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defectivevillain · 1 year ago

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this broken design, ch11

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read from the beginning here.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: kidnapping, canon typical blood/violence/gore, mentions of animal dissection (just the words "animal dissection")

You fall in and out of consciousness. One moment, you’re roughly dragged along the ground past Alana’s house; the next moment, there’s a blindfold secured over your eyes and you’re situated in what you guess to be the trunk of a car. You feel every minute bump in the road and you swear the driver is intentionally hitting potholes, if only to jostle you around more. At some point, you feel your vision fading—even amidst your best efforts to remain awake. You know you need to stay conscious to escape, but your body refuses to obey your commands.

The next time you wake, you’re met with an incessant, throbbing headache. You wearily blink your dry eyes open, wincing as light sears into your vision. Left with nothing but a buzzing silence and your thoughts, you berate yourself for letting your guard down. You had forgotten the nature of the people you were investigating. You’re in danger. You take a deep breath around the gag in your mouth and try to remain calm. Thankfully, your blindfold must have been removed at some point.

Surveying your surroundings, you find a dilapidated dining room with dusty trinkets lining the walls. There’s a fanciful chandelier hanging over the luxurious dining table, which has seven empty seats. You’re located at the back head of the table—your wrists bound to the arms of the chair you were placed in. There are mere ropes holding you to the chair, but somehow, you can hardly even move, let alone try to get out of them. You must have been drugged—with something potent enough to remove all traces of physical resistance from your system. You can’t do anything more than make your fingers twitch from where they’re resting on the edges of the chair arms. Moreover, when you do manage to move them, your hand twitches sporadically. That’s definitely not a good sign.

It’s hard to stay awake, even though you know you need to be conscious and aware of your surroundings to keep yourself safe. There’s nothing to occupy you except for the monotonous ticking of a clock in the hall behind you, your blurred vision, and your aching limbs.

At one point, when you drag yourself out of the void of unconsciousness, you find that you have a companion. Frederick Chilton is sitting in the chair on your right. You blink at him blearily and try to get his attention, only to remember that you’re both gagged and nearly unable to move. Upon closer investigation, it looks like he’s unconscious. You don’t stay conscious long enough to learn anything about Chilton’s situation or see your captor. Weirdly enough, your captor has been strangely absent—leaving you to decay amidst molding walls in solitude. Each time you fight off unconsciousness, you notice that Chilton is more roughed up. Your captor has a grudge against him, and it doesn’t take you long to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Ironically, by trying to protect Alana, you only ended up putting yourself in more danger. If you had the strength, you’d shake your head in disbelief.

The opportunity to speak with your captor finally arrives the next time you wake. The man, evidently finished with torturing Chilton for the day—judging by the blood soaking through the man’s shirt—tightens the ropes around Chilton’s wrists. This is your chance. “Gideon?” You feel yourself asking. It comes out muffled because of the gag. Your voice is dry and raspy; your entire mouth is dry and the words almost seem to bounce around restlessly.

You blink at the figure. It looks like Hobbs. But, no, it can’t be Hobbs—Hobbs is dead. You blink and try to peel away the Minnesota Shrike’s cloying visage. The sickly emerald tones in his eyes fall away to reveal a sharp blue-eyed gaze. Dr. Abel Gideon is looking at you with interest; Chilton is no longer the subject of his attention. You cast a hateful gaze at Chilton’s prone form, feeling a momentary stab of satisfaction at seeing him hurt. You have to rip yourself from those thoughts to focus on Gideon, who is now standing next to you.

“I must say, you were out for quite a while,” Gideon hums. You can’t tell if he’s speaking to himself or to you. He turns your chair ninety degrees to make you face him. “Perhaps I overdid it with the drugs. I haven’t been at the operating table in quite a while…” His focused musings are eerie. The man is treating you as if you’re an experiment—an animal on his dissection table. Eventually, Gideon sighs and removes the gag from your mouth.

“Why did you take me?” You ask immediately. That’s the first thing you want to know. You can justify Chilton’s presence here—he worked with Gideon in the past and nearly convinced him he was the Chesapeake Ripper. You’ve never done anything of the sort, however. You’re not a mental health professional, nor have you even spoken to Gideon aside from the single conversation you had through the bars of his cell.

Unsurprisingly, Gideon doesn’t answer your question. You’re not even sure if he can hear what you’re saying. “Say hello, Frederick.” Your assailant says instead, momentarily stepping aside to make sure you can see the man in question. Frederick Chilton cannot say hello, since several of his organs have been evidently removed and he is unconscious. You grimace. You don’t like the man, but you don’t think he deserves to be mutilated so cruelly. You swallow hard. “Might as well have some fun before I dispose of you properly.”

It takes you a moment to comprehend that statement. You look up, only to find that Gideon isn’t looking at Chilton anymore—he’s looking at you. You take a rattling breath in. Gideon walks away for a treacherous moment. Your heart is racing in your chest, so loudly that its rhythm reverberates in your ears. He’s back a moment later with a knife in hand. His fascination with Chilton is gone. The psychiatrist lies neglected in his chair, unconscious but ignored. For the first time in your life, you envy Frederick Chilton.

“Dr. Lecter is rather fond of you. Perhaps if I…” Gideon breaks off. Quick as lightning, he drags his knife along the skin near your left eye. You scream and writhe in your bonds, but he only smirks. You know that’s going to leave a nasty scar. That must be the point, you think to yourself faintly. He wants to leave a mark on you. “I forgot how enjoyable this was.” You want to kick at him, but Gideon must sense your thought process because he quickly steps out of range.

You’re left to slowly dissipate in your chair, the uncomfortable sensation of warm blood trickling down your face. At one point, you feel droplets fall from your eye in a manner rather similar to tears. The next time you blink, your vision is crimson-tainted. Your vision doesn’t seem to be affected, other than the blood falling into your eyes. The entire left side of your face is stinging. This time, when you feel your eyes slip shut, you don’t fight it.

You have no idea how much time passes after that. It’s clear that the drug is still in your system, because you can’t keep yourself awake for more than what you assume to be an hour or two. Chilton remains a steady, silent presence at your side. Each time you wake, you realize that he looks no better than before. You can hardly focus on him, though—not when it’s been several days (you can assume) since you’ve had anything to eat or drink. Your limbs are cooperating with your commands a bit more than before, but you know you’re still nowhere near your usual level of fitness.

The ugly sound of a chair scraping against the ground jerks you out of your thoughts. Gideon is dragging a chair towards the table—a chair that is inhabited by a redheaded woman that looks far too familiar. It doesn’t take you long to recognize where you know her from—she’s Freddie Lounds, the same reporter who has been dragging your reputation through the mud all these years. Gideon pushes her to a place at the table at your left, opposite Frederick Chilton. Dread stews in your chest. This feels more significant than you can currently comprehend. Gideon stands at the other end of the table, his gaze contemplative as he looks from Chilton to Lounds, before finally settling on you. You immediately dislike the strange resolve in his eyes.

“Choose.”

“What?” You say.

“Choose,” Gideon repeats. There is nothing short of complete, utter sincerity in his voice. “Choose who lives and who dies.” You stare at him in disbelief, wondering if you misheard him. Evidently, you didn’t—Gideon is holding a gun in his right hand and seems to be waiting for your command. There’s an entertained smile on his face. He must be enjoying this spectacle—seeing you come to terms with the fact that you will be the cause of an onlooker’s death.

You glance between Freddie Lounds and Frederick Chilton. Who should live? Who should die? You have both of their lives in your hands right now. Freddie shoots you a wide-eyed look. Frederick looks equally terrified and his eyes are begging you for help. You experimentally tug at the ropes binding your wrists to the chair. Unsurprisingly, they don’t budge. You try to think of a way out of this. It takes you a few moments to remember that you do have a weapon—a dagger concealed in your boot. However, it’s nearly impossible to reach without informing Gideon of its presence. It seems you’re well and truly cornered. You have no choice but to kill.

You contemplate who to save. It’s a macabre thought, but a necessary one nonetheless. You’re sure that your hesitation would only encourage Gideon to kill both Lounds and Chilton. You take a deep breath. Chilton worked with Gideon on numerous occasions, and manipulated him into thinking he was someone else. Lounds wrote some unsavory things about you, but she’s ultimately innocent in all this. She’s nothing but a bystander—a civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time. You take a shuddering breath in.

Gideon is waiting expectantly. You return his gaze and incline your head towards Chilton. In a true show of cowardice, you can’t say his name. You don’t want to utter his name—don’t want to succumb to the reality that he will die because of you. The smirk on Gideon’s face widens impossibly, showing crooked pointed teeth and a truly maleficent elation. You watch as he pulls a gun from his belt—evidently stolen from his prison transports—and cocks it. Gideon steps around the table and moves to stand a mere few feet away from Chilton—far too close for him to miss. The gun is steadily aimed at Chilton’s temple.

