in a fine dark wool suit and a tall hat, shining in the morning light.

“Feyre, this is Mr. Robinson, the Mayor of Innisville. You remember him?” he asked me.

I didn’t.

“His wife, Lady Sasha used to show horses with your mother. And he’s come to see you, dear daughter.” He spoke with a theatric flair, with a barely contained smile on his face. Unsettling and strange. “He has an invitation for us all.”

The man beamed at me, his chubby cheeks glowing red, looking warm and jovial even on this dour winter day.

“Just look at you. Who would have imagined you bringing down that monster!” I prickled at his tone. “I got a look at its head. You must have been very frightened, dear child.”

Something burned in my stomach. I remembered, strangely, the taunting, bored voice of the beast.

“I’ve hunted for my family for many years,” I told him. “Hunger drives us to do many things in spite of fear.”

My father made a sharp inhale. But the mayor simply smiled, moving closer at my tone, and grasped my good arm at the elbow. “Of course, dear. I just meant you must be very brave. Especially for one so young. And lovely.”

My father held me by my other arm. I had the distinct feeling of a pack gathering, penning me in.

“The Mayor came with an invitation, Feyre,” he said gently, like I was a wild animal needing coaxing. I could see the regret in his eyes, probably thinking about how he had taken so little care to teach his youngest proper manners. Or anything at all. “He’s extended an invitation to the whole family, to join them as honored guests next week for the town’s solstice celebration.”

“Everything is so bleak these days - with the wheat blight and the threat of the wall always looming over us. People need something inspiring, to show them the way. Or maybe someone.” He seemed to be a kind man, and his eyes sparkled as he smiled at me.

My heart skipped a beat at that. My birthday. I suspected my father had forgotten the significance.

I knew my sisters would want to go desperately, would beg and plead. And that spark in father, even if I resented where it came from…it was like he was back again, like when I was a child in his office, his youngest girl to entertain with treasures from across the world.

Except now, I was feeling more and more like the prize on display.

My hand began to hammer in time with my thundering heart.

“I suppose I can take a one day break from hunting.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

That night, the three of us lay in bed, not sleeping.

Nesta was the one who spoke first, her voice barely a whisper.

“Father means to use this to marry us all off,” she said, a simple statement of fact.

“Do you think we’ll get many more invitations, maybe to a ball?” Elain asked.

I snorted.

“This all depends on you, you know,” Nesta said, fixing her eyes on me in the dark. They glowed unnervingly in the silver moonlight. “You can’t behave like a feral beast anymore. If you can summon manners and keep your temper in check for once, you might actually be rid of us soon. Isn’t that what you want?”

I frowned. “Is that what you want, then Nesta? Who knew butchering a monster in the woods would lead to husbands all around. I didn’t think you would be so eager to partner with father in his schemes.”

“Last month I was considering marrying Tomas Mandray,” she said, almost bored, ignoring my words because she knew how much it angered me. Her eyes were locked on the ceiling as she lay next to me. “Now, if we can get a few more decent dresses and invitations to the town, we might be able to marry someone with money. An actual home to keep, with servants and filled pantries.” Nesta’s voice wasn’t hopeful. It was cold and practical, evaluating the lifeline set before us.

“I talked to the other girls at the dress shop,” Elain ventured, trying to smooth over whatever it was between us, her eyes wandering to me in the dark. “They said people think you’re…blessed, Feyre.” She sounded a bit nervous. “That you defeated a fae unscathed, and bathed in its blood to take its power.”

I laughed bitterly. “Unscathed? I can hardly move my fingers. And the cut on my cheek won’t heal at all. It still bleeds half the day.”

Indeed, the slice from the creature’s claws had remained a sharp red mark on my cheek, sometimes burning in the cold, despite the cleanings and bandages Elain had attempted on it.

I hadn’t told them yet what the healer had said to me about my hand.

He had cleaned my cuts and scrapes, clucking his tongue at the deep purple bruises that were turning a sickly green, and finally gave it a closer examination. He bent my fingers and rubbed my bones with his thumb, drawing muffled cries and fiery bolts of pain that shot all the way up my arm into my shoulder.

He had made a decisive noise and set it down again, finally. “There’s no way to set all these tiny bones without cutting into your skin. And I won’t know what I’ll find in there. It's too risky to cut through the muscle and make permanent damage. I’ll wrap it the best I can and I recommend keeping it still for a few weeks to see how it heals.”

“A few weeks?” I had asked, horrified.

“Five weeks is best. Afterwards we can see how it sets, and start practicing movement again.”

I had sat in stunned silence.

Five weeks. I had never been idle even half that long since we came here. We had money now, yes, but how long would it last if I couldn’t hunt? I knew I was the only one who could keep us afloat, and I couldn’t afford to lose that time.

Even setting the snares one-handed this morning had been a challenge. And this far into winter, the rabbits weren’t as plentiful on the forest outskirts. I had to go deeper, and I had to be prepared.

“After five weeks, I’ll be able to hunt again? To use it?”

His lips pursed. “We won’t know until then. It’s likely you’ll always miss some movement. It’s all up to your body now, and if it can put you back together. The more you move it, the more it will keep re-breaking and interrupt the healing process.”

Laying in bed, my hand wrapped tightly, it pulsed with the memory.

Maybe I would have to marry. If I could never use my hand again, never hunt, never fire a bow…snares and traps and a pocket of quickly dwindling gold could only get us so far.

My stomach turned at the thought. I had wanted marriage for my sisters, mostly to get them out of my care. Of course I always hoped they could move forward, leave this sad place, start their own lives away from our poverty and bitterness. I hoped they found someone hardworking – someone gentle for Elain, someone strong for Nesta – to eke out a life away from the sad pallor of our cabin.

I had never thought of it for myself.

All I saw in my mind was freedom. Father dozing on a warm bed, while I rested, and painted, well-fed and warm.

What man could possibly match that freedom?

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#acotar #feysand #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #feyre archeron #Nesta archeron #psyche and eros #my writing

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mortyvongola2-0 · 2 years ago

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Period Pains

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Genre: Drabble, fluff

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: afab!reader, period/menstruation symptoms, fluff

A/N: I'm in a Kakashi brain rot right now if you couldn't tell. This was originally made for my OC, in a wonderful chat with my lovelies, but I decided it wouldn't be too difficult to turn into a reader insert~

Read it on AO3

There it was, that familiar feeling in your lower abdomen. The beginning of cramps that you knew would be plaguing you for the next few days, perhaps a week. It was late this time, probably due to stress from your latest mission. You pressed your chapped lips together with a frown.

The cramps were the absolute worst, even with painkillers there would be some days where you were down for the count, not to mention the intestinal discomfort that accompanied them. You wouldn’t be able to be too far from a bathroom for the first few days. A whine of annoyance left your throat. Periods are the worst.

“What’s wrong?”

You glanced at the silver-haired man on the couch next to you and immediately all you wanted was to whine and be coddled by him. You held yourself back though, figuring you could save it for when your sensitivity was at its worst. “My period is coming.”

“Oh, I see,” he set his book down on his lap before running a hand through your undone hair. The both of you had already changed into your sleep clothes. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Hold me, rub my cramps away, buy me chocolate- oo no wait cookies. “No, I’m okay for now.”

“You sure? Do you have everything you need?”

“Hm,” You pressed your head further into his hand. “I think so?”

“That sounds more like a question than an answer.”

“I’ll be fine.” He let out a thoughtful hum and brought an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side. Kakashi kept his arm draped over you and you leaned closely into him as he picked his book back up. “This definitely doesn’t hurt though.”

