#Two Office Workers Who Are Too Poisonous For One’s Eyes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwadori · 3 years

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hii i saw ur taking requests and I wanted to ask if you could do a fic with the miya twins,suna and iwa comforting their s/o after they have a dream of them cheating on her? tysm!

Cheating Misunderstandings with the haikyu boys (Osamu,Atsumu)

Word Count:1.8K

Genre:angst,fluff

masterlist

AN: This was kind of on the lines of what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it. Also you guys will see an ‘Empress appearance’ in this work....so don’t kill me.

Osamu:

You were walking to miya onigiri ready to pick up Samu to go home

But when you got to the front door you see Osamu in the shop winding touching another girl

You couldn’t see the girl or Osamu properly because of the angle you were at

But you wouldn’t say your eyes were decieving you, so you did what you should do turn on your heel and get out of there.

You were back at your apartment and you were fuming, you were at your desk and decided that distracting yourself with your mountainous amount of paperwork that you had for your job would be better than sitting down and stewing over watching your boyfriend cheat on you.

‘How long has this been going on,’ you thought to yourself ‘Who even is she? She can’t be a worker’ since you knew everyone that worked there and the manager Empress would definitely not let a worker get with Osamu since you were besties after all.

Distracting yourself, obviously didn’t work and you sent yourself into a spiral of social stalking, trying to find this girl. Which didn’t work, as you only saw her hair and her height which was around a foot shorter than Osamu’s. ‘Stupid Osamu’ you thought, how could he do this? Why would you do this?

You wanted to cry, you were going to cry. Outside you heard a car door shut, and looking out your window you saw Osamu walking out the car with his keys in his mouth and bags (presumably food) in his hand.

You heard some knocking, well kicking at your front door and a light shout of “Babe, can you open the door my arms our pretty full here.” You didn’t answer, you didn’t even move cause you knew if you saw his face it’ll most likely be him saying ‘Y/N im sorry, but theres someone else’ the thought alone made you cringe. You were knocked out of your thoughts with again the kicking of the door and Osamu saying with a laugh “C’mon babe all you really gonna leave a guy stranded out here, ive got your favourite too and its going to get cold”

You reluctantly opened the door, not actually greeting Osamu and just going back to your room to pack away your paper work and close your laptop. To your surprise Osamu was behind you and gave you a quick kiss to your cheek, which you would usually smile and ease into but today you cringed and quickly moved. Making Osamu look at you with a side eye.

By time he was setteled in you were sitting down at the dinner table eating, with the sound of Gordon Ramsey’s Hell Kitchen filling your awkward silence. Osamu did try to speak to you but you always just responded with “yeah,” “sure,” or “maybe.” Short simple answers that Osamu definitely didn’t like.

When dinner was over and it was the time when you two usually watched a shitty reality tv show together, you decided to go to bed early to avoid any more awkward conversation with Osamu. But before you could clamber into bed, Osamu grabs your arm saying “Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean Samu?” you say with a forced smile on your face even though he couldn’t see it, you just did so he didn’t see you start to tear up “nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Are you Y/N?”

“mhm” you murmured trying to shrug off his hold, you sniffled a bit (attempting to do it quietly) but he heard it.

“No y/n, what’s wrong can’t you just turn around.” The force of you pulling away and he pulling you close, left you falling onto your bed and the tears just started to fall. Osamu immediately crouched down to your eye line “whats wrong love?” he said with a tender voice.

You shook your head in response, “what’s wrong?? Please tell me Y/N.”

“Why would you do that to me?” you say your voice breaking as the tears streamed your face. Osamu started to panick seeing you cry.

“Do what Y/N, what do you mean?”

“You cheated on me? Was I not enough for you? Don’t you love me anymore.”

“Who Y/N!Who.?”

“You touched her, I saw you. I can’t believe you would do that. In public as well” you accused “How could you do that to me.”

“Y/N, baby listen I don’t know what you mean?”

“Don’t call me that Miya, you’re such a fucking liar oh my god.”

“Can you please explain to me what you’re talking about?”

“You. In the shop. I saw you, touching her” you say scowling saying the last line as if It was poisonous.

“In the shop? What do you-” a spark flashed in Osamus eyes before he stood up and started pulling you out the room “You need to come with me.”