Gideon’s finger squeezes the trigger. Your heart is thundering in your ears, but you know what you need to do. Your arms are trapped but, thankfully, your ankles aren’t bound to the chair. You lean forward and kick Chilton’s chair as hard as you can.

The gun fires.

Chilton falls to the ground. The bullet resides in the wall behind him, leaving the drywall to crumble around the entrance point. You wait for a puddle of crimson blood to grow on the floor, turning the carpet red. Nothing of the sort is present. Frederick is unscathed.

“Well, well,” Gideon remarks, putting the gun on his belt for a minute to deliver a slow, mocking clap. The applause echoes in the hollow space around you, creating a horrible rhythm. Freddie’s eyes are wide and the expression on her face is indecipherable; it almost looks as if she’s truly seeing you for the first time. “You think you’re clever, do you?” You don’t elect to respond.

“Fine,” Gideon remarks. “You’ve made your choice.”

Gideon cocks his gun and pushes it against your own temple this time. He raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to utter your last words. You stare back at him defiantly, heart in your throat. Just as his finger squeezes the trigger once more, you rock your chair to the side with enough momentum to send you crashing down to the ground. You sense the cold metal of your dagger resting against your ankle, and it only takes a second of manipulation for the dagger to fall down to the floor. From there, you twist and lean back until you can grasp at it with your bound hands. You maneuver to the side and duck under the table to guard yourself from the onslaught of gunfire. With the momentary coverage, you’re able to cut through the ropes binding your wrists to the chair. The effort is rather awkward and certainly hurts, but you’re miraculously able to get your hands free. You idly wonder if Gideon is giving you this time to break free of your bonds—if he wants the thrill of the hunt. The thought makes your stomach turn. You crawl under the table and jump out at the side. You’re quickly met with the business end of Gideon’s gun and a malicious smirk. You dive to the side and roll, swiftly getting to your feet and wielding your dagger.

In a gunfight, the person with a dagger is far outmatched. Right now, Gideon has the upper hand, since he has a gun. You need to fight offensively—fighting defensively will get you killed here. You also need to be unpredictable—fight dirty, use common household objects as weapons. Perhaps most importantly, you need to move the fight elsewhere. Otherwise, Chilton and Lounds could be injured in the conflict. Knowing this, you decide to turn and duck down the hallway behind you, confident that Gideon will follow after you. Sure enough, you hear his footsteps follow you through the hall. You sprint down the hall, ducking around corners until you come across a small supply closet. It’s just barely big enough to stand in and you do so, before pressing your lips together and holding your breath.

“Ready or not, here I come,” Gideon announces, his footsteps echoing in the eerily silent hall. The floorboards in front of the closet creak and you have to put a hand over your mouth to stifle your breathing. The killer pauses in his tracks just outside where you’re hiding.

You duck down instinctually and a bullet rifles through the closet door where your head had been just seconds ago. Gideon shoots another bullet a short distance from the first and it nearly skims the top of your head as you’re bending down. Eventually, he must decide that you’re not in the closet, because he continues walking forward.

You take the gifted opportunity and shove the closet door open, before lunging forward and stabbing Gideon in the back of the neck. He lets out a pained hiss and claps a hand over his neck, before turning around and firing at you. That shot seems far too close for you to dodge, but soon Gideon is lunging at you and the thought slips to the back of your mind. You bend low and manage to tackle him to the ground, before making a grab for the gun. Your effort fails as Gideon throws you off of him with ease. Quick as lightning, he pushes you into the ground and chokes you. His gun meets the side of your head and his grip on your neck tightens, effectively robbing you of breath.

Your vision is beginning to blur. You know you’re near the end; you don’t have much air left. You try to kick out at him, but Gideon doesn’t budge. Your hand scrabbles for purchase on his relentless grip, trying to free your airway. In the scuffle, you somehow lost your dagger. You blindly reach behind you with your free hand, praying that it fell to the floor behind you. To your surprise, your hand closes around something sharp—your dagger. You don’t hesitate to stab upward into his left eye. Gideon screams and instinctively loosens his grip on your neck. His hold on his gun is loose; you twist to the side, ignoring the inexplicable stab of pain in your side when you do so, and rip it from his grasp. Gideon’s left hand covers his eye and his right hand reaches out towards his gun, which you’re now holding. You don’t give him the chance to get it back, instead putting the pistol to his temple and firing.

Gideon falls backward, hitting the ground with a loud thump. You push yourself up to a sitting position before twisting to kneel, desperately hacking and coughing as you regain your breath. You’re certain you’d never been closer to death than in that awful moment, with Gideon looming over you with a devilish smirk on his face. You must’ve bitten your cheek somehow, because there’s the coppery taste of blood in your mouth. It hurts to swallow. Once you regain your breath, you stumble up and brace yourself against the wall. Gideon’s corpse burns into your vision.

Laughter reverberates in your ears. Garret Jacob Hobbs stands further down the hall, a brilliant maniacal smirk on his face. There is nothing but malicious glee in his eyes. Your first victim regards your latest. You blink and Hobbs becomes Franklyn Froideveaux. Franklyn stares at you with hollow, unseeing pits for eyes. His skin rifles outward, exposing the mess of bloodied organs residing in his chest and stomach.

For a fraction of a moment, the pendulum swings before your eyes. Gideon’s body is still in front of you but, when you blink, it’s gone. You hiss and grit your teeth hard, trying to rip yourself out of this reverie. This is your design. This is your design. Your bullet carved a neat hole in his forehead, allowing crimson droplets to flow down his face and onto the ground. The wound on his neck must be adding to the accumulating puddle of blood.

There’s a stifled yell from behind you and you’re tornfrom your thoughts. You turn your back on Gideon’s corpse and run back to the dining room, only to meet the eyes of Freddie Lounds. “Miss Lounds,” you remark, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The effort to speak feels slightly uncomfortable. You continue anyway. “I’m sorry, let me help you there.” You move toward her and use your dagger to cut the ropes binding her wrists. Then, you cut the gag off from where it’s knotted at the back of her head. Freddie doesn’t say anything, but she does rub her wrists with a pained grimace. You immediately feel guilty. Somehow, it feels as if it’s your fault that she’s here.

There’s a strange expression on Freddie’s face as she regards you. She almost looks… worried. “What’s the matter?” You feel the need to ask. Freddie wordlessly points at your torso. You look down and grit your teeth, feeling a brutal pain rip the breath right from your chest.

There’s a bullet lodged in your side—the oblique, you remember from your lectures. You immediately remember the shot from earlier—the one that came far too close to dodge. In the heat of the fight, you hadn’t noticed. Now, you wince and bring a hand down to exert pressure on the wound. Freddie’s staring at you in disbelief. For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence as the two of you remain quiet. Then, Freddie inexplicably moves towards the table and grabs a napkin. She hands it to you and you thank her, pressing it up against your side. Unsurprisingly, the fabric is quickly growing bloodstained. You take a deep breath and try to look over your shoulder, despite the pain it triggers in your side. It seems the bullet didn’t exit your body.

You weakly grasp at the wall, before slowly sliding down until you’re seated on the ground. There’s a bead of sweat trickling down your neck. Your adrenaline was pumping before, bringing your attention away from the inexplicable discomfort at your side. Now, however, all you can focus on is the throbbing pain.

“Freddie,” you remark. The reporter raises an eyebrow. “Can you…?” You break off, looking at the phone mounted to the wall in the other room. It’s just barely visible from your current position on the ground. Freddie seems to understand what you’re saying, because she runs over to the phone and dials 911. You raspily tell her to mention Jack Crawford and she does, from what you can hear.

“They’re on their way,” Freddie says. It’s the first time she’s spoken since Gideon first brought her into the dining room. Your vision is blurry at the edges, but you can still make out the shell-shocked expression on Freddie’s face. She looks completely out of her element—startled and disturbed, as if the world has just flipped on its axis. Guilt finds a way into your heart again.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say, past the bloody taste in your mouth.

“Why are you apologizing?” Freddie asks. She’s squinting at you in suspicion.

“My fault,” you respond through gritted teeth. Somehow, the effort to talk is now met with a harsh twist of pain that bolts through you like lightning. You continue to apply a rather shaky pressure to the wound, grimacing when you see the napkin is now crimson. Freddie gets up and grabs a few more napkins, before squatting down next to you once more.

“It’s not your fault,” Freddie murmurs, shaking her head and averting her eyes. She looks relatively unharmed—at least, physically speaking. She is justifiably shaken by the events that transpired. Freddie changes the napkin in your hand for a fresh one. You whisper a word of gratitude and she nods, her lips drawn tight in a flat line.

