#but got caught up in the deaths of others without address his own

[necropolich]

GOING INSANE, ACTUALLY because yes lilac is his favourite colour because peepaw loves his botany, but also lilac being a colour of mourning specifically used to note the transition period between full mourning and acceptance. This man is literally wearing his pain. 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔠𝔢.

[indulgentdaydream]

Hello!

Can you do Jason todd x reader where he's crushing on the newest vigilante in Gotham?

Thank you

New in Town

Jason Todd x Reader || Fluff || Word Count: 1,185

Warnings: profanity (swearing), death mention, violence, low-key stalking but not really??

Wrote half of the fic. Was nearly finished. It didn’t save. 😩 the ONE time i decide to write outside of the notes app

I love the idea of Jason crushing on someone like a teenage boy because he never actually GOT that chance as a teenager so he never learned how to cope with those kind of feelings, so I sprinkled that in here.

I feel like this is poorly written forgive me 🙏

He hadn’t heard of you until six months ago. He hadn’t cared then, either. You kept to the other side of the city, you didn’t pose a threat, and he was already preoccupied with his own things to deal with. You weren’t that important to him.

Jason was walking across rooftops. Two weeks, roughly, since he had caught wind of the new name, aligned with the rest of the bats.

It was a night where the rain had let up for once. It wasn’t perfect, though. Never was. The clouds still too thick to see the bright moon and stars.

He was looking for an address, one that seemingly didn’t exist. He landed on another rooftop of a short apartment building. Jason could hear the sounds of two people fighting down in the alley below him.

He walked to the edge, looked down, and there you were. Dressed up in your vigilante gear, fighting some thug.

He crouched, watching. This was much more entertaining then his fake address.

The thug was much bigger than you, but you handled yourself well. The thug lurched forward. You planted a hard, flat, kick to his stomach. He stumbled back. You got in a good punch, a right hook. The thug went with it. He bashed his back off the corner of a dumpster before crumbling to the ground.

Jason nodded once in approval. You didn’t play.

You both saw it at the same time. The clouds parted for a moment behind Jason, the light of the moon shining down over Gotham for just a moment.

The shadow of the top of the apartment split the alleyway below in half, with Jason’s crouched form’s shadow landing right in front of the thug.

He stood up and stepped back from the edge just as you started to look up. He was out of sight before you could see him. At most, you saw the glint of his helmet, but nothing else.

He walked away. He didn’t want to deal with this.

Three weeks later, Jason’s standing on a catwalk in one of Gotham’s many abandoned warehouses. He’s high enough up, hidden within a shadow, that they couldn’t see him even if they had the brains to check up instead of around.

He’s holding his AR-15, pointed down below at the drug dealers he’s been following all week. His aim is steady, mind going over the motions of the possibilities.

“Psst.”

Jason whipped his head up. He aimed the rifle in front of him. There, on the other catwalk, ten feet away from him, was you.

You were leaning on the railing, smiling. Jason didn’t like how his first thought was the realization that this was the closest he had ever been to you.

“Want some help?” You whispered loudly, your smile pulling into a grin.

He looked back down, fixing his aim, “No.”

You leaned further over the railing, exposing nearly half your body to the drug dealers below if they so happened to look up. You whispered your name. Your vigilante name, that is. He didn’t respond.

“Rude,” he heard you mutter. You stayed silent for just a moment as he watched the dealers walk around their table, complaining about their business not showing up. The business that Jason had left dead in an alleyway an hour ago.

Silent treatment wasn’t going to work. You spoke up again, “Why didn’t you say hello? When you saw me in the alley?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.” Except he had wanted to, just not like that. And not like this.

It was your turn to stay silent. Jason looked up without moving. With his helmet, you couldn’t tell if he was, or was watching the men below.

Standing up straight again, your head was turned away a little, obviously listening to somebody babble away in your ear.

He looked back down before you turned your head back, “Welp, should’ve accepted my offer. I gotta go.”

“Buh-bye,” Jason said dryly before you were walking off down the catwalk.

What can he say? He was intrigued after that. He’d watch you fight from hidden corners, never daring to step out. He waited for the right opportunity to talk to you again. He… did it for too long. A couple months too long.

It wasn’t stalking. That’s what he told himself. He hadn’t pushed to discover your identity, hadn’t learned your exact schedule. He just… kept looking for a chance to talk.

Jason hated it. Hated that he couldn’t come up with a way to approach you. Hated how he got tongue tied thinking about it. How his palms got damp. What could he say?

He ran into Dick one night. They sat on the edge of a building and talked. Which turned to bickering for a while, before it came into a “Who had the worst Bruce experience” argument.

He shut up the second you landed on the roof behind them, “I could hear you two from an entire street over.”

Dick clapped his hands together, a smile breaking out at the sight of you. Jason turned to watch. He walked over, happily calling your name. He got to you, pointing at Jason as he slipped an arm around your shoulders, “Tell this guy he’s wrong.”

You frowned, “I don’t even know this guy.”

Jason remembered he had taken off his helmet, left in only his domino mask. You couldn’t see the rest of his clothes from the fact he’s sitting facing away from you.

Speak! Dammit! He chided himself. He picked up his helmet from his side, bringing it around to show you. He watched your eyes widen in recognition.

“Ooooh,” you immediately nodded, “Yeah. You’re wrong.”

Jason found his words with an amused smirk, “You don’t even know what for.”

You shrug and Dick laughs, “That’s the spirit!”

Jason turned back around. He pretended like he was watching the city line, but he was really listening to yours and Dick’s conversation. He kept trying to look for ways in, ways to talk to you.

Now! Nope, Dick said something unrelated, too quickly. Now your conversation went in that direction. Here! Too late. He hesitated.

He stopped listening, pursing his lips in annoyance at his own stupid, boyish inability to talk to the attractive new vigilante.

“Oh… he said he didn’t want to talk to me. Probably annoyed by my presence.”

He tuned back in.

“How rude.”

“That’s what I said!”

Jason looked back over his shoulder. The two of you were standing there, arms crossed, looking at him.

“What?”

Dick seemed to remember something, “Have you two even been formally introduced?”

You grumbled something along the lines of, “Tried that.”

Jason shrugged, “I’ve seen them around,” he met your eyes, “You fight good.”

What kind of fucking compliment is that?

“So do you,” you smiled.

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion. You could see the movement through the domino mask, “You’ve never seen me fight.”

You grinned, pointing at him, “That’s what you think.”

Jason smirked a little. Oh, he liked you, alright.

[cupids-chamber]

NOT ANOTHER CINDERELLA STORY, where y/n gets caught up with a unknown red-eyed fae, that leads them into the arms of the prince himself.

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

CONTENT TAGS: 2.1k words, Fluff, too much fluff for my taste, Sebek being overdramatic, Reader convinced that Lilia is a creep, Silver getting chased by bachelors (Totally not me), Reader has an actual good sibling relationship, Good step-mother, Reader kisses a man on the first meeting but it's Malleus so it's fine.

It was unexpected, for your mother to die so early on.. And then your father followed her path soon afterwards. To be quite honest you hadn’t expected anything from the death of your father, he had barely an inch of his time to spare for you. So of course you only relied on your mother at the very end of the day. 

Sadly she was gone, and to your surprise within the short period of time when your father was alive, he wasted no time getting remarried to another. Your step mother was someone distant, cold, and quite closed off, but you paid no heed to her behaviourisms. To your sheer luck, she was nothing like those abusive step mothers you’ve read about in stories, it looked as if she pitied you more than anything else. 

She didn’t bother filling in the role of your mother, however she didn’t fail in the aspect of a caretaker either. Things remained the same even after your fathers death. However, around this time she had brought back her two daughters from her previous marriage. 

You didn’t mind them as long as they didn’t bother you, then you wouldn’t either. The pair of sisters would tease you as older siblings do, they warmed up to you rather quickly, they treated you well without fault, oftentimes you found yourself seeking out the pair. 

As they warmed up to you, so did their mother.. Sure she never accepted you as her own, but she didn’t raise you carelessly either, you had received the same treatment as her very own children, she raised you in a careful manner, ‘raising you to be the noble you were born as’.. 

Your eldest sister, with shaky hands, poured you a cup of earl gray “How many sugarcubes would you like?” she asked in a sweet tone, it seemed as if she’s been practicing her etiquette as of recent. You softly mumbled out an amount, as she excitedly dropped the sugar cubes with her utensils. 

Your other sister was busy getting dressed up and fit, she was sick the time the two of you went. So as of current times, the two of you were left alone… well that's if you excuse all the servants lurking within the manor, making sure the two of you were out of trouble. 

Your other sister, the youngest of the pair arrived in a grandiose manner as usual, despite her rather annoying habit of flaunting, she was kind, and sweet.. She considered the best for the two of you, and always brought back candy or some sort of trinket for you two. This time around she brought home three bracelets, they were matching.. yet differing in color. She stated with a huge smile, that these matching bracelets represent friendships and a close bond, just like the three of us share. 

The three of you got along, you were the youngest of the pair and they treated you no differently than a cherished younger sibling.. Sometimes you’d forget that the three of you were not related by blood, as you cherished this family beyond anything else. They were more of a family to you, then the one you previously had. 

Years flew by and you couldn’t help but cherish your family even more, they filled the crooked gaps and holes that your father and mother had left with their rather unreasonable neglect. Overtime, your step-mother grew close to you as well.. You were allowed to address her as your own mother, even in private. It was no longer a front, this was your family and you cherished it. 

The letter arrived on one of your typical days, the letter that would change your humble yet noble lifestyle forever. The royal prince of Briar Valley was looking for a partner, and the palace would be throwing a lively ball.. It was a place filled to the brim in suiters, and would be an area where many young noble children would be making their debut.. And your mother had all the more plans to send all three of you there. 

Before you knew it, the three of you were getting fitted, dressed, and prepared for this ball. Your mother took it seriously. Way too seriously, there was a slim chance that the prince would actually be interested in any of you, even with your rather glamorous origins. 

The three of you finally caught a break. As your mother was discussing with a business partner of sorts, the three of you ran off to the edge of your garden, in a rather hidden spot where the bushes overgrown and covered the three of you. It was well hidden to the eye, you’d have to really look to find such an area. 

You recalled the incident as to how you three found the area, Daisy, your second eldest sister, was showing off a dance she had learnt and accidentally tripped crashing into the bush and forming a small hole passage into the hideout area, you let out a soft chuckle at the passing memory.

A loud sigh disrupted your thoughts, as you faced Eveleign, your eldest sister, she seemed stressed, “Why are we going to such a place anyways” she spoke her thoughts, your eldest sister had never been a closed off individual like her mother, “Well we have to make our debut somehow.. We can’t help mother if we have no connections” Daisy replied in an instant, ‘sadly she was right, if a debut wasn’t for marriage it was to form social connections, and sure mother had been doing extremely well in maintaining the great lineage of the household and even father’s many business chains, but if were unable to great more bonds then when mother grows older we’d fall into some serious trouble.’ 

The hour passed as Eveleign continued voicing her frustration and Daisy replying in a manner that did nothing but anger her more, you tried to ease the pair but things only worsened. Eveleigh even went as far as to claim that she never wanted to marry the prince anyway, her reasons were justifiable, but you could tell if mother heard of this, it would take 20 years out of her lifetime. 

However, on the big day your mother had prepared so hard for, everything seemed to have gone wrong, the main carriage had broken down and your outfit for the day came out much poorer in quality then you had expected, not to mention Daisy’s main centerpiece, a beautiful studded necklace was messing. 

Needless to say, the house was in pure shambles. Something that led you to running out the backdoor and into the depths of the guardian, you were annoyed and upset. You hadn’t expected much from today, however the most of its toll fell on you. Your outfit was entirely ruined, you couldn’t wear something like this unless you wanted to be shamed, and God forbid you wore the same outfits from previous banquets, that would bring more dishonor to your family.. Not to mention the scrutiny your mother would have to face publicly. 

Somewhere along the lines you had slipped into a deep slumber, and when you opened your eyes there was a floaty.. person? He had black hair with streaks of bright pink, not to mention piercing red eyes… He also had fangs.. Was he a fae? I mean that should be a given but you were too tired and mentally hazy to process the minor details and important questions that you normally would have done. 

“Hello!” he stated in a bubbly manner, “need some help? I heard your family’s in quite the position on this fine day.. aren't you planning on going to the prince's banquet?” he asked in a knowing tone, as if he knew what was going on at home. You laughed, ‘this must be a dream right?’ there was absolutely no way a random man would appear and offer you help, unless he was some weird creep, who had been stalking you. 

Yet for some reason despite finding this entire situation laughable, you still accepted the man's offer, though in your own way. It was rather obvious you didn’t believe his words, and even then he had given you his word. 

Then suddenly you woke up, and you realized you were actually dreaming.. Thank god, it would’ve been more creepy if you weren’t dreaming and a random man actually helped you, what could he have wanted in return, you would never know! 

However, to your utter surprise, that mysterious man seemed to have kept his word, as your mother explained how everything was solved, apparently a carriage was sent to your household, and a man with striking silver hair had been waiting outside to pick you up.. As for your clothes.. By some miracle everything had been fixed and well… better than ever! 

Your mother hurriedly urged you to get ready, and in a blur you were in the carriage on your way to the castle, everything was so confusing that you could barely comprehend what had happened all in the past one or two hours, you really hoped this was some weird dream that was playing with your mind and not something real, since if it was real, it would raise so many red flags and questions that would most definitely need answers.

By the time your thoughts had cooled off you were at the banquet hall, and all your worries were now replaced with a rush of anxiety, you hoped nothing would go wrong, you’d be under watchful eyes by many who desire to scorn someone slightly off track, so their flaws don’t blossom in the eyes of others. Sure it wasn’t a pleasant thing, but then again you’d have to do the same thing in this area, at least to garner more attention and respect from the crowd.. To be quite honest, Daisy excelled in this field the most, Eveleign hated going out and preferred being closed off, for no reason, other than the fact that she just didn’t want to.. As for Daisy, she would attend any sort of meeting she could and could, it’s not that she enjoyed the unpleasant glances from older men or the snarky remarks and comments you’d have to make to save face in this area, she simply enjoyed having the upper hand when conversing. 

It didn’t take long for the three of you to grow apart and separate amidst the crowd, you backed up trying to find an empty corner, that’s when you heard a loud thump, turning around you saw the face of the person you knocked into. He had beautiful green eyes, like a gemstone of sorts and long vibrant black hair, that had a certain glow underneath the bright lights. 

You apologized for knocking into him, you should’ve really paid attention to your surroundings. The tall man chuckled in response, “Well if you're sorry, how about you repay me with a dance?” he offered you a hand, and for some reason, despite wanting to rest you agreed to his offer. 

The two of you waltzed around the ballroom, for some reason you found comfort in the arms of the black haired man, he was sweet and quite frankly forgiving and caring. The two of you had gone to the garden hand in hand, you weren’t quite sure if you were allowed in such a secluded area in the imperial gardens, but he seemed to ease your worries. 

The two of you chatted about many things, he even brought up your siblings, you didn’t bother questioning how he knew you had sisters, as you rambled on and on about your siblings and how great they were to you, it wasn’t always that somebody other than your siblings themselves, cared for simple conversations like this. Nobles were snobby; they tried digging into you, and clawing the worst part of you so they could put it out for display. 

Lilia tilted his binoculars slightly as Silver struggled holding Sebek down, it seemed as if he was about to burst out yelling Malleus’s name any moment from now, he obviously disliked the presence of an unknown person with his master. “Calm down Sebek” Silver mused, growing tired he had to run the grasps of the eligible ladies earlier, who seemed to have been smitten for his looks, if he recalled there was also a man voicing his love for the sleeping beauty, and now, after all that, he had to deal with an angry green haired half-fae. 

“I didn’t get the chance to ask this before but.. "What's your name?” you asked the man, who you presumably spent the entire night with, “Tsunotarou.. My name is tsunotarou”  he replied with ease, a smile embracing his features as he leaned down, and the two of your foreheads touched as he whispered something to you that you couldn’t yet comprehend, before leaning down for a kiss. And before you could enjoy the moment, you heard a distant scream coming from the balcony further away… You opted to ignore the psycho green haired madman screaming his lungs out. 

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[xreaderbooks]

Paradise on Earth (20)

Chapter: 20. The Coastal Venture

Pair: JJ Maybank x Routledge! Reader

Summary: John B, Pope, JJ, Kiara, and You are on the way to help Sarah and retrieve the cross.

Warnings: language, violence, mentions of death and kidnapping

Word Count: 3.7k

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Chapter 19 | Series Masterlist | Navigation | Chapter 21

The heat in the torture chamber was going to make you stab somebody. You’ve never felt this suffocated before.

“Let’s address the elephant in the room,” John B announces and focuses his attention on you, “Y/n.”

“Are you fat shaming me, JB?”

He narrows his eyes at you, “You know what I mean.”

“Is this even an appropriate time to be talking about this?” You wonder aloud. He couldn’t seriously expect to get into this right now, you hadn’t even found a way to leave this hell hole without getting caught by the crew members and now, he wanted to talk about your controversial sex life.

“Uh, yeah, ‘cause if I have to keep thinking about what Sarah might be going through right now, I’m gonna go crazy.”

You brace yourself for the worst, “Oh God.”

He doesn’t say anything, he stays in his position on top of a stretch-wrapped box. “So?”

You glance to the side and back at him, “So, what?”

“We’re waiting,” He extends his arms outward to gesture to the crowded area of your friends. Kie took off her jacket and let out a breath, Pope was leaning his head against other containers listening.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, I’ve already apologized. Not that that fixes anything or takes anything back.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Pope said. “What’s done is done, we have much bigger things to worry about but since we’re getting into it; I just wanna know what your thought process was-”

John B cut him off, “Or whatever the opposite of that is ‘cause you obviously weren’t thinking clearly.”

“Alright, you know what, no.” You got up from where you were sitting cross-legged on the bottom of the container. “I wasn’t thinking and at that moment I didn’t regret it because he cared about me, I’m not going to go into detail about how or what he made me believe about him ‘cause I obviously didn’t know him as well as I thought…”

“So he manipulated you?” Pope asked.

“No, not entirely,” You risked a quick glance at JJ whose gaze averted from your own. “He made me feel like he cared, I was hurt and felt neglected. I’ve always been a part of the Pogues but it always felt like I’m just John B’s sister to you guys like I’m only along for the ride. I don’t have much to offer the group, Rafe made me feel seen as ironic as that is.”

“That’s some bullshit, Y/n,” John B scoffed.

JJ steps forward, “John B.”

John B stares at JJ with pure annoyance, “I don’t see how you’re not losing your shit over this, you’re always going on about how she’s like a sister to you, this is some high-level offensive shit and you’re all chill?”

“She was right,” JJ shook his head. “This isn’t the time, alright? We gotta figure out how the hell we're gonna get out of this, you know these things lock from the outside? This is your  fault and now we’re trapped in this death cage!”

“JJ, you’re not helping,” Pope was breathless as he spoke. All you knew was that there was not enough oxygen coming in to be wasting our breath on arguing.

“You don’t have enough room to talk right now, Pope, you said you had a plan, but what happened to thinking ahead?”

“I find your lack of self-knowledge disturbing.”

JJ laughs sarcastically, “Last I checked, you literally shot an oil container with the gat, remember that?”

“Oh my God, Shut up!” Kie who was perched on the highest stacked container, stretched her foot slamming it between the two boys against the other box parallel to hers. “Shut up! Pull it together.”

She removes her foot with a roll of her eyes landing on yours and puffing out a breath, mouthing the word boys to you. 

~~~

“Hey Pope, how do you kill a snake?” JJ asks randomly.

You lost track of how long you’ve been in here, looking out of the metal panel of the vent/window, whatever it was. It had to be around noon.

“You go for the head,” Pope answers with exhaustion.

“Exactly, but the head in this instance, is the bridge. To take the bridge, we need maximum firepower and I happen to know that there’s an armory on this ship in case of pirate attacks.”

“Pirate attacks,” You mocked in a whisper. Kie gets up from her place on the ground and walks behind JJ, through the middle of the columns of boxes, nodding for you to follow.

“You lost me,” She said as she passes him.

“I’m talking knives,” He tells her.

You pat his arm as he continues his nonsensical planning, “Killing everybody here is not a plan.”

“You too?” He waves his hand dismissively, “Alright, we lost them. I’m serious, if we get to the armory, I’m talking AKs, pistols, knives, double barrels-”

“Are you okay?” Kie searches your face with sympathetic eyes. “John B shouldn’t have called you out like that.”

You shrugged, “Yeah, to be expected honestly. I’m more worried about how we're gonna get out of here, he can bitch at me later.”

You caught a glimpse of light shining on her face and follow the beam to where sunlight was peeking through, hidden behind a barrel of tubing. “Hold up,” You carry the heavy roll and place it on another one beside it.

“Guys,” Kie calls out to the boys who were now bickering loudly, “Guys!”

With a look, they come over to where you and Kie were determining whether or not you all could fit through another vent. It was bigger than the other one, you’d have to find a way to pop it out.

“What was that about a Swiss Army knife not coming in handy?” JJ pulls one out of his pocket and climbs on top of one of the rolls and begins to remove the screws. “Okay, we raid the armory, get weapons, roll back here, and plot the next move.”

That didn’t sound like a stable plan.

“The armory is on the third deck, aft, near the laundry room.” He instructs Pope and John B, “Let’s roll.”

“JJ, hold up.” Pope stops him before he can fully take out the vent, “I don’t think we should all go out there, it’s too risky.”

“Why?”

John B and Pope give each other an unspoken message, and your brother confesses, “I’m just gonna be honest, I think you should stay here.”

JJ had a puzzled look, “What?”

“I have Sarah that I’m gonna go after and Pope has the cross, also, if you go out there there’s a hundred percent possibility that you’re gonna do something stupid.”

“Okay, first of all, I think the correct terminology is ‘ballsy’, that is it,” He tries to debate but Pope pulls him down from his spot that was blocking the exit. “I’m a field player.”

John B shushes him, “If we go out there and we get in a bind, we need someone to look out for us. That’s what we need.”

That was the only way you figured he could convince JJ to stay behind with you and Kie, no doubt he felt a little betrayed by the boys.

“Okay, I get it, I get it.” He tunes out the rest of John B’s words, “I’ll be on ‘B team’.”

“I never said B team,” John B states.

Kie sputters motioning to you and herself, “Sorry, are you calling us ‘B team’?”

“Did ‘B team not just find our way out or am I totally tripping?” You say, looking between JJ and Kie.

Pope grasped JJ by the shoulders, “Just hang back and hold down the fort.”

“Great, looking forward to it,” JJ purses his lips. “You guys have fun, it’s your funeral, your game. I’ll be in here, on the bench.”

He backs away into the area the five of you were once suffering in, Kie grabs both Pope and John B and gives them, her last words of wisdom before sending them on their way. John B didn’t so much as give you a last glance before climbing out of the small window.