You were right, the next morning you woke up with painful cramps and an intense need to use the restroom. Most of that day went relatively alright, your cramps bothered you, but you were still able to do most things, and the second day went by in much the same manner. But the third day was terrible, the absolute worst.

Kakashi had woken you up gently to press a goodbye kiss to your forehead as he headed to work and usually, you loved it, but that morning you were agitated that he had woken you up. So, instead of telling him to be safe, like you usually did, all you managed was an irate goodbye. You went back to sleep for a few more hours after that, then when you finally got out of bed you stubbed your toe on the nightstand that you swore hadn’t always been in that exact spot because you never would’ve stubbed your toe otherwise. Your cramps were killing you, they had you constantly hunched and if you weren’t standing you were curled up in a ball on your bed.

Specifically on his side, because you missed him.

There were so many foods that you were craving but you had none of them and you knew going to the store to get any would be too taxing. You really really wanted something sweet, those cookies you’d thought about the other day, but none magically appeared before you, which also irritated you. You couldn’t focus on anything, nothing was helping. As another wave of intense cramping hit you, you couldn’t help but think about how miserable you were.

Pain-killers weren’t working, your food cravings were going unfulfilled, and you’d even run out of your favorite bubble bath so you couldn’t even try that to relax! You felt so sensitive and there was no one paying attention to you! By the time your boyfriend came home, you were squatting on the kitchen floor sobbing as you tried to open a jar of pickles.

You heard his chuckle- when did he get home? - and glared up at him from your place on the tile. “Don’t laugh,” you pouted, your voice more of a whine than the agitated grunt you had been going for. You sniffled as he squat down beside you, you heard the shuffle of a grocery bag as he set one down beside him. “It’s not funny.”

“No, no, you’re right,” he responded, you could see the upward turn of his lips even under his mask. “It’s definitely not funny.”

Annoyed, you shoved the unopened jar against his chest and he took it, his eyes still wrinkled with mirth. Your agitation grew. The sixth Hokage lowered his mask and gave you that chauvinistic smile that you loved. A huff left you and you pointed and told him, “It won’t open.”

“Well, if a shinobi as strong as you can’t open it, then this can’t be an ordinary pickle jar.”

Another sniffle. “It’s not.”

“I know,” he chuckled again and brought a finger to your eyes to wipe at your frustrated tears.

He looked away from you and down at the jar. The silver-haired man made a show of inspecting it before opening it with one quick twist. You wanted to cry all over again.

Kakashi set the now opened jar down before sliding over and wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, he couldn’t help the laughs that escaped him every few seconds as he tried his best to console you. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not, I’m not. Honest.”

Despite you agitation with him you melted into his embrace. His warmth comforting and even those patronizing chuckles caused a weight to lift from your chest. “I loosened it for you,” you insisted.

He hummed in affirmation and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Absolutely.”

After a few more seconds you felt a bit better but you still didn’t want him to let you go. You didn’t even care about the stupid pickles and their evil jar anymore. “Can we go to bed early tonight?”

“Of course, but how about we eat these cookies first?”

You peaked down at the bag he held up. They were your favorite cookies, from your favorite bakery, the one across from the bookshop. That time, you did start to cry again. “You love me so much,” you cried.

“Hm, maybe a little,” he teased.

Both of you ate the cookies, you ate the majority, and laid down to go to bed. You felt much better after complaining to him about every minor thing that had gotten on your nerves that day, and soon as his warm hand pressed against your lower abdomen when you spooned, your cramps lessened to an annoying ache. You fell asleep feeling much better and exceedingly loved.

tagged list: @therantingfangirl @justmyownreality @hashira-mal

Thanks for reading~

#kakashi fluff #hatake kakashi #period fic #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake/reader #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #hatake kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi x you #kakashi #kakashi fic #hatake kakashi fic #kakashi hatake fluff #reader insert #mortyvongola2 fanfic #mortyvongola2 fic

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les-pompiers118 · 1 year ago

Text

Last call for sin

900 words | rated Teen | Buck angst

A 1x01 coda ficlet for @911hiatus's week one prompt, "hunger." Title from All These Things That I've Done by The Killers, which is a perfect song for pilot Buck (in my humble opinion).

He managed the drive home okay—hands tight around the steering wheel, radio on too loud to keep his thoughts at bay, but he made it. He just put his mind on autopilot and drove. But now that he’s safely on his own front porch, fiddling with the keys in his jacket pocket, Buck feels like he can’t breathe. As if there’s a snake wrapped around his ribcage, squeezing.

He inhales sharply through his nose, then exhales more slowly from his mouth, talking himself through it like he’s his own patient. In… and out. There you go. You’re okay. On the far end of the porch, someone left an empty beer can in the potted geranium that’s languishing between two folding chairs. Buck keeps his eyes fixed on it, both to ground himself while he breathes and to have something—anything—to think about besides what happened yesterday.

He almost lost everything.

In… Out… In… Out…

The front door opens, startling Buck into taking a step back.

“Hey, I thought I heard you pull in,” Kyle says through the screen door. He’s wearing flannel pajama bottoms printed with puffy, cartoon Christmas trees and no shirt. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, fine. Just didn’t get much sleep.” Buck walks over to the geranium, plucks out the beer can, and hands it to Kyle. “You guys, uh, have someone over last night?”

“Not me. Stayed up late watching a couple movies. I don’t have to work until noon.”

Buck follows Kyle inside, careful not to let the screen door slam. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t. Fucking car alarm next door again. I’m gonna let the air out of their tires next time, I swear to fucking God.”

“I did not hear you say that,” Buck grins, then gestures at Kyle’s pajamas. “Look at a calendar, dude. It’s January.”

“Yeah, so? My mom gave me these. They’re comfortable. Yo, I was about to make some eggs. You want some?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks. Not hungry yet.”

Kyle gives him a thumbs-up and returns to the kitchen, and Buck goes upstairs to his room. The house is quiet at this time of day, at least on weekdays. Weekends are a different matter. Buck usually comes home to find a few friends-of-friends still hanging around for breakfast. Buck doesn’t care, as long as the mess gets cleaned up and no one has crashed in his bed.

God, he’s so damn tired. It’s not that they had a lot of calls last night; he just couldn’t seem to get his brain to switch off. Four straight hours in his bunk without the bell going off, and he wasted them listening to Chimney snore. Buck drops his gym bag on the floor and kicks off his shoes without looking to see where they land. Clothes are peeled off, replaced with sweats. Curtains get pulled closed. Autopilot. On the way to the bed, he catches his reflection in the mirror hanging over the dresser.

And then he can’t breathe again.

This is not a family.

The next time you screw up, it’ll be your last.

You’re done, kid.

In the dim light, Buck sees all the previous versions of himself staring back at him from the mirror, all with the same birthmark and blue eyes, the same nose that’s just a little too long. Twenty-six goddamn years’ worth of them—and it seems he’s no closer to figuring out how not to screw up his own life.

“I fucked up,” Buck whispers. “I fucked up again, Maddie.”

His reflection pleads with him in the mirror, begging for sympathy, but the voice in his head is brisk, sensible. Maddie’s voice.

Okay? What are you going to do about it, Evan?

He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s painful to think of her, still patching up idiots like him in the ER and then going home to her dickhead husband. At least she has one less thing to worry about with her little brother out of her hair. Buck hopes she’s okay. Maybe even happy.

It’s hard to imagine her happy.

It’s been five years since he left Hershey, hungry for something he couldn’t even name. So hungry it hurt. But now he understands what he was seeking as he was crisscrossing the country in her old Jeep: Purpose. Something he could hold up with pride. And people who gave a shit about him. He knows this because yesterday he almost threw all those things away for a couple of meaningless fucks. Jesus.