Time drags on. Everything around you is fuzzy. Freddie hovers over you, a surprisingly worried expression on her face. You try to reach out to her, weakly reassure her that she’ll be okay, but you can’t move. Everything burns. The adrenaline you had earlier must be wearing off, because now you’re intimately aware of all your wounds. Blood trickles down your lips, likely creating a rather gruesome picture—if Freddie’s expression is anything to go by.

It feels like it takes years for help to arrive. You know it can’t be more than fifteen minutes, yet it feels as if you wait for an eternity. When you finally hear the distant sound of a door getting kicked in, you can’t help but let out a small relieved breath. Admittedly, even breathing hurts. You feebly adjust the napkin against your side. You hear the familiar words of agents announcing their entrance to the building. In moments, there are several agents entering the room. A tactical medic approaches you within moments. There’s blood seeping down your skin and soaking through your clothes. You don’t have the strength to do anything except exert a weak pressure on your wound. Your breaths are harsh gasps and increasingly hard to come by. You blink.

It’s hard to be aware of your surroundings. You manage to fight the urge to remain in this dreary darkness and your eyes flutter open. You’re reclined on a stretcher in an ambulance, with several straps preventing you from movement. Your vision is swimming, but you can vaguely make out faces looking over you. You blink a few times in an attempt to clear your sight; when your vision finally returns to normal, you feel fear strike through your heart. Hannibal is sitting at your side, a sharp gleam in his eyes. His brows are pinched in what you assume to be manufactured concern. There’s a paramedic at your side asking you questions, but the words all sound garbled. When you look back to Hannibal, you swear you see him smirking. A trick of the light, you tell yourself. Your heart starts thundering in your chest and a machine begins to beep incessantly. You don’t want to be so vulnerable in front of the Chesapeake Ripper, but you don’t quite have a choice. Your vision falls to black within a few moments.

You manage to catch glimpses of the starry night sky, then the white ceiling of what must be a hospital. When you realize you’re being wheeled through a hospital hallway, you can’t help but grow more nervous. You’re tightly secured to the stretcher and you feel trapped. There’s an oxygen mask secured over your mouth and nose. You grimace instinctually from the pain shooting through you, rippling up your torso and down your skin. You try to move your hand, but you can only slightly bend your fingers. Alarms are blaring.

Several nurses hover over you. They’re trying to speak to you, you think. You can’t answer. There’s nothing but overwhelming pain. Your fingers are twitching again. A tear slides down your cheek. The light above is blinding. Your hand is restless. You can’t stop fidgeting.

Suddenly, Hannibal’s hand is on your forearm. His grip is incredibly loose but the pressure is somehow—regrettably—reassuring. Before you can contemplate the meaning behind the gesture, you’re slipping into unconsciousness once more. This time, however, you don’t wake. Instead, you’re left to drown in your own dreams and nightmares, removed from reality.

next chapter

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#hannibal nbc #Hannibal Lecter x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #male reader #gn reader #x gn reader #x male reader #Hannibal x gn reader #ummmm #other tags I can't remember

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 5 months ago

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💖 Sapphic Books Coming Out June 2024

🩷 There's something especially sweet about a sapphic romance. Here are only a few of the amazing sapphic books hitting shelves in June 2024. Which ones are you adding to your ever-growing TBR?

💖 Which ones are you adding to your TBR?

Contemporary 💖 But How Are You, Really - Ella Dawson 💖 Hot Summer - Elle Everhart 💖 Pony Dakota - Nat Burns 💖 Wish You Weren't Here - Erin Baldwin 💖 Something to be Proud Of - Anna Zoe Quirke 💖 London on My Mind - Clara Alves, Nina Perrotta (translator) 💖 Please Stop Trying to Leave Me - Alana Saab 💖 Looking for a Sign - Susie Dumond 💖 Triple Sec - T.J. Alexander 💖 Pages from the Book of Broken Dreams - Kat Jackson 💖 Director's Cut - Carlyn Greenwald 💖 Furious - Jamie Pacton, Rebecca Podos 💖 Cicada Summer - Erica McKeen 💖 Tehrangeles - Porochista Khakpour 💖 Women - Chloe Caldwell 💖 Experienced - Kate Young 💖 Liddy-Jean Marketing Queen and the Matchmaking Scheme - Mari SanGiovanni

Paranormal/Horror 💖 The Pecan Children - Quinn Connor 💖 Private Rites - Julia Armfield 💖 The Deep Dark - Molly Knox Ostertag 💖 The Science of Ghosts - Lilah Sturges, El Garing (ill.), Alitha Martinez (contrib.) 💖 Wolfpitch - Balazs Lorinczi

Fantasy 💖 Mirrored Heavens - Rebecca Roanhorse 💖 The Fire Within Them - Matthew Ward 💖 Digging for Destiny - Jenna Jarvis 💖 Saints of Storm and Sorrow - Gabriella Buba 💖 Markless - C.G. Malburi 💖 Sleep Like Death - Kalynn Bayron 💖 The Afterlife of Mal Caldera - Nadi Reed Perez 💖 The Pale Queen - Ethan M. Aldridge 💖 The Unrelenting Earth - Kritika H. Rao 💖 Ballad for Jasmine Town - Molly Ringle 💖 Six of Sorrow - Amanda Linsmeier

Historical 💖 A Bluestocking's Guide to Decadence - Jess Everlee 💖 A Divine Fury - D.V. Bishop 💖 The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye - Briony Cameron 💖 Hall of Mirrors - John Copenhaver

Mystery/Thriller 💖 One Killer Problem - Justine Pucella Winans 💖 The Last Note of Warning - Katharine Schellman 💖 Shanghai Murder - Jessie Chandler 💖 And Then There Was One - Michele Castleman

Sci-Fi 💖 Lady Eve's Last Con - Rebecca Fraimow 💖 The Stars Too Fondly - Emily Hamilton 💖 Moonstorm - Yoon Ha Lee 💖 You're Safe Here - Leslie Stephens

#sapphic books #sapphic romance #books #wlw romance #wlw fiction #pride month #pride #queer books #queer #batty about books #battyaboutbooks #book releases

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hanahaki-disease · 2 months ago

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Waiting on some Holy Favor

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/SC cross over

Summary:

“Percy…Blew up…The St Louis arch?!

He’s not dead?!

Tim’s eyes were wide as they replayed the footage and enlarged the grainy picture showed off his best friend. What was Percy doing in Missouri? Who is that girl? What happened when he went to New York? Worry began to fill Tim’s stomach. He wondered if Percy was put up to this, threatened to do something for someone, because there was no way he was doing this of his own volition.”

Thank you to @keitria for beta reading!!!

*****************************

Tim locked the door behind him, wincing as his sore shoulder bumped the hard wood closed. Training was rough and he felt dead on his feet. But he chose this. He wanted—no, needed to become Robin. Dick didn’t want to take the mantle back, Jason was dead, and his best friend was missing. No one was here to reign in the Batman and Gotham was paying the price.

He hissed as he collapsed on the couch, an old towel separating him from the white material so that he didn’t stain it with his sweat or blood, groaning with relief when he could finally relax. His muscles burned. Legs weak, arms heavy, and head throbbing. Grapple training g was the worst but Robin needed to fly and so Tim will endure. Jason and Dick had, and he was sure Percy had too even if he wasn’t apart of the family business. If they survived, so could Tim.

With a groan he lifted his aching arms and grabbed the TV remote. He’ll turn it on to fill the silence, to make the empty halls not so empty anymore. Most of the time he didn’t really care what was playing. Sometime he flicked the channel button a certain number of times and leave it playing where it ends up, other times he’ll play friends or Sponge Bob, just something.

He flicked to the news. Alana Nazeer was Gotham’s beloved news reporter on channel eight, and Tim could see why. She was pretty, middle aged, and never shared her political opinions on city wide television. The best way to get on the masses’ good graces. She was reporting something serious, the laugh lines at the corner of her mouth pulled taught as she looked into the camera, hands clasped in front of her.

“Earlier today, down in St Louis, Missouri, a bomb detonated at the top of the St Louis arch,” She said reading the cue-cards. Tim was intrigued, he hadn’t heard about this yet. “There have been no causalities reported so far, however, eye witness accounts say that, just before the bomb went off and group of three young children rode to the top, and only two came down. No video evidence has been recovered yet but many suspect that these are the same children who caused a local greyhound buss to erupt at a gas station just outside Blüdhaven.

“St Louis Police department have recognized only of the three children involved with the Blüdhaven incident as young Annabeth Chase from Richmond, Virginia, the other two children are still unknown.” On the screen blurry surveillance camera footage showed Percy, the girl, and another kid their age jumping out the back of a bus before the screen cut off in the explosion. A few train station cameras also caught them before they disappeared in the southern city. “What their motives are is still unknown, but law enforcement is encouraging those with connections to either child to come forward and that we may apprehend them before any other tragedy occurs. This is Alana Nazeer with Gotham Today.”