“Miya, what are you doing? I’m not going anywhere with you.” you groaned

“Yes you are, and stopped calling me that.”

He dragged you outside to his car and opened the door for you, standing expectedly waiting for you to get in. “Im not getting in,” you say folding your arms

“Oh yes you are. Just get in the car.”

“But im in my roblox pyjamas” you groaned again feeling like a child.

“And you still hot babe don’t worry” he said winking at you ushering you into the car “Just get in it’ll be a quick ride anyways.”

You pulled outside of onigiri miya and Osamu begin to drag you out again taken you to the office where the security cameras are. He did something on the community and pulled up a date and time which was the time you were at the store earlier.

Playing on the screen was the recording and the incident which you saw before, but this one was a differnet angle. You saw a girl walking one way and Osamu walking the over with a drink in his hand, him spilling the drink on her and cleaning her off with a paper towel. Which you thought was him groping and touching her.

Your cheeks heated up hard in embarrasment, as you realised how you acted and how you got it all wrong. You saw Osamu with a glint in his eye and smirk on his face and before he could say anything you said “Dont. Let’s get back to the car.”

All was forgotten on your car ride home and you decided to discuss eachothers days (skipping out the ‘cheating’ part.) However after you watched you shows and finally gotten into bed, when Osamu was holding you right against his chest (so close where you could hear his heartbeat) he said, “Y/N, although we agreed to not talk about this incident...even though I will definitely be telling Empress, I just want to let you know that I will never even think about cheating on you let alone actually doing it, I love you so much that the idea of cheating is so uncomprehendable I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Love you ‘Samu, and I'm sorry for making this into a big old thing when I could’ve just asked you about it.” you say in response

“It’s okay babe,” he said kissing your forehead “It’s okay.”

Atsumu

You and Atsumu have been dating fairly recently meeting in your through your friend Empress who was the manager at Atsumu’s brother Osamu’s shop Onigiri Miya.

You’ve only been together 6 months and you’re ready to tell him that you love him

However you being the perfectionist that you are, wanted it to be perfect so of course you had to practice on friend, Empress’ boyfriend Hajime.

“Okay so go.”

“Atsumu, I think you’re a stand-up guy and you’re pretty cute can I love ya.” you said punching Iwa on the arm.

“Y/N, you can’t say that.” Empress said face palming.

“Okay, Atsumu I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up?”

“No dad jokes Y/N.” Hajime said shaking his head

“Why theyre soo funny, what about Atsumu you’re a pain in my ass.” you said winking at Empress.

“Gosh Y/N! Take this seriously for once.” Hajime said blushing at your obvious innuendo.

“Well how did you two confess you undying love to eachother?” you asked and smiled at both their reactions, knowing that they definitely haven’t done that.

“Just say your confession Y/N,” Empress said rolling her eyes

“Okay Atsumu,” you said taking a deep breath “Ever since I met you after your brother spilt a drink on me at his shop and you tried to cheer me up with your terrible jokes I knew that you were the one for me. I love your passion, your drive your determination to make me feel better all the time even when I don’t need you too. I love being with you and I...”

Hajime looked at you expectedly, “I love you,” you said smiling “There I said it I love you!”

“Oh my gosh Y/N! That was so cute you should definitely sa-”

“What the fuck Y/N!” exclaimed a voice next to you “You love this clown.”

“Who are you calling a clown,” said Iwa squaring up to Atsumu making both you and Empress roll your eyes at the heeping testoterone filling the area.

“Haji let’s go,” said Empress dragging her boyfriend away “and Y/N I'm pretty sure you two need to talk.”

When Hajime and Empress were an ear shot away, Atsumu looked at you with a glare. “So Y/N, is this what you’re doing now slu-”

“Don’t even go there ‘tsumu, you’re such an ass sometimes.” You say walking away “And by the way I was practicing with Iwa to say I fucking love you, you asshole.”

You already stormed off before Atsumu yelled, “Wait! You love me?”

“Of course I do you ass.” you say scowling.

Atsumu jogs over to you and says, “I love you too Y/N” he picks you up and tosses you about in the air, practically doing sommersaults, “Im so happy! Wait till I tell Osamu bout this he’s probably hasn’t told his girlfriend about this.”

“Babe, they’ve been dating for years” You said with a laugh “But go ahead ‘tsumu tell the world.”