So. What is he going to do about it? The first step is obvious. Buck sits down on the edge of his bed and begins deleting every dating app off his phone. He’s done. He has to be done.

He makes the mistake of opening the last app. Four messages. Buck scans the profile pictures, his breathing picking up. God, it was an actual nightmare of a shift. That little girl dragged out of her house, bullets—actual fucking bullets—pinging off the fire engine. In two days, Buck’s going to be right back there, facing all kinds of awful shit again, having people’s lives in his hands. And then there’ll be the consequences of his screw-up to face. Bobby’s probably gonna have him scrubbing floors for a month.

Buck lets his thumb hover unsteadily over GirlOnFire94’s picture. The name feels like fate. He clicks.

One last time. He needs this.

His hands don’t stop shaking for a long time.

#911 #911hiatus2023 #evan buckley #911 fic #my writing

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his-red-right-hand · 11 months ago

Text

His Red Right Hand, Chapter 2

You awoke to an unpleasantly dry mouth, and a distinct feeling of disappointment. Luckily a nurse noticed you were awake and fixed the first problem with some ice chips, and the second was slightly mitigated as the pain meds started to take effect.

The next few hours passed in a haze of doctors - the blade had nicked your kidney but they were able to fix the damage - and the police questioning you. Apparently being The Ghost Face’s only surviving victim made them really want to talk to you.

And if you found yourself engaging in a little creative editing of what had actually happened, well could anyone blame you for not wanting them to know exactly what had occurred between the two of you? You still weren’t really sure of what to make of it.

So, yes, you had stumbled upon the scene by accident whilst trying to make your way home. And then you “Just froze up out of fear I guess.” The wounds on your throat and shoulder were “He was just trying to get a reaction out of me I think. But I was kinda terrified, so...” No conversation, no promises, no aching tension between the two of you that made you feel like you were aflame when you thought back to it.

You weren’t sure when you became such a good liar; must have been all those reassurances that you were doing ‘Just Fine’ over the years. But you nodded solemnly when you needed to, and promised to contact them if you remembered anything else - no matter how small. You refused to feel bad for lying to the cops; it’s not like what you left out would actually help. It just proved exactly how fucked up you were. And he was, but he was a serial killer, so that just felt like a given.

You had about half an hour of nothing to do but stare at the clock, stare at the ceiling; and enjoy your opiates before your next visitor.

A reporter.

“Jed Olsen,” he introduced himself with a charming smile, one dimple crinkling a cheek as he did. “Roseville Gazette. Would you be okay with answering some questions?” He was cute, in that clean cut All American way, square glasses framing his deep hazel eyes, dressed business casual, a small scar cutting across his lips that was probably from some sort of sporting misadventure; and his dark brown hair in that floppy curtains style that was so popular at the moment. You were pretty sure it was the painkillers talking when you were thinking about how much you wanted to run your hands through it.

“Yeah,” you croaked, wincing a little. You pushed yourself up a little with your elbows before reaching out to the cup of water on the side table, taking a few gulps before trying again. “Yeah, sure.” You gestured vaguely for him to take a seat.

The dimple got deeper as he pulled up the visitor chair to the side of your bed. Sitting down, he reached into his satchel, pulling out a yellow legal notepad and a mini tape recorder. That was turned on and placed on the side table, before he reached back into the satchel to get out a biro, uncapping it with his teeth, flipping it in his fingers and sliding the end of the pen back into the lid in a well practised motion. “Promise this won’t take very long.”

He leant over towards the recorder, quickly stating “Jed Olsen, Hospital interview,” before making eye contact with you, leaning back into the chair. “So, tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Not straight to the stabbing, huh?”

“I figured I’d ease you into it.”

That was nice at least, you had a feeling it was the only thing you were going to be talking about for a while. “Not that much to say. Born here, school here, graduated here, I work at Roseville Books.”

“No college?”

“Started doing English Lit at Roseville Community, but dropped out after my first year. Didn’t see much point, and I like working in the bookshop, so...” College implied a level of future you never really felt like you had.

“Big reader, huh?”

“Used to be. Don’t have time for it so much any more.”

“What’s your favourite genre?”

You huffed out a small laugh, a twinge in your side making you regret it a little. “You’re not going to believe this, but horror. I like to read about serial killers and monsters.”

He smiled at you, “Irony is rarely fun outside of stories. So, do you go to parties often?”

“Not really. One of my friends got invited; she’s back at college doing a bookkeeping course for her job. It was a Girl’s Night Out thing. Just like old times,” You can feel your smile turn a little pained as you said that.

His voice turned gentle as he got to the inevitable question. “Do you mind telling me the events leading up to your attack?”

“Everyone was having fun, but I wasn’t really feeling it. I think I’m getting a bit old for college parties.” You let out a self conscious chuckle, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I went out for some air and figured if I started walking then I could make the last bus. I saw a flash of light, wanted to make sure it wasn’t someone creeping on people making out or something. Which was a really dumb idea. Everyone... everyone was already dead when I found them.”

“And that’s where you saw their attacker?”

“Yeah. He was taking pictures of them. Then he saw me. I froze up. He came at me, pushed me up against the wall. Then he stabbed me.” You probably shouldn’t be so blasé about it, but after the amount of times you went over this with the police you had really lost the ability to care.

“Did he say, or do anything else that you can remember?”

“I think he maybe took my picture before I passed out? But otherwise, just the,” you mimed a stabbing motion, popping your tongue as you did; which made Jed chuckle for a few moments, before he calmed himself down and eased back into Professional Journalist Mode.

“So, you’re the only victim to survive a Ghost Face attack. How does that make you feel?”

“I was pretty confused when I woke up, didn’t expect that to happen.” No way you were a good enough liar to fake any sort of happiness or gratitude at being alive. Confused was a good enough stand in for disappointment. “I don’t really think I got lucky, or anything like that. I think that... I stumbled in on something by accident and was enough of an afterthought to him that he didn’t care enough to make sure it took.”

Jed nodded solemnly, refilling your water glass from the jug as you reached over to take another drink, smiling gratefully at him. “Any advice for our readers if they happen to encounter the Ghost Face?”

“Uh... Don’t be an idiot and just stand there, run as fast as you can.”

That got Jed chuckling again; reaching for his tape recorder and putting it back in his satchel. “I think I got everything I need, thanks for talking with me.”

“You’re a better conversationalist than the cops are.”

“I weirdly hear that a lot,” he replied, pen capped and notepad put away as he started to stand. “I’ll call you if I need to check anything, don’t worry, I already have your number - in a not creepy way, the sheriff’s office gave me some basic info about you.”

“I dunno, I think them just giving out stuff about me is a little creepy, but that’s on them, not you.”

He smiled at you, that dimple crinkling; and you could imagine that there were probably quite a few people in Roseville who really wanted that smile directed at them. “Look after yourself, hope you’re starting to feel better soon.”

“Hey, uh, Jed? Can I tell you something, like, off the record?”

He turned back towards you, sitting back down in the chair he’d half gotten out of, there was a look of interest in his eyes, but he didn’t get his notepad back out of his satchel. “Yeah, of course.”

“I didn’t, just freeze up. I saw him, I saw what he did to those people, and I just thought ‘Oh, he’s going to kill me. I’m going to die.’ And I was just… okay with it. It’d all be over with. Fuck, it was a relief.” You leant back in the hospital bed, looking up at the bland ceiling, the stains on the tiles there almost forming a picture in your still fuzzy mind. “I’m not like, suicidal or anything, you know?” You lifted your head up to make eye contact with the journalist again, the words starting to tumble out of your mouth. “It’s just, I felt more alive in those moments when I thought he was going to kill me then I have in…” A pause, the realisation of quite how long it had been now feeling like more of a punch to the gut than the stab wound in your side. “In years. That fucked up or what?”