Percy…Blew up…The St Louis arch?!

He’s not dead?!

He should tell Bruce that Percy was alive. He needed to know, maybe—maybe that will help him get out if this funk he’s in. And perhaps Bruce will let him go down to Missouri to help Percy with whatever was going on with him, bring him back home to Gotham. Or even just supply him with the more discrete Batman tools and gadgets, give him another panic button just in case.

But as soon as those thoughts crossed his mind, he shoved them back where they came from. If he knew his best friend, and he does because they’ve known each other for years, Percy would not want Bruce’s help. Not after he was treated and ignored after Jason’s death. Percy would rant to him how Bruce would treat him as a burden, an unwanted mouth to feed because he wasn’t Jason. He wasn’t useful like Jason was, wasn’t as smart or as strong, and their near identical appearance was too much for the older man. Bruce couldn’t separate Percy from Jason and instead pushed him away.

And maybe that’s why Bruce didn’t notice till well after Percy went missing that he never came home. He didn’t fully recognize Percy as his son the way he had with Jason or Dick, even if Dick was his first. It took Alfred and Tim’s insistence for him to send Clark and J’onn to New York to find him, and by then it was too late. Percy had disappeared and it was days since the trip, and Tim had helped a few missing persons cases by then that anything after twenty-four hours was unlikely.

A part of Tim hated Bruce for being so ignorant and disrespectful towards Percy, for agreeing to take him in and care for him only to show favoritism towards his older brother. And he knew that a part of that ignorance was because of the grief over Jason, but it still wasn’t right. His there-but-not-there presence reminded Tim of his own parents and he doesn’t wish that upon anyone, much less his best friend.

But maybe now that Tim was Robin, or on his way to become Robin, he could help Percy somehow? But…How? Tim was stuck in Gotham and he was due to leave any day to Paris to complete his training—Dick! That’s right! Tim had almost forgotten about the oldest Wayne child. They hadn’t spoken since Tim asked if he could be Robin again for Bruce, but Dick told him to keep his number in case of emergencies. And this was an emergency if any.

“Hello?” Dick’s voice answered from the other side.

“Mr Grayson? Are you busy?” Tim asked.

“I can talk, Tim,” He said. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“You remember the gas station explosion a few days ago in Blüdhaven? The one with the bus and the missing kids?”

“Yeah, I went over there to investigate with the police department, but there wasn’t much evidence of how it happened,” He answered. “I know some of the passengers had said it was because of some kids, but we weren’t able to find them. Why’d you ask? Did you find something?”

“Ye-Yeah, um” He stuttered. He didn’t really think this conversation through, if he as honest. He thought it was just going to be easy. Ring up the young adult, tell him he saw his missing little brother on TV and that he was the reason for the domestic terrorist attacks across two different states, and then hang up and go about his night. It was a vague, unreliable plan because how exactly was he supposed to actually tell him that. He couldn’t just blurt it out right, Dick wouldn’t believe him. But this was important and he should know because it his little brother, Tim’s best friend! Who, apparently, is a wanted fugitive in two states. Wild. “I think Percy’s alive.”

Dick’s silence on the other side was concerning. “What?”

“I-I just saw the news,” He answered. “He was seen in St Louis and he-he’s a suspect in the arch explosion, but he disappeared after that.” Tim rewound the TV, letting the segment replay. “And there’s been surveillance recovered from the gas station, and Percy was spotted in the feed.

“I Just thought you should know,” Tim said. “I don’t know if B would have told you if he knew. I don’t know if he knows himself that Percy’s alive.”

“Did the news say why he was in St Louis?”

“No, just that he was spotted there and in Blüdhaven. They don’t know where he’s going from there of if he’s still there, not many witnesses saw him beside those that saw him at the top.”

“Okay. Okay.” Tim heard Dick sigh. “I’ll..I’ll look into it, try and see if I can find him or where he’s going next. Thank you , Tim. That means a lot.”

Dick hung up after that and Tim couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. First, his best friend as alive. (Already the best news in the world.) Second, he helped Nightwing with a missing person’s case indirectly. (His inner fanboy was screaming right now.) And thirdly, he was going to be Robin. Tim was going to be able to help the Batman and Nightwing and go on missions and help Gotham. The term ‘joy’ didn’t fully encapsulate what he was feeling.

He only wished Percy here to celebrate with him.

*****************************

I was originally going to post this on Sunday but I decided to be nice. I still might update on Sunday too, who knows 🤷‍♀️

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#percy jackon and the olympians #dc comics #pjo x dc #batman fanfiction #percy jackson fanfiction #batman #tim drake #dick grayson #percy jackson

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pinkposies · 3 months ago

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01 . intoxicate

not proofread :P This is a poly!mikaelsons. I crosspost on wattpad and ao3.

wc - 2113

There aren't any real warnings but some may think the habits Elaine does come off as a form of self-harm.

The Kallos court consists only of women, it existed since the beginning of time by women who were endowed with natural magic and immortality by a divine entity. It was prophesied that Elaine Moon was the reincarnation of the being that gave the faeires their magical abilities. Elaine Moon was born to be the leader of the Kallos court; she was pure power.

જ⁀➴

The sun basked on Elaine as she laid her head on Alana's lap. The newly cut grass felt soft against her bare legs. Elaine sighed as she felt Alana's fingers rake through her hair, she insisted on braiding Elaine's hair. As she did so she hummed a soft tune, which Elaine could barely hear over the laughter.

She turned her head just enough to watch as Lacey and Daphne ran around trying to catch butterflies. She couldn't help but giggle when Daphne tripped over her feet.

"Are you prepared for the festival?" Alana said. Elaine feels her fingers leave her hair, allowing her to turn onto her stomach.

She rested her head on Alana's thigh, staring up at her, "Of course, I'm prepared, it's all my mothers speak of." She sighed.

"You'll think that having an entire month dedicated to you, you'll be more happy about it." She mumbled as she brushed a stray hair that fell from Elaine's braid behind her ear.

Elaine nuzzled her cheek against Alana's thigh, and she sighed. "I know, but the festivals just remind me of the expectations I'm meant to meet."

She did feel somewhat bad for seeming ungrateful. The other faes go through so much trouble with decorating, cooking, and finding the right gift for her, but the constant pressure of becoming the leader of the court brings her down.

"We could trade places anytime because having a month where everyone practically worships me sounds amazing," Alana joked which seemed to have some undertones of seriousness.

Elaine sat up on her bottom, brushing the grass off her stomach. She reached down and entwined Alana's hand with hers, "You don't understand, how draining it could be, I barely get any free time to myself," she exclaimed, bringing the back side of Alana's hand to rub against her cheek.

Alana sighed and shook her head as she squeezed Elaine's hand. She goes to speak but is interrupted when yelling is heard in the distance. All the girls freeze in panic as the voice comes closer, they simultaneously look towards where the voice is coming from to see Sara running to them as she waves her arms.

Sara falls to her hands and knees when she comes to a fast halt in front of the girls. She grasped at the grass, and she was panting from running.

"Sara, are you okay? Is something going on!" Lacey shrieked, as she crawled over to Sara, placing her hand on the exhausted girl.

She finally caught her breath and squealed, "There's a man here!"

"A man!" Daphne gasped out, sounding almost horrified, "Why would the Elders let it into the dimension?"

Alana whipped her head towards Elaine, "Have any of the Elders mentioned to you about the man?" sputtered Alana. Her eyebrows scrunched up at the mere thought of Elaine keeping such news from her.

"No. No. I was told nothing!" She blurted out, attempting to divert the attention away.

from her.

"That doesn't matter," Sara began, standing up and offering her hand to Lacey. "We need to go to the weeping hall to see the man!" She exclaimed, then started running, dragging Lacey along with her.

The remaining girls jumped up and started running as well. Elaine knew that there was an opposite sex, but none of the faeries had seen a man before, not even the elders.

She couldn't think of any reasoning as to why the elders would disobey the previous elder's wish for a no-men world. Elaine felt a surge of excitement and fear as the girls got closer to the weeping hell.

Throughout her adolescence, she's only been taught about the evil doings of men. Elaine never thought there'd be a day she'd see the opposite sex, as long as she was in the Kallos dimension. Even the animals in the dimension are all female.

The girls came to a halt when they saw the weeping hall was crowded. Many other faeries came to see the man too; the hall was filled with loud chatter, some expressing their confusion and others complaining.

Elaine dropped Alana's hand and walked towards the crowd. She lightly pushed the other faeries out of the way. When she finally got to the front, her eyes widened as she saw the man she stood in front of her.