~~~

The lack of flowing oxygen in the container was concerning, you grew up with struggling winters and no electricity during hot summers but this felt like hell. Especially now with the conversation that you were witnessing.

JJ began to express his dream of traveling the world with the riches you were in the process of acquiring and surfing every coast he comes across.

“When all this is over, and we’re just rolling in the dough.” He speaks with half-lidded eyes, sweat beads down his neck with his head leaning against a netted crate. “I’m gonna get a new board, deck it out, and I’m gonna go on a surf trip. I don’t know where, but the world’s calling.”

You felt so faint and fatigued from the heat, yet the thought of JJ being excited about a future when all his life he’d been told he wouldn’t have one, made your heart warm.

“Name a place,” He tells Kie.

She rolls her head in thought, “Spain.”

“Then after Spain, South America, or South Africa.”

You raise a brow, “You’ll go to South Africa?”

“One of the South places,” He shrugs. “Then Micronesia maybe, and then… and just ride. Wherever the wave takes you, you know?”

“So that’s the plan if we were to get a ton of cash, that’s the dream. Surf trip?”

You watch Kiara as she asks and that’s when you notice, the hope in her heart that’s shining through her eyes, the soft smile as JJ describes the end goal of this adventure. JJ resembles the freedom and lifestyle she craves to escape the Kook life her parents have for her.

“Ripping jungle break all day long, bamboo hit, cooking a fish on the fire, and after that, you go back out and just hit the waves again. That’s the dream.”

Then, at the same time after listening to the blissful life of adventure, you and Kie respond at the same time. “Sounds perfect.”

Your and Kie’s eyes meet at your matching answers, the nonverbal confirmation that you both wanted it. You both wanted the dream and you wanted it with JJ.

Kie recovered faster than you did, “Got room for one more?”

JJ chuckles casually and taps your knee that bumps into your other one from the way you were sitting. The little tap gave you hope.

“You got your passport?” He sideglances you before asking her.

She grins, “You don’t have a passport.”

“Hell no, I don’t have a passport, that’s the Kookiest thing ever.” They laugh in sync, and your hope is gone.

Thankfully you hear a whistle come from outside the vent and you immediately jump up to open it, passing it to Kie who was right behind you. Pope climbs through, then John B, you were about to cover the hole when Pope stops you.

A girl wearing a workers cap pops up from the other side, “Jesus Christ! I kill you, John B!” she threatens your brother with a thick West Indies accent.

“Who is this?” Kie begins to panic.

“Just relax, okay?” He tries to ease her mind, “I told you I had a surprise. Remember I told you about the girl we met in the Bahamas that saved us?”

You took in the appearance of the girl standing above you and tried to match her face to the name your brother told you, “This is Cleo?”

“She’s gonna help us,” John B said more to Kie than to you. You wondered what it was gonna take to get John B to forgive you.

“Next time, ask me,” Cleo retorted.

John B and Pope updated you all on what happened when they left the container, the only thing they succeeded in doing was getting the crew's attention, getting Cleo on your side, and not grabbing any weapons on their way back.

“This is why I should have gone with you,” JJ emphasized. For once, you would’ve agreed with him, if only so that you didn’t have to sit through Kiara fawning over JJ.

“Let me get this straight,” Cleo cuts in. “You five, with no weapons, decided you were gonna hijack this tramp steamer on your own? Do you have any idea who these people are?”

She stares you all down like a mother scolding you for touching a hot stove, “Eberhimi, if he catches you, he’s gonna kill you. Dead. Cut off your fingers.”

“What about waiting until we get to port?” Kie suggests. “At least then, if something goes wrong we have a place to run.”

You shake your head, “We can’t wait, by now they already know we're here.”

“I’ve run this scenario over a thousand times in my head, our best chances are on this ship.” Pope adds, “There are fifteen crew members and six of us, three-to-one odds, that’s the best it’ll get. If we wait till we get there, they’ll trap us.”

“We have no chance,” Kie protests.

“There’s something else,” John B spoke, and by the look on his face- it had to be bad news. Your stomach sunk, and your mind immediately went to Sarah, Was she hurt? Dead? “Ward’s alive.”

The worst thing he could have said, your father's killer was alive, the peace you thought you had when he was dead was ripped away from you once again. There was no winning against him.

“He’s alive, and he’s on this boat. It was all a setup, blowing up the boat, the confession to Shoupe. Think about it, that was to clear Rafe’s name.” John B glances at you, “And he does what? Goes to the Druthers, and what’s on the Druthers?”

“Scuba,” You exhale your answer, your back hitting a corner of a box.

“Ward’s alive, he’s got the gold and the cross.” JJ’s boots slam down on the metal as he climbs off the crates he was hanging on to. “And Sarah.”

“Thanks for rubbing that in,” Kie looks up to the ceiling.

“He’s just gonna get away with everything again, huh?” JJ shakes his head in denial, “Not happening. We’re not watching this movie again, right, Pope? You said we need the win, and with her,” He points to Cleo. “We’re going to the bridge and we’re gonna take it right now.”

“Let’s do it,” John B nods.

“I’m with you, and I wanna be the one to take that bridge,” Pope agrees with a new fire in his eyes.

Cleo snickers, “He’s gonna take that bridge?”

“Yeah,” JJ defends Pope.

“He couldn’t even take me.”

You giggled at that, as much as you would like to believe in Pope, he would definitely need help.

“First of all, I was going easy on you.”

“I went easy on you,” With the knife in her hand, you would bet on her.

John B shushes them both, “Relax, both of you.”

JJ takes the silence as an opportunity to say his plan aloud, “If you’re with us, we can use that knife to hold it up against the captain’s neck then we go on the intercom and make him tell the rest of the crew to meet up in the forward hull. Once they’re in the same place, we lock them in there and we take back what’s ours.”

“I like it, it could work,” Pope concurs.

“Are you with us?” JJ meets Cleo’s eye to ask her seriously.

She takes a second, “No. This is stupid.” Cleo looks at you sharply. There was a man shouting orders from outside to check the containers, she hops onto the platform and opens the vent. She hops out, and you all hear her shout a name.

You were starting to think about how John B was wrong to trust her when you heard her tell the men that were trying to open the container that she searched it already. You all breathe a sigh of relief.

“She’s on our side,” JJ says. “Pope, you’re up, we’ll wait for your signal.”

Pope pulls the vent from the hole once more, climbing out. You watch as he follows Cleo with no trail before covering it up again.

You were getting anxious about how long it was taking, how long does it take to take over a bridge anyway?

“You think he’ll pull it off?” You ask Kie. Right as she opened her mouth to respond, the order from an unrecognizable voice was heard through the intercom.

“Repeat. All hands and all passengers report to the tween forward hull immediately.”

“Sounds like he did,” JJ responded. “Let’s split up, once they’re all in the hull, Kie, Y/n, and I will lock them inside.”

“Is that really a three-person job?” John B asks JJ.

You look at him suspiciously, “I’d go with you if you wanted me to, but...”

“Now is not the time guys,” Kie tells you both.

“Fine, I’ll find Sarah and get the lifeboat.”

“We’ll meet you, load the cross, and get out of here,” Kie confirms the plan.

JJ climbs out first, John B after, then Kie, and You. You glance behind you to check if there was someone coming before walking after the rest of them. John B went his separate way as soon as you all made it inside the ship. You and Kie followed JJ to the forward hull, knowing you’d get lost on your own.

There are still a couple of crew members making their way inside, huffing and complaining as they went.

“How many?” JJ whispers to where you and Kie were pressed against the metal wall. You hold up three fingers as you counted the men walking. You heard Wheezie talking to Rose, and walking behind them was Rafe.

You almost gasped as you saw him, and moved your head out of sight. You were sweating from the nerves and anxiety of potentially getting caught as well as the heat. “That’s all of the crew,” You whisper to JJ.

“Except Ward, we need Ward.”

“We can’t wait,” Kie tells you both. JJ begrudgingly nods for you all to go ahead with the plan. You, Kie, and JJ push the heavy metal door shut, the crew members from the inside were pushing it to stay open. You plant your feet as you push against them, using all your strength, and JJ officially closes the latch.

You heard their footsteps run away from the door they were fighting against you. “There’s another door!”

The three of you bolt to the other side, the crew members were too late. JJ managed to close the smaller exit before they could fight against it. With no crew members to stop you, JJ found a lower ground where the cross could be.

You climbed down the ladder where there was a wooden box, the shape of the cross, was. A blanket was lazily thrown over it, you, JJ, and Kie uncover it.

JJ smiles at you both, “Surf trip.” He reaches out his hand to do your secret handshake, he had a different one with both you and Kie.

The ceiling began to open, and Pope was standing on top, Finding this cross was a huge step in the right direction, Ward may be alive but the Pogues were going to take back what was rightfully yours, one by one. Sarah, The Cross, your lives.

You, JJ, and Kie let out shouts of excitement as Pope pumps his fist in the air, “The time where people do shit to us and we just sit back and take it is over!”

With final whoops of encouragement, Pope rushes to the crane as you, Kie, and JJ prep the cross for him with the thick rope hooked on each side of it.

“It’s ready for you Pope!” JJ shouts at him.

Pope lifts the cross quicker than he should, you shout him a warning, JJ directs him to move the cross more to the middle but he moves it far to the left. The Cross swings at a barrel of wrapping, knocking it over.

“Too far, too far!” Kie exclaims.

You hear a faint, “My bad!” coming from inside the crane.

“Your other middle!” You told him. JJ helps him by moving the extra rope from the cross and guiding it to where it isn’t hitting the ‘ceiling’ until he finally had it in the air.

You and the others go back to the upper deck from the same ladder, passing where Pope was with the crane and the cross, making sure it was clear before moving forward in your search for the lifeboats and John B. You kept going until you saw a man who looked boiling mad.

“I don’t see him,” JJ said.

“J,” You called his attention as he was looking over for John B. You and Kie shared a concerned look.

The man pulls out a machete, “Of course, there’s more of you. Get down on your knees.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” JJ speaks right before the man swung his machete down on JJ. He manages to dodge it and gets a hold of his forearm, pushing it onto the wall, you and Kie hold it down as JJ punches him. Kie lets go, and you open the metal emergency kit door, slamming it in his face, knocking him back.

Kie looks over to the lower level and calls for John B as JJ attempts to fight off the guy who’s two times his size. JJ gets shoved on the ground, his head hitting the floor, the man makes his way to Kie who had her guard down.

“Kie!” You yelled out her name as a warning and jump on the man's back, your right arm around his neck- choking him and your left arm pulling against his with his hold on the machete to keep him from swinging it at your friend.

You heard JJ shout at you, “Y/n, no!”

You couldn’t hold him back, he slams his back against the railing which meant that you would take the hit, your spine hit the edge making fall off his back and onto your feet. He then, with full force, elbows you in your stomach. You couldn’t breathe, he literally knocked the wind out of you and as he swung the machete at Kiara, she ducked and the blunt end of it hit you in the head and you went straight into the water.

JJ dove in after you, Kie kicked the man back and went in after him.

“Y/n!” Kie swam after you.

JJ held you in his arms, desperately trying to keep you afloat while also keeping himself up. “Y/n, c’mon, stay with me, baby!”

“John B!” He dully heard Kie shout. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he was struggling to keep you both up but he didn’t care how much his arms ached, he would make you sure you were alive.

“Y/n, please,” He begged. “John B’s coming alright? He’s coming, Kie!”

The lifeboat came around the corner of the ship in the distance.

Kiara continued to scream for John B to rescue the three of you. At the sight of you, unconscious in JJ’s arm, John B felt sick. Pope, John B, and Sarah cried out for you as Kie helped JJ swim with the weight of your body.

John B pulled you from JJ’s hold and into the lifeboat, JJ hovered over your body, “C’mon, Y/n.” He held your cold cheek in his palm, wishing- willing for you to wake up. The lifeboat stopped moving.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked.

“We’re stalling!” John B pulls the string to start the engine back up again.

“You serious? We’re sitting ducks,” Pope panics.

JJ looks up to the ship and sees Rafe pointing a gun at the boat, you were all in. He moves his body in a position where he’s covering you in case Rafe starts shooting, while John B keeps trying the motor.

Miraculously it starts, and speeds away, as soon as you all were in the clear, everybody turns their attention back to where you lie, unmoving.

“I’m sorry, alright?” John B crouched on your left, holding onto your hand. “I am so fucking sorry.”

JJ was beginning to feel anxious, the start of an anxiety attack forming in his chest, “Wake up, Y/n, wake up!” He had both of his hands on your cheeks, shaking you ever so slightly. Your eyes shot open, and you were coughing out water. “There you go, cough it out, baby.”

~~~

The first thing you saw was blue, your throat felt raw from the salt water you unknowingly consumed, your lungs were screaming, and your head was throbbing like you had a migraine that was splitting your head open but the only feeling that mattered was the one you felt when you saw him looking at you the way he was right now.

His eyes held words you wished you could understand, tears appeared as if they were about to spill over, and they did as he grinned so wide, his cheeks wrinkled his eyes.

“No CPR needed, huh?” Kie commented with a smile.

You broke the intense eye contact you had with JJ and felt a hand in yours, you looked to the hand's owner and saw your brother. He immediately engulfed you in a hug. “I’m not, not talking to you again.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, JB,” You hugged him back with feeble arms, relieved that he was no longer upset with you. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re all good, lil’ P,” John B ruffled your wet hair before letting you go. JJ was mute as he beamed down on you.

“Hey,” Your voice came out small.

His lips parted, once again, in a bright smile “Sup?” He brought your head to his chest, grabbed a piece of cloth, and dabbed at the side of your head that stung.

“What the hell happened?”

“The blunt end of a machete,” Kie explained.

“Next time, duck,” Cleo joked.

You chuckled, “I’ll try to remember that next time, thanks.”

Way into the distance, on the ship you had barely escaped from, the members of the crew were hoisting the cross from the water. The plan you all thought would work, and was working, had gone wrong. You were left with nothing. Ward had the cross, the gold, and the retribution you all thought you had when Ward was dead is gone.

At least Sarah was now safe and with her people, you thought as you and the girls sat against a couple of palm trees along the shore of a remote island.

“Good job, guys” Sarah cheered for the boys as they brought in the lifeboat from the water.

“Anybody knows where we’re at?” JJ threw out the question you were all wondering.

“Deserted beach, unknown island,” Pope answered as he settled down next to Cleo.

“Plan A, huh Pope?” JJ leaned his forearm against the tree to your left, you looked up at him from where your head lay on Kie’s lap. “That went well.”

“This is the lowest we can go,” Pope said. “We literally have nothing else to lose, the cross? Gone.”

You sat up, letting the weight on your hands that dug into the sand as you listed another thing off. “The gold? Gone.”

“Seriously, if we had a nickel for every time we got beat up, I’d say we’re at a dollar fifty.” JJ reminded the group.

“That’s more than I got on me,” Kie commented.

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better,” Said Sarah.

“Yeah, you’re right. But, we’ve had some good stuff happen.” Your head snapped to John B, wondering what speech of optimism he was going to muster up.

“Name some,” Pope told him.

“The boiler room, if the boiler didn’t explode, I wouldn’t have gotten away from Rafe. I couldn’t have gotten the zodiac and gotten us out of here.” He mentioned, and pointed to the lifeboat the newly branded ‘Zodiac’.

Cleo, who was to the right of John B, looked amused. “That wasn’t luck, that thing was gonna blow the second I stopped feeding it.”

“Stealing my thunder, Cleo.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay, Pope,” He redirects. “You’re related to Denmark Tanny, that’s crazy.”

“And I lost all of his inheritance,” Pope shut down John B’s next point. You knew where he tried to go with it, and you admired him for trying to keep the group's spirits high, but you were all literally on rock bottom.

You’ve accepted your fate, after your near-death experience, all that had bothered you before had drifted away just like you and that Pogues did. All except one, human-sized thing that was stuck on this island with you.

“You know what,” John B stood and faced the ocean with his arms out wide. “Guys, this is it. This is the Pogue life. We are in the Caribbean, it’s our own little slice of paradise, with my best friends- with my family. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

You raised your hand and pursed your lips, “Can you say that again in like two weeks? When we’re still here, starving, and fed up with me.”

“Y/n, you almost died, the love’s gonna last a ‘lil while- don’t ruin the moment.” He put up a hand as if to stop you from speaking. “Look, while you guys were complaining about every little thing, JJ?”

The blond who was stabbing his pocket knife in the tree, paused after sinking into the bark, humming in response.

“I was looking at those burly lefts,” John B points to the waves forming on the water.

“There are some slabs out there,” JJ agrees.

“Kie, you see that?” John B attempts to persuade her.

She shakes her head, “No boards.”

“Well, we can bodysurf till we make some boards.”

“Lame.”

“They are tasty,” Pope refers to the ocean. “There’s nobody around, we could squat here for a bit. Kind of belongs to us now, huh?”

“You got a point,” You shrug. “Seven-way split.”

“Poguelandia. I claim thee Poguelandia,” JJ pipes in with a posh accent. You noted how he carved ‘P4L’ on the bark of the tree right below where his knife was embedded, emphasizing your ownership of the island. Then returns to his normal voice, “I like the ring of it, I’m gonna make a flag. It’s gonna have a chicken on it with a coconut bra, smoking a J, in crocs.”

The image of it came to mind and you laughed, it was a little blurry but you didn’t doubt that JJ would make a real visual as soon as he could find the materials.

“I could use a J,” Kie confessed.

“Can we vote on this?” Sarah asked, John B reached out to her and pulled her out of the sand.

“‘Til death do us part?”

You looked away from their little moment, slapping your hands together to get rid of the sand that got stuck, when you looked up a hand was extended out to you. The owner of it being JJ, you took his hand and allowed him to wrap his arm around you.

“What’s up?” You ask him as he guides you along the coast, away from the group. You looked back to where Kie and Pope were teaching Cleo the Pogue handshake, Sarah and John B were a couple of feet behind you and JJ.

“Just wanted to check in on you,” He let his arm slip off your shoulders once you were far enough away from the others.

Besides your severe thirst for water, the pounding in your head had gone from a blinding headache to a dull throb, and despite the fact that you were on a deserted island? You were well.

“I’m good,” You told him honestly.

“You cared the shit out of me,” He let out a sigh. “You know, earlier?”

“When I got knocked the fuck out?” You laughed. “Yeah, well, he was going at Kie and I couldn’t just not do anything.”

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you, dude,” He fiddled with your fingers as he was holding your hand. You wanted to know what he meant- what he truly meant- by that.

“You’d survive, J,” You playfully pushed his shoulder. He didn’t budge. “It would suck, losing your only form of amusement, all of you would be losing an asset to the team.”

He didn’t laugh, he was standing in front of you, his back covering the view of you from the group and openly searching the features on your face. Your neck was tilted upwards, doing just the same. You'd be lying if you said you didn’t expect something to happen right now.

The way his face was the one you saw when you woke up, according to Kie he jumped into the water the moment you were hit, the way he was looking at you then- the way he was looking at you now. Everything that happened between you in the past, it had to mean something.

“Y/n, JJ!” John B’s shouting broke through the tension around you and JJ. “C’mon, we gotta get started on provisions!”

“We’re going!” You shout back, though you weren’t sure it was loud enough. You step to the side to move past JJ, “We should go before-”

He took a hold of your face with both of his hands and you thought that he was gonna do it, he was going to kiss you. Instead, he kissed you on your forehead and said “I just need you to know that I care about you, alright?”

You flushed, “Yeah. I care about you too, J.”

“Not that I’m letting that happen ever happening again, but I didn’t want you to die without me telling you.”

“Right.” That was not what you were expecting, you had to admit that you were disappointed, knowing JJ had a difficult time expressing his emotions but when he acts like this it builds up your hope.

~~~

Before the sun went down fully, you all had started a fire with Pope’s lighter and dry wood. Everyone was surrounding the fire, just like you all would in your backyard. The only thing lacking was the beer and the lights that JJ had strung up when he bought ‘the cat’s ass’.

With the fresh breeze and ocean spraying on you, JJ exaggerating his side of the story on the ship, Cleo showing off her knife tricks to Sarah who had John B’s arm around her, Pope correcting JJ on whatever parts he got wrong, and you and Kie leaning against each other for warmth.