“I don’t - I don’t think that makes you fucked up.” You could see the fingers of his hand flex, like he wanted to try and reach out, maybe in comfort, but thought better of it. You weren’t quite sure what was brewing behind his eyes, but there was an intensity there that spoke to… Something. The moment was broken by him letting out an awkward chuckle, rubbing at the back of his head as he broke eye contact. “Maybe not entirely healthy, but not fucked up. Anyway, I really should be getting back to the office…” He trailed off, and you felt a little bad for just dumping that on him; he already had enough messed up shit to deal with reporting on the murders, he didn’t need you being a freak at him.

“Yeah, don’t let me keep you. Thanks for listening though.”

“It’s no problem, really.” He responded with a smile, and for a moment you almost believed him. He dug a hand into his satchel, and pulled out a business card, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours as you took it from him. “You ever need to talk again, there’s my number.”

You looked at it, a mobile number as well as his office line, fancy. “Thank you Jed,” you said softly, smiling at him as he gave you a wave goodbye and headed out. Oh, you were tired, but it felt a bit better to get that load off of your mind. And at least one person didn’t think you were utterly insane, which was nice. Maybe you’d just close your eyes for a little bit...

Your very well earned nap ended abruptly with the loud proclamation of “I am so sorry!” Pulling a face as you started to sit up, hearing “Were you sleeping? Sorry!” your brain vaguely alert enough to identify the voice as Sarah, long time friend and worst designated driver you’d ever known.

“I was waking up anyway,” you lied as you opened your eyes, shifting your pillows to help prop you up, stealing a glance at the window to see the length of the shadows outside, letting you know you’d managed a couple of hours of rest. “The meds got me all dozy, so don’t worry about it.”

“Are you in lots of pain?” she asked, all big eyes and self recrimination as she sank into the chair that had been left vacant by Jed, still by the side of your bed.

“Right now? No, they got me on the good stuff. And as long as nothing happens to me overnight, I should get to go home tomorrow. Ask me again in about 3 days.”

“I am so sorry though. I shouldn’t’ve gone off and left you alone. It was meant to be girl’s night...” The quivering lip and honest sorrow in her eyes kept you from commenting about how she wasn’t the only one who’d done that, or that she was your first visitor not on business. You especially squashed down the thought about how you were having to comfort everyone else about almost getting murdered. Then again, you only needed comfort for the almost part.

“Hey, you had no way of knowing, I’m the one who decided to walk home. Please stop crying.”

Sarah stopped sniffling quite so much, your half hearted absolution apparently good enough for her, and started to fill you in on what you had missed. Which honestly wasn’t that much, although losing your two days off a week to being stabbed stung worse than the wound itself right now.

After about half an hour of this one of the nurses came by to let Sarah know that visiting hours were over (also delivering a super appetising looking dinner tray), and the tears started again. After a very awkward hug that just about avoided pulling your IV out, and a promise to call her once you got home, you were left alone to pick at your salisbury steak and contemplate life.

You hated contemplating life.

And the food wasn’t much better.

The cruel sting of mundanity after the thrill of your flirtation with death ached deeper than the disappointment of waking up. Having to go back to the life that has killed your spirit so that the flesh was eager to follow felt cruel. How could anything be the same after you felt that spark of life once more?

The answer was simple. That’s what life was. You’d just lost the ability to fool yourself that it was anything else. Life was a grindstone, and you had been worn down to so little remaining.

What’s worse was that you knew you were lucky. You had a job you had enjoyed at the beginning. Your manager being relatively relaxed and probably more than willing to give you time off to recover, but you needed the money.

As you finished digging a hole through the powdery mashed potatoes, you pushed the tray away from you with a small huff of disgust, picking up the fruit cup as the probably most edible thing in this whole place. You weren’t particularly hungry anyway. You never were, going days of barely eating anything except the odd cereal bar, sometimes cup ramen, then being struck with an intense hunger that had you ordering way too much take-out. Then you could pick at that over a few days until you felt hungry for anything again. At least it kept your grocery bills cheap.

Exhaustion echoed in you, bone deep. Maybe all those sleepless nights were catching up with you, or maybe it was the pain meds, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Wouldn’t it be nice to just not wake up? You felt yourself drifting off to sleep again, hoping you would dream of a masked man making your dreams come true.

#ghostface #ghostface x reader #fiction #dbd #dead by daylight

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starry-blue-echoes · 2 years ago

Note

au "Koichi the younger brother of Hol Horse" + au "Kochi dies but is reborn as act 3 with a hole in his chest in the alley of ghosts"

Hol Horse decides there's no more danger and is like "what if I leave my brother in this town with my new friends and go off to work?" and leaves (maybe this goes into one of your au "Hol Horse in part 5 works for Passion")

And of course. Kira Yoshikage himself in Morio. The man who later kills Koichi, but gets payback.

Imagine the horror everyone will feel not only from Koichi's death, but also from realizing what Hol's reaction to his brother's death will be when he finds out about it. No one called him about Koichi's death; everyone felt bad.

And then Koichi is reborn in Haunted Alley, and that makes everyone panic even more.

Y E S

OH ABSOLUTELY THIS IS AN AMAZING IDEA

Just. Hol Horse had heard about RHCP and the Stand Arrows and came running. He helps guide Koichi and the other kids, Josuke and Okuyasu get to meet Koichi's funky morally grey brother, and it all goes great! He stuck around for a few more days after RHCP's defeat, but he felt confident that it was safe once again in Morioh now and things would be calm. The two bros promised to call every few days, and went about things as they usually did

And things are fine for weeks after that (RHCP was beaten sometime in mid/late May and Centipede Shoes happens somewhere after June 24th and before July 1st). Sure there's the occasional Stand User that pops up and stirs up trouble, but nothing the kids or Jotaro can't handle

And then one day there's a phone call. Or to be more specific, he doesn't get a phone call. Hol Horse waits for hours, but..... Koichi never calls him

At first he brushes it off. Maybe Koichi was busy or got roped up in more Stand shenanigans. He'd probably call tomorrow to make up for it.

But then he doesn't. Okay, a little weird, Hol Horse would think, but maybe it just slipped his mind.

The third day he gets anxious enough to be the one to initiate the call.

Hundreds of scenarios were running through his head. Maybe Koichi was hurt, maybe he got kidnapped, maybe he went missing, maybe he was-

Dead.

The word echoes in his head as his aunt is sobbing on the phone, her words barely coherent but enough that Hol Horse can understand the meaning.

His baby brother is dead. Murdered days ago, with the killer nowhere to be found

He'd heard about the killer. About the ghost girl Koichi had met, about how they were probably responsible for all the missing cases, the anxiousness and questioning he'd had, wondering if Morioh was even as safe as he thought-

Well...... the answer was obvious now.

He drops everything to go back to Morioh. Screw whatever mission he was on, screw whatever target he had, he needs to get back right now because he's already too late, the least he can do is be there for the funeral and to protect the rest of the kids.

Hol Horse would immediately bar the kids and any other underage Stand Users from getting involved after this, a rule he only enforces more after he learns about Shigechi. Because that's what they were. Kids. Three 15 year olds who'd barely started high school, now two 15 year olds who are now going to be burdened with the weight of a dead best friend and a 12 year old for the rest of their lives

But then it turns out Koichi isn't as dead and gone as they thought. He was still dead, very much so....... but he was here.