From what she learned as a child, she envisioned that all men would look more beast-like or goblin-like. Yet the man who stood in front of her was far from a beast. He was confident, with a small smirk on his face, showing that he was enjoying the faeries fawning over him.

He was slim yet muscular at the same time. With somewhat curly blond hair and blue or green eyes, Elaine couldn't tell being so far away. He wore a slim-fit black shirt that enhanced his muscles and dark blue jeans.

"Gyne! Clam down this instant!" Lady Belina's demanding voice silenced the faeries. She was the eyes and ears of the Elders, and she assisted them with their decisions. The faeries stopped their conversation with each other and waited for Lady Belina to speak.

Belina walked up to the podium and said, "I know everyone has concerns as to what's going on, but rest assured your questions will be answered," She sighed, "The elders are busy currently, and they sent me to make this announcement."

"We've made an alliance with the man who stands before Kalus Mikaelson. The elders have been withholding this information from everyone to not cause an uproar, but the vampire species has found out about our existence and is attempting to find a way to enter our dimension. It is no longer safe for any faerie to leave the dimension with this target on our backs. With this alliance, it hopefully guarantees peace with the vampires."

The loud chatter begins again, the faeries fearing for their safety. All they know is peace; they've been trained to use their powers to progress the community and help themselves. There has never been a situation where the young faeries had to use their powers for defense.

"Would any of you volunteer to assist Klaus Mikaelson on a tour of the Kallos world?" Lady Belina interrupted the chatter, and many faeries quickly raised their hands, shouting to be chosen.

Yet, Belina's eyes fell on Elaine; she smiled gracefully, motioning for Elaine to step onto the podium. The curly haired girl rapidly shook her head at the older woman, slowly backing up into the crowd.

"Elaine Moon! There isn't anyone who should make acquaintance with our guest other than the future leader. Come up here, Elaine!"

Elaine silently cried inside as she felt everyone's eyes on her. Her shaky legs walked towards the man, her nails digging into her palm.

"Everyone, clear out and continue with your daily activities. Please do not bother our guest unless approached. Thank you for your time!"

Elaine watched as the faeries reluctantly left the hall. Lady Belina waved goodbye to her, mouthing good luck. Her eyes continued to follow Belina, fearing to look towards the man who she felt was staring her down.

"You don't seem pleased to be the one to assist me." He stated matter of factly.

Her eyes widened at the notion of making him feel unwanted, "No, I'm just in shock, is all," Elaine spoke uneasily, scratching at her wrist as a nervous habit. "Nothing to do with you though! Well, it's everything to do with you."

"There's no need to be nervous, love; I don't bite." Klaus teased her, his words having a double meaning that she didn't quite get.

She giggled, feeling a strange sensation in her stomach. "I guess you're right, but you're nothing like the man I imagined," Elaine admitted while walking towards the exit to begin the tour.

As he walked beside her, she couldn't help but be dumbstruck by the noticeable height difference. Most of the faeries are around the same height.

She felt her cheeks warm up as she heard his deep, rich laugh, "And what do you think a man would look like?" Klaus sounded amused by her behavior.

"I don't know, maybe overwhelming tall, a mix of man and beast, scars all over and-" Elaine was cut off by Klaus laughing.

"I'm sorry, love, I don't mean to laugh." He somewhat offered an apology, even though he didn't sound all that sorry.

"It's okay, but I am kind of disappointed that you're not as monster-like or evil." Elaine joked, attempting to match his energy.

"Trust me, love, I'm as bad as it gets." Klaus insisted, awhile charming her with his gleaming smile.

Elaine laughs, not fully thinking about his words. "This is Celaedon Hollow, you'll find everything you need in here," She explained, stopping in front of the huge shopping center, "We use crystals as our currency, but depending on the owner, she'll trade something of yours as a payment."

As they walked through the shopping center, Elaine watched as Klaus admired the scenery and architecture. He looked almost like a kid, she giggled to herself, every newcomer that came before him had the same reaction.

"If you think this is beautiful, wait until I show our worship area!"

"I wasn't aware that faeries follow a religion."

Elaine tuned out the whispers and stares the other faeries gave the two, "Well, we don't follow any human religions if that's what you're thinking. We simply pay thanks to the divine entity who created the faerie species."

Klaus hummed, "If you don't mind me prying, but what exactly is the Palingenesis Festival?"

Elaine sighed, hoping that he wouldn't notice the flyers and banners hanging around the shopping center, "Well, it's a celebration of me."

"Please explain further," Klaus asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

"Palingenesis means rebirth, and the divine entity I was speaking of," Elaine sighed, "simply put, everyone believes I'm the reincarnation of the entity."

Klaus suddenly seemed more invested in their conversation than before, "So, that's why Belina said you were the soon to be leader." He acknowledged, putting the pieces together.

"Yes, the days leading up to the day I was born, are celebrated with foods, activities, and gifts."

"That sounds rather enjoyable."

"It is, but it does get exhausting tuning into the other world and blessing the faeries with a prophecy."

"You have the gift of precognition and clairvoyance." Klaus mused, finding himself becoming more interested in the girl's abilities.

"In a way, it's not all that exciting, though. Sometimes it's more of a burden than a gift." She mumbled, beginning to feel discomfort as they continued the conversation, "But can we change the topic, please?"

"It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable." He reassured her, there was still more time for him to learn more about the faerie.

"There's no need to apologize." Elaine smiled, wanting to lighten the mood, "But anyways, this is the Marigold Village, the older faeries live here."

They continued exploring Philia's Keep. She showed him the different attractions and neighborhoods that the land could offer. Throughout the tour, Elaine and Klaus continued to make small talk about whatever she was showing him, "I'm sorry to cut this trip short, but if I show you the entirety of Kallos, we'll be walking for days." She joked.

"That's quite alright, it is getting late." He offered, staring down at Elaine as they stopped walking.

He watched as she continuously avoided making eye contact. Which he found amusing considering she didn't make eye contact with him this entire time. Klaus felt somewhat satisfied that he had such an effect on her.

"Did Belina tell you where you're supposed to stay?" She questioned him, taking a small step backward because she was starting to feel consumed by his aura.

"I believe Melos Village, cottege 11."

Elaine gasped, her mood noticeably changing, "I live in Melos Village, isn't that ironic?" She pointed it out. She kind of enjoyed her conversation with Klaus, she couldn't explain why she felt surprisingly comfortable making small talk with him.

Klaus chuckled at her excitement, "I guess we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."

"Come on, let's go." She smiled.

જ⁀➴

They walk into the village together, silence engulfing them as the other faeries return home, "The number of your house should be on the mailbox, I can still take you there if you want." Elaine offered.

"I'd rather walk you home."

"Oh, that's not necess-" She started to say, but was quickly interrupted.

"I insist." He pressed.

Elaine's eyebrows furrowed, and she hesitated, "Okay." She began to walk towards her cottage. The silence once again engulfed them as they made the short trip.

Stopping in front of number 15, "This is me," she said, slightly bouncing on her toes.

Klaus tilted his head enough to make eye contact with her, "I'll see you later, Elaine." He assured, walking away before she could respond.

She stood at her door in a state of allure, and once again, she couldn't understand why.

#klaus mikealson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #mikaelsons x reader #poly mikaelsons #rebekah mikealson x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries x reader #the originals x reader

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graciebrams · 16 days ago

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𓇢𓆸 get to know me

hi I'm ema you can call me em or ems <3 my pronouns are she/her, desi 𐙚˙⋆.˚

✧ i ١٥٧٤ : rose gold, silver jewellery, coffee, books, ribbons, hoop earrings, lipgloss, handwritten letters, choclate, colours pink, brown and sage green, bracelets, cats, ballet flats, sundresses, rings, sunsets, dried out flower petals, collecting old movie tickets, etc ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav artists : gracie abrams, taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, lexi jayde, eileen alister, alessi rose, alix page, maise peters, birdy, the nbhd, chase atlantics, the weeknd, johnny orlando, harry styles, lizzy mcalpine, beabadoobee, girl in red, olivia rodrigo, evanescance, ROLEMODLE, phoebe bridgers, 1D, billie eilish, finneas, lexi caroll, clairo, conan gray, cate, CAS, gracen reign, madison beer, mazzy stars, MARINA, lyn lapid ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

✧ fav shows: gilmore girls, anne with an e, lockwood and co., two broke girls, derry girls, b99, my mad fat diary, opposite sex, YOU, insatiable, the office, the good doctor, dash and lily, the irregulars, my life with the walter boys, the summer i turned pretty, friends, breaking bad, girl meets world, my lady jane, maxton hall, ted lasso, supernatural, gossip girl, the oc, bridgerton, OBX. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav youtubers: carys rachel, ceri jones, heather wotherspoon, ur internet mom ash, luna montana, audrey mika, basicgorl, just sharon, naomi victoria, anna lenks, niki and gabi, sarah betts, emma chamberlain, ahaspoofy, tia gabriella, caitlyn marie, nailea, sadie aldis, grace's room, sturniolo triplets, tara yummy, benoftheweek, larray, madeline argy, sab quesada, cam and fam, kalogera sisters, quen blackwell, alana lintao, sam and colby, melieya, kailpeery, nick wilkins. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