It felt right, you felt at peace, like you were home. John B was right, you wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else. 

~~~~

Last Chapter of Season 2! What do you guys think?

Credit to @ steffi55 on wattpad for the idea to switch from JJ getting hurt to Y/n

Chapter 21

Taglist:

@jbassettjmaybank - @deanwherescas - @thtbwltts - @nerdypartytrashpsychic - @random-girl-army - @wisegirlies - @instabull - @sexyfoxlady - @bubs-world - @sdawn03 - @mendesclines - @obx-pogues-4-life - @mentalforfics - @p-prettybitch - @namacissi - @dczedhee - @inkandpen22 - @royalavenger - @ayeitsjustmee - @80strashbag - @onlyangel-444 - @freds-slut - @poppet05 - @itsjuststaticnoises - @ahnneyong - @lovepizza567 - @jasminfelling - @rana03 - @loki-loveer - @rana030 - @lostinatimeline - @boldlypessimistic - @clinelyn - @a-j-stuffs - @yunhobug - @syd223sworld - @strawberry--fawn - @mysticalavenuecheesecake - @itsmytimetoodream - @natashtessabeth12 - @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles - @chervbs - @or-was-it-just-a-dream - @newbooksmell777 - @afterzonee - @hana-1235 - @ilovesteveharrngton - @s1Ingwns

(if your name is crossed out that means tumblr won't let me tag you, I apologize for the inconvenience)

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Haunted: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: This is Hotch's first case back since being stabbed by Foyet. As much as he says he's fine, he's not and he's letting his emotions affect the case in a negative way.

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

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Under Hotch's orders, half of the team heads back to the station where JJ and Spencer are. They've been doing as much research on Darrin, the Hollow Creek Killer, and Tommy as they can.

"So, what do we know?" Hotch asks when he walks in.

"There were only four suspects in the Hollow Creek case, and they're all dead. The kids were taken in 1973, '74, and '75, and all on the way home from school."

"They came from different school districts," JJ says. "He waited for them to be alone."

"That takes patience. He must have had time off in the afternoons. He lived or worked near the schools."

"That's a lot of doors to knock on," Derek sighs.

"Do you think Call's going back there?" Rossi asks.

"I think there's a good chance."

"I'll tell Mitchell," JJ says and walks away.

"Where's the secondary location? He needed seclusion to do what he did." Derek's phone rings and he places Pen on speakerphone. "Go ahead, Garcia. You're on speaker."

"I found Tommy. He goes by James Thomas Anderson now."

"Is he local?"

"One county over. His address and bio are coming now."

You and Hotch take this one together without a hoard of other agents. Tommy probably wants to put all this in the past. Seeing so many officers about this case will only freak him out. Tommy wasn't thrilled to see you two on his doorstep, but he let you in nonetheless. When Hotch explains the situation vaguely, Tommy looks visibly upset.

"What does Darrin Call have to do with me?"

"We think he survived the Hollow Creek Killer."

"Nobody survived that."

"You did. There was another boy. He was six years old."

"No, that's not true."

"We don't have time for this," Hotch says angrily.

"I'm telling you, I was alone."

"Just like now?"

"Excuse me?"

"Have you ever been married? Any relationships? Any family?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Or are you afraid you'll abandon them, too? Or was it because of your alcoholism?"

"I would never leave a kid," Tommy says with hints of tears in his eyes.

"Did he cry too much? Was he too slow? What was it? How could you leave a six-year-old all alone?" Hotch says a bit harshly.

"I was only twelve."

"He's been taking medications to deal with the trauma that suppressed his memories," you explain. "That kind of amnesia is a psychological defense."

"He's gonna wish he never remembered," Tommy sighs.

"We know what you told the police. We need to know about the boy."

"He never talked. I was kept in a cage in the barn. He'd come in frequently so I thought I'd be able to use him to escape. One day, the man was drunk and passed out. Darrin freed me. Turns out the man wasn't as drunk as I thought he was because he caught us pretty quickly. He took us both away in a car to a secluded spot. I don't remember where. He gave the shovel to Darrin and told him to dig my grave. I ended up grabbing that shovel and beat the shit out of the man. Both Darrin and I ran away until we got to a fence. I jumped over it easily but Darrin was stuck. The man caught up to Darrin but I was already free. I never thought I'd hear his voice."

"He told you to go," you say.

"He was a kid," Tommy cries.

"So were you."

"Was Call in the back with you?"

"No, he was in the front."

"He got the keys to let him free. He rode in the front. Why wasn't he locked up?"

"Maybe Call wasn't a victim."

Something clicks in your head and you gasp.

"Call's father was the Hollow Creek Killer."

Tommy isn't going to be much use to you anymore so you and Hotch go back to the station to tell everyone else this revelation.

"His own kid? No wonder he was never claimed," Rossi scoffs when he hears the news.

"How did the father explain how his son just disappeared?"

"He could have said he ran away."

"His mother would have reported him missing," JJ says.

"Then maybe he said the boy died."

"She'd want a funeral," JJ shakes her head.

"What if there wasn't one? Morgan, call Garcia. Ask her to check death records from 1969 to 1975."

"For who?" Derek asks Hotch.

"For the mother." Derek calls Penelope and asks her for the death records, and she works quickly to grab that information. "You got it?"

"It's a long list. A really long list."

"Can you narrow it down?"

"Six years is a long time. I need more parameters."

"She lived within that eight-mile radius, was married, was most likely in her twenties, he was probably her only kid, and the husband drove a red truck."

"Okay, this could be one," Penelope says as he types. "Here we go. I have Doris Jarvis. She died in childbirth."

"Let me guess. She had a boy?"

"Yeah. So Doris Jarvis was married to Bill Jarvis. He owned a machine shop just outside the city."

"That could be the secondary location," Spencer says.

"It closed in 1980. He hasn't done anything since. I guess he laid low. He had a red pickup until 1976 when he bought a black one. I know that because that's what he was driving when he was arrested for DUIs. He was locked up from '77 to '80, and I'm sending his picture now."

Penelope sends a picture of what Darrin's father looks like. Yeah, he looks like a serial killer.

"That could definitely be Darrin's father."

"Where is Jarvis now?"

"In the same house. 1457 Hitchens Avenue."

"Let's go," Hotch announces.

By the time you get to Jarvis' house, Lieutenant Mitchell, his team, and SWAT are already here. Darrin Call is inside the house with Ryan which is why they're not busting the door down.

"Lieutenant," you say when you get there.

"The kid's in there. We've got this. Tactical teams are covering the exits."

"Call needs a distraction."

"He's focused on the old man."

"Yeah, for now, but we're gonna have to figure out the safest way to get that kid out."

"I've got a team in the back and one on the way. We're going to infiltrate."

"If you do that, someone is going to die."

"It'll either be Call or a child murderer. Flip a coin," the Lieutenant scoffs.

"It doesn't have to end like that. If we get a confession out of Jarvis, he goes away and Call gets his answers. No one else has to die." You happen to look over at your team and see Hotch walk past the barricade without his FBI vest on. He's going in there unarmed and unprotected. "Hotch? Hotch!!"

You jump to stop him but Rossi holds you and Derek back from going after him.

"What the hell is he doing?!" Derek gasps.

"Let him go."

"Rossi! I'm not letting him go in there solo."

"We have to trust him."

Waiting for something to happen is like a ticking time bomb. You're not sure what is going to happen. Hotch could get very hurt in there without protection, but you have to trust him. Hotch manages to bring Call to the window but SWAT doesn't have a shot on him yet.

"Do you have the shot?" Lieutenant Mitchell asks.

"Negative."

"Damn it. What's he doing?"

Whatever Hotch is doing must be working because the front door opens and Ryan runs out fearfully. One of the SWAT members grabs him and takes him to safety behind the line of police cars.

"Let's get Hotch out of there,"

"That's his call," Rossi says.

Two long minutes pass before you hear three gunshots ring out from inside. You don't care if he wants to be alone or not. You're going in now. You, Emily, and Derek take off running into the house with your guns raised. Jarvis is dead but Hotch and Darri are fine. Hotch is handcuffing Darrin to take him away.

"What the hell happened?" you ask.

"I couldn't stop him."

Hotch escorts Darrin out of the house without an ounce of guilt on his face. He's not guilty because he let it happen. He's acting recklessly because of his own feelings toward Foyet which is pissing you off. You wait until you're back at the BAU to confront him about his behavior. Hotch is alone in his office when you approach it.

"Hey, do you have a minute?"

"I'm not in the mood for company right now."

"I don't care." You walk inside and shut the door behind you. Hotch looks up at you in shock but you continue before he has a chance to respond. "Look. I know how much pain you're in. I can feel it as if it were my own. If you hadn't turned down Foyet's deal, then he wouldn't have gone after Hayley and Jack and they would be safe right now. I get the guilt you're feeling because I've been there. You have no idea how guilty I've felt for a decision I've made and how it would affect the ones I love. Now, you're obsessing over trying to find him so your family can be safe but guess what, you're not alone. You have an entire team--family--here to help you. Foyet will get caught but you can't blame yourself for not knowing what was going to happen when you turned down his deal. You once told me not to blame myself when that car bomb went off because I couldn't have known. The same thing goes for you. I understand you miss your family but you have another one right here to help you through it. Use them but don't disrespect them."

"I understand," he nods. "Thank you."

Hotch understands the weight of your words. His response might not feel sincere but you know he means it when he says he understands. He knows how he's been feeling and vows to himself that he will do better.

Frank paces the inside of his empty apartment quickly. The only pieces of furniture he has in there are an inflatable mattress, a dingy nightstand he got at a thrift store, and a TV that sits on it. He's not going to be here for much longer so why would he try and furnish this apartment? It's a month-to-month contract that he can renew at any time, so he only bought out two months.

He has to stick around to see how this is going to play out with you. He went through all the trouble to get you in trouble so why would he leave before he knows you're going to take the fall for this? He's been living here for the past few weeks in hopes that something will progress with the police.

So far, nothing much has happened.

"How's it going out there?" Frank's wife asks.

"It's complete bullshit. The police are so fucking slow. I practically have to do their jobs for them. I talked to a few more officers and told them everything besides her fucking name. If they don't figure it out, I'm gonna have to think of something else."

"When are you coming home?" his wife pouts.

"I'm gonna have to spend another month here." She groans in protest but he's quick to shut that down. "Clarissa, don't."

"I can't handle the kids by myself."

Frank sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Call Rob. He owes me a favor anyway."

"Are you sure? He's worse than you."

"I don't care. He will do what needs to be done. It's only for a month, anyway."

"Fine. Hurry home."

"Listen, there's something else. I gave my real name to the police."

"What were you thinking?"

"I'm not a fucking idiot, Clarissa. I didn't give them my last name. I told them it was Livingston."

"You're playing it too close. Someone is going to get caught. What if they show up at our front door? All the work we've done?"

"Hey, we've evaded the police for this long, and we'll do it some more."

"What if Y/N finds out who we are?" Clarissa asks after a pause.

"Y/N claims she has this gift that can read right through people," Frank chuckles. "If that were true, she'd have figured out who we were a long time ago. Let me worry about Y/N."

"Fine."

"I'll call you in a few days."

Frank hangs up before his wife can say anything else.

Ah, Y/N, my most prized possession.

"There is no witness so dreadful, no accuser so terrible as the conscience that dwells in the heart of every man." - Polybius

x

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[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Benjamin Effect - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!OC (Kate Benjamin-Mitchell)

Length: 3.2k

Warnings: (Childhood) Enemies to Lovers; Mentions of Goose and Carole; Angst; Feelings of Abandonment; Tension; Strained Relationships; Daddy Issues; Questionable Decisions; Age-Gap (about eight years), but Everyone is Very Much Adult; Female OC with Physical Description

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: With Maverick and Penny's wedding drawing closer, Rooster is called upon to convince Maverick and Penny's first daughter, Kate, to come around to the idea. Of course, Rooster and Kate have their own history to work through and Kate is definitely not going to make it easy for him.

Note: Amelia is Maverick's biological daughter in this too. Kate is about eight years younger than Rooster, but is very much an adult. She's in her late 20s and Rooster is in his mid/late 30s.

Part 2

Master List

Rooster should have known that Maverick had an ulterior motive for taking him out to dinner.

If Maverick wanted to just hang out and catch up without any additional bullshit, he would have simply set up the grill and they would have shared a few beers outside on the back porch. But buying him dinner at a restaurant was a move that Maverick played when Bradley was young and easily swayed by the promise of French fries and ice cream sundaes. And, apparently, now too.

“You want me to do what?” Rooster asked his godfather, staring over at Maverick incredulously.

“I need your help in getting Kate to talk to me again,” Maverick explained casually.

“Kate? Your daughter Kate?”

Kate, who went by Katie as a kid, was Maverick and Penny’s daughter from one of their previous will-they-won’t-they situations. She was a surprise addition to the family and a near-death sentence for Maverick when Admiral Benjamin, Penny’s dad, found out about her. But by the time that Kate was born, Penny and Maverick were both completely dedicated to co-parenting.

So, why did Maverick need his help with getting Kate to talk to him again? And why did Maverick think that Bradley of all people would be a good candidate for that job?

Bradley and Kate were never close.

There was several years difference between them—probably eight or so, if Bradley did the math right. And Bradley thought that she was a whiny brat whenever their paths crossed as kids. She was always upset whenever Maverick and Bradley did something together without her and she complained until she got her way, which Maverick always gave her in the end.

The last time that Bradley saw Kate, it was at his mom’s funeral. And he hadn’t heard from her since the paper pulling incident. That was eighteen, nearly nineteen, years ago now. For fuck’s sake, he just found out that she went by Kate now instead of Katie.

“Yeah, you remember her, right?” Maverick asked, folding his arms underneath him.

“I mean, yeah, but why do you need my help?” Rooster inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“She doesn’t . . .” Maverick started to explain but then he trailed off. Maverick sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, before turning back to Rooster. “I wasn’t the best dad for her. I wasn’t around and I didn’t make the right efforts when I needed to because I got caught up in my own demons and fears. And she—and I understand why—hasn’t forgiven me for any of it.”

“I’m still missing the part where I fit into this whole scheme,” Rooster replied honestly.

“I’m hoping that since the two of us started to reconcile and address what happened in the past with our relationship, that you could help me do the same with Kate. To at least help me show her that I’ve changed and I’m taking my personal relationships seriously.”

“So, you want me to help you steal an F-14 to patch things up with your daughter?” Rooster asked sarcastically, earning a sigh from Maverick.

“No, I just . . . maybe just talk with her about what we worked through. I’m prepared to do all of the talking and amending on my own, but I need help convincing her to talk to me in the first place,” Maverick explained softly to Rooster. “She just shuts down every time that I try to make amends or bring up the past.” 

“So, that’s why you took me out here?” Rooster asked, glancing down at his plate. “To try and bribe me to help your daughter talk to you again?”

“You love the French fries here,” Maverick pointed out, earning an incredulous look from Rooster.

“I did when I was nine,” Rooster corrected Maverick.

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, trying to get the conversation back on track, “will you help me? Or at least just try? If she doesn’t come around to you, then she doesn’t come around to you, and that’s fine. I just . . . I want to try to make things right with her. Before Penny and I get married.”

Rooster could hear the sincerity dripping from every word that Maverick spoke. And he recognized the borderline desperation in Maverick’s eyes. And as Maverick’s best man, this seemed to fit into his promise to help Maverick with wedding preparations.

And maybe Rooster did really like the fries here and the special sauce that they always came with.

“I feel like I’m going to regret this,” Rooster groaned, lowering his head for a moment. “But, sure. I’ll try and help you. I’ll be your wingman with this.”

“Thank you, Bradley,” Maverick stated sincerely, smiling softly. “It means the world to me, really. And Penny too.”

“Can it count as your wedding present then?”

~~~~~

Kate Benjamin wasn’t exactly the warmest or friendliest person by her own admission.

She took after her grandfather, retired Admiral John “Pike” Benjamin, more than her mom in that regard. Penny could talk and comfort any person off the street. And Penny gave people the benefit of the doubt, believing that people changed and second chances were only fair.

Kate did not share her mother’s forgiving disposition.

People could change. People did change. But that didn’t mean that Kate was willing to forgive, forget, and sing kumbaya with them afterwards. Second chances were earned, not given. And Pete Mitchell was on his seventh or so chance in Kate Benjamin’s book.

“I just don’t understand why he’s so suddenly interested in settling down,” Kate complained over the phone to Amelia as she sat in rush hour traffic.

“He’s retired now,” Amelia pointed out, sitting up in her bedroom.

“So, he’s bored? That’s why he wants to marry Mom?” Kate huffed, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Bullshit, is what I say.”

“He seems really sincere this time,” Amelia replied calmly, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Amelia didn’t respond for a moment and Kate could hear a background conversation between Amelia and their mom. Kate waited patiently, staring at the same blue Honda that she’d been stuck behind for what felt like hours when Amelia returned to the call.

“Mom wants to know how far you are from home.”

“Around forty-five minutes. Give or take. Are Grammie and Pop there?”

“Yeah, they flew in this morning. And Maverick and Rooster are joining us for dinner.”

“Rooster?” Kate repeated, clearly confused. “Who the hell is Rooster?”

“Bradley,” Amelia translated for her sister.  

“So, they’re talking again?” Kate muttered gruffly.

Kate remembered Bradley. She remembered how he called her a brat. And she remembered telling him that his name was stupid in retaliation. And Kate stood by that sentiment. ‘Bradley Bradshaw’ was one of the most ridiculous names that she had ever heard in her life. It wasn’t quite Philip Philips, but it was damn close.

“How in the hell did he get . . . never mind, because I don’t care,” Kate cut herself off.

“Mom also told me to tell you to be on your best behavior.”

“I’m always on my best behavior, Ames,” Kate insisted innocently, though her smirk betrayed her words. “Tell Mom that everything’s going to be fine.”

“I will. See you soon, Kate.”

“Bye, Ames.”

Amelia hung up the phone and Kate switched back to the radio while she inched through traffic.