“I’m sorry for misunderstanding things.”

“And...?”

“And I'm sorry for calling Iwa a clown, knowing he would definitely beat my ass.”

“And..?”

“And I'm sorry for being an ass.” he said with his head down.

“You are an ass Atsumu,” you said with a smile “But you’re my favourite pain in the ass.” You said winking at him making him burst out with laughter at your stupid innuedo.

Whenever Atsumu sees Osamu he tells him about how much you both love eachother, which always leads them into an argument about who has the better girlfriend and who loves their girlfriend more which always has you laughing.

AN: do you guys see the connection between the two?? Cause if you see the connection I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER :3 Hope you guys enjoyed it, what do you guys think?

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #haikyu headcanons #haikyu #osamu and atsumu #atsumu headcanons #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x reader #osamu scenarios #osamu x reader #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #atsumu scenarios #signedwithane😌

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littlefreya · 3 years

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Poison Honey

Summary: Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd pov)

Word count: 1K

Warnings: Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.

A/N: Okay this Christmas drabble came to me in a dream a month ago, and I had to write it down but waited for today to post it. Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira who did my beta so quickly!

Title: Poison Honey

Festive fairy tea lights were strung across the concrete office walls, resembling little flakes of gold over gloom and sparks floating from a pyre. Their aura lit fervent bodies clung together, shining over the grinding and touching figures as they danced to the upbeat Christmas carols that played in a volume so high you could hardly hear yourself think.

It was nothing more but a smouldering den of sin, an orgy of delights.

Standing at a distant corner with a glass of spicy-sweet sangria pressed to your lips, you watched the massive hall, unable to take part in the sweaty horde that pranced around the golden calf.

You weren’t happy this time of the year, but then again, you never were satisfied. It’s not that life was mundane; it’s just that it existed with no meaning, and these sort of cheap thrills left you shaken.

Because even though you wanted to take a chance and be that bad girl, deep inside, you knew you could never be one of them.

A sigh left your lips. Waiting for the appropriate time to depart without having people talk about your introversion later, you downed your drink while deflecting the numerous attempts of Debbie from accounting to drag you into the fuss.

It was then that you realised, you were not the only one standing alienated from the crowd.

Funny, you’ve always assumed that a man like Agent Walker would be the first to go balls-deep in at least two women tonight. But he seemed far more enthralled in spying on everyone else and like he was having a good time watching everyone else fuck up.

His eyes burnt with blue flames that laved over many skulls before it slowly licked upon your sight. And as if you could feel both fire and ice ascending in your tendons, a shiver crawled down your back. Languidly, he traced your form. Stroking his moustache briefly, Agent Walker raised the glass of bourbon perched in his hand and gave a small tilt of recognition as if you understood one another though you’ve never spoken before.

The last drop of sangria couldn’t quench the sudden dryness that formed in your throat. As your anxiety spiked, you did what you knew best and twirled your feet, pretending you had to go somewhere.

Anywhere.

What were you so afraid of? Living?

Squeezing the purse in your palm, you hurried to find the jacket left abandoned on your desk. Drunk and sultry, your co-workers swarmed every corner like zombies in a horror flick, and the sounds of passionate lovemaking reverberated through the corridors. Somewhere, in one of the glass-enclosed offices, two colleagues were indulging in a carnal dance.

Agent Walker was no longer in sight, still it resonated in your mind that he was stalking through every passage. Heat bubbled in your belly and between your reaching thighs, the tepid dew began to gather. Maybe you wanted to be chased... And perhaps you desired August Walker to catch you.

Trying to brush these pesky thoughts away, you finally grabbed your coat and headed towards the exit. The calming warmth one feels when arriving at a shelter began to sink down your sternum. A few steps more, and you were to be safe.

But hope blew off like a candle in a ghastly wind.

August’s shoulders were broad enough to block any way out as he stood at the pathway. His excessively muscular arms were crossed together, biceps so large they were bigger than your head. His steel-blue shirt looked as if it was about to pop and expose what you could only imagine as the epitome of virility.

The shuddering gasp that escaped you didn’t go unnoticed; he smirked with triumph before his eyes slowly levitated above your head and focused on the ceiling.

“Lucky me,” he chimed, his voice a low and melodic growl that felt like a claw cinched around your heart.