✧ other favs: sophia birlem, sadie sink, cailey spainey, lola tung, chris briney, daisy edgar jones, amybeth mcnulty, lily collins, rowan blanchard, nicola coughlan, emma stone, sarah carpenter, cory foeglmanis, diana silvers, nicholas hoult, caitlyn dever, lauren graham, sarosie ronan, anne hathway, tom holland, zendaya, andrew garfield, laura marano, florence pugh, jenna ortega, cooper koch, harrison osterfield, harry holland, sam holland, paddy holland, tuwaine barett. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav movies: little women (1994 and 2019), the princess diaries (1 and 2), anne of green gables, carrie 1976, roman holiday, sabrina (1954), qala, freaky friday, legally blonde, 13 going on 30, to all the boys, kissing booth, adventures in babysitting, 16 wishes, 16 candles, how to build a better boy, priscilla 2023, the fault in our stars, dirty dancing, love rosie, stuck in love, tolkien, the devil all the time, all spiderman and marvel movies, uncharted,

prev urls : sparksssflytv -> graciebrams

• divider by @issysh3ll

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bi-bard · 2 years ago

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Impression - Will Graham Imagine [Hannibal]

Title: Impression

Pairing: Will Graham X Reader

Word Count: 1,054 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: Will tries his hand at a "normal" date.

Author's Note: Sometimes we just need something cute and not deadly.

Also, I wrote this in the hopes of it being pre-show just so Hannibal wasn't an issue.

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

Alana had seen Will stressed.

It may sound terrible, but she had grown somewhat used to seeing him that way. That's why she didn't think much of it when she walked into the lecture hall and found Will pacing in front of his desk.

"Hey," she said.

Will jumped a bit, not expecting to hear another voice in the room.

"Um, Jack asked for you," she explained, vaguely pointing behind her. "He's got a case that he wants your input on."

Will nodded, still clearly distracted.

Alana furrowed her eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

Will ran his hands over his face before responding. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Alana's expression told Will that she didn't believe him in the slightest.

"I... I have a date," he admitted reluctantly.

Her expression shifted into one of shock. That didn't bring any comfort to Will's nerves.

"With who," she asked.

"(Y/n)... (Y/l/n). They work in the lab."

Alana nodded.

She had met (Y/n) a handful of times. Usually in that very lecture hall. She had a sneaking suspicion that there was something more between Will and them but never felt like it was her place to talk about it.

Now, they had a date and all of Alana's suspicions were validated.

"Where are you guys going?" she couldn't help it. She was happy for Will. Of course, she wanted to know everything she could get.

"Drinks, apparently," Will said. "(Y/n) had a place in mind when they asked, so I just told them to send me the address."

"I didn't think you were one for bars."

"Well, that's because I'm not," he chuckled. "I much prefer enjoying my drinks in the comfort of my own home."

"Why didn't you tell (Y/n) that?"

He paused. "Because I don't want to risk messing this up. I... I like them."

"Aw, Will-"

"I shouldn't have told you about this."

"No, no, I'm sorry," Alana quickly apologized for her reaction to the confession as Will rounded his desk to grab his bag. "Listen. (Y/n) wouldn't ask you out if they didn't like you."

"I would hope not."

Will was trying to avoid this conversation. It was obvious.

"Will," Alana said. "I'm saying that you don't need to prove anything to them."

Will sighed and looked at Alana again. She grinned at him. He grabbed his bag and started making his way out of the room without another word.

"Can wait to hear about how it goes," Alana called after him, trying to not laugh at how clearly nervous the man was about his upcoming date.

Will tried to keep himself from thinking too much about his date before it happened. He knew very well that fixating on it was going to make him more nervous.

That night, he walked into a crowded bar. He tensed for a moment. It was loud and most of the people seemed to have no concept of personal space.

His eyes scanned the room until he spotted (Y/n) in a booth along the far wall.

Their eyes lifted from nervously twiddling their thumbs. They spotted Will immediately. A smile broke out on their face as they waved at him.

Will grinned back at them. Their smile seemed to bring him a bit of comfort.

(Y/n) stood up as he made it over to them. "Hey."

"Hi," he replied.

After a moment, (Y/n) stepped forward and hugged him. He let out a quiet sigh as he hugged them back.

The two of them sat back down after a little while.

The awkwardness seemed natural at first.

(Y/n) and Will had known each other for a while, but this was different. It was a new terrain for both of them. It wasn't talking about a case or about work. It was just... them. Existing.

(Y/n) told Will about their hobbies. Their education and their family. Their nerves presented as rambling. They felt silly for how much time they spent talking that night.

Will rambled far less than them. He talked about the dogs and how he ended up working the job he did. His references to his family were brief. (Y/n) could tell that it wasn't his favorite subject.

(Y/n) was hoping that the two of them would both grow to be more comfortable over time. However, Will still seemed so... uncomfortable.

There was a sense of guilt that the night carried.

They didn't work up the courage to ask about it until the pair were walking back to their cars.

"Did I do something wrong," they asked, stopping on the sidewalk next to the parking lot. Will stopped next to them.

"No," he answered simply.

(Y/n) turned to face him properly. "Are you sure? You just seemed uncomfortable while we were in there. I just... I want to make sure that I didn't upset you."

"It wasn't you," he reassured them.

"Then, what was it?"

"I... I guess things like this aren't usually my scene," he admitted. "I'm sorry-"

"That's not something to apologize for," (Y/n) cut him off, reaching out to touch his arm briefly. "I do wish you had told me before. I would've come up with something different. Made a better impression."

Will's eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "You didn't make a bad impression."

"I don't think making your date uncomfortable for your first time out together is a particularly good impression," they replied. "Maybe I could make it up to you on our second date?"

A grin slowly formed on Will's face.

"I'll even let you pick what we do," (Y/n) added with a nervous laugh. Will seemed to mimic the sound.

"I think I'd like that."

(Y/n) fought the urge to let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Um, I'll... wait for your call?"

"Okay," he nodded.

There was a pause between the pair of them.

(Y/n) took a deep breath before stepping closer to him. When Will didn't move back, (Y/n) leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It took a moment for him to respond, but he soon smiled at them again.

"Goodnight, Will," they said.

"Goodnight," he replied.

(Y/n) waved awkwardly before walking to their car.

Will stood there for a moment before letting out a breath and going to walk away.

Both of them had this feeling in their gut that this was the start of something great.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#will graham x reader #will graham fanfiction #will graham imagine #hannibal imagine #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #hugh dancy x reader #hugh dancy fanfiction #hugh dancy imagine

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tanis-fics · 5 months ago

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What literary agents -and friends- are for

Barbara Wheeler would do anything for her favorite client, future best seller, and forever best friend. That was a given. Finding herself on her knees on a secluded room at a party for her after a hookup gone wrong, well, it only felt natural.

Pairing: Alan Wake/Barry Wheeler ♦ Words: 4058 ♦ Note: Genderbend au, smut

[on ao3] ♦ [on squidgeworld] ♦ [read on site]

Barbara Wheeler could be a lot of things depending on who you asked, some less charitable than others, but one thing everyone agreed upon to certain degree was that she was good at her fucking job.

The party started and developed like any other, Barbara parading her future best seller around as she started doing her networking before Alana wandered off to do her own thing. Off to be charming and to stay out of trouble, Barbara hoped, always keeping an eye on her.

It wasn't until she finished whatever deal she was making that Barbara realized she lost track of her friend, and started asking around. The conflicting information made her uneasy, though, some saying she left the main hall with some guy, others affirming to have seen the same man around immediately afterwards in her absence, and the idea of someone inviting her a drink before banishing alarmed her enough to excuse herself. Following her trail she ended up in a hallway full of rooms.

"Al...?" She started knocking on each door, creaking it enough to speak until she finally heard a shuffle in one of the room's corners, followed by an annoyed groan.

"Go away, Barbara." Her voice had a certain bite that she wasn't used to being thrown her way.

"Are you with someone there?"

"...No."

"I'm going in, then."

After no reply came, she quickly squeezed into the room and closed the door behind her. Alana sat on a bed with her back turned to it, shoulders tense and posture defeated, and Barbara immediately worried.

"Al, what...?"

"Don't, don't come any closer." Her angry voice pleaded, and Barbara froze.

"Al. Talk to me, babe, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"...Yes. No." Annoyance bleed through her words, but she still hunched on herself.