So much for a quiet family dinner with her mom, sister, and grandparents after a long week of work. But she knew that she was going to have to get used to Maverick —if he wanted the title ‘Dad,’ he was going to have to earn it—and Rooster too.

~~~~~

Rooster sat in Penny’s backyard with Amelia, Grammie Joan, and Pike, which is what everyone except for his immediate family called him, while Maverick and Penny went to pick up dinner.

“You’re a Lieutenant Commander?” Pike asked Rooster, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, sir. Got promoted after that mission with Mav.”

“A well-earned one then,” Pike mused grimly, glancing over at the Kawasaki. “Maverick told me what he could about the mission. You’re either really smart, or have a lot of dumb luck, kid.”

“Or both.”

“Or both,” Pike echoed, nodding along. “And you just transferred back to North Island then?”

“Yeah, I was stationed out at Oceana most recently, but after the mission, I thought that it was finally time to return to the West Coast, so I put in the request and it was approved. And now I’m working as an instructor out here.”

“How many years are left on your contract?”

“Two and a half,” Rooster replied, doing the math in his head.

“And do you think that you’ll stay on after that’s up?”

“Don’t know,” Rooster answered honestly. “I’ll have to see what life looks like then.”

“Smart. Focus on what’s right in front of you,” Pike agreed, nodding curtly.

“Kate’s home!” Amelia exclaimed when she spotted Kate’s car pull into the driveway.

Without another word, Amelia stood up from the table and hurried around the gate. Grammie Joan smiled when she heard the two sisters reunite from the other side of the fence and shuffled down to Rooster and Pike’s side of the table.

“Have you met our Kate?” Grammie Joan asked Rooster, sitting beside her husband.

“Back when we were both kids, but not for a long time,” Rooster answered honestly.

“She’s grown into quite the firecracker,” Pike chuckled, waiting patiently for his two granddaughters to return. “Her mother says that she takes after me. Maverick seemed to agree with Penny, though he didn’t say it to my face.”

“I think that he still gets flashbacks about the ass chewings you gave him in the eighties and nineties,” Rooster joked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Which time?” Pike asked, seemingly amused.

“Oh, be nice, John. You know that if Kate sees you giving Maverick a hard time, she’s going to give him an even worse time,” Grammie Joan replied knowingly, shooting her husband a look. “And I’m not sure that Maverick can survive the two of you at the same time.”

“Well, if he’s going to finally marry into this family, he’s going to have to learn,” Pike pointed out gruffly.

“Don’t hold onto the past, John. That flyover business was so long ago,” Joan dismissed with a wave of her hand. “It was before the girls were born. Let it go.”

“Rooster?” Pike asked, out to prove a point.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you ever done a high-speed pass over an air traffic control tower?”

“Never as the pilot, no.”

“What about a high-speed pass over an admiral’s daughter? You’ve ever done that, Rooster?”

“No, sir.”

“See?” Pike told his wife, who shook her head at him again. “Not normal conduct.”

“Oh, get over it, John.”

The back door opened, cutting off Pike and Joan’s back and forth. Amelia trotted down the stairs first with Kate Benjamin—or Katie Mitchell, which is what she went by the last time that Bradley was around her—close behind.

But the woman that stepped out of the house was not anything like Rooster expected.

Kate seemed to be a perfect mix of her parents. Her hair was dark, like Maverick’s, but wavy, like Penny’s. Her smile was far too mischievous to come from Penny, but Kate walked with Penny’s seemingly flawless grace. And when they locked eyes, Rooster realized that Kate seemed to have inherited her mom’s captivating gaze.

He subconsciously straightened his back a bit as Kate walked past him.

Kate greeted her grandmother first with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before greeting her grandfather in the same fashion. And when she straightened up, the breeze blew the scent of her shampoo—which was something sweet and flowery—in his direction and let the subtle natural highlights in her hair to catch the sunlight.

A sharp pinch in Rooster’s side caused him to whirl around to spot an annoyed Amelia.

“Stop staring at my sister like that,” Amelia stated quietly, looking disgusted. “We eat out here.” 

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Amelia replied, ending the argument.

“How was the drive?” Pike asked Kate, who missed all of Rooster and Amelia’s conversation.

“Not too bad. Traffic, but what else did I expect?” Kate joked, moving to take the seat across from Amelia. “How was your flight in?”

“Not too bad.”

“Maverick was a gentleman and picked us up from the airport,” Joan replied with a kind smile.

Joan was clearly trying to put in a good word for Maverick with Kate, probably under the direction of Penny. Rooster, however, didn’t miss the grimace on Kate’s face at the mention of Maverick. Joan simply smiled wider and gestured over to Rooster.

“And you remember Bradley, right, Kate?”

“Yes,” Kate replied, reluctantly turning to Bradley. “Though I hear that you go by Rooster now.”

“I do,” Rooster agreed, nodding along. “And I hear that you go by Kate now.”

“I do,” Kate returned, looking bored with him.

“You heading home to your apartment tonight?” Pike questioned his granddaughter, ending Kate and Rooster’s staring contest.

“No, I’ll stay the night. We’re supposed to do some errands tomorrow morning for the wedding.”

“Have you met any nice men recently, Kate?” Grammie Joan asked her eldest granddaughter.

Kate immediately grimaced at her grandmother’s question. Amelia snuck a giggle until Kate kicked her shin under the table.

“No, Grammie.”

“Don’t pressure her, Joan,” Pike grunted, leaning back in his chair. “Better that she’s single and working hard at a good paying job than wasting her time with some no-good dumbass freeloader.”

“Yes, but this wedding planning has me thinking about the girls’ weddings,” Joan replied wistfully.

“Here we go,” Amelia murmured under her breath.

“One wedding at a time, Grammie,” Kate reminded Joan gently. “How is the wedding planning going around here anyways?"

"It's not,” Amelia answered, sharing an amused look with Rooster. “Mom’s mostly busy with the bar and Maverick doesn’t want to make any decisions without her approval. And he’s still trying to move all of his stuff over here.”

“He’s living here now?” Kate asked, immediately on the defensive. “At the house?”

“No, he’s rooming with Rooster for now.”

“Oh.” Kate’s gaze flickered over to Rooster, causing him to subconsciously straighten up again. She seemed to study him for a moment before asking, “How’s that going then?”

“It’s going well,” Rooster replied, trying to keep Maverick in a good light.

“So, he’s living in Miramar full time then?” Kate asked, still analytical.

“Mostly. He has the hangar out in Nevada, but he’s here more.”

“Lovely,” Kate replied dryly.

“Speaking of Maverick, I believe that’s them,” Pike stated, glancing down the driveway.

Kate got up and headed inside and Amelia followed after her sister. Penny and Maverick stepped inside and Kate hurried into her mom’s waiting arms. Penny squeezed Kate to her chest while Maverick stood behind them, smiling at their interaction.

“Oh, I’m so happy that you’re back home,” Penny breathed out.

“I’m not that far away, Mom,” Kate reminded Penny softly. “But it’s nice to be home.”

“How was the drive?” Penny asked Kate, letting go of her eldest daughter.

“Not too bad.”

“Good.” Penny turned to Maverick, who was clearly waiting for some kind of acknowledgement from his daughter. “Aren’t you going to greet your dad, Kate?”

“Maverick,” Kate greeted him stiffly, unwilling to call him ‘Dad.’

“It’s good to see you, Kate,” Maverick returned quietly, clearly subdued.

“Likewise.”

“Help him with the food, please, Kate,” Penny told her eldest daughter.

Kate took one of the bags from Maverick and quickly moved to put distance between them. Penny and Maverick shared a look before following Kate out into the backyard again. Amelia carried out some plates and utensils while Kate pulled out the takeout boxes.

“Amelia, can you grab the wooden spoons for the salad?” Penny questioned, glancing over the table.

“I’ll do it,” Rooster offered immediately, standing up. “You need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re all set. Thank you, Rooster,” Penny replied with a smile.

Rooster nodded, glanced over at Kate, before he headed inside. Maverick was in the kitchen, putting away some extra plates and pulling a few drinks out of the fridge.

“How did it go with Kate?” Rooster asked, opening drawers to look for wooden spoons. Maverick sighed, causing Rooster to pick his head up. “That bad, huh?”

“Could have been better,” Maverick sighed, grabbing some beers from the fridge. “But I suppose that it could have been much worse too.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Rooster glanced out the window, watching as Kate talked with her sister and her mom. Catching himself staring at her again, Rooster turned back to Maverick, who seemed to be unaware of Rooster’s sudden staring problem.

And that was good. For Rooster’s personal safety.

“Did she at least acknowledge your existence?”

“Only when prompted.” Maverick shook his head at himself. “I guess I’ll have to just keep trying to make things right with her.”

“I don’t think that she’ll make it easy for you.”

“No, she won’t. But I’m not going to let that stop me.” Maverick turned around and squeezed Rooster’s shoulder, smiling up at him. “Thanks again for trying to help me out. With making amends with her. I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course, Mav,” Rooster replied quietly.

They walked outside together to join the Benjamin family for dinner. Rooster ended up seated next to Kate somehow but they didn’t really acknowledge each other. It wasn’t until the wedding got brought up by Joan that they even looked at each other.

Well, that Kate looked over at Rooster. He still seemed to have a bit of a staring problem.

“So, you’re Maverick’s best man then, Rooster?” Joan asked kindly, causing Rooster to nod.

“Yeah, I am.”

“And Kate and Amelia are both the maid of honor?”

“Yeah, we’re sharing the position,” Kate agreed, sharing a glance with her sister.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how much I’m going to be able to do to help because of school and everything,” Amelia replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“I can handle most of it,” Kate insisted, looking down at her plate. “The only big thing that I should need your physical presence for is the maid of honor dresses.”

“Either way, it seems that the five of you will be spending a lot of time together over the next few months,” Joan stated with a kind smile.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Rooster spoke up, earning a sharp, curious look from Kate. “And to getting to know you guys more.”

Kate tilted her chin up a bit, challenging as she met Rooster’s gaze again. Amelia glanced between the two of them and stuck her tongue out. Penny and Maverick also shared a look, but Maverick signaled to Penny that it would be fine.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a lot of fun,” Kate replied dryly.

Part 2

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 23

Part 22 | Masterlist

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, smut

Word count: 6.1k

A/N: at the end.

Song: Darkness In Your Heart – Cowbell

By the time you entered your sisters’ building, Zoe had already let you know via text that your mother wasn’t currently with them. That had been a massive relief. But, she’d said, there was something they needed to show you. She hadn’t specified what that something was, so your nerves were still working overtime, your stomach churning painfully.

What could that woman have done now?

And why, after all these years, was she still able to draw such a reaction from you? Get under your skin like that?

The answer was brutally simple: all the pain and sadness, the abandonment caused by her absence, and her behaviour that had led to your father leaving without a forwarding address—it was all still bottled up inside of you. How she’d hurt your family and had ruined your childhood. There were so many feelings and thoughts that you had pushed far, far away, never wanting (or ready) to deal with them. But ever since the house fire, something inside you had changed. 

The time of ignoring your mother’s antics had come to an end. She couldn’t get away with what she’d done. Not only to your sisters. But also to you. 

In your mind, she was to blame for most of your hardship, if not all of it. For the person you had become; cold and ruthless. Sure, there was a heart in there somewhere, you weren’t totally cut off from any type of feeling. Not entirely. But that only made your very being that much more confusing to you. 

The nature vs. nurture question wasn’t a theoretical concept to you. No, you lived that question and battle every day. What was wrong, and what was right? Had you been born this way, or had you become this way? Rhys had once confided in you that he didn’t think the answer to that question could ever be straightforward. That he deeply felt that—contrary to what American serial killer H.H. Holmes may have thought—people are not born with the devil in them. 

But did that come from a place of pure conviction? Or was it just another way to justify his own nature? 

You would have to try and find the answers to those questions another time, because first, there was something else you needed to know: were your sisters okay? There was no need to knock when you rushed to their front door, it was already open, with Sadie standing in the opening looking as pale as a wraith.

“Oh, Kittykat,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around her.

She buried her face in your shoulder, sniffing. “Thank you for coming…”

“Of course, baby, I got here as fast as I could.”

You followed her inside, where your other sister was in a similar state. Zoe hugged you tight, whispering a stream of apologies. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

Running a soothing hand down her back, you frowned. “What for? You didn’t do anything.”

“No, but Rhys is all over Twitter with that new murder, and we knew you were with him this morning and we didn’t wanna bother you,” she trailed off.

You stepped away from her, alarmed. “What murder?”

She frowned as if the answer was obvious. “Tom Lockwood?”

Instant relief washed over you. For a moment, images of Rhys stabbing Jonathan to death and getting caught red-handed had flashed before your eyes. But thank god she was only referring to that other prick.

“He’s disappeared, Zoe. He might still be alive.”

She huffed. “Yeah, right. With all the murders happening lately, I doubt it.”

Inwardly, you smiled. She was way too clever for her own good. 

“Hey,” you grabbed her shoulders, levelling with her. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s horrible, whatever has happened to him. But like Rhys said, the police are investigating and will get to the bottom of it.”

“But what if this is another murder?” Sadie chimed in, worried.

“Then they will catch whoever’s responsible.”

They didn’t look convinced. And you couldn’t blame them. Even if you hadn’t been there to watch Lockwood take his last, dying breath—or been responsible to scatter his remains in a secluded grave—you wouldn’t have been persuaded by the current narrative either. Too many prominent people had died in the last couple of weeks, mostly thanks to you and Rhys. The idea of the famous CEO just popping up one day, alive and well, was a lot less plausible than murder.

Zoe shook her head, still sceptical. “How can you be so confident?”

Because, dear sister, I’m a con. That’s what I do.

You weren’t confident that the police would figure out who was actually responsible. No, you and Rhys had done a perfect job of covering it up. There was no way they could trace it back to you. However, it was precisely that confidence you used to enhance your lie. The best lies come from a place of truth, and masking the real intent behind your feelings by using them to convince people of something else, was a skill you’d gotten very good at.

Even if your sisters weren’t naive enough to fall for it like other people would, you still hoped it would reassure them a little. They were safe, as long as you were here to protect them. Your mind slid back to the real problem at hand. Your mother. The one unpredictable, dangerous variable you couldn’t control.

“I just know it. Now, enough about Lockwood. He isn’t important right now. Mum was here, you need to tell me what happened.”

“No,” Sadie bit her cheek. “She wasn’t literally here here.”

“But on the phone you said that she’s back,” you raised a brow, confused. “What is it you needed to show me then?”

Zoe took a breath. “Well, her proof of life. So to speak… and uhm, how shall we put it?” 

She looked to Sadie who merely shrugged. “An olive branch?”

Your questioning eyes darted from one sister to the other. “An olive branch?”

“Yeah, an olive branch,” Zoe nodded. “That’s the best way to describe it, I guess.”

“What the hell does that–”

Before you could finish the question, Sadie had retrieved a folded envelope from her back pocket, which she handed to you with a slight tremor in her hand. It had all three of your names written on it, sloppy and askew. Your frown deepened as you felt the envelope. Going by the low quality paper, it could definitely be from your mother. 

“A letter?”

They both nodded. 

Un-fucking-believable… Your mother had sent you a bloody letter? Saying what? Oh, I’m sorry for almost burning you alive, I hope you forgive me, Love, mum. What a joke.

“You already read it, I presume?” Another nod. Sighing, you turned the envelope a few more times. “And this was delivered here?” You could scarcely believe it.

Zoe shook her head this time. “No, it was delivered to Darcy College. They sent it over to us.”

You froze at that new piece of information, your blood running cold. You’ve got to be kidding me… Looking up slowly, your sisters flinched at the seething look crossing your face.

“They did what?!” you fumed, making both of them flinch again. “I left specific instructions that if she were to contact the school in any way or form, they had to let me know first! Jesus christ, what a bunch of bloody useless imbeciles…”

Zoe and Sadie shared a look at the sudden outburst, but didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to look at you twice to see you were under a lot of stress. And in those circumstances, it was usually best not to argue. Perhaps one of them should let Rhys in on that secret.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” you glanced down at the envelope. “What bullshit has she written then? What twisted web of lies has she conjured up this time to justify her actions?”

Zoe swallowed thickly, her voice quiet as she spoke. “Read for yourself…”

You bristled, angrily fishing out the two-page letter, the cursive handwriting all too familiar. Oh dear, here we go.

My dearest daughters,

I know I haven’t always been the best mum, but I’ve been working hard on myself. To be a better mum for you. After the incident, I thought two of my precious children had died. It was my fault. I couldn’t live with what I had done, so I ran. I almost died myself that night. But I was found by a retired officer who was kind enough to take me in. I barely remember what happened or what he looks like, but he was the one who told me to seek help. He said he knew of a very good place that had once helped his son. I’m not gonna lie to you, sweet daughters, I was hesitant at first. The first step in recovery is to acknowledge your own mistakes and wrongdoings. I’ve learned that now. And that night, I took my very first step. The kind man called someone he knew at the facility and then drove me there. It was the last I saw of him. After I finish this letter, I plan to write to him too. Donald, my primary caretaker, said he knows the man’s address and will post the letter for me once I finish writing. 

But first this letter to you. You’re my priority. Maybe you won’t believe me, but you have always been my priority. Y/N, since the day you were born, you stole my heart and my love. You were my bright little bundle of joy, always smiling and happy. Until you were not. Another acknowledgement: that was my fault too. 

But back to the present. Cause I’m trying to look to the future nowadays. Moving forward. Once I got here, I checked myself into St. Raphael’s Clinic in Northampton. They help people like me here. To get better. To make amends with myself and the people in my life. I know I have a long road ahead of me before I can say that I’ve truly bettered myself. Because I know my actions have caused a lot of pain and suffering. I know that. I’ve been a terrible mother to you. And I will have to live with that knowledge until the end of my days. But that’s why I want to make things better now. For you girls. So that maybe you can find it within yourselves to forgive me, and we can be a real family once again.

The moment they told me you had survived and that you are okay, my dearest Zoe and Sadie, I felt a strength arise in me that I had never felt before. I know I can do this. I’m certain of it. Frankly, I’ve never been more sure about anything else in my life.

There’s so much I wish to talk to you about. I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to do so. Because I think I’m finally ready. To see you and to explain more about what has been going on, and how my treatment is progressing. That’s why I would like to invite you to come visit me at the clinic. You can meet Donald. I’ve been talking his ears off about you girls, he’ll be happy to finally put faces to the names. But it’s nothing compared to the joy it would bring me to see you again. Hold you in my arms again. And properly apologise for all that I have done.

So, please come see your mother soon. I love you.

Mum

(P.S. I’ve written the address on the back)

Tense silence filled the flat as you finished reading your mother’s messy letter. You stared blankly at the pages in your hands, your thoughts racing. What the hell had you just read? It seemed she survived the accident, and was now residing at some… addiction clinic in Northampton? Reading between the jumble of nonsensical sentences, you were sure it was also supposed to contain some kind of wayward apology. You didn’t know whether that should make you laugh or cry. 

In your eyes, this was nothing more than the ramblings of a delusional woman, definitely not someone who was getting better. Because if she was really getting better, she wouldn’t have had the fucking nerve to even send this in the first place. How fucking dare she? You shook your head in disbelief as you blinked up at your sisters. Sadie was chewing on the end of her nail whilst Zoe nervously twisted her clammy hands, both anxiously awaiting your reaction. If possible, their worried looks made you even more angry. 

“This is pathetic.”

Sadie winced. “Which part?”

“How about all of it?” you sneered. “She’s doing what she’s always done. Making up excuses for the shitty person she is.”

“Maybe she really thought we were dead…”

“So fucking what?” you spat, not even realising you were crumbling the letter in your hands. “That isn’t a bloody excuse to leave you alone after a potentially fatal accident, in an upside-down car, in the middle of a busy intersection no less. Not to mention, the house she had set on fire before leaving you to fucking burn alive in there.”

“She came back, though,” Sadie mumbled, shrugging her shoulders weakly.

“Are you kidding? Kittykat, she’s obviously just pretending to be the sweet ‘I’m going to better myself’ innocent, little lady. Probably to get out of that clinic as fast as she can to shoot up and start drinking again. Or to get us to pay for her bloody treatment. Or both.”

“Or she really wants to start getting better…”

Zoe flinched when your blazing eyes landed on her. “Et tu, Zo?! Really?” 

She shrugged as well, looking so meek, it startled you a little. She was usually much more fiery. Like you. But, you supposed, your mother had a funny way of toying with all of your heads. 

Sweet-talking her way back into your lives was second nature to her. Not that it would ever work on you. Not anymore. You were the unlucky one who had the most experience dealing with years of false promises and confessions of love. Each and every time, she failed to deliver. Hurting you again. Hurting you even more than before. There was a good reason your dad had left when he could. The fucking coward... Making life that much harder for you as you practically had to raise your little sisters all by yourself. Whilst also picking up the slack after your mother, who just kept on partying, not caring about anyone but herself.

Your sisters knew that. They weren’t stupid, they had lived through that as well. And even with their younger age, they wouldn’t quickly forget about it. But maybe, just maybe, because you had always tried to shield them from your mother’s antics as much as you could, their (naive) hope of this being a real pivotal moment in mum’s life, was a bit more tenacious than yours. 

You took a calming breath. It wasn’t their fault that they longed for a normal mother. A normal family. But, as hard as it would be for them to hear it, they would never have one. 

“Come here,” you sighed, your voice softer than before. Zoe and Sadie wrapped their arms around you, and you stayed like that for a while, hugging them tightly in the middle of the living room. When you pulled back, Sadie’s cheeks were wet, and you cupped her delicate face to wipe the tears away. 

Another breath, and you clasped their hands in yours. Breaking their hearts was the last thing you wanted to do, but you needed to make them understand that your mother wasn’t going to change. Not now. Not ever. No matter how ‘bright’ the future might seem.

“Listen to me,” you implored, squeezing their hands. “I know you want to believe her. I want to believe her too. But it’s a promise she’s made a thousand times over. And never, not once, has she lived up to it. I don’t want you guys to build up your hopes, only to find it crushed again later when she inevitably fucks up… Because she will. That’s who she is. It’s who she’s always been, and always will.” 

More tears fell from Sadie’s eyes, Zoe’s welling up as well, and your heart broke at the sight. 

“Hey–hey, shhh,” you pulled them into another hug, swallowing your own tears at seeing them like this. “I know it hurts, but she’s not worth your tears. She’s not worth them. Okay? And she’s certainly not worth our time.”

Sadie sniffed into your shoulder. “So you don’t think we should go see her?”

You managed to stop yourself from barking a loud No! They needed comfort more than anything else. Swallowing again, you shook your head. “No, baby, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Not ever? Because what if the accident was a wake-up call for her? Maybe—and I know it’s unlikely—but maybe if she does get better and stays sober… we can go see her,” she tried, even though she sounded a lot less hopeful than before. But still oh so young.