And Hol Horse would be torn. On one hand he wanted, he needed, to hunt down the piece of shit who'd killed his baby brother. He needed to find Kira and make him pay for the pain he'd caused, and he was going to be sure his death was a slow, agonizing one.

But on the other....... that isn't what Koichi needs right now. Koichi needs stability and security and someone to be there for him. The kids all have their lives and can't dedicate every moment to be with him but...... but Hol Horse can. And he does. Every step of the way, every new ability, every nightmare, every flashback, Hol Horse is going to be there with soft words and gentle hands to comfort and hold him

And if we throw in the Hol Horse In Italy Looking For Polnareff, this could add an interesting spin to that. For one, if he went undercover before Part 4, Sorbet and Gelato wouldn't be dead yet so his bond with La Squadra as a whole would probably be different. Still a bit distant because of Hol Horse's intentions, but that's cleared up much faster and easier when a few years down the line La Squadra decide to turn against Passione

But when this happens......... ho boy

If we make this at the point where relations are a tad strained with everyone but Pesci, this is probably going to just add more to that tension. At first it would be fine, Hol Horse requesting a couple weeks off because of some personal issue arising, maybe even coming back early because "it figured itself out faster than I thought" and things going fine...... but then a few weeks later he suddenly gives Risotto a notice that he's going to be gone for a bit and then just. Fucking off to who knows where for several months straight but still sending them money to help pay bills every few weeks(he probably got some kind of job in Morioh, maybe thanks to the SWF which essentially boils down to "compensation for tracking down and securing dangerous Stand Users")

And what if when he goes back....... he ends up bringing Koichi with him. Yes Italy isn't the safest and given Hol Horse's position he's probably in even more danger but..... while Kira's gone, that isn't going to just magically erase all the anxieties Koichi's been having. Maybe Italy can be a bit of a change of scenery, just to help him cope and process in a place that isn't full of memories, at least for a couple years. He still keeps in very close contact with his friends of course, something made easier by the fact he doesn't need to sleep and thus can bypass the issue of inopportune timezones, and it's a simple few days of flying to visit, so he's able to keep those bonds without too much issue

and when Pesci accidentally stumbles upon something he shouldn't...... what if instead of Hol Horse's plans to find the Boss, it's instead Koichi. Maybe he mistakes him as an enemy and attacks, nearly getting a bullet in his skull from a partially conscious INCREDIBLY protective Hol Horse who really shouldn't be moving right now. I do think Pesci would agree to keep this secret, and now at least Koichi has another person to talk to :D

hmmmmmmm....... maybe to tie this in to the rest of the Act 4 AU when Giorno's existence comes to attention, Koichi ends up taking the job to show that he's grown and more capable now. Not in secret of course, he tells Hol that he wants to do it and they have a LONG talk and set up all sorts of contingencies in case anything goes wrong

And massive shocker here, Things Go Wrong

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mimisempai · 2 years ago

Text

I think she knows

Summary

Mycroft and Greg are in the early stages of their relationship and outside of their inner circle, no one knows the nature of their relationship. However, a little indiscretion in the police station's locker room could change things...

Notes

Mystrade Monday 3.0 #32 I think he/she knows

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On Ao3

Rating G - 1257 words

Greg was beginning to get fed up. He should have been satisfied that the investigation had been solved, even if it had been with the help of Sherlock and John. But the consulting detective had overdone it again and hadn't be able to resist provoking the culprit with a few well-chosen words.

Of course, the culprit, knowing that he had been exposed, had tried one last bravado and had thrown himself at Sherlock. But while Sherlock had dodged him, Greg's face had collided with the culprit's fist.

As a result, Greg was writing his report with the impression that his heart was beating in his face, when all he wanted to do was have a shower, a change of clothes and a good beer on his couch. Or better yet, go to Mycroft's.

But all this would not be possible for at least an hour, if not more, so he braced himself and started writing his report. At that moment his eyes fell on his bloodstained shirt, and remembering that he had a spare one in his locker room, he made his way there, hoping not to run into too many people, because he didn't feel like explaining himself every time. He stopped at Sally's office and peeked through the half-open door to see her busy filling out her own report. He called to her, "Sally, if anybody's looking for me, I'll just change in the locker room."

Sally looked up and winced at the sight of Greg's swollen face. She asked him with a slightly concerned look, "How's your cheek, boss?"

Greg replied, "Nothing an ice pack and some pain killers won't fix. "

Sally nodded sympathetically and said quietly, "Take care of yourself." Then she resumed writing her report and Greg continued on his way to the locker room.

Greg quickly removed his shirt, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it in a corner of his locker. Before looking for his spare shirt, he splashed some water on his face, then began carefully cleaning the dried blood from his swollen cheek.

Two minutes later, the locker room door opened and Greg didn't have time to react when he felt a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap around him from behind.

Mycroft.

Greg leaned into the comforting embrace for a few seconds before turning in his lover's arms. He tried to smile despite the throbbing pain in his cheek, and when he saw Mycroft's wince as his eyes fell on his face, he told himself it was a waste of time to pretend.

He raised his hand hesitantly and whispered softly, "Oh Greg..."

Greg replied in a slightly ironic tone, "I could tell you that it looks worse than it really is, but honestly, I don't have the strength to lie. It hurts like hell."

Mycroft nodded and replied, "I'd rather you told me the truth." He took his handkerchief from his suit pocket and moistened it slightly before dabbing it gently to wipe the blood from Greg's cheekbone.

He added quietly, "Tell me if I'm hurting you."

Greg nodded, but in truth he was enjoying Mycroft's touch too much to ask him to stop, even if it hurt. He closed his eyes to enjoy the touch and when Mycroft stopped, he asked in the same concerned voice, "Are you sure you don't want to have that checked?"

Greg shook his head and replied reassuringly, "I swear I'm fine. Apart from the pain I'm fine," he probed his cheek with his fingertip, "it's not broken and it's just a small cut from the ring he was wearing. In fact, now I just want to finish my report and go home."

Mycroft came closer and gently brushed Greg's hair back before asking, "Have you another shirt?"

Greg pointed to his locker, "I must have one in here."

Mycroft walked away and, after looking in Greg's locker, pulled out the shirt and helped Greg put it on. Then Mycroft handed him a key and Greg took it, looking at him with a confused expression.

Mycroft explained, "After your report you are not going home, you are coming to my house."

Greg swallowed and asked quietly, "Do you trust me enough to give me the keys to your apartment?"

Mycroft pressed a tender kiss to his forehead and replied, "Since day one, Greg."

Amazed by Mycroft's confession, Greg thought that spending the evening in Mycroft's apartment would be a good way to end the day.

Mycroft seemed to have read Greg's mind as he leaned forward and planted another tender kiss on Greg's lips. Greg opened his lips to respond to the kiss when the door to the locker room opened, startling them both.

Then they slowly turned their faces toward the door in one motion to find themselves facing Sally's surprised face.

Sally quickly regained her composure and whispered with a half smile on her lips, "I see..." then holding out an ice pack to Greg, she said in a barely teasing tone, "You seem to be in good hands, boss, but you might have use for this."

Greg started to reach for the ice pack, but Mycroft beat him to it and carefully placed it on Greg's swollen cheek. Greg could not suppress a small hiss of relief at the feel of the cold pack on his skin.

Mycroft turned to Sally and said softly, "Thank you for your concern for Detective Lestrade. However, we would appreciate it if..."

Sally interrupted Mycroft, "Don't worry. I didn't see anything."

Mycroft nodded gratefully.

Sally started to turn to leave the locker room, but before she opened the door, she turned back to the two men and said, looking into Greg's eyes, "I'm happy for you, boss."

As the door closed behind her, Greg shrugged and said with a sly grin, "I think she knows."