"...Care to explain why you're sulking alone on an empty room at a party, then?" Silence. "Did it get too much?"

"...Maybe a bit."

Sighing, some of her tension dissipated. Alana could get like that sometimes in everyday life, and then at night when the alcohol didn't hit fast enough. Barbara could understand that, could make sure nobody troubled her when she was in one of those moods.

"Okay, okay. That's fine. Take all the time you need, Al, you know where to find me, as soon as I'm done with the couple deals I'm trying to break I'll come back for you and we'll bounce, okay? Okay. Do you want anything from the party?"

Despite the fact that she was ready to leave her alone again something stopped her. Her posture seemed wrong, her shoulders stiffened even more at her parting words as she lowered her head. Something was clearly troubling her and it wasn't a simple case of overwhelm. Barbara wondered if drugs might be involved, before shaking that thought off.

"Al, you sure that's all? Is there anything else on your mind? You know you can tell me anything..."

This apparently did the trick, finally, as her frigid façade broke and she pinched the bridge of her nose with annoyance.

"It's nothing. It's stupid... and embarrassing." Barbara smiled at that, finally approaching and sitting down at the opposite side of the bed, giving her enough breathing room.

"I think I can handle stupid and embarrassing. C'mon, hit me with your best shot."

Alana glanced at her over her shoulder, and even in the low light Barbara could see how flushed her cheeks were. Huh.

"So... last thing I heard was you dancing with-"

"Ugh." She sank her head on her hands in frustration, fingers digging through her long hair, and Barbara put a hand on her shoulder, already wondering how much she should burn that man's career or not. "It was doing so well, Barb. He bought me a drink, we were making out, he brought me here and then... then he freaked out."

"Freaked out? Why?"

This time Alana glared at her, and Barbara felt a knot on her throat at the hurt on her eyes.

"You know why."

Right. Right. She huffed, a flare of anger bursting out inside before mellowing down. Alana had enough of that already for the time being. Instead, she clicked her tongue.

"You know what, Al? That's, that's his fucking loss. So what, he doesn't wanna fuck you just cuz' you've got the same stuff? Lemme tell you Al, he's a pussy." Alana barked a laugh, but the bitterness quickly drowned it again. Barbara turned enough to get a hold of her back, digging the palm of her hands in her tense muscles to try to calm her down, feeling a shiver run through them instead. "You deserve better than that, you know?" She huffed. "No, no, hear me out. You're an absolute bomb of a woman, okay? You're like, a Goddess, Al."

"Barb, that's not why I'm-!" She hissed through her teeth when she dug through a nasty knot in between her shoulder blades. "Okay, okay, fine I, I got it..."

"Good. Now. D'you know what would be the biggest fuck you to that guy? If you go back to the party and enjoy yourself anyway, drink a little, have some fun! Can you do that for me, Al?"

Alana swallowed, letting her massage her back in silence for a little while before snapping at her with a hand.

"I. I can't."

Barbara's face dropped.

"Why?"

"Barb I physically can't go out right now... Not like this."

Barbara frowned, confused and worried, before it slowly, slowly dawned do her the meaning of her actions up until right now. Shifting in the bed she looked behind her friend's figure, and finally felt like an absolute moron when she noticed the slight bump at the front of her dress.

"Oooooh." She couldn't help but chuckle, momentarily relieved that she wasn't having a meltdown. "It's just that."

Now that the cat was out of the bag Alana glared at her again, mouth slightly agape.

"What the fuck do you mean 'just'?"

"Well for starters, that is something we can fix. And by we I mean you. Why don't you just...?" And made a jacking motion with her hand, but Alana groaned in embarrassment.

"Barbara."

"What? I'm just saying."

"I am not jacking off at this party." Barbara snorted.

"Why not? It's not like you weren't gonna fuck here in the first place, besides nobody saw you come here, and me? I'm a tomb, Al. Hell, I'm leaving as soon as you tell me to." She had a man to find, and to make sure he wouldn't start spouting some fake nonsense to the press that could jeopardize Alana's rise to fame. The increasing anguish of her friend's groan picked her attention again.

"Barb, Barb! You're not- Have you've seen this place? The entire floor is carpet and I, I don't exactly have any tissues with me... or condoms." She sighed, exasperated. "Not that that matters, anyway, there's not a single trashcan here, and the nearest bathroom is on the other side of the fucking hall."

"Well... How about the other rooms? Have you've checked there?"

"Oh, sure, let me just go door to door with a stupid hard-on until I find a trashcan, or a bathroom, or someone sees me, whatever comes first."

The venom behind her words stung, but Barbara knew she had a point. If a guy on the same situation was cannon fodder for gossip magazines she grimaced thinking what they would say about a woman.

"...So, so what, you're just gonna sulk in here until you go soft?"

"What do you think I've been doing here until you decided to show up? I could be out already if you hadn't started... Fuck." She cursed with a frustrated shake of her hand, before pressing it against her fatigued eyes once again. Barbara simply sat there this time, speechless, for a change. The relief she once felt finally started to give way to the awkwardness of the situation, or at least that was what she told herself, at the idea of being partially responsible for her friend getting hard. Regardless, Alana kept talking to herself in the silence of the room. "God, I'm so stupid... how did I ever let this happen..."

That snapped Barbara back to reality, ignoring the growing heat of her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, Al." She rolled across the bed to sit at her side, also ignoring her predicament. "You cut that negative shit out, okay? It's not your fault the guy was a total douchebag, and this isn't your fault either! Oh, so you got hot and bothered because a guy felt you up, big whoop. It happens." Alana sighed, embarrassed, and it only took Barbara a second of consideration before lightly putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

The coming silence was thick, and she could practically hear her friend's cogs churning; whether mulling her words or spiraling further, she had no way to tell, which sickened her. Truth be told, now that Barbara had the entire picture in mind she was left with very few options. She could always go bring her something herself, but she didn't want to draw too much attention to the room; and if anyone came, well, it'd be less suspicious for the writer to be with her agent, instead of being all on her own, wouldn't it? Nothing conspicuous about that!

Oh, how Barbara wanted to go grab that man by the scruff of his neck and shake him up for all the troubles he was causing. Sure, Alana had always been the most physical of the two, but Barbara could always threaten someone with a sue their future grandkids will feel, and more often than not, it worked. Her indignation, however, could wait. She couldn't leave her best friend just yet, not like this, simmering in her own misery, but all things considered...

Well.

There was something she could do. Barbara knew that.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, softer than usual.

"Hey, Al?"

"What?"

"...You know, there's a way we can finish this quickly."

"I told you I'm not-"

"Didn't mean that, babe."

Alana stopped her sulking to look at her in question, and she avoided her eyes just enough to clarify.

"Look, I'm only doing this if you tell me it's okay, okay?"

For a second she squinted, before her eyes widened. A pretty red colored her cheeks darker than they already were, and Barbara strongly abstained from thinking anything of it.

"Barb what, what the fuck..."

"Is that a no?"

"You..." She was frowning, but the fact that she wasn't walking off and shouting at her spoke more than a hundred words. Her blown pupils said the rest. "You don't have to."

"'course I don't have to, I just..." She wetted her lips, wondering how to put it lightly. "The sooner we deal with this the sooner we can go back, right, Al? The party will miss you if you're gone for too long."

Her friend didn't seem convinced, yet the way she leaned lightly into her touch didn't went unnoticed. Barbara smiled her best smile, circling her thumb on her shoulder and softly squeezing her arm in what she hoped was reassurance.

"Look, if you're worried about me that's sweet, but don't be, this ain't my first rodeo. Once you've sucked a dick they're all the same, even if its from a beautiful girl like you." She groaned, name on her tongue as she rolled her eyes, mistaking her earnestness for empty flattery, but Barbara could see the way she shifted a bit at the edge of the bed. Not away from her, no, instead sitting better on it, her shoulders a bit more open. Barbara took a breath, lowering herself from her side at the bed to crouch in front of her, hands sliding down her arms and resting them above her knees.

"...Barb..."

"And you can just pretend I'm some hot guy instead of... y'know." She could do it without issue. Barbara would kill anyone who didn't think of her best friend as anything other than a woman, herself very much included, even if in that moment the thought made her squirm on her place. The sight of her cock, at this point more than half hard beneath the fabric of her dress, also made her squirm. She swallowed. Meeting her eyes the wide look she wore earlier was gone, replaced with a half lidded one while she pressed her mouth on a thin line. "Al. I need some confirmation here, babe. Is this okay?"

"...Y, yeah, sure, go ahead."

With a nod, Barbara let her weight fall down, her knees welcoming the fluffy carpet as she got more comfortable between her thighs before dragging her hands under her dress, revealing her smooth skin and waiting erection.