They pulled back, both wiping at their faces. “I agree, Y/N,” Zoe spoke for the first time since you snapped at her, her wet eyes holding yours. “If she manages to stay on the right path, what harm can it do to see her and hear her out?”

It could break you, that’s what.

But right now, their innocent, hopeful eyes were breaking you.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said, running a frustrated hand through your hair. “It would be a mistake, quite frankly.”

Zoe huffed, resoluteness creeping into her eyes. “Then let it be a mistake—let it be our mistake to make. I don’t know about you,” she briefly looked to Sadie. “But I don’t think I could live with myself if I never gave it one last try.”

“Me neither,” Sadie said, unwavering, her face also turning dead serious. 

You held their steadfast gazes, another tense silence stretching between you. Evidently, stubbornness was genetic… Even in their pain and disarray of conflicted emotions, they wanted to see this through. And they weren’t going to change their minds. Quickly realising you wouldn’t be able to persuade them otherwise, at least not right now, you sighed reluctantly. 

“Fine,” you said, clipped. Their faces lit up, but you were quick to tamper their excitement. “But I will contact the facility first, okay? Check in with the doctors about her prognosis. And if everything is indeed the way mum claims it to be, only then, can we have a serious discussion about seeing her. Together. Yeah?”

They shared another look, their mouths curving into pleased smiles before they nodded their heads in agreement. “We can work with that.”

“Good… But in the meantime, I need you both to promise me you won’t seek her out. Do not contact her in any way. She doesn’t know your address, and I’d very much like to keep it that way. Rhys went through a lot of trouble to make sure she wouldn’t be able to figure it out. Let’s not let him down.”

“We promise,” Zoe and Sadie said at the same time. Then Sadie added: “Thank you, sis. Thank you…” And they gave you another long hug, radiating a mixture of great relief and gratitude.

“I’m so sorry it has to be this way, I truly am. I just want to make sure you’re safe and that she cannot hurt you anymore. You’ve been through enough.”

“We know,” Zoe mumbled, squeezing you tighter. “We’re not mad at you. Honestly, we understand. But you also gotta understand that this is something we feel we need to do.”

“Yeah,” Sadie nodded as she leaned back. “Even if she’s an absolute nutter, she’s still our mother. Besides, weren’t you the one who taught us that everyone deserves a second chance?”

That was true. More or less. But this wouldn’t be a second chance for your mother, it would be her million-and-second. Still, you knew there was no point arguing with them. Therefore you didn’t. Just like there was no way in hell you would ever actually allow a reunion between your sisters and that toxic witch. But they didn’t need to know about that, so you nodded, forcing a smile onto your face.

“You’re right,” you offered, glancing between the two of them. “And you’ve both grown into such smart, independent, young women. I’m so proud of you, of course I will respect the choices you make.”

Respect them, yes. But in dire situations such as these, you would make sure they wouldn’t be able to see them through. You just had to play along long enough until there would be nothing but a grave left to visit. Because this letter had sealed your mother’s fate. She had to go. Before she could do any more irreparable damage to your already torn-up family.

Luckily, your ‘promise’ was enough for your sisters right now, and they both smiled appreciatively. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Zoe whispered softly. “Thank you for always being here for us. I love you.”

Sadie lifted a finger, instantly correcting her. “Nuh-uh, we love you.”

“Right right, I’m sorry. We love you,” Zoe chuckled.

Even as your mind clouded over with dark thoughts, their declarations managed to ground you. “I love you too,” you smiled, distantly hoping that they would still feel this way after you’d killed the woman that had birthed you. And that they would eventually come round to see it your way. Because your reasonings were blatantly simple after all. Protecting your sisters had the highest priority, higher than their immediate happiness and wishes.

Speaking of priorities… Jonathan. Lockwood. Atkinson. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to the usual three suspects (apart from your mother) who succeeded in keeping you occupied nearly 24/7. You realised your better half was probably eagerly awaiting an update on the mum situation and, even with everything going on here, you were quite antsy for an update on Jonathan as well. 

You mumbled a quick apology as you fished out your phone. “Sorry, I just remembered, Rhys asked me to let him know if everything was alright. So, uhm, I’m just gonna–”

Their faces immediately turned knowing at the mention of London’s favourite politician. “You do that, sis,” Sadie giggled, stepping back to give you some space. “You know, it speaks volumes how much he cares about us.”

Zoe snorted, adding: “Yeah, I’m sure lover-boy is dying to do anything for her affection.”

“Oh, definitely! Remember how he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Y/N whilst he was showing us our new flat?”

“Mhm, I remember,” Zoe smirked. “What about you, sis?”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even bother to retort, typing a new message to Rhys instead. Inwardly, you were glad their moods had lightened a little, and that they were back to their usual, annoying selves.

<<< They’re okay

His reply was instant.

>>> Thank god. Are you?

<<< I’m fine

<<< Jonathan?

>>> Still alive. Your mother?

<<< Still alive…

<<< But not for long

You imagined him chuckling ever so slightly at your text.

>>> She’s still there?

<<< No, she never was, she sent a ridiculous letter

<<< I’ll show it to you later

>>> I see. Do you want me to come pick you up?

It was a simple question, yet the answer proved not so straightforward. Yeah, you wanted him to. But leaving your sisters alone after this whole ordeal? There was no way you could. During your inner debate, Zoe had, as silent as a cat, managed to sneak up on you, and was now squinting at the screen, trying to read your texts. You whirled around, locking the device just in time before she could see too much. 

“Oi!”

“Are you gonna go see him?”

“Don’t be so damn nosy.”

“Are you?” she prompted with a smile, not in the least bit deterred.

You hesitated for a second. “No. I’m staying here with you.”

Compassion flashed across her features. “It’s okay, sis. You can go if you want to. And we both know you do,” Zoe added with a wink. “There’s nothing we can do about mum now, anyway.”

You huffed. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Call it what you want,” she snickered. “No, but seriously, I actually have an evening class that’s starting in an hour, and I don’t know what time I’ll be back. Some of us are gonna get drinks later. And, to be honest, I could really use one.”

You frowned just as Sadie joined the conversation again. “Yeah, same. I was supposed to meet a few friends,” she said, checking her watch. “So, if you want to go, it’s fine. We’ll be okay.”

Your frown only deepened and Sadie smiled reassuringly, grabbing your shoulders in the same manner you had done earlier. “Truly. Honestly. Cross my heart,” she promised, shaking you slightly to get the point across.

You opened your mouth to protest again, but Zoe was quick to cut you off. “Seriously. Go to him,” she nodded, encouraging. “We won’t be on our own tonight. So why should you be?”

You groaned. Yes, she made a good point. But not even ten minutes ago, you were holding them tight, drying their tears, and now they were assuring you all was well? You had a hard time believing it. Even if you knew their friends were very supportive and would be there to keep an eye on them.

“But you’re still upset by what happened, understandingly so. I can’t just leave you–”

“Yeah, you can,” Zoe said, simple. “And you will. How many times do we need to tell you we’ll be fine. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel like absolute shite, there’s no way I can’t be…”

“Same,” Sadie cut in, then let her older sister continue.

“Like… of course we do. And you do too. But we all have people close to us that we can talk to, and help us forget about our shitty lives. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

“Righttt,” you bit back an amused smile. “By drinking? …Sound familiar?”

“Okay, first of all, we’re in no way as bad as our mother. Secondly, do you honestly expect me to believe you’re not gonna open a bottle of wine the second you get home?” You pursed your lips, unable to counter that (even with your expert lying capabilities), making her smile triumphantly. “That’s what I thought. Now go tell Rhys to come pick you up, or I swear to god I will knock you to the floor and send that text myself.”

One last lingering look, which your sister matched with an intensity that equalled a pre-fight staredown, and your shoulders sagged in surrender. “Jesus… Okay, fine! Bloody hell, you’re a vicious woman when you choose to be, aren’t you,” you murmured, grabbing your phone again.

Sadie barked a laugh as Zoe coyly shrugged, not even trying to hide her smug grin. “Yeah, I know.”

Shaking your head with a smile, secretly proud of their resilience, your thumbs flew over the keyboard, finally sending a reply.

<<< Yes

A few minutes later, your phone pinged again.

>>> Finishing up now. Be there in 40.

Reading the text, your smile widened involuntarily. The prospect of seeing Rhys again, and having a like-minded individual (aka another psychopath) to discuss your complicated emotions with, instantly made you feel a lot better about this chaotic mess of a situation. You locked your phone, then looked up at your sisters, who were eyeing you with obvious delight.

“I take it lover-boy is on his way?”

You snorted. “Yes. He’ll be here by the time you’re leaving.”

“Good. I’m sure Rhys will be able to ease your mind about mum,” Zoe said, wiggling her brows suggestively.

“Yeah, I’m sure he will,” you laughed, but your smile slipped a little. He certainly would, but not in the way Zoe had suggested. Rhys would help ease your mind, yes—by plotting stone-cold murder. A very different type of pleasure…

By the time Zoe was ready to go to class, and Sadie had grabbed her things to meet up with her friends, the sun had started to set. You briefly recapped today’s crazy events when the three of you made your way outside. The Comic Relief meeting seemed like ages ago, with Lockwood’s disappearance finally hitting the news, Rhys’ impromptu press conference in Whitechapel, Zoe’s text about mum, you and Rhys falling out… him going to see Jonathan, whilst you sprinted through the streets of London to save your sisters from… a bloody letter. You would almost forget that a mere 24 hours ago, you were stalking your latest victim into the Natural History Museum, to kill him. 

Privately, you let out a long and tired sigh. The short summary confirmed it: your life was absolutely bonkers.

After you’d hugged your sisters goodbye, you’d reluctantly let them go, like an overprotective mother on the first day of preschool. But not before once more making sure they were really fine. “We are, Y/N… Please, stop worrying, and enjoy your night. We’ll try the same.” And with that, they’d gone—and you were left to wait outside their flat, rubbing at your temple. 

A headache was forming. The dull, throbbing pain wrapping itself around your head the way a tightening elastic band would. But that wasn’t unexpected, considering the circumstances. Especially not since you were currently making yourself go nuts by squinting at your phone, pocketing the device, taking it out. Then, pocketing it again. And taking it out again. For a few minutes, you kept at it, only worsening the vexing pain in your head, until you had enough of your own indecisiveness, and mentally slapped yourself in the face. 

“Oh, fuck it,” you muttered, angrily tapping the screen to google your mother’s rehab facility’s number. Before you could rethink your actions for the gazillionth time, you pressed the green call button, nervously (not that you would ever admit it) tapping your feet against the concrete pavement.

There was a short dial tone, a click on the other end, then a monotone voice greeting you with unprecedented enthusiasm.

“You’ve reached St. Raphael’s Clinic emergency line, this is Paula speaking. If you are calling without experiencing an immediate, life threatening situation, I kindly urge you to call back tomorrow between the working hours of eight and five.”

The tone with which she spoke suggested that pretty much everyone calling their ‘emergencies only’ after-hours hotline, was never really in any danger at all. And that it annoyed her to no end. You bit your lip. You were about to add yourself to that list, even if in your eyes, your particular situation seemed dire enough to warrant special treatment. Probably like everyone else…

“Hi, Paula. My name’s Y/N Y/L/N, I’m calling about my mother, Valerie Campbell–”

“Is your mother in immediate danger, Miss Y/L/N?”

A wry smile tugged at your lips. Kind of…?

“I’m not exactly sure,” you faltered, tapping into the worry you genuinely felt, but using it to play the concerned daughter in hopes of persuading Paula not to hang up on you. “I believe my mother is a patient of yours.”

An exasperated sigh came from the other end of the line. “Miss, I told you, this number is for emergencies only–”

“Please, Paula, don’t hang up on me. I know this isn’t exactly an emergency, but my mother was in a really bad car accident a few weeks ago. I only found out today where she is, after she disappeared without a trace and I tried everything I could to find her, but to no avail…” you sniffed, faking a distressed sob for good measure. “Now I’m told she found her way to Northampton somehow, and is staying at your clinic. Please, please, tell me how she’s doing. I’ve been worried sick all this time.”

It was quiet for a moment. You didn’t try to fill the silence, only sobbing every now and then, as you waited for Paula to come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t hurt to help a distressed daughter in need. You imagined there wasn’t much else she could be spending her precious time on anyway. She likely sat next to that phone all evening and night, drinking litres of coffee in order to stay awake, waiting for the next person to call with a bullshit excuse like yours.

Another sigh, and Paula relented. “You said her name was Valerie Campbell?”

“Yes.”

You held your breath, listening to the harsh clacking noises of Paula hitting the computer’s keyboard as she pulled up your mother’s file. Two excruciatingly long minutes went by before she spoke again, in the same tiresome voice.

“Ah, yes. I see here your mother was indeed admitted to our clinic. She came in with a heavy set of old and new bruises, as well as some second-degree burns, for which she was treated by our medical team. The retired policeman that brought her in told us Ms. Campbell had strongly refused to go to the hospital, otherwise he would have taken her there first… Her injuries are healing nicely, so there’s no need for you to worry. She’s currently under treatment for substance abuse… primarily an alcohol and cocaine addiction.”

You frowned slightly. So far, this information backed up the claims your mother had made in her letter. No lies thus far. You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting or not.

“...I’m also seeing that you’re listed as her emergency contact. Just your name, though. Your mother couldn’t provide a phone number or an address. Can I add this number from which you’re calling to the file?”

“Uhm, yes. That’s alright,” you said, rubbing your temple again. The headache wasn’t getting any better. “H–how is she doing? Like, mentally?”

“I unfortunately don’t have access to her psychiatrist’s files, those are sealed for obvious reasons.”

“Right… Of course.”

“However,” Paula continued. “As her daughter, you are within your rights to discuss your mother’s well-being with her doctor, her psychiatrist, etcetera. You will have to make an appointment at the clinic, if you wish to do so.”

“I do,” you said quickly, perhaps a little too eager. “Uhm–does that–can I also see my mother? She asked for me to come, actually.”

“Yes, you most definitely can. Generally, you will have an appointment with her primary caretakers first, after which you can see your mother. If she’s up to it, of course.”

“Oh, good… Uhm, yes, then I would very much like to schedule an appointment, if that’s possible.”

“I just told you it was,” she replied tartly, rigid typing sounds filling your ear again. “Let’s see when we’ve a spot available…”

It turned out the facility was absolutely packed with addicts, and there weren’t nearly enough doctors available to handle the impressive workload. Meaning you were now scheduled to visit the clinic in ten days time. You pushed aside your annoyance, telling yourself that you needed the time to carefully plan this visit anyway… There wasn’t room for error here. Besides, the intel that the clinic was immensely understaffed—like most care facilities in Britain—was certainly valuable information for someone who wanted to commit matricide on their premises.

All in due time, you thought to yourself. She’s not getting away with it this time. But even as you wholeheartedly believed that this is what you were meant to do, you couldn’t stop the cold lump of dread from forming in the pit of your stomach. 

Sadie’s words rang through you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “She's still our mother.” Yes… She was. But she didn’t deserve to be.

You managed to hide your actual feelings and thanked Paula for her help, then finally hung up, letting the sore woman return to her uneventful evening at St. Raphael’s Clinic.

As if on cue, a black car rounded the corner, screeching to a halt in front of you. The door immediately swung open, revealing a worried Rhys. When his blue eyes met your weary ones, his ever-soothing presence still managed to calm your racing pulse. Sparking a light in the sinful darkness of your heart. Assuring you that no matter what the future had in store for you two, everything would work out in the end. 

It simply had to…

–––– 

A/N: Now that all the cards have been revealed, it’s time to see how they will play out…

––

Tags: @artaxerxesthegreat

[spicyric333]

keep me a secret, keep me in mind

Steve Harrington & Jonathan Byers !! angst and undisclosed desire.

✯Taken place a tiny bit after the events of season three + my own made-up crap.

Steve has a falling out with the party after the death of his mother and begins to stay for Murray. Jonathan can't help but think selfishly Steve was running away rather than toward anything tangible. After their summer together entangled in each other's company he feels more than angry at Steve’s sudden disappearance but when he finally sees him again he can't help but be sweet.

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

There’s a sting, deep down in Jonathan’s gut when he sees him. He heard a whisper of his guitarist mingling with the other band, he didn’t try to listen, to be nosy but he heard his fucking name and he’s looking for him in between the bodies desperate to get addicted to sound. 

He’s eyeing the perimeter and almost as he left him. There he is. Steve Harrington.

“You’re staring Jon’” Mack shoves at his shoulder–The guitarist. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says a little embarrassed now to be caught in the act. 

“Sure, should I go say something, not exactly my type but who knows we could just talk about your wondering eyes and lack of speech?” Mack was an asshole, well he was a mean drunk but Jonathan always attracted mean people. 

“I can embarrass myself.” Jonathan shot back to get Mack to leave it alone and without putting any more thought into it he made a straight shot to the guy he’s been obsessed with. If he thinks about it any harder he’ll puke up the rest of his courage. 

fuck fuck fuck fuck

“Hi there, I was gonna ask to join you but you seem to be doing a good job keeping yourself company” Jonathan Byers is standing in front of Steve with that little uncertain smile, he almost feels caught, wanting to hide under the bed because he doesn’t have the guts to address any of their old wounds. 

    “I’m working tonight--it’s just a virgin surely temple didn't mean to worry--” It’s all coming out and he doesn’t know if it’s going to stop and then Jonathan moves to take off his jacket and he can’t help himself from looking. There he is. Jonathan Byers in a worn-in white t-shirt and jeans with holes that scatter like moles and cigarette burns. 

“‘S okay, mind if I sit?” Steve nods, there’s still some sense of distrust he feels from everyone else, having to defend himself, placing blame and shuffling it on like snow. Maybe he knows it too, that leaving without a word was ugly.

    “Sure,” He says because he doesn’t know how else to take this, he misses the other so selfishly he allows the past to not become a wall between them for tonight. Even if it’s disingenuous, it feels good. 

      “What is little Ms. Hair doing in a place like this?” Jonathan continues on with the teasing and Steve cannot stop thinking about their almost kiss in his bedroom before he ran away. Here he is, in a lame t-shirt and his pants with little holes, found again with this alone he and Steve share. 

     “Enjoying the view. Steve gestures to the stage, his friend Mal had recommended the place and he was fucking ecstatic to listen to music live again, his hearing had been mostly washed and wasn’t all there but he loved how the venues just made him feel. 

     “Went a little crazy and got their CD for my kitchen.” Guard Dogs the spine read in these angry and scratchy letters that appeared handwritten. 

      “I can see that, you work for the band I suppose or are you a crazy fanboy who I should keep an eye on?” Jonathan asks in reference to the merch table they sit behind, shoulder to shoulder and a little closer than one would be comfortable with but they do not mind. 

    “I like having your eyes on me.” Steve lifts a brow and Jonathan laughs scooting over so their legs are touching. “Why’re you here Joanie?” There’s that nickname covered in salt and sugar.

     “My band played earlier and wanted to see if the others were any good. Did you like it? The show?” Did you like me? He means. Steve almost indulges it. Almost.

      “Bass guitar right?” There’s something carved out under him, he saw Jonathan on stage, he practically couldn’t get his eyes off of him, all shy and awkward he kept pouring out anything he was thinking. “Yeah. You were God--so good” He wants to bury himself. You were god? 

     “God?” Jonathan laughs. Steve dies a little. Maybe more if he feels so inclined. There’s something about the guy he’s been obsessed with all summer becoming a stuttering mess that he could get used to. It’s somewhere long buried. Maybe he’s twisted. 

    “Yeah--uh couldn't look away.” Jonathan breaks the contact they’ve held, mouth a little dry, and god he wants to run his hands over Steve and kiss him until he promises to come back but he can’t cage something meant to run.  

     “We’re playing a show tomorrow night, would love if you would grace me with a stop.” Fuck he should’ve stopped, he should’ve shut up. Steve wouldn’t—

     “I’ll be there.” It nice in its own strange way. Steve had made a promise to keep and the world isn’t ending, they sort of move until their hands are touching and there isn’t death looming over any of their decisions instead it’s just them. 

     “So..I heard from Murray about you working at the record store a town over.” Steve freezes a little scared because yeah he packed everything and slipped away like a secret. He was sick and wasn’t getting better, and Steve being Steve was not going to drag anyone with him when he couldn’t see himself getting out. “I had to beg him for something since you're a bit off limits..” Steve nods slowly. 

     “After everything, it's been difficult for me to…come back. It's not you—” Steve begins to explain but Jonathan stops him. The explanation was as good as rejection.

      “It's not my place to pry Steve, I’ll survive the middle man.” That’s always the way Jonathan’s been it’s as irritating as it is endearing, he never puts himself at the center of a topic. 

     “Murray is a bit more mad than middle.” Jonathan covers his teeth as he laughs but Steve wishes he didn't, he likes his smile. 

     “He’s…interesting but somehow seems to be right..” Not about me and Nancy he thinks. “...mostly.”

     “He’s like a grown-up Dustin.” Jonathan makes a gag sound and knocks his knuckles against the table. 

“Don’t wish that on the poor kid.” Steve turns to interject. To say Dustin deserves it and that kid has an ego problem but he catches Mal in the corner of his eye. 

     “Steve?” There’s a voice that cuts whatever this was and Steve’s jumping to separate them, to create distance, he’s trying to at the very least. “We’re gonna get going…..” They turn to face Jonathan. “Hi..”

     “Hi, sorry I didn’t mean to be a distraction.” Jonathan stands to his feet quickly, trying to be a little mean about it because god he can’t get over this, he’s spent months under Steve. 

     “Don’t tell anyone I’m here? I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Steve pulls Jonathan’s hand into his chest, flicking off the pen cap to scribble down his number. “I’ve gotta go.” 

“‘Course,”

"Sweet dreams Byers.” Steve mutters on his send-off. 

God, he’s so fucked. 

Steve disappears behind the curtain and it’s all coming back to him. 

Jonathan doesn’t sleep that night, god he’s just thinking about all the girls who came and went that summer they almost kissed, and he wonders if they felt anything close to this because god this feels so embarrassing that he still wants it. Wants to unravel Steve and maybe stitch him back together because he doesn’t know if he forgives him, if he hates him, if he’s still just a stupid guy who let Steve pull along. 

・・・

The heat of the venue is killing him. The bright bold lights and crowd of bodies making Jonathan’s palm run over with sweat, he tried rubbing it out on his jeans but he was anything but steady. 

   “Jonathan.” Melony taps on his shoulder, tugging a little too on his sleeve. “You're freaking me out man.” She says now placing the back of her hand to Jonathan’s forehead. “You’re just spacing out on me here.”

Melony had a way with her concern that liberated the burden. She felt genuine. Jonathan had only known her for about a year bouncing around as a singer without a band to dedicate herself to and they sort of fell into one another. She liked this girl who moved away to chase a guy and Jonathan always listened. Sometimes when he was drunk enough and there was that sweet tilt in her voice asking what was wrong he'd whisper about Steve. The one who got away. 

Their bond was strange, and their relationship was unconventional too, sometimes when they were lonely enough they’d sneak a kiss. It wasn't romantic or primal, toeing the line of pathetic. She’d wrinkle her nose and say kissing a girl was gentler, had a tang of knowing before jumping straight in that Jonathan never had with Steve. He'd chase and guess and maybe he felt deserving of it too. That love wasn't supposed to be easy, that it was supposed to hurt otherwise it wasn't good cuts it was just blood. 