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds before laughing together, releasing the tension the situation had caused them. Then Mycroft put on a serious expression before saying gently, taking Greg's hand, "I hope you understand why I asked her to be discreet. It's not that I want us to hide, but since we haven't talked about it yet, I thought it best to give us some time."

Although Greg hadn't thought about it at the time, he was relieved to hear that Mycroft had no intention of hiding their relationship.

He said quietly, "You did the right thing," before squeezing Mycroft's hand in his own and letting his forehead fall on his lover's shoulder, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him.

Mycroft made him sit on a stool in the corner of the changing room and crouched down in front of him, saying softly, "Stay there, I'll be right back."

Greg didn't even have the strength to protest and just sat there, pressing the ice pack to his cheek. He didn't know how long Mycroft had been gone, but when he returned, his lover grabbed his hands and helped him to his feet before saying, "Change of plans, I'm taking you home."

Greg protested, "But my report... your work..."

Mycroft put his finger to his lips and replied, "I've taken care of everything. Your report can wait till tomorrow. So can my work. All that matters now is you."

Greg could have protested, for the sake of appearances, but he didn't have the strength anymore, and for once it was nice to have someone to rely on. So he obediently followed Mycroft's lead, not seeing Sally's fond smile as they left the police station.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

#mystrade #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #mycroft x greg #some fluff as always #sherlock bbc #emotional hurt/comfort #established relationship #mystrade monday #mystrade monday prompts

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queen-of-deans-booty · 2 years ago

Text

Trial and Error: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

Sam and Dean's rooms are completely opposite of each other. Dean knocked down the wall separating two rooms so that you can have a much bigger room, but he managed to make it his own even with all of your things. Dean has different kinds of guns on the wall, his record player on a desk with his albums still wrapped in plastic on a rack beside the record player. You added some things such as cute throw pillows, a bean bag, and a desk with a computer and little trinkets on it.

It's a cute room but still has room for Dean's things to go. Sam's room is in a different hallway than you and Dean, so you decorated a room near Sam's so you or Dean can use it if you ever need a break from each other or are fighting. It's a good set up you all have, and you're glad you found this place.

"Wow," Sam comments from the doorframe. "Not bad."

"Not bad? I haven't had my own room since ever. I'm making this awesome. I got my kickass vinyl, we've got this killer mattress." Dean sits on the edge and grins happily. "Memory foam--it remembers me. It's clean, too. There's no funky smell. There's no creepy motel stains."

"I added a few nice touches with my magic. This used to be a queen bed," you grin.

"I'm gonna go fix us some grub."

Dean leaves his room, leaving you and Sam alone.

"Knocking down this wall was the best thing I could have done. We have a bigger bed, a bigger room, and a bigger closet."

"Yes, because you need that."

"Of course I do."

"How are you doing with the babies?" Sam asks.

"We're doing okay." You smooth your hand over your growing belly and tap it a few times. "They're both kicking, they're both healthy, and I can't wait until they're both here. Only two more months to go. What can go wrong?"

You turn to leave the room but you stop short when you see Amara standing in the doorway. Suddenly, you have a splitting headache the longer you look at her. You groan and hold your head, turning away from her. Sam immediately goes to your side and prepares to catch you if you fall over.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you sigh.

"That wasn't nothing. What's going on?"

"I've been having headaches whenever Amara comes around. Really bad ones. Dean doesn't know. It's probably nothing."

"Y/N, that's serious. He should know."

"What is he going to do? It's nothing, Sam. If it gets worse, I'll let him know, but I don't want him to worry about nothing."

You pass by Amara without looking at her, ignoring the pain in your head. The farther you get from her, the less the pain is. Soon, you don't have a headache anymore, but it does get you wondering how harmful this is going to be.

Sam heads to the library and digs into more books. He's been reading everything he can, trying to soak up all this knowledge knowing that one day, he's going to need it. You take a seat next to him, and that's when Dean comes in carrying three plates with burgers on them.

"What are you reading?"

"Sort of everything," Sam chuckles.

"Oh, good. Somebody's gonna have to dig through all this, and it ain't gonna be me."

"You made these?"

"We have a real kitchen now."

"I know. I just didn't think you knew what a kitchen was."

"I'm nesting, okay? Eat."

You take a bite of the burger and moan at how good it tastes. You knew Dean could cook, but you didn't know it could taste this good.

"Wow," Sam says with a mouthful of food.

"You're welcome." Dean takes a big bite of his food when his phone rings. He finishes his bite quickly before answering. "Yo."

"Dean? Come quick," Kevin says on the other line in a panic.

"Kevin? What's wrong?" Kevin hangs up, leaving all three of you confused. "I want to finish my burger."

"Come on, he needs our help."

It takes five hours to travel from the Bunker to Garth's Houseboat in Missouri. Without detours and stops, it takes Dean less than four to get there. Sam and Dean take all the precautions when it comes to Kevin due to the kind of work he is doing. Dean enters the houseboat, but Kevin is nowhere to be found.

"Kevin? It's us," you call out.

Dean hears something coming from the bathroom, and he opens it to see Kevin on his knees, vomiting into the toilet. He has a bloody nose and looks absolutely wrecked.

"Found him."

"Get up," you instruct, helping him to his feet. Sam grabs Joanna so that she is out of the way, and you bring Kevin over to the table and make him sit down. He tries to move out of your grasp, but you glare at him in only a way a mom can do. "Let me see you."

"I'm fine."

"Shut up and let me look at you."

Kevin knows it's no use in fighting you, so he leans back and lets you examine him. With your magic, you're able to heal his bloody nose, clear up some of his sinuses, and relieve his body of pain. He sighs and closes his eyes, free of some of the pain he's been in for a while.

"Wow. You look like hammered shit," Dean comments and you glare at Dean. "Are you sleeping?"

"Not really."

"Are you eating?" you ask and cross your arms.

"Hot dogs, mostly."

"That is not acceptable, young man. You need sleep, a good meal, and a shower."

"I know, and I've been getting bad headaches and nosebleeds, and I think maybe I had a small stroke. It was worth it."

"What was worth it?"

"I figured out how to close the Gates of Hell."

"Come here, you smelly son of a bitch."

Dean gives Kevin a big hug, lifting him off the ground. He sets him down and scrunches his face up in disgust once he gets a whiff of Kevin.

"What does this mean? What are we looking at?" you ask.

"It's a spell, and it's just a few words of Enochian, but the spell has to be spoken after you finish each of the three trials."

Kevin hands over the piece of paper with the spell written down on it, but you pass it off to Sam who has a better understanding of the words. What with all the books he's been reading at the bunker.

"Trials like 'Law & Order'?"

"More like Hercules. The tablet says, 'Whosoever chooses to undertake these tasks should fear not danger, nor death, nor...' A word I think means getting your spine ripped out through your mouth for all eternity. Basically, God built a series of tests, and when you've done all three, you can slam the gates."

"God wants us to take the SATs?" you joke.

"I guess. Uh, he works in mysterious ways."

"Yeah, mysterious, douche-y ways. Alright. Where do we start?" Dean asks, wanting to get started.

"I've only been able to crack one of the tests so far, and it's gross. You've got to kill a hound of hell and bathe in its blood."

"Awesome," Dean smiles.

"Excuse me?"

"Hey, if this means icing all demons, I have no problem gutting some devil dog and letting Calgon take me away."

"Where are you going to find one?" you ask and cross your arms.

"Well, Hellhounds like to collect on crossroads deals. So, all we have to do is track down some loser who signed away his life ten years ago, and get between him and Clifford the big dead dog."

"That doesn't sound easy."

"It's not," you and Sam say at the same time.