She felt tempted by the situation to kiss her inner thigh if only to distract her as well as herself, but they didn't exactly have time for that. Despite the crawling sensation at the back of her neck at the thought of doing this with another woman, and the weird knot on her throat at the image of her lipstick on her skin, Barbara was disappointed. Alana was her best friend and a star on the rise, she deserved something better than a quick and sloppy blowjob, she-

"Barb...? You okay there?" Her uncharacteristically uncertain voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and Barbara cursed at herself for letting her mind wander.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

Alana opened her mouth to say something else but Barbara was quicker, wrapping her hands under her knees to drag her closer and locking her legs around her before taking her cock on her hand, eliciting a gasp she pretended not to hear. Pumped it once, twice, enough to feel it fully harden inside her grasp, and she mentally thanked her for biting her lip and keeping quiet when she finally took the head in her mouth.

Barbara closed her eyes, then, trying to empty her mind and follow her own advice.

This was nothing she hadn't done before, right?

The soft sounds that escaped her friend's mouth and filled the empty air around them made the task harder, mind immediately jumping at the possibility of someone catching them if only to ignore the way those sounds made her feel. Bobbing her head a myriad of excuses and threats crossed it in such a case, ready to defend her dignity with her life...

The thought of how this must look from the outside didn't spare a detail on her mind, though, and she involuntary swallowed, digging her fingers on the smooth skin of her leg. A broken moan above her made her pulse pick up.

"F-fuck..." Fingers combed through her hair, grabbing it just for a second before setting it free. The pressure on her head was light, but Barbara shut her eyes harder than before as she pressed her legs together.

God...

Squirming, she tried with all her might to ignore the wetness between her legs, pulsing at the rhythm of her heart at every reaction her friend had. Barbara couldn't help but feel guilty at her own reaction. Despite her reassuring words there was no denying of her arousal, and between the smell of her sex and her nose brushing with her dark hair Barbara worried some part of her saw Alana as anything other than what she was. She didn't want that. But the alternative weighed on her all the same.

Barbara was no fucking dyke, she knew that much. The mere idea of it made her skin scrawl.

Using her spit as lube she went back to stroking it with her hand as she took a very much needed breath, and biting her lip she risked a peek, as the feeling of hands kneading on her hair was slowly making her lose her mind. With her heart on her throat she looked up to her friend, to her long limbs, her bare neck with her long hair falling down on one side and the strap of her dress rolling down the other, her still small tits... hard, with all the stimulation.

Barbara was no dyke, but she had eyes.

Alana was objectively attractive, and there was no shame in admitting that, really, she tried to tell herself. Any other feeling she might be experiencing only had her love for her best friend to blame, she decided. The pride and affection of seeing that lanky kid grow up to be a beautiful woman. Yeah, nothing wrong with getting her wires crossed for a bit.

Taking a deep breath, Barbara put everything she might or might not be feeling on a little box, banished forever to the darkest corner of her mind, and instead she focused on one thing, and one thing only.

Maintaining someone's public image was, historically, an easier task when the person in question was beautiful.

And Alana, well.

Her best friend really was a beauty, wasn't she? She damn well better be. If she ever decided to fall back into old habits and petty fights, Barbara could only do so much with her own charm and wit.

An amused smile escaped her without really meaning to, and to her surprise Alana caught it. What was she doing peeking?

"What?" Her voice was defensive yet weak, and Barbara shook her head, putting all her buzzing thoughts behind alongside the final sparks of guilt, embarrassment, and lust.

"Nothin'" Coming out breathless, it was Alana who smiled behind her fluster now. She opened her mouth again and Barbara knew her enough to know what would come out of it, something snarky that she would probably snicker about and be mockingly offended by in another circumstance. But as it was, she licked her lips one final time before taking her cock on her mouth once again.

Her hand gripped her shoulder this time, digging on the fabric of her shirt instead of making a mess of her hair, as a strangled whine cut through her throat when she sucked hard.

"That's not..." Alana curled on herself, trembling, hovering above Barbara's head as her hand traced her leg. She could feel the honest attempt she was making to not thrust in her mouth when she flattened her tongue on her cock. She hummed, in question, and Alana had to shut her mouth with her other hand. "...That's not fair, Barb..."

What's not fair is that you're still talking. Barbara thought, dizzily. She refused to give it any more thought, but it was hard to pretend she was dealing with anyone else when she could hear her clear as day, every sigh and grunt and moan tied back to her. The salty taste of her precome. The feeling of her skin under her fingers, muscles coiling and relaxing under her touch.

She had to finish this quickly.

Knowing exactly what she was doing, Barbara took her deeper on her mouth and swallowed, again and again, and feeling her friend's hand claw at her arm harder than before she couldn't help but take one last look at her.

Alana had her eyes shut, hand hovering in front of her mouth, open in a silent cry.

A spark of jealousy of any future partner privy to that same image crossed her mind, and she extinguished it just as quickly, yet behind all those layers of ugly she couldn't help the pride at her blissful out expression. Sometimes it was hard to see her friend like that without alcohol in the middle.

Feeling her orgasm on her tongue Barbara took it all in, greedily, remembering why exactly they were doing this in the first place. She stroked her to make sure she emptied every last drop, and only when she felt her soft under her grasp she rolled back, laying on the floor with an audible sigh.

Alana was still squirming a bit with the aftershocks as she slowly tried to regain her breath, loudly inhaling and exhaling until she could do it without trembling on the spot. Barbara stared at the ceiling before staring at her, licking her lips clean. She stared at her as she regained herself and she stared at her when she finally opened her eyes, looking down, and then meeting her gaze, if only to ignore the wetness between her thighs, and her own harsh breathing breaking the silence.

Finally, Barbara smiled.

"You better get used to this view, babe. Once I'll make you famous you'll have a hundred men waiting on their knees for you."

Alana's eyes widened, before snorting, and then laughing. Barbara joined her from the ground, not willing herself to move just yet. When their laughter subsided she smiled at her again, cautiously this time.

"You okay, Al?"

"...Yeah, yeah, I'm okay..." She was more than okay, glowing a bit against the bedroom light in a way that made her giddy, especially when when she added. "Thanks, Barb."

Barbara shrugged, hiding the heat of her cheeks and the tightness of her chest behind her usual bluster.

"Don't even mention it. I wouldn't dream of letting my future best seller have a scandal over something so dumb. You know that."

Alana raised an eyebrow, a teasing edge on her lips behind her drowsy expression.

"'Future best seller'? I don't think this falls into 'literary agent' duty, Barb. At least not without some serious breach of work ethics or something."

Barbara rolled her eyes, waving her hand.

"Fine. Then let's just say I did what any friend would in this situation and let's leave it at that." Alana let out a sigh that mixed with her light laughter, closing her eyes and sinking into the bed like a weight was lifted off her.

"Sure, if that's what lets you sleep at night."

"Asshole." She laughed, slapping her leg from the ground and making her jump. Everything was good in the world.

Well. Not everything. There was a small detail that nagged at the back of the agent's head, a loose end that she needed to iron before the night was finally over, and once she felt her legs strong enough to hold her without the boiling pit of her stomach making her feel like putty -she'll deal with that later, on the privacy of her home- Barbara hooked her hand around her friend's leg and hastily hoisted herself up. Alana complained without too much fuzz, ultimately falling silent when she propped her knee on the bed next to her.

She opened her eyes, back to their usual ocean blue instead of a gaping hole of arousal as Barbara hovered above her.

"I'm gonna go deal with a couple things now, okay, Al?" She felt her tense up for a second, before deflating with a nod. "See you at the party, or...?"

"Yeah, yeah, just... give me a minute."

"'Course. And hey," she looked pointedly at her, squeezing her arm to get the point across, "I don't wanna hear you worrying your pretty little head anymore, you hear me? I tell you I'll deal with something, I deal with it, Al, you know that. Got it?"

Alana stared at her, and Barbara could see the long rise and fall of her chest, punctuated with an audible swallow in the silence of the room, before the smallest of smiles graced her lips.

"Got it."

"Good."

This close and with the weight of her actions behind her, some part of Barbara almost wanted to do something incredibly stupid. What was a grace on the cheek after a blowjob? What was a friendly nudge? What was a kiss? A surge of affection for her best friend rose upon seeing her relaxed against the mattress, long hair framing her head like a halo. Fuck, when did she even start thinking in metaphors?

Biting her lip to avoid doing anything she'd regret, Barbara smiled at her, finally leaving her alone with one last farewell. She squeezed herself out of the room without looking back, quickly rearranging her messy hair into something resembling normalcy and then taking a drink of the first thing that she found on a silver platter, taking another one just in case, before whatever was left of her smile and the aching glow on her chest crystallized into something hard.

She had a man to find.

#alan wake #barry wheeler #alan wake (character)#wakewheeler #genderbend au

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