“You can kiss me like I'm Steve.” She whispered one night but it felt too cruel and wrong. Her hands digging into the fabric of his shirt for some sort of purchase and plea. Jonathan ran his hands through her hair anyway, gentle gentle gentle trying to picture it. Steve sat before him ever pliant and sweet in his striped shirt and low-rise jeans, legs thrown over Jonathan’s like an invitation. Their noses bumping into one another and it's tense, they’re saying I’m sorry, I'm selfish, I want this, I need this, and it all comes undone. 

“Steve’s here.” He whispers, unsure how else to say his skin is prickled and he feels like he's dying. Melony only quirks her lip and pulls away. “Gonna give him a hell of a kiss?” She says like its funny, like it's possible. 

     “Going to say goodbye I think.” He says before he finishes his work on the tangle of cables that slither along the ground and down his arm. One of the tech guys signals a two-minute countdown down and Jonathan’s heart picks up again. Melony joins him a moment later, mic’d up and giggling as she stumbles over. 

      “I found your pretty boy.” She says and she's beaming. “Right up front, hanging onto the barricade for dear life, poor thing.” She says a little mean and Jonathan’s cheek flushes an uncertain pink, daring to look past her he sees it. Steve stares up at him like he's something interesting. 

The night splits in half. 

He's sparing Steve a glance every chance he gets, feeling risky with it too when his hand slips but he can't seem to care because there he is. 

The Steve who climbed through his window with a huff, snickering to Jonathan about bad influences when he’d found his stash in his sock drawer and Jonathan dared to ask: “‘s any worse for me than you?” and Steve pinned him to the mattress, hands tickling and pinching his side demanding he takes it back.

The Steve he's fucking crazy for, dreading when he’d sneak into his room after hours. There’s a habit that began to fester. Steve was there to patch up his heart for the next mistake and quick touch he could get and Jonathan was always going to let him. Sometimes Steve lead them on for a week, if Jonathan really looked he could see them, the stranger who’d caught Steve’s attention hand and hand waltzing into his too big house just to leave him crying later. 

Jonathan's face churns and his gaze drops to Melony, they’re halfway through the last song and she's looking at him like she's daring him to make a move so he does, his first bold stroke unhooking the strap on his shoulder to hold the bass with one hand as he grabs her arm to tuck her into his side. 

They’ve done this before, there's no risk behind it but he was methodical about the whole mess anyway as though it was the first. She tucks the mic into Jonathan’d shoulder and she bends backward, they’re close enough that she can feel the tickle of his hair on her cheek and he's seeing her for the first time again. 

Jonathan wonders if this is what he's always wanted or what he’d settled for. If it's bigger than him, the kisses and secrets, the lonely nights and understanding apologies. 

If Steve saw it as pathetic when the music died and glitter left his cheeks.  

Melony says Steve ’ll be eating out his palm. Everyone wants to fuck a rock star she argued. 

Jonathan doesn't catch a break from the band for about an hour after his set, he doesn't make an honest effort to look for Steve really, he's guilty of that. He left his name and description with security in case Steve really did run backstage the moment he could but Jonathan knew him better than that. He quickly hugs Melony goodnight and there's sadness behind it. He's saying he can't do it anymore. That he hopes she understands he cannot carry his sorrow forever and instill his appetite into their drunken touches. He says he hopes she understands. 

“Am I interrupting?” Steve says with a small rasp in his throat. Melony pulls away and Jonathan’s mouth drys.

“Call me.” She says just loud enough for Steve to catch and mimes a phone before she's skipping away to meet someone by the door. She's always been a little mean like that.

“Ignore her. She's not a huge fan of my kind.” Jonathan tries to explain with minimal harm. Doesn't want to flat out say she's like Robin when he's gotten no official notice besides his own speculation. Steve seems to laugh at that. 

“I don't mind your kind.” Steve says slotting Jonathan’s hands into his own, rocking them to some rhythm Jonathan can't seem to pin down. 

“You hungry Stevie?” Jonathan slips his fingers to push the hair that's fallen on Steve’s cheekbone up and out of the way. It's indulgent but he allows it, he deserves at least this he tells himself. 

“Just starved.” Steve giggles into Jonathan’s palm, letting him run his fingers wherever he wants. 

“We can't have that.” And it's a little suggestive but the moment dissipates when Jonathan drags Steve to the nearest diner hands still molded, sharing a booth in the farthest corner by the bathrooms. 

“Loved your set.” Steve mumbles through the straw of his chocolate milkshake. “Loved the theatrics too, you practice that bend?” 

Jonathan shrugs hoping to cover the blush in his ears.

“Sort of just happens Melony had a habit of doing whatever she wants.” He picks at a fry before placing it back down again. “Half my fault, I let her.”  

“You're hopeless, you’d let any pretty thing run you over,” Steve says with an accusing hand. 

Not anyone. Just you

“You play with them long? You and Meredith.” Jonathan clicks his tongue. 

“Melony sort of found me after..” He pauses trying to keep himself composed. “Everything… it's awkward being around people who don't know why I don't sleep long, why I avoid malls and any sign of sailor memorabilia.” He says the last line with a pointed grin and Steve seems pleased to be referenced. 

“I think it's weird too. Murray understands but he wasn't there you know. Sometimes I listen to the CD you left in my car before bed. The mic picked up a few seconds of you talking to Will and it's stupid but I-I don't sleep without it.” Steve’s whole face prickled and he tried to scoot away but Jonathan’s hand catches onto his thigh. His expression dazed when he pulls Steve back into his space. 

“You listen to me to go to sleep?” And he’s saying it back to himself, mind fuzzed over at that confession. 

“Gosh Jonathan that’s what you got from this–” Steve tries to be funny because god does nothing make his skin burn more than Jonathan’s hand on his leg. 

“Sorry–sorry…I just didn’t think you’d be using me to go to sleep dude.” He’s kept his hand where it was but his whole expression is distant. 

“Yeah man, I–I’ve missed you, I’m allowed to aren’t I?” Steve says with a huff, tapping on Jonathan’s chin to get his eyes back on him.

“I suppose I just, I thought you’d call. When you…left everyone was convinced you’d gone for good but I thought you’d call. At least me—so forgive me for being a little surprised.” Jonathan tries to explain, trying to be gentle but there’s buried hostility.

“I wanted to. I didn't feel I deserved it but—-the way I left, you didn't deserve that either. I can't say I'm sorry, I’m trying to learn and unlearn. I was so fucked up in the head Joanie, I was going crazy in that house alone.”

 “I would've come, every night if you asked, if you wanted.”

“I don't know what to do with that. I..I was crazy about you Joanie, maybe I didn't realize then but fuck—I thought about you every day when I left, missed sleeping in your bed.” And Jonathan can’t take it anymore. He runs his hand over Steve’s waist and he’s kissing him. It's not romantic, it's not gentle and sweet. Jonathan’s admitting he's pathetic, that he's a rabbit chasing Steve holding a stick. 

   “Stevie..sweetheart tell me to stop.” And Steve’s whining high in his throat like he's been made fun of. Jonathan’s palm works over Steve’s knee and shushes him down.

    “I think about you all the time, seeing you with that—that girl drove me crazy. She as good as me Joanie? Huh? She get you off like I could?” And his mouth is filthy but Jonathan’s already gone, can barely breathe when Steve finally gets his mouth on him and it's chaste. They’re trying to get close close close, Steve’s teeth digging into Jonathan's bottom lip and he's pulling off of him. 

    “There’s nobody else.” Jonathan interrupts when he feels Steve freeze. “Steve. There's no one else.” And Steve looks so fucking guilty, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“There’s nobody else..” Steve repeats and it tastes foreign and wrong but Jonathan’s kissing him again he’s starved and selfish and the truth gets lost in Jonathan’s small sigh. 

[deepspacedukat]

The Baker's Baker - Part One

So, this is the fic I made the poll about. 75% of you said you were at least open to other David Birney characters depending on the character, so here it is. I honestly have no excuse. David Birney played a hot character in "Murder, She Wrote" and I have caught the brainrot. Spoilers for S10E3 "The Legacy of Borbey House." I know I changed part of the story, but it doesn't stray too far from the original, hence the spoiler warning. I'm not tagging anyone for this fic, because, even though some Letant Enjoyers might like this, I don't think anyone came to my blog for MSW fanfiction lol. To those who choose to give this little brainworm a read, I hope you enjoy.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Lawrence Baker (MSW) x Reader

[A/N: Future chapters will contain smut/smut adjacent content, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mild rudeness, flirtation, mention of a missing person per the episode plot, vampire rumors, utilizing cupcakes for flirtation, readers owns and works in a bakery, reader has history with Borbey House but that'll be expounded upon in a later chapter.

~*~

Cabot Cove was rife with rumors surrounding the property across the street from my front door. Borbey House had stood empty for a year and a half - some residents wondered if anyone would ever buy the place until a couple of weeks ago. I only caught a glimpse of my new neighbor as I was getting home one night. Dark hair, a darker suit, and the jaunty strut of a man who was utterly confident in himself - whoever he was, the new owner of the Borbey Estate was much flashier than the usual Cabot Cove crowd.

I only saw him once, though, along with a couple of curtain twitches from one of the upper windows. Any other time a person emerged from the house, it was without fail a harsh looking man with a square jaw. He and his employer both seemed rather ominous to anyone who believed in superstition, and the Borbey legacy was already saturated with those. All the mysterious deaths years ago...it was a wonder that anyone was interested in buying the place when it went on the market.

Legend had it that the original owner, William Borbey, had been a vampire, and given the new owner's tendency to avoid going out in the daylight coupled with how quickly gossip of any sort traveled through Cabot Cove, rumors about his condition spread rather rapidly. I couldn't really blame the man for not wanting to immerse himself in the insanity that was a small town like this. I had hoped I'd catch another glimpse of him eventually, but after that first sighting, all I saw was his - was the man with a square jaw a butler or a chauffeur? Both, perhaps?

This morning, however, my luck changed - for better or worse, I couldn't definitively say. It wasn't often that our postman switched mail around, but today I'd opened my mailbox to find a letter addressed to one 'Mr. Lawrence Baker.' Glancing at the address confirmed my suspicions: this belonged across the street.

With barely a moment's thought, I hurried back into my house and dropped off my own mail, scooping up a box of assorted cookies I'd packaged in advance for the bakery in the process. There were plenty more where that came from, so I figured it couldn't hurt to give Cabot Cove's newest resident a warm welcome.

Straightening myself up a bit, I grabbed the misdelivered letter and the box of cookies and walked across the street. Before I even got the chance to knock on the door, however, it was practically flung open. Mr. Baker's butler scowled silently, expectantly down at me with cold, hard eyes.

"Uh, hi! I–"

"Do you have an appointment?" His question was clipped and rough. Was that a German accent? Interesting.

"No, but–"

"Then begone." With that, the door was slammed in my face.

Oh, hell no. Tall and scary that man might be, but I wasn't about to just let someone treat me like that.

I was secretly quite proud of the firm, confident sound of my knuckles rapping on the aged wooden door. Once more, it was thrown open, but before Mr. Scary got the chance to do something more drastic than slamming the door in my face, I held up the letter so he could see the typeface on the envelope.

"This was delivered to me by mistake this morning. I was just coming over here to give it to its proper owner." After a tense moment of silence, the letter was snatched from my hand. "And these are from me. I run the bakery on Main Street and I wanted to officially welcome Mr. Baker to the neighborhood."

Shoving the box into the stunned butler's grasp, I turned on my heel and started back to my house, standing as straight as possible to cling to my remaining dignity. Well, that had been slightly more humiliating than I'd expected. So much for being neighborly–

"Excuse me, miss?" A smooth, sophisticated voice called out from behind me before I was more than a few feet down the front walkway. Looking back, I saw a familiar dark-haired figure stepping around the gruff-mannered butler to stand in the doorway. Red-lensed sunglasses rested atop the bridge of his nose, but it was still undeniably the same man I'd seen that first night. Lawrence Baker, in the flesh. Up close, he looked...well, extremely handsome. "I'm sorry for the rough reception. Peter is used to dealing with less pleasant visitors. I'm afraid most people don't like an outsider invading your peaceful community."

Taking a few small steps toward the door, I gave my elusive new neighbor a tentative smile and attempted to ignore the way his pale blue button-down shirt clung to his figure so perfectly.

"It's alright, but I promise not all of us are quite so prickly. I'm sorry if you've been on the receiving end of any sort of intolerance," I said, and he leaned jauntily on the door frame as a grin stretched his lips. The lines on either side of his mouth spoke of the many smiles he'd worn over the years. "Anyway, I should really let you get back to your day. I just wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood. If you need anything, I live just across the street."

"I'll be sure and keep that in mind, Miss...?"

I introduced myself, keeping a respectable distance between myself and the front door. The longer I looked at Mr. Baker, the more I wanted to do something ridiculous, like take up sketching just so I could capture the shape of his lips when he smiled.

"I couldn't help but hear what you said a moment ago. You run the local bakery?"

"Yes, I do. If there's something you'd like that I don't normally offer, I take custom orders." My brain went somewhere it definitely shouldn't have, and I fought to keep myself from blushing.

Instead, though, I had some restraint. Excusing myself, I retreated quickly back to my own home. I took a seat in the kitchen and glanced at the timer I'd set for the cake in the oven. There was still a while until I needed to check it.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting at my kitchen table lost in thought when a knock sounded at the door, jolting me back to reality. A brief flash of fear zipped through me at the prospect of Mr. Baker or his butler - somehow the name 'Peter' didn't fully encompass that man's personality - coming to throw my cookies back in my face and threaten legal action if I ever set foot on their side of the street again.

"Why, you look as pale as a ghost, child!" Seth exclaimed when I opened the door. I'd almost forgotten that he and Jessica were coming over for lunch today. Inviting them in gratefully, I stole a quick glance across the street and was just in time to see a curtain twitch in one of the upper windows of the Borbey House.

There was nothing I could do but close the door as if to block out the storm that was my neighbor's red-tinted gaze.

"Are you alright?" Jessica's hand rested gently on my shoulder, and I gave her a grateful smile.

"Oh, yes! I'm fine. I just had a very odd encounter with the new owner of the Borbey place," I told her as we all made our way into the kitchen. A couple of hours passed, and with lunch consumed and my new cake recipe freshly sampled by the three of us, I'd heard several bits of gossip about Mr. Baker and his butler.

"You say he had red lenses in his glasses?" Seth asked as he cut himself another slice of cake. When I nodded my head, he hummed thoughtfully. "Those have a few uses medicinally, dependin' on the shade. He could be sensitive to light. Until he comes into my office, though, I'm afraid that's all I can say."

With a wry smile, Mrs. Fletcher leaned back in her seat.

"I doubt that will do anything to dispel those ridiculous vampire stories that have been making the rounds, lately." She was right, of course. "Be careful, dear, you might find him knocking on your door one night in search of something more than just cookies."

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I felt suddenly better than I had all morning. Trust Jessica and Seth to know how to lift my spirits.

"I'll be sure to wear a garlic necklace and keep a stake handy," I joked. Allowing my smile to fall in favor of something more serious, I switched topics. "Any news about...?"

Jessica and Seth glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"You'd be one of the first to know. The last tip-off the Sheriff had was a dud. Lady was in her fifties. Definitely not Laurel Perrin," Seth murmured setting his fork down. Had he already eaten his second piece of cake? Mentally, I marked that recipe down as a success. I'd have to make one or two for the bakery this week to see how people reacted to it. "I...I know you were her friend, and I don't mean to sound disheartenin', but the chances of Laurel turnin' up after all this time..."

The doctor laid his hand over mine where it rested on the table, and I looked pointedly down at the wood grain beside my fingers.

"I know, Doc. I just...I can't give up hope. Neither can Dave or Charlie. Not until we know for sure, one way or the other. You can understand that, right?"

"Of course, we can. Closure is a somewhat universal longing, especially for those closely involved in situations like this," Jessica murmured wrapping her arm around my shoulders in a reassuring hug. "Now, why don't you tell us how the new space for the bakery is working out?"

Never had I been more grateful for a change of subject.

--

Six days later, I was in the middle of serving who I thought would be my last customer of the night when the bell over the bakery door jingled.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," I called over my shoulder as I boxed up a dozen brownies.

"No problem, take your time." I blinked a couple of times as I finished up. I knew that voice. Forcing myself to stay focused on my current task, I served my regular customer and handed him his change.

"Thanks, Jim. Have a safe drive home, okay?"

"'Course, ma'am, and I'll be sure and tell the wife you asked after her," he said tipping his hat as he turned to leave. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as I turned to the new arrival.

"How can I help you tonight, Mr. Baker?" The man in question was clad in a crisp, black suit that was probably worth more than my entire inventory, but the smile on his face softened his visage into something more personable.

And his eyes! I hadn't been able to see them properly when they were hidden behind his tinted glasses, but they were the clearest blue I'd ever seen.

"Would you prefer the socially acceptable answer, or the truth?"

Oh, color me intrigued! Clasping my hands and resting them on the counter, I narrowed my eyes at him playfully.

"Hm. Let's have the truth first, then the respectable excuse," I murmured, and he stepped up to the counter, tracing his fingertips over the refrigerated cases as he moved closer.

"Alright. I was fascinated by you the moment I saw you walking up the drive. The way you handled Peter's abrupt dismissal made me realize I'd made a mistake in avoiding contact with my neighbors," he said leaning one forearm on the counter. "I wanted a chance to see you again...to talk to you longer than just a few seconds, and this seemed like my best bet. In my defense, I had no idea that I'd have such a gorgeous neighbor."

I forced the muscles in my face to remain neutral. No smiling, not yet. I had to be casual. If I let myself smile now, I might explode.

"And the respectable excuse?"

"Ah, that. Well, I heard about the special you were having on cupcake orders and thought I'd come take advantage of the discount," Mr. Baker said with a smile, and I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh. "What?"

Crooking my finger at him, I coaxed him into leaning close enough to whisper in his ear, trying to add to his anticipation.

"The special is on brownies today, not cupcakes."

A warm, velvety laugh spilled from his lips as he leaned back again.

"Oh, damn, there goes my airtight alibi," he mused when his eyes met mine once more. "I guess that blows my chances of you accepting my invitation to dinner..."

I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Dinner?"

"Yes, but I doubt you'd be interested in socializing with a man who can't even get his excuses in order beforehand," he teased. Giving me a shrug and turning to a cloche-covered tray of brightly-iced cupcakes, he pretended to study them as I forced my brain into gear.

"...What day did you have in mind?"

The wide grin he gave me lit up the whole shop.

"How about tomorrow night? From what I understand, your shop is closed on Sundays, isn't it?"

"That's right. Sure, why not? Tomorrow sounds great," I answered lifting the cloche off the cupcake tray. "In the meantime, if we're going to sell that poorly-constructed cupcake excuse, you can't leave here empty-handed."

"Ah, thank you. We wouldn't want the rest of the town to think you were in danger from a reclusive vampire," he muttered with a gleam in his eye as I boxed up an assorted half dozen cupcakes. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing at all. These are on the house."

His eyes went wide, and he placed one of his large hands gently on my arm.

"I didn't come here to swindle you out of your merchandise. I don't want you to think I can't afford a few baked goods."

"This has nothing to do with your ability to pay, Mr. Baker. Haven't you ever had someone do something nice for you before, just because they could?"

Something like comprehension flickered across his face.

"Not...in a very long time, no," he said just above a whisper, looking at me as though I'd transformed right before his eyes. Placing one of my hands over his where it still rested on my arm, I spoke just as quietly.

"Then it's about time someone did." A moment's weighted silence passed between us before I got back to the cupcakes, closing the box and sealing it with one of my labels. "There you are. And if you really want to do something to repay me, tell me this: what's your favorite dessert?"

He was silent for a moment while he considered his answer, but ultimately he shook his head.

"I'll have to think that over. It's serious business deciding something like this," Lawrence said with a faux stern expression plastered on his face.

"Oh, naturally. You can tell me over dinner, assuming you've selected by then," I said with an equally stern expression, but when a bright smile broke across Mr. Baker's lips, I cracked and let out a quick laugh.

"I look forward to your charming company tomorrow night, my dear," he said, and without a moment's hesitation, he caught one of my hands in his grasp and brought it to his lips. My heart fluttered in my chest, the traitorous bastard, and before I knew it, Mr. Baker had taken his box of cupcakes and left.

Resisting the urge to squeal or smile so hard that my face broke, I went to the door and flipped the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed.'

When I got home that night and exited my car, I glanced across the street. Instead of the usual twitching curtain, I was just in time to see both Peter and Mr. Baker in the latter's sitting room, nibbling on what were unmistakably a pair of my cupcakes.

If I'd been any happier, I might have floated away like a balloon.

--

"You're having dinner with the man? But neither you nor anyone else in town knows him very well," Doc Hazlitt protested the next morning as I chatted with him over the phone. He'd called to ask what day that new cake would be added to the bakery's menu so he could give me some extra patronage. Once I assured him it would be a Tuesday addition, he moved on to a rumor he'd heard about Lawrence Baker kissing my hand during business hours and leaving my shop with a box of desserts. I hadn't disabused him of the notion, hence his current state of agitation.

"Doc, I am perfectly capable of handling a simple dinner. I'm not a little girl anymore," I said, and a sigh crackled down the line.

"I know, I know, but I don't want you to get hurt. I was the doc in the ward when you were born, and I've known you all your life. Is it any wonder that I feel a little nervous about you gettin' involved with a man who's only been in Cabot Cove for a handful of weeks?"

"Y'know, that's another thing, Seth," I started as I cradled the phone to my shoulder and slipped a tray of scones into the oven. "People around here act as though every new arrival or outsider is here to pillage the town. Why can't someone move in and be given the benefit of the doubt for once? Mr. Baker is perfectly friendly–"

"–And rich, to boot, meanin' he is used to gettin' exactly what he wants–"

"That's enough, Doctor. You haven't even met the man. You have no right to judge him until you've at least tried to get to know him." I didn't even try to keep the reproachful edge out of my voice. "Please, at least try to be open minded. If not for his sake, then for mine."

"I'd still be grateful if you gave me a call tomorrow morning so that I know you survived the ordeal," he requested, and after a quick agreement, he finally let me go.

Seth was right to an extent. I barely knew him, and Borbey house, despite my personal history, was still surrounded by gruesome stories and the ghosts of its past. It wouldn't hurt to be a little cautious.

Although, a benefit of spending time across the street was that I'd have a chance to change that surly butler's opinion of me. That was something I definitely needed to do, especially if I was going to be acquainted with his employer. Maybe with the right dessert, I could lower his defenses enough to show him I wasn't just a pest to be swept out onto the street.

~*~*~

[jasperisabisexualmess]

Royal

Summary: You were separated from your childhood crush and meet again.

Warnings: Y/n is technically a criminal, bloody Y/n, Wanda is a little scary, not that i'm complaining, I don't really know what else to put, let me know if I missed something.