"Look, you get on the net and see what you can dig up. I'm gonna go for a supply run because we need goofer dust, and the kid needs to eat something that's not ground-up hooves and pigs' anuses."

Dean leaves without leaving any room for argument. Your lower back has been hurting recently, so you take a seat on the only small couch that's inside the boat. You close your eyes for a minute or two, but when you open them, you see Amara on the other side of the boat. A splitting headache comes back to haunt you, and you're not able to hide it from Sam.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Y/N, this isn't healthy."

"It's fine, Sam. It's not a big deal."

If you admit to yourself that there could be a serious problem, then you have to admit that your babies aren't okay. Anything that has to do with your babies is serious, and you will not be putting their lives in danger. If Amara wants to cause trouble for you, then you'll power through it and deal with the consequences later.

Maybe if you don't admit there could be a problem, then there won't be one.

"Go take a shower Kevin," you say and focus on him instead of Amara.

"I don't really--"

"Don't make me get up and smack you. I said, go take a shower." When he doesn't move, you narrow your eyes at him. "Now."

"Okay, I will." Kevin heads to the bathroom with a pout, but when he comes back twenty minutes later, he looks a lot better. He shaved, cleaned himself, put on clean clothes, and took care of his body for once. "Okay, I feel a lot better."

"You look better. Mama knows best," you grin.

"Speaking of, you have to slow down," Sam says. He has been researching demonic signs anywhere that would suggest someone's ten years is up while you relax. "Get some sleep. Take a day off, and at the least, open a window."

"No. You said nuking hell is how I get out. That's how I go home."

"Kevin, he's right. That's how you get home safely, but you can't live like this."

"You think I want to? I hate it here. I can't leave because every demon on the planet wants to peel my face off. I can't talk to anyone except you guys or Garth when he swings by, or my mom. Right? When she calls, all she does is cry. I just... I need this to be over."

Your heart breaks for Kevin because he didn't ask for any of this. He got dragged into this because God made him a prophet, and you had to trample all over his life.

"Let me ask you this. How do you expect to do your absolute best here if you're not at your best? You need to take care of yourself or else you'll struggle more than you should. Work smarter, Kevin, not harder."

"I know," Kevin sighs.

"Taking one day off or even half a day is not going to kill you or anyone else. Get some sleep and recharge your body."

The heavy front door squeaks open, and Dean comes in holding a grocery bag of good food for Kevin to eat.

"Did you know that there are, like, 6,000 kinds of tomatoes?" He sets the bag in front of Kevin, and the young man can't help but dig into whatever Dean got. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah. There had been demonic signs ten years ago in Shoshone, Idaho. Meet the Cassitys who are small-time farmers who struck oil on their land in February of '03, which is weird because geological surveys—"

"You had me at weird," Dean cuts his brother off. "Does it sound like a deal?"

"It's the best lead we have right now."

"Okay, let's go visit the Beverly Hillbillies." Dean gets up and turns to Kevin. "You stay here, work on step number two, and if you come across anything about Hellhounds, drop a dime, okay? Between the claws, the teeth, and the whole invisibility thing, those bitches can be real bitches." Dean reaches into the plastic bag and produces two bottles of medicine for Kevin. "I got you a present. The blue ones are for headaches, and the green ones are for pep. Don't O.D."

"Thanks?" Kevin sighs.

"Are you sure about that?" Sam whispers as they walk away.

"Sam, we are on the one-yard-line. It is time to play through the pain."

You groan and get up, grabbing Joanna's hand who has been silently playing with her stuffed dolls.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Thank you."

You follow behind the brothers back to the car where you strap Joanna into her car seat. Once everyone is in, Dean heads back on the road to make the twenty-hour drive from Warsaw, Missouri to Shoshone, Idaho.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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lavender-long-stories · 1 year ago

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This is going to read like and old style author's note.

So. Some of you know that I am a pretty active cook, and I have been canning recently.

While working on some tomato products, my grandmother brought me some more tomatoes from her sister's garden that did better than ours, along with a large bag of banana peppers that she told me were hot.

I thought that was fine. I have handled hot peppers before. I don't own disposable gloves. I will just thoroughly wash my hands with dish soap to make sure all the oils get off.

Biggest fucking mistake.

I cut all 30 or so large peppers and nearly died coughing cleaning the seeds out.

At first, there was no pain for like an hour, then it started to burn, which I didn't panic about because I had cute jalapeno before and suffered for an hour of mild irritation. NO. Within the next few hours, I was in the worst pain of my life, and the only relief was running my hands under a cold tap.

I tried everything every site suggested. Pain killers did nothing, neither did allergy medication, the topical medication I could even feel a difference. I tried every home remedy: honey, yogurt, milk, flour, stainless steel, vinegar, baking soda, lemon, butter, nail polish remover, mustard, shampoo, conditioner, oil, dish soap, etc.

Many stories online said they went to the ER and even morphine doesn't help because of the way that peppers burn and the only thing they were given was a cocktail that put them to sleep.

I couldn't sleep, even after we tried to rig up a bowl of ice water by my head. I think I fell asleep for 10 minutes, and the pain woke me up.

I spent the rest of the night wrapped in a heating blanket on a chair with my hands under a cool tap in my bathroom.

I thought maybe the creams were finally starting to work around 7 in the morning, but I did the math, and the life of the capsaicin (the chemical that makes peppers hot) is 18 hours, and it was just wearing off. By 9, my hands were no longer burning, and I was finally able to sleep.

18 hours of pure hell, both in pain and pure boredom, because all I could do was watch videos, and I am a severe multitasker.

I am fine now. My hands feel weirdly tight, but they aren't insanely dry because so much of what I was slathering them with was moisturizing, and I am dying to get back to writing.

I had planned to spend the whole evening writing. That obviously didn't happen.

PSA: WEAR FUCKING GLOVES WHEN CUTTING PEPPERS. THERE IS NOT CURE FOR THE PAIN.

#Pepper hell

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destinygoldenstar · 1 year ago

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Total Drama Danganronpa Island Chapter 4 Deadly Life Preview

SPOILERS for Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 Daily Life.

"Courtney? I'm ready." Leshawna is in the halls of the bunker with some bandages, two bottles of water, and a ham and lettuce sandwich. She walks to the room, ready to go back in there. "Courtney?"

"Leshawna?" I reveal myself by the archway. "I thought I told you I was fine."

"That's bull and you know it." She counters. She grabs my wrist without my consent. I hate to say it, but the burn does sting, so maybe that's why I'm not fighting back. She asks, "Don't suppose you found any traces of Izzy in there. The rest of us can't."

"No." I answer. "It's like she just... vanished without a plan."

"For Gwen's death to affect her too, that's... that's interesting." Leshawna says. "Here, put your hand in." She informs me, directing my hand into a cool dish of water. I bite my lip from the sting.

Then she offers me the sandwich. "Let's just chill here, you eat up, and we can figure this out. Everyone else we can find already got theirs."

I stare at the sandwich for a bit. It looks familiar. I ask, "DJ made these?"

Leshawna nods sadly. "He's... he's not doing well."

"Good!" I spit out. "He killed Gwen!"

"Courtney-"

"Don't Courtney me! You can't seriously forgive him! He'll be dead in a few hours, why bother?"

Leshawna steps back, she loosens her grip on my hand to see if I'll put my hand out of the water. I don't. She lets go. "You know, Noah said that investigating this case was pointless since the killer confessed already. Simple, right? Gwen was murdered. DJ murdered her."

"And?" I ask.

"I don't think it is that simple, personally." Leshawna adds. "You know how DJ is, he'll take the blame for stuff that isn't his fault. Don't get me wrong, I don't doubt he was involved, but I think he's overexaggerating what actually happened."