A/n: I wrote this a long time ago so it might be trash. I don't really remember so might as well post it.

The Scarlet Queen, the Queen, and the Scarlet Witch were the only titles you could use to describe the queen of Sokovia. The once small but cozy town that had become the biggest powerhouse kingdom to exist. 

It was all because of one woman, The Scarlet Witch, no one knew her real name. I did though. I knew her in elementary school. It was a rich private school which my father worked at. We were friends until 8th grade when her father died and she had to leave school and become queen. I admit I might have had some other feelings for her but I ignored them. When she made the rule that she was only to be addressed by her titles I made sure that I never slipped up while talking about her. When I was in 9th grade my father got this disease and passed away. I no longer could stay at the school and had to provide for myself so I started a life of pick-pocketing. I felt awful and would never take more than I needed but it was the only way to survive. 

One fateful day I picked the wrong pocket.

I was looking around for someone to pickpocket when I saw a tall guy that looked like he made some money. So when I passed him I reached in his pocket and pulled out some coins and started to walk away. When he yelled,”Come back here you pickpocketer.” He started to chase me so I ran. He then caught up to me and threw me to the floor. He yanked my hair back and asked,” Do you know who I am.”. I shook my head. He then angrily said, “I am the captain of the guard.”. I finally realized how bad I fucked up. Rule 12 states that If you steal from someone that has a lot of power you can be sentenced to death. “Wait, please sir.” I pleaded. “You better not say a word till I say you can.” He said. I agreed and followed him. He grabbed a couple of horses and they started riding with me connected to the ends of the horses. I was covered in mud and dirt which was probably from before to. He then took me to a huge courtroom thing with paintings all over the wall. He threw me to the middle of the floor and said to wait till the judge comes to huddle this. Apparently the royalitie type people have their own judge. Who? I didn’t know. 

I just stared at the floor till I heard a loud voice that was sort of familiar but rough and stern,” You can face the court now.”. I looked up to see my childhood best friend, The Queen, in charge. She continued on and didn’t recognize me, “State your name.” She sternly said. Everyone was staring at me but I didn’t know what to say. She looked more angry, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”. I then said as loud as I could without coming off as rude, “Y/n Y/l/n”. Her face faltered for a second and she then quickly yelled, “Everyone leave.” As the captain went to grab me she angrily yelled, “NOT HER”. He quickly scurried. She ran down to me as fast as possible, ran down to me and hugged me.  I said, barely able to breath, “I’m a little dirty and bloody.”. She still didn’t let go until 30 seconds after. “What happened to you?” She said, “Wow, still straight to the point.”. She looked at me with concern. I answered her question with,” Life I guess.”. She didn't push further but just said,'' You need a bath come on.``. I followed her to a washroom with a fancy marble tub already filled with hot water. “Here is a towel and there is some fresh clothes in that drawer. Then we can talk.”

A/n: To be continued?

[astarab1aze]

@melancholymirth

"Griffin, darling," Vayn addressed in so thin and posh a lilt, wetting his lips and grinning the while. "Would you like to go on a little adventure with me?"

He'd taken an opportunity in a break in Griffin's snarky squawking, digging his chin into the palm of his hand, to interject, intending only to brighten the demon's seemingly dour day with a spot of whimsy and fun. Surely V wouldn't mind if the pair ran off - he was a bit busy managing the bar with Garrett, after all, and that devil had been...less than amicable since the evening began. So sour, so crude, vulgar, and foul of mood, V being the only among them to escape his ire. Even those boys - Yami and Dexter, he believed their names were - got an earful or three, but the bitter one and Griffin had gotten the worst of it for certain.

So, of course, yes, Vayn wanted to assist in cheering up his newfound friend. He knew how awful it was to be bullied relentlessly by those in close proximity, irrespective of relation. He might've been taking things a bit seriously, but his heart was in the right place - or so he hoped.

He tilted his head and hummed softly to himself, regarding dark blue-raven feathers and curved, hooked split-beak. The adventure in mind wasn't anything to speak of, per say, certainly nothing worthy of legend or poetic eddas, but it was an adventure nonetheless - something the pair of them could handle on their own, without V or Garrett.

"I say, we should investigate these rumors about a murderer in the area. The circumstances are a little strange, I'm inclined to believe they aren't murders at all but something of a more supernatural nature. If human authorities haven't been able to get to the bottom of this, then shouldn't we try? You're a devil hunter, if only because of V, but what would you say of the hallmarks of fire and brimstone left at every crime scene, my dear? It can't only be a human with a gun if sulphur and imprecision are at play. A devil like this isn't so much concerned with getting caught as they are... something else. Perhaps they're leading whoever gets curious enough to follow to some place terrible, or toward an inevitable end of a sort."

It all sounded a mite dangerous now, or like dramatic gossip, all conjecture and little proof - though, wasn't that how crimes of a supernatural flavor always began? Whispers of frightful, savage deaths in long, dark alleyways, victims slashed or outright torn to shreds, gritty details kept hush-hush as to prevent panic. Dark and dangerous indeed, but a few human murders couldn't possibly be enough to sway him from course. Vayn, in a sense, wanted to take a page out of the devil hunters' books this time, and he wouldn't bow to his cowardice. Or so he hoped.

"Someone with sharper eyes and other senses ought to take a closer look, get into a little trouble, save the day... Come, come with me!"

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

My Little Hybrid Family_Part 17

A.N: If you’ve read this far, thanks so much for the comments, favs, reading it...etc!! I appreciate it!! The last batch of chapters for this story is heading out!! 

Tags: @ sweeneyblue1

Twisted Wonderland Masterlist  

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“We are all here!! Good!! This meeting is now in session!” Kalim cried. 

Leona groused,“You have one minute to explain to me why I should stick around.” 

Azul nodded, “Yes, I was getting to a good part of my research.” 

Kalim waved his arms, “But this concerns the well-being of our Mistress!” 

Jamil nodded, “Kalim is correct. It does.”

Azul raised an eyebrow, “Truly? This isn’t some overdramatic spiel?” 

You had gone out for the day and almost as soon as your car pulled out of the driveway, Kalim had gone around calling an emergency meeting. It took a better part of 20 minutes before he could get everyone into the living room. 

Jamil shook his head, looking troubled, “I’m afraid not.” 

“I’m not sure if any of you are aware, but before you all came, it was just me and Jamil. Her parents had brought us after seeing our performance on a whim to give to their daughter, our Mistress. However….” Kalim went silent, his ears drooping. 

“Her parents died suddenly in a plane crash.” Azul supplied. 

Jamil was surprised, “You know about it?”

“Mother….I mean, our former owner, was friends with her parents. She was besides herself with grief at the news.” Jade supplied. 

“Tell me about it.” said Floyd, “She mourned night and day, at the loss. So we had heard about it.”

“I never thought I would eventually be owned by their daughter, though.” Azul murmured. At the time, he couldn't care less what human died. 

Good riddance, he thought. 

But now, knowing you and knowing it was your parents, he couldn’t find it himself to brush it off so carelessly as he did before. 

Both Leona and Malleus looked surprised at this. Come to think of it, Leona had never really heard you talk about your parents. He just assumed there were away, as most rich types were bound to do.  

“Human lives are so fleeting….” murmured Malleus. 

Jamil spoke, “I’m sure, all of you have realized that our Mistress has started feeling less energetic lately.” 

Azul stated, “She has checked out more times this week than I’ve ever seen.” 

“I caught her staring at the photos of her parents longer than usual.” Floyd added. 

Jamil thought for a moment, “She seems to pick at her food but when asked, she doesn’t not like the food.” 

Jade nodded, “I’ve seen her sitting in the car sometimes. She doesn’t come in right away, she just…sits there. One time I had to go out and knock on the window. She swore, she was looking for something, but it was obvious she had a lot on her mind.” 

“Hmm, she is not sleeping well. Surely you’ve noticed the dull eyes of her lately. The other night, it was my turn to stay with her….” Leona started. 

Floyd smashed his teeth together, “You cheated! You just picked up Mistress and ran away with her without giving us a chance!” 

“...and it was obvious that she got no sleep that night.” Leona finished without addressing Floyd, who hissed at him. 

 Malleus was silent. He was still relatively new, but he realized that you had begun to pull away from them. At first, he thought it might have been him, but he observed and realized it as everyone. 

“What can be done about this?” he asked, looking around. Surely, since they have been here longer, they would know what to do. 

Kalim laughed with a huge grin, “Malleus, I’m glad you asked!! Because, I have a great idea!!!” 

Everyone looked at him curiously, and even Jamil. This was the first he was hearing about it. 

—  —  —

You knew this day was coming, and now it was finally here. 

The 1st year anniversary of your parent’s death. 

And you woke up alone. 

For the first time, you had refused anyone staying with you last night. You could tell the boys wanted to argue the point, but they had uncharacteristically backed off. 

Even Floyd. 

You only smiled reassuringly as you walked to your room. 

Your only company, that night, were your silent tears. 

You really didn’t want to get up today. You’d much prefer to hide out in your room and let the day pass. In response to that thought, you turned your head and gave a small sigh as you closed your eyes. 

“You’re awake.” 

You pulled your eyes open when Leona walked into your room unannounced. He unceremoniously flopped down next to you and threw an arm over your stomach. You barely batted an eye. That would require too much energy. 

Leona nuzzled his face into your neck and said nothing else. 

Your eyes drifted down as you were lulled back to sleep. 

“Young pup, I sent you up here to wake her up, not join her!!” 

A loud crack had your eyes shooting up to see Divius Crewel standing in the doorway. You came awake then and scrambled under the covers.

Lawyer Crewel didn’t bat an eye as he turned on his heel and walked away, steadily tapping the baton in his hand, “You two have 10 minutes. Don’t make me come back up here!”

“Leona! What is he doing here?” You asked, sitting up after he left. 

Leona yawned, “Come down for breakfast!” 

The lion hybrid didn’t answer any questions as he lumbered out of your room. When you finally got washed and went downstairs, you quickly realized one thing. 

It was waaay too quiet. 

When you arrived in the dining room, you realized there was a meal for two and Leona was sitting waiting for you. 

“Where is everyone?” you asked curiously as you took a seat. It was different, strange even for it to be this quiet. It’s been a long time since you were alone in this house. 

“Out.” was the pointed response. 

“Out where?” 

“Where we will be going after you finish your breakfast.” 

“And where is that?” 

Leona just stared pointedly at your food, making you grumble and began to eat. This was obviously made by Jamil, even though he wasn’t here either. Had they eaten and left to go wherever they went earlier this morning? It was going on 11 am already. 

Exactly how long had they been gone? 

Your eyes roved around and then suddenly almost choked. Leona raised an eyebrow at you before returning to his food. 

The last time you had seen him wear his “ownership pendant” was that day you had won the case against his former mistress. 

Now your curiosity had been peaked. 

Part 18

[bruh-anator3000]

Special shout out to bae @thehistoriangirl for getting the kettle ready, we got a long story ahead of us. I actually wrote out an entire story but then realized most people dont want that, so let me break it down to the best of my ability. I hope you enjoy, and thank you to the 5 people who showed interest, I love you, like for real.

Warnings: severely unedited, Drug/substance abuse, inhumane product testing, death, probably bad writing at diseases (im working on it), child abuse/neglectance, daddy issues, crime, that should be all

Anisa Hardy was born with albinism and an autoimmune disease

Her premature birth gave both her and her mother serious issues, one that her father, a renowned surgeon and geneticist tried to undo

He tested his genetic reversal on Anisa when she was 7, trying to find the perfect formula to save his wife

He had a prophetic dream that he should splice their dna with the creature told to have 9 lives, so that if his wife did die, she could be reincarnated again

The splicing worked on Anisa but her mother died during the genetic sewing

Walter Hardy blames Anisa for lying to him that it worked

Her older sister ran away from home when Anisa was 16, leaving her the advice 'trust no one but yourself.'

Anisa stayed in school for the one reason of being better than her father

As her father went insane from losing his true love, he created a drug ring, and sold his company as he grew to become Nueva York's largest crime lord, under the alias of 'The Black Mask.'

Given her increased stealth, agility and strength thanks to the spliced cat dna, Anisa was forced to work as his number 1 robber, stealing things for him under the name of 'the Child of the Mask' (father's idea, not hers)

Got noticed by Alchemax as she entered college - the company Walter *used* to own

Met Miguel O'Hara when she interned with the lab cooperation

The typical trope of they couldn't express their care in any other way besides picking on each other

Anisa would bring Miguel his exact coffee order every morning though

He caught onto the fact she never had any real food to eat, and when he asked, she just snarked 'unless you bring me somethin else, I'll stick to my chips."

So he brought her homemade empanadas the next day

He was rewarded with one of the less noticeable stolen jewels her father made her take. Leaving it on O'Hara's desk without a word. This back and forth continued for a while

While in the labs, Anisa created a drug called 'Nine Lives.' A purple substance so strong, it could bring her back to life. It could only be used 9 times since it would slowly take over the blood stream 10% each dose.

However, Anisa made 10. Knowing full well her body would rupture if she ever took this drug ten times. She planned on it, in case one her last leg, she wouldn't be able to survive again

Miguel never really noticed, too caught up in his own research to care

The two never got to address their growing romantic feelings even after 2 years

And when Anisa thought she was ready to commit to the asshole of a coworker and finally ask him on a proper date, her father had the crazy idea that a spider's dna could bring his love back to life.

She was instructed to get Miguel alone and locked in the labs so that his men could take him out for testing. Because clearly, a healthy and strong young man's reaction to this would definitely be the same as a dead woman's

Anisa was inches away from the door when she broke down, running over to Miguel and begging him to leave. To trust her, and to walk out the lab doors and never come back

Obviously, he thought it was some stupid prank, an attempt to get him out so she could copy his work

That was until the glass behind them broke and a posion dart shot Anisa in the back of the neck, having her fall near dead asleep in Miguel's hold

Smoke filled the room, and as he tried to haul himself and Anisa out, three more darts landed on his back, knocking them both out clean

Anisa gained her vision, unable to move anything else as she helplessly watched her father's men drag Miguel away

She never returned to the labs

The next few nights, she paced, trying to figure out a way to get Miguel out of this mess

Thats when she adapted the 'Black Cat.'

She made her own suit, far different from the crappy skin tight shit her father threw at her, a mask that was inspired by Miguel's nanotechnology he tampered with, and broke into her father's labs

She found Miguel motionless, still dead asleep as a computer read how close his dna was to completing it's splicing

She ripped all her father's work apart, finally getting the revenge she's wanted for years and dragged Miguel's limp body out of the building

It was tough but she managed to get them back into the labs, where she set to work on making a neutralizer, similar to the one she had to take to contain the more... feral parts of her split blood

She created it, basing it off of her own but with spider calming elements instead and wrote it down for him. She injected him with it, watched as he sat up screaming, and disappeared, unable to face him

Guilt heavy as she wondered day and night; maybe if she tried harder, Miguel wouldn't have to live like her. Maybe if she was better, she could've saved him... and her mother

News of the black cat caught on, especially since she would steal for her father under his given alias, then take it all back a week or so later under her more fitting identity

She never talked to Miguel again, ignoring his calls, too ashamed with herself to even think of him

It wasn't until she was robbing one of the more secure banks of the city (technically un-robbing it by putting jewels *back*) that she met another vigilante, Spider-Man 2099

A ridiculous name, she taunted, her mask giving her words more confidence.

As they fought, and he told a smidge of his story, she caught on quick

She knew he was Miguel from the very beginning

I mean, who else has spider dna?

Suddenly, she didn't know what to do and nearly got herself kicked off a building and into the road

As time went on, Black cat was the only mask Anisa wore, stealing the artifacts or secret chemicals from their establishments before her father could get to them

All Walter knew was that his horrible daughter finally went missing - unaware his own creation beat him at his game nearly every heist

Spider-Man was the real issue. Choosing to fight Anisa instead of listening to her side

It was the labs all over again. Arguing without even caring who was actually right, just caring that it meant the spent more time together

Miguel would catch Black Cat just 'strolling' along rooftops where he was patrolling

He found himself sitting with his nemesis, splitting street food as they watched the city bustle beneath them

He didn't find out about her identity until he almost got her killed

Use one of nine for her concoction of 'Nine Lives.'

Miguel had found Black Mask's house of operation, and ignored the pleading of Black Cat

He refused to give up on this mission, needing to ensure Black Mask couldn't harm the world again

A failed fight later, the only way to stop Miguel from being shot dead was Anisa ripping off her mask to calm her father

But being seperated from him for so long, she forgot the rage that would boil over him everytime he saw his daughter's face - too similar to her mother, too similar to the wife she killed

He shot her 5 times in the chest without blinking, walking away as Miguel crawled over

He truly thought he lost another one to Black Mask. First, his uncle, the only one in his family who cared about him - and now the girl he ever considered close. Dare he say, a friend - maybe more.

On the brink of death, Anisa brought his hand down to her belt, revealing a purple vial with two needles at the end. Like fangs, with a shot mechanism

Rolling her head to the side, a silent invitation to inject her with this vial, right into her major pulse point

Miguel almost didn't do it. Terrified it would make things worse, but he had to take a chance

And after watching her bullet wounds heal over with fake purple skin, Anisa shot up, gasping

They grew closer then, after Miguel snappes at her for her criminal activities, and almost dying

The Black Cat and Spider-Man, working together?! Was on every headline for a few months

Then, Miguel disappeared

Completely gone, like he had fallen off the face of the earth, and Anisa couldn't do anything

She tried every resource, every gang, every possible thing, unwilling to loose someone like that again

But she couldn't find anything. Miguel was gone

It wasn't until three months later when one of her sources notified her of his pressence back in Nueva York

She immediately ran to a museum, stealing the largest Tomb there and waited anxiously for Miguel to come after her

He did, and she nearly tackled him with excitement

She quipped on and on, teasing him for leaving, but Miguel didn't respond to a single taunt, not even a grunt

When she lowered her guard, and her mask to sincerely ask what happened, a red web caught on her midsection

Slamming her face first into the concrete of the roof, breaking her nose immediately

He grabbed her chin, unfazed by the blood streaming down her face and yelled

But he didn't exactly yell, his voice just so angry, it was cold against her ear as he told her that hes seen things she could never comprehend

That there were worlds, far greater and far less than theirs, that they meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, that Anisa meant nothing. She never did.

And that if she kept trying to steal and be a criminal, he would no longer be the one to save her from her doom. That he wasn't going to spend his life chasing a lowlife like her. That shes already wasted so much of his time, that nothing she did mattered. It never did

And then, he left

Miguel left Anisa on the roof with a broken nose, the words of her sister ringing like a bell in her head

'Trust no one but yourself.'

For a while, Anisa let it be. Angrier than ever, upset that she let herself get hurt again, she went to work with her father again

Receiving tasks under a fake identity - Walter Hardy still believed he finally killed his daughter

But she grew bored, her anger needing closure or else she was going to bash everyone's head in Nueva York against the very asphalt they walked on

Like any normal not really ex - she stalked Miguel

It was hard finding a lead at first, but what she found was astonishing. Miguel had created an entire society

A society of spider people, from apl different dimensions

Naturally, she mapped out the entire building and filled all the air systems with a sleeping gas that knocked all the spiders out, expect for Miguel

His vents filled with paralyzing smoke, leaving him unable to move, but to witness the woman he never thought to see again walk through his complex building like she owned the place

Barging into his lair, she pressed on his wrist until a red web shot out

Grabbing it, she wrapped Miguel in his own webbing, and threw him into his chair before pressing a knife to his neck

"Anisa," he gulped out, "good to see you,"

"Ohhhhh," Anisa's head whipped around. Finding other spider with a five o'clock shadow slumped over. "You know her? Veryyyy cool." Peter B chuckled, slobbering running down his face as the paralysis kept his muscles still

They eventually work it out after he has Lyla do her explainy fhingy while hes limp and tied to a chair (lyla took photos) and Anisa would eventually get over it and understand

She would later go on to finally stop her father with the help of Miguel

Later, she would take over as Nueva York's largest crime lord - pissing Miguel off until he realized that crime actually went down since her rein began

She only took over because she knew if she didn't, someone worse would, and she uses her status as a way to demand criminals to get therapy and better jobs

She would also be granted max security for the spider society, and be allowed in whenever she wanted - always to meet up with Miguel, sometimes to help him, other times to just lay around and be a silent menace

Okay! Now with her story out of the way, i get to share the smaller details!

Anisa was born a second generation immigrant on her mother's side, from what was once known as Iran

Due to her albinism, she has silver hair and purple eyes, and she's smaller than a lot of people from being born prematurely

After the dna spilce, she gained some melanin back, and was given the opportunity to be a more average height/weight from it

She had to curate her own stabilizing serum since her father gave up on it, working closely with one of his scientists who helped her understand what was going on

The cat dna improved flexibility, agility, endurance, stealth, speed, heightened senses, and oddly, her chances of luck

Has claws and fangs very similar to Miguel, on both her fingers and toes. Her pupils also gained the ability to shrink and expand like a cat's, giving her an odd slit pupil look regularly

Bc of that, and her albinism, she's very very sensitive to light, often wearing some sort of eye wear to keep her safe

Her hair grew thicker too, excessive hair growth that was darker than her normal silver. It's odd trying to explain why near her temples/roots, its darker than the rest of her hair - explaining your mad scientist father spliced your genetic code with a black cat isn't easy

Makes biscuits whens shes deep in thought, and her claws get stuck on fabric and she cant pull away unless she grabs her wrist to manually detach her claws

Her tongue is textured too, and she came to that realization after licking ice cream and it left a really concerning pattern

She has to be very careful with what she wears, anything could tick her off with her hypersensitivity

I actually can't decide if I want her to grow ears and a tail yet so its in my mind as concept design still lmao

Really close to her sister, Emelia, and Anisa listens to her voicemail of her whenever she gets sad

Grew up used to people bullying her for her different appearance, so even if she wanted friends, no one dared be near her

Ironically enough, she's actually deadly allergic to seafood, so though her feline insticts go off when she smells fish, she cannot risk eating it

Her father signed her up for any extra curricular she wanted, Martial arts, sword fighting, gymnastics, anything to keep her away from him

Got in a lot of trouble with the law as a juvenile, an act of rebellion towards her father

Ordinarily, Alchemax wouldn't have hired the daughter of the insane scientist, but Anisa forged documents and changed her last name to her mother's

People tell her that she does have a very similar appearance to her father, and it makes her go crazy, wanting to rip out every part of her

Her skin is very sensitive, even more so bc of the heightened senses, so it scars really easily - it doesn't help she's picked up picking at scabs as a habit

Was lowkey in love at first sight with Miguel until he finally opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong with her formulas

They were apart of a group of roughly 10 other interns, but the rest requested a transfer not long after Anisa and Miguel started fighting over everything

The one thing that kept Anisa's interest piqued was that whenever someone made a diss about her appearance, calling her unnatural or a genetic mistake, Miguel would get on them in an instant

He backed another intern named Mark into the cart of petri dishes, breaking them all - Anisa would've started a fight on it if Miguel hadn't used it to his advantage to get the guy fired

Miguel was also quick to notice the bruises she'd come in with (being your father's main robber, only to then rob him to unrob the banks wasn't easy)

He only knew how to argue with her but he didn't want to make her feel bad about the scars or bruises, so that's when he brought up nutrition

And he didn't hesitate to make her lunch from then on. He didn't even explain why or let Anisa question him. He would simply silently hand her a paper bag as she handed him his morning coffee

After the whole testing incident and stuff, he planned on coming back to work and to ask Anisa what she knew about it, but was devastated to find her gone

As Spider-Man, after their maybe 6th run in, Anisa stopped what she was doing to teach him how to control his claws and fangs, tired of being smacked with a handful of talons

It was awkward as she would dig her fingers into his hands and above his lip, helping him feel the motion of retracting them, but it worked

She also tried to teach him about the sixth sense, the spidery sense bc she had a cat sense

Only to find out that she could lob foam blades at him all day and he wouldn't be able to sense it

Literally could not stop laughing as she made him stand there, eyes closed, and threw fake weapons at him, and he couldn't sense where they were, grumbling

Anisa progressively got more flirty as time went on, her hidden identity making her way bolder than normal - even though she's never actually done the deed

(She didn't trust anyone enough to, especially not with how incredibly sensitive she was. Claws come out when unchecked, just saying)

While on patrol, he found Black Cat just sitting and joined her, unknowingly starting a habit of them both grabbing street junk food and watching the city together

During these times, she would joke how she knew his identity, but never had the courage to actually say it, so she would compare him to old movie stars just to see him get offended

He found out Anisa was Black Cat - or at least really started to suspect it when she responded the same to his question of eating better - "unless you make me," in the same almost forgotten tone

Their relationship did progress into a grey area of romance, both of them knowing they couldn't reveal their identities so being together outside of their little game of cat and mouse

She never did more than aggressively makeout with Miguel on the rooftops, refusing to. Miguel understood but he was always perplexed how someone could flirt so heavily then not be hot and bothered like him

Anisa is obviously very smart, and was able to copy Miguel's digital watch, the hologram aspect of it at least

Also copied his nanotech designs, obviously, and would often try messing with his to understand how it all worked

Was shocked to find out it wasn't nanotech, but a bunch of unstable atoms to create a hologram

1000% stops mid battle to follow stray cats, often making Miguel come with

Does the cat kicking litter move on him when hes late to their chase, often mocking him by asking how he was gonna let pigs beat a spider

After her whole shot in the chest and died thingy, Miguel asked about her 'Nine Lives' substance and she walked him through the process of making it and how it reacts to her blood only while laying in a web hammock he made

She explained that because she was the only one in charge of keeping her genetics human - besides the one other scientist - she was constantly trying to improve her serum, which led to the creation of Nine Lives

Teased her once with a fish cake, and nearly had a heart attack when she gurgled out how deadly allergic she was to it before trying ti claw it out of his grasp

He threw it in a randomw alley and had to web her to a wall to get her to stop trying to eat it

Once he caught on to the way Anisa's eyes slitted in focus whenever his webbing would first shoot out, he would use the string to mess with her until she gave into the feline urge to chase it

Same with lasers, its very embarrassing for her but Miguel loves it

His 3 month disappearance was when he switched places with his alter self, going to take care of Gabriela before her world collapsed

Which is why he was super angry when he came back, furious Anisa could be making jokes at a time like this (she didn't know what time it was, just that her super hot not really boyfriend came back)

Given her abilities to copycat most structures or devices, Anisa spent an entire month mapping out the spider society, just so she could send them all to sleep

And it worked, spider senses or not, no one could escape the sleeping smoke when it came from every vent

Peter B was very thrilled to find out Anisa was Miguel's Black Cat, unbothered by the fact he was in the lime of fire, falling to the same paralysis Miguel did

Lyla absolutely ate that shit up, barely keeping herself together as Anisa wheeled Miguel around in his chair so he could explain things better

When she finally forgave him, he took her on a tour of the society

Something awoke in Anisa everytime Miguel would get slightly harsh in tone, telling any spider that approached them that she was *his* Black Cat

Made her feel very special

When she became crime lord, Miguel didn't talk to her for weeks, feeling betrayed without even listening to why

Then he noticed he wasn't called on his Earth for missions anymore, able to focus on the multiverse a lot better

Thanks to Anisa

Who spent all her time handling actual villains for him, and helped the ones who felt they had no other option get stable jobs

I.E kicked the shit out of Green Goblin (Miguel's brother, whoops) and helped his minions find secure jobs that would financially keep them stable

The spider people love her for her ability to calm Miguel down (they have a separate training room that they use to tear into each other after 24 hours of no stabilizing serum)

She gets really heartbroken when she hears the other canon Black Cat events, and takes her time to notice them so she can discreetly derail them from happening, a silent attempt of keeping Miguel in her life

And that's all, so far! I'm sure theres plenty I forgot, I really tried to cut as much as I could so it wouldn't be a long read but... I'm a writer at heart, I couldn't help it. Please, please, please ask questions! I would love to tell more about her! Thank you to those who read it all, I hope your leftovers are heated evenly and your pillow is cold on both sides <3

[whatisreggieshortfor]

Goodbye Dylan

Inspired by a mix of Goodbye Earl by the Dixie Chicks and If You Go Down I’m Going Down Too by Kelsea Ballerini

And some discussion on which Islanders were the most Ride or Die

When her husband turns out to be… less than ideal, her best mates are there to make sure he never hurts her again.

TW: domestic abuse, death

When Kenna met Angie and Seb, the three of them were first years in secondary school. Seb had made a sarcastic comment when he got paired with a pristine cheerleader during introductions on the first day of class, and the two girls immediately flocked to their fellow cynic. They became inseparable after the first day- no matter what happened to one, the other two were always right there with whatever they needed.

After they graduated, Seb used what should have been his college fund to buy his store, and Angie took courses to become a paramedic.

They weren’t around as much, so Kenna started feeling lonely.

When she found someone that pursued her, no matter how many she initially rejected the idea of romantic intentions, she eventually gave in without her voices of reason there to help her stop him.

Seb and Angie didn’t meet him until the wedding day- a courthouse affair that happened far too quickly for their liking. Neither of them could pretend they didn’t notice the bruises Kenna had tried to hide under make up.

Then Angie was working one night, and she got the call.

An ambulance dispatch to Kenna’s address.

Angie had never shoved her partner into the passenger seat so fast as she blared the siren and floored the gas. Her partner panicked as she barked at him to grab her phone and call the number marked Third Musketeer, a move Kenna had made in each of their phones in remembrance of what their parents called their friendship.

When there was no answer he was ordered to call the one named First Musketeer.

“Seb!” Angie shouted as soon the call connected, her partner held out the speaker, “I just got a dispatch call to Kenna’s place!”

“What!?” There was a crash followed by several thuds and the cussing yell at Doom to move, “I can be in town in twenty minutes, let me know where to go!”

The tires squealed loudly as Angie slammed the brakes in front of Kenna’s flat, a neighbor already holding the buzzer door open for them as she sprinted in, taking the stairs two at a time with her med bag in hand, “Ken!” She called as she made it to the flat door, “I’m here!”

Angie felt her own blood run cold when she saw her best mate clutching a kitchen towel to a wound on her arm that was still seeping blood on her carpet. As Kenna picked up her head at the sound of Angie’s footsteps, the paramedic felt tears burn her eyes when she caught sight of the split lip and black eye adorning Kenna’s usually stunning face, “Anj…”

Before she could say a word, Kenna had looped her arms around Angie’s neck, hand slipping and fumbling to keep the towel still pressed to the bleeding. But she forced the words out, “What happened? Did he do this to you?”

Kenna whimpered softly as Angie pulled away to check the bleeding, only to find a gash that must’ve been caused by a kitchen knife- and she felt her blood boiling. The reason Kenna was such an integral part of Angie and Seb’s lives was because of the way she never backed down. The way she was strong and brash, always in control of her life and sharp tongued to anyone that looked at her sideways, while still being the sweetest among them.

Angie felt cold seeing this terrified version of her she never had before.

Gently, Angie led Kenna to the door, “I’m gonna take you in to the hospital, so you can get the stitches you need, okay? I’ll be back as soon as clock out.”

“I can’t be alone…” Kenna whispered, “He’ll come back.”

Angie’s arms tensed around her, anger flaring in her chest that she tried to push down, “Seb will meet you there, okay? Unless I get a call I can wait til he gets there. You won’t be alone, babes. I promise.”

The ride in the ambulance was eerily silent. Angie’s partner didn’t ask a single question about what had happened- opting to let her take care of the patient intake. He’d become far too familiar with the dynamic the three of them had over the years. Kenna’s voice never rose above a whisper.

The day Kenna got released, Seb and Angie took the day off to accompany her to the courthouse as she filed for a divorce and protection order.

But the protection order didn’t stop him.

Seb had tried to call Kenna when an album she’d been waiting for had finally come in, but he didn’t get an answer. Concern flooding through his body, he closed the shop early and hopped on the tram.

Kenna ended up in the ICU.

Angie and Seb didn’t think twice about taking time off work, she had the vacation time and he was his own boss with enough sales to make up the cost.

The three of them knew what they needed to do.

Two days after Kenna made it to her new home, Dylan was at her door. But this time she wasn’t alone for him to pushover and bully.

Seb had just finished folding the last of the towels they’d used and washed when there was a knock on the door. Kenna swung it open with a smile, greeting the two officers that stood there, “Hi, can I help you?”

“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Drummond. We understand Dylan Knowles is your ex husband?”

“Yes, sir.” She answered with a nod, letting her smile drop away, “But he isn’t allowed within a hundred feet of me, or five hundred yards of my flat.”

The officer nodded, “We got a call that he’s been reported as a missing person. I’m sorry, I hate to ask- do you have an alibi for the last few hours?”

“I do, actually,” Kenna offered, calling her best mates into the doorway, “My mates have been helping me get settled in, since I can’t lift anything on my own.” She gestured to the sling and injuries that still littered her body.

“And what time did you two arrive?”

“I got here around seven last night? After I picked up dinner.” Angie wondered aloud, “And Seb got here after the last tram ran, had to run back to his flat to feed his cat.”

Within a few more questions, the officers asked Kenna to call if he showed and gave her a card.

The three of them shared a smirk as the door shut behind them.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” Seb asked later that night as they all settled into her sofa to watch a movie.

“They can try,” Kenna nudged their shoulders, “But for my two guardian angels, I’ll put my hand on the Bible and still lie through my teeth.”

Angie chuckled, slinging her carefully around Kenna’s shoulders and pulling Seb in to the cuddle while they all pretended his grumbled protests were genuine, “Our bodies get buried in the same ditch, babes. If you go down, I’m going down, too.”

Masterlist

[petrifiedcrange]

Izzy got caught in the side during their last raid — not a big deal. As it turned out later, the cut required stitches but wasn't very deep and didn't seem to damage anything so Izzy clenched his teeth and rushed right back into the very thick of the fight, just in time to kill some bugger who'd tried to have the drop on Blackbeard because some other fucker managed to slam something heavy into his bad knee, distracting him, and then, after the fight died down, saw to it that the whole crew came back to the ship, the injured were tended to, the loot deposited safe down in the hold and Edward laid up in his quarters with his knee supported and a hearty dose of laundanum in reach for the pain. And then, Izzy went down to his own cabin and had a look at the wound in his side, quickly stitched and bandaged it, and went back up to deck because there was work to be done, ignoring the pain still radiating from his side.

He'd pushed through another three days, despite the fact that the pain didn't seem to abate in the slightest until it became to sort of... go numb, which Izzy knew to be not a good sign, but their ship was damaged in the raid so there were minor repairs to be overseen, which had to be done as soon as possible so they could move on, not to mention the matter of appraising loot and other regular duties of the first mate to be fulfilled.

On the third night, he started to feel feverish but that was also the night Edward's bad knee, now also fucked up in the raid, flared up and he ended up spending the majority of it by his side, massaging his knee and humming lullabies and other melodies that came to mind in hope it would soothe Ed enough that he'd be able to have some rest. Returning to his own little cabin in the wee hours of the morning, Izzy examined the wound, noting with a lack of concern that should have worried him if he wasn't so bloody tired that it did, indeed, get infected, cleaned it as best as he could, applied fresh bandages and fell into uneasy sleep for about an hour or so, which, upon waking, actually made him feel even more wrung out.

But the last straw to his endurance came unexpectedly when he emerged from below deck ( even though wearing black leather under Carribean sun wasn't particularly comfortable on a regular day, and add to that the fact that he was already overheated from the fever... he felt like hell, literally more than metaphorically ) with a cup of coffee, eternally gratefully they had some of that stuff left, to greet the day and make sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing only to overhear one of the strong guys they picked from the raided crew so the repairs would be done quicker and easier trash talk Edward and say some other things... Izzy knew a mutiny in the making when he heard one – after all, he was at Edward's side when he led the mutiny against their previous cap... Izzy couldn't even bring himself to call him that, Hornigold – so, without much preamble, he killed the man right there on the deck, making sure everyone knew just why the fucker was run through by their first mate's sword... and right when he was pulling the sword out, Izzy felt wet warmth suddenly bloom beneath his shirt and half-numb pain spike sluggishly and knew that he must have torn the stitches, reopened the wound.

It was worth it, though, he thought even as his vision blurred and darkened around the edges, as the sword fell from his suddenly clumsy fingers ( and that was the most concerning sign of how poorly he felt of all, because Israel Hands would never let his sword touch the deck, he cared about it too much ), as the deck tilted in his mind and he swayed, barely catching himself on the rail to stop himself from going overboard, his other hand coming up to lay against the wound but barely applying any pressure, as his ears rang and he felt like he might throw up but then a voice addressed him – the voice he would recognise as Edward's even at death's door, even though he couldn't decipher the words spoken – and he started turning towards his captain to ask him to repeat what he said, to explain what happened, why he killed that bastard, but the moment he opened his mouth to speak and let go of the rail to turn fully towards his captain, his vision darkened out and consciousness finally fled.

[ OPEN for Ed, set about a year or two after the mutiny, so they already settled into their new life but Edward is still far from being bored of how things are going ]

[ladylilithprime]

All Is Fair In Love And Paintball

Series: Fluff Is My Jamstiel

Fandom: Supernatural: 

Pairing: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Proto-Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: General

Tags/Warnings: Witch Sam Winchester, Hunter Novak Brothers, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Brief Allusions to Canon-Typical Violence, Protective Dean Winchester, Paintball

Summary: Contrary to Sam's assumption that he wouldn't be seeing the Novak brothers at all often, if he even saw them again at all, Palo Alto has seen a surprising uptick in visits from the hunter twins. Dean is suspicious, and determined to conduct his own testing of their mettle if they think they can just come courting his baby brother.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 8: Callous (This was NOT easy to write fluff for!)

Read on AO3

SIX MONTHS. IT had been six months since the Novak brothers had first shown up in Palo Alto like a couple of bad pennies on the non-existent case of Tyson Brady's death and stayed for a week to put not only Brady to rest but also any attendant rumors vomited up by his overly religious harpy of a mother. They had come back two months later, contrary to what Sammy had believed about the likelihood of their return at all, because one of the twins had caught the flu and the other was symptomatic, and since they had known that Sam had a cure that was proven effective so long as you weren't allergic to any of the ingredients it just made sense for them to stop by in hopes of cutting down their recovery time. They had only stayed overnight that time, needing to get back on the road to a case further south in New Mexico that sounded like a chupacabra, but since then John Castiel and James Constantine Novak had been showing up more and more frequently with flimsier and flimsier excuses.

Dean Winchester was not impressed.

Unfortunately, Dean Smith could only do so much to head off potential heartbreakers when it came to Sam Wesson, at least without drawing even more irritating conclusions from the locals that he and Sam were more than just friends and neighbors. While a perfectly valid tactic for keeping away inconvenient or unwanted attention back in the days when he and Sam had been the migrant hunters hauled all around the country by their father, such a tactic had awkward long-term consequences when you actually had a couple of permanent addresses and didn't plan on skipping town at the end of the month. If Dean had ever planned on finding a local romance of his own, well, he'd rather thoroughly shot himself in the foot between the people who thought he was dating his brother and the people who thought he was dating his brother's familiar. Which, no on both counts, if for different reasons. Even without that, having a set address - being settled - carried some awkward connotations of being ready and willing to settle down, and that wasn't something Dean felt he could do anytime soon even if he was no longer taking off on the road for weeks to months at a time with only furtive phone calls in between to let Sam know that he was still alive.

That was probably the thing that bothered Dean the most about the Novak brothers, when you got right down to it. They were hunters, migrant ones at that, just like he and Sammy had been once upon a time, and they showed no signs of actually wanting to stop and get out of the life... but there they were, coming around and making excuses to chat up Dean's little brother, bringing him lunch or breakfast, and his brother remained almost painfully if somewhat endearingly oblivious to the fact that two annoyingly attractive young men clearly had the hots for him. It was both exasperating and hilarious, and Dean was pretty sure he wasn't going to know how to react when the shit inevitably met the slowly spinning fan blades.

But even he couldn't have predicted this.

"You what?"

"Gave my key to Jimmy and Cas so they could take Bones back to the house," Sam repeated impatiently, like he hadn't just admitted to handing over his house key and his familiar into the care of a couple of drifter hunters. "She needed to get home and I couldn't leave the store and you were still on shift for another two hours, so--"

"So you gave the key to your house to a couple of hunters you barely know to go off alone with your familiar?" Dean demanded, silently willing for Sam to grasp just why what he was saying was such a problem. From the bewildered look on his brother's face, it wasn't getting through.

"It's Jimmy and Cas," Sam said after a moment, as if that was supposed to explain everything. Sadly, when it came to Sam, it did. "And it's not like I'm going to just tell them to keep the key and move themselves into my spare room or anything!"

"It's exactly like that, because otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to make a copy of the key I have to your place to put back on your keyring instead of just getting your key back from them when you get home," Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Assuming they're even still there and haven't incapacitated Bones to keep her from warning you--"

"That they're currently stripped down to their shorts and are giving her a bath in the master bathroom?" Sam interrupted with a raised eyebrow. He tapped his temple lightly. "Calm the catastrophizing, Dean, Bones is keeping me vividly updated, don't worry."

"It's my job to worry," Dean grumbled. He sighed. "Fine, I'll make the key copy on one condition."

"And that is?" Sam asked, finally showing what Dean thought was an appropriate level of wariness for the situation.

"Paintball, Saturday," Dean answered. "You and me, versus the Novaks. We'll get Andy to finesse our way onto the range, you know he's been wanting to get his own crack at interrogating those two after they showed up while you were having your bi-monthly 'not an official coven' meeting."

"It's not--" Sam started, then sighed as he apparently realized that arguing about Andy Gallagher's intentions when his primary power was literally a mind whammy he used to make people tell the truth was not the road he wanted to go down again this time. "Saturday is still four days away, Dean. What if a hunt comes up between now and then, huh?"

"Then you get your key back from them and don't hand it out again until paintballing happens," Dean said, arms folded across his chest. "You wanna start handing out easy access to your home to a couple of rootless drifters like that, you'll just have to make it clear that they gotta pass the test first."

"Yeah, not doing that," Sam shook his head. "You don't tell someone you're testing them if you want an honest response from it."

Well, at least Sam wasn't slipping that much.

Andy came through beautifully with securing the paintball course for the day, something about a favor owed that was being cashed in and "the chance to see you two in action for once" that Dean wasn't sure how to feel about. Andy was one of the "rescue projects" who'd known him as a hunter first and had gotten a lot of secrets out of Dean before he realized mind-whammying his new teacher's brother was probably a bad idea. Dean didn't hold it against the kid - much - but it was just as well they didn't hang out that often.

The Novaks looked a little uneasy as they geared up, though from what Dean could tell it wasn't any sort of concern over their own safety. To Dean's amusement, while they seemed to be regarding Dean himself as a potential formidable (if perhaps rusty) opponent, they seemed to be discounting Sam as a threat, especially after Dean made the ruling of "no powers" and Bones slunk off to sit with Andy.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" one of them - Dean thought it might be Jimmy - asked Sam hesitantly.

"Paintballs hurt a lot less to get hit with than actual bullets," was Sam's nonchalant response, making Dean snort in agreement. The answer did not appear to reassure the twins if the look they exchanged was anything to go by, but they gamely headed into the course to take their positions. Sam and Dean, following behind them, exchanged a sly smirk and a covert fist-bump, much to Dean's pleasure. He could already feel his blood starting to sing with the promise of a hunt with his brother at his side, and from the anticipation in Sam's eyes he wasn't the only one looking forward to this.

The next fist-bumps they exchanged were not so covert, looking over the tally of their respective "kills" displayed in full brilliant color splotches all over the rather rumpled and dismayed Novak twins. The Winchesters, in contrast, had barely two marks between them, each one a shot taken for the other. So much for being rusty.

"So," Sam said as he turned a slightly sheepish smile on the still stunned active hunters who had just been thoroughly trounced by a retiree and a pacifist witch, "I guess now would be as good a time as any to admit that our surnames aren't actually Smith and Wesson."