I admit, that does sound like something DJ would do. Still, you can't overexaggerate 'I murdered someone.'

"And the others?" I ask.

Leshawna says, "You can try if you want, but for me, NOBODY will talk."

My eyes widen. "No one?"

"No one's giving themselves alibis, no one's talking in general, no one's investigating. They're just silent peeps. You and I are the only ones." Leshawna clarifies. "I tried talking to Lindsay and Noah. They're silent. I tried with Bridgette three times now, and she's crying herself to sleep, so eventually I gave up."

Why? Why is nobody speaking? Don't they want to find out about Gwen? Don't they want to at least clear themselves?

"I'm assuming you and Duncan can clear each other, right?" Leshawna assumes. "You were both upstairs?"

"Yes." I say. There's no way Duncan could've done it anyway. He was unconscious.

I have to ask, "How is Duncan?"

Leshawna answers, "Well for one, he ran off. We can't find him. He just lashed out and ran. It's very unlike him and how he's dealt with the past murders... now I think he's shut down."

"He tried to end his own life," My breath itches when I say that. I feel my face well up. "Why...?"

Leshawna sighs. She doesn't know how to approach that, either. "There are some people that think things will be better if they're not... if they're not... you know. Sick thought. I can't imagine thinking like that."

I can't, either. Is this island so horrible that you would want to? Are they that lost in their minds?

I have to ask her, "Why are you taking this so well?"

Leshawna looks up.

"You lost your love. You didn't support your friend, and now she's dead. You've seen so many people murder each other. Yet you're still progressing and moving on. Why? Why did you get over it?"

Leshawna looks down. She takes my hand out of the water and pulls out something in her pocket. Harold's yo-yo.

"I'm not over it." She states. "If I could stop his actions, I would. If I could make it up to Gwen after the crap I gave her, I would. It just... it pains me more than my face says. I ditched her as a friend when she needed me. I can't apologize now. But I made a promise to Harold before that trial that I would move on, stay strong, and carry on his wish to get everyone out of here."

That's when it hits me.

"You knew he killed Owen."

She nods, confirming it. "He told me."

'Harold pulled Leshawna aside to talk during the investigation of Owen and Geoff's murders. They went to the lounge and Harold shut the door behind him for privacy.'

'He lingered on the door. She knew from his face alone that there was something troubling him. After two murders, she wouldn't blame him.'

'"Ginger, I know this is hard." She said to him. "You did your best. You did what you could... it's not your fault, okay? It's the one who killed them. It's the Mastermind."'

'Harold's hand shook on the doorknob. His breath hitched in distress.'

'Leshawna tried to approach him and put a hand on his shoulder. "We can't save everyone. Best we can do is keep fighting."'

'Harold couldn't look her in the eye. His eyed began to water.'

'"You were always stronger than me, LeGoddess."'

'"We're both strong." She countered.'

'That's when a tear fell from Harold's face. She tried to back hug him to calm him down. "Baby, it's not your fault! Don't hurt yourself like this. We're gonna find the killers, and we'll avenge them!"'

'"I already found them."'

'That made Leshawna stop and part from him. "You... you know who did it?"'

'"Yeah..." His voice was shaken, sad, sore. "The one at fault is the one who killed them. A hero wouldn't kill them... I'm not a hero..."'

'Time seemed to freeze for Leshawna along with her heart.'

'"...what do you mean...?"'

'"I'm not going to lie to the love of my life." He decided. He turned to her, crying. "It was me. I killed Owen."'

'That was it. That's what made her heart go from frozen to shattered.'

'No... she couldn't have been right. She couldn't have been right about losing him. She was going to lose him.'

'"Do you hate me now?" He asked. His tears were going from sad to angry. "I understand! I understand perfectly well! And you have every right to walk out, sell me out, and leave me to die!! I will hold nothing against you for it."'

'She didn't do that. She just needed to know one thing. "Why?"'

'"It doesn't matter why! I have no excuse for what I did!"'

'"Harold, WHY?!"'

'"I was stupid, I was wrong, I was corrupted, I was weak! I was a failure! And now I'm gonna lose everything and I'm gonna DESERVE IT-"'

'"WHY did you kill him?!"'

'"So yeah! It's done, I f****d up! I f****d up horribly! I'm terrible-"'

'"HAROLD I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL SLAP YOU IF YOU DON'T TELL ME WHY!"'

'Now she was the angry one. It got him to stop. "I KNOW you. I KNOW you wouldn't do something like this for no reason. You had to have had a good reason for why you would take Owen's life. So TELL ME WHY."'

'He couldn't say anything.'

'She added, "There was a reason, wasn't there? The Mastermind made you do it. How did they do that?"'

'He hesitated. He wiped the tears from one side of his cheek. He said, "I thought he was the traitor."'

'That's all she needed to hear. It all made sense now.'

'She stepped forward and hugged the scrawny boy tight. Her eyes watered for a brief moment, which was rare for her.'

'"Thank you for telling me."'

'Harold hugged her back. He didn't understand why she wasn't mad at him, he just needed her company.'

'It felt like hearing a loved one caught an illness, and they only had a few hours to live.'

'Only it was real.'

'"I'm going to die..." He cried. He buried his face in her shoulder.'

'"Not if I can do something about it." She swore.'

'That got Harold to jolt up. "No! You're not defending me! You can't do that! I can't let you do that!"'

'"You're going to die!" She argued. "What do you want me to do?! Just let that happen?!"'

'"You defend me, then YOU will die. Along with everyone else!"'

'"I... I'm okay with that! I-if you'll live I'm fine with that..."'

'"No. You're not." He knew she was being irrational with her words. He parted from her and looked her in the eye. "You're not okay with it... please. I don't want to win the trial."'

'"You have to..." She couldn't take it. "What am I supposed to do now...?"'

'"What you always do." Harold assures her. "You are an amazing person who will always stand up for herself. Even in the face of challenges being thrown against her. Even when she makes mistakes. And I know my wish to save everyone won't die with me. Cause you'll be there."'

'He took out his yo-yo, handing it to her.'

'He begged, "Promise me, Leshawna. Promise me that you will move on. You'll stay strong. You'll carry on my wish to get everyone out of here. As the social, strong willed, wonderful girl I always knew her as."'

'She didn't know what to say.'

'He begged again, "Promise me, Leshawna."'

'She clenched her grip on the yo-yo, looking at it.'

'"I promise. Ginger."'

You're probably wondering where my most popular fanfic went after the last update was FEBUARY?!

Yeah, I failed you all.

There was a lot going on with my life. I got out of college. I got two jobs. I work pile, writing AND otherwise, PACKED.

But don't worry! It's in back in development! It's coming back now! It's all fine!

(It's not fine. I should've been working on it and I should've gotten it out by now. I'm sorry.)

So I wanted to post to tell you guys that.

And also THANK YOU for EIGHT THOUSAND HITS?! WHAT?!?!

Seriously, I thought NOBODY would even CARE what I wrote. That's how it works for me in real life, but the Internet has different rules I guess.

Since this is my most popular work with the most Kudos, likes, etc, I know I have to finish this work or else I'm a failure. From how long this fic's chapters each take me, I would say I'd make it a New Years Resolution, but it would probably be done in 2024. So that's my goal now.

Don't know what this fic is? Here you go.

I don't know why you clicked 'Keep Reading' if you hadn't seen it, but sure. Some people don't care about spoilers. I am that type of person sometimes too.

#total drama #danganronpa #fanganronpa #td courtney #td leshawna #td harold #tw sucidal ideation #tw s3lf harm #tw sui implied #tw murder

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