Skin riddled with goosebumps you followed his gaze, the chill increasing as your mind already processed what you feared to grasp.

The mistletoe was hanging right over your head.

August’s beguiling smile cut into his left cheek, darkness poisoning his lips. He made a large step forward, easily closing the remaining distance. Yes, you knew he was handsome, but up close, his beauty was ethereal: eyes like precious gems and a strong chin that made every other man look stale. His pouty lips parted as he looked down at you. A small flinch marred your face as he reached a hand to the small of your back.

“Will I get a kiss? Or will you doom me with bad luck?”

Thunderstorms struck the strings of your heart, and in your ears, you felt the throb. If August hadn’t held you in his arms, you would be on the floor by now as your legs wouldn’t cease their jittering.

Fear, desire, and the menacing anxiety of doing something completely outrageous toyed you like a marionette. Before you even realised it your mouth fell open and August leaned in, bourbon and candy on his breath. His whiskers and plump lips touched you first, brushing over so gently it was barely a kiss. Innocently he caressed your mouth before his tongue slithered into your hot cavern and tasted you with a devouring yearning.

He crushed you; his hard pecs collided with your breasts, turning muscle and bones into a liquid thing for him to manipulate. As he pillaged your mouth, a guttural groan made its way down your entire body and ended fluttering at your womb.

It felt empyreal, you wanted more. Melting into his steady form, you began to picture his warm body naked above yours, imagining what’s beneath his crisped shirt and ironed tie. You wondered of the size of his manhood and how these soft, lips would taste the plains of your body when he slowly broke the kiss, ending it with a tender groan that vibrated at your mouth.

Breathless, you stared at him, utterly distraught and hastily turning upset. Shame burnt white-hot, tingling across every living cell in your body. Not saying a word you pushed right past him and hurried toward the elevator.

“Guess I’ll see you around...?” He asked behind you, with a definite victory in his voice.

Ignoring his remark you quickly disappeared to the elevator, thankful as the silver doors closed in your face and rescued you at the last moment. Your heart still rumbled in your chest as if begging to rip itself out and in your mouth lingered a honey-like flavour.

Clueless fingers outlined the electric tingle over your lips; it was only a kiss, yet everything felt different after tonight.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #august walker #august walker x reader

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agustdakasuga · 3 years

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Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 11

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Sometimes, you forget just how different the boys are at home and at ‘work’. And you realise that sometimes, your sharp tongue can get you into more trouble that needed.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of blood, gunshots, cyanide poisoning. Cursing.

“So, this is what happens on days off...?” You stood at the entrance of the lounge, watching the boys sprawled out everywhere. Jimin lifted his head up from his awkward position on the ground, his one leg draped over Hoseok’s, who was on the couch.

“Yes. Pretty much.” He nodded.

“Well, I’ll be going off.” You said, checking if you had anything in your bag.

“Wait! Where are you going?” There was scrambling and the pattering of multiple footsteps. The boys ran over like excited puppies, not wanting their owners to leave them at home.

“There were some extra medical supplies at my mum’s hospital. She told me I could take them. We’re due for a refill anyway.” You explained.

“How are you going?” Taehyung asked.

“Don’t you know? I can just teleport there with my superpowers.” You rolled your eyes, walking away but you heard more footsteps following behind you. You were hoping to catch the next bus but with the long driveway in, you’ll probably miss it and have to take a cab. If you were later than the time you gave your mum, she’ll most definitely hold it against you.

“We’ll drive you.” Namjoon offered.

“All... 7 of you?” You turned to them with a raised eyebrow and your arms crossed. The boys quickly turned around, huddling together in a meeting. They were actually playing rock, paper, scissors.

“Turns out, the others have another activity to do. We’ll go.” Jin grinned, putting his arm around you, which you pinched and made him pull away.

“Yes.” Namjoon nodded. You shrugged, not really caring who was going in the first place.

“Let’s go then.” You nodded to the leader and oldest.

“The only time Namjoon hyung wins at rock, paper, scissors.” Jungkook scoffed behind you. You shook your head, the youngest will always be the youngest. Jin drove while Namjoon sat in the back seat. You sat in the passenger seat to give directions to the hospital.

“Go in here.” You directed him to the VIP entrance. And there she was, standing there, waiting for you.

“Omma.” You got out and hugged her.

“You brought company?” She tried to peek in but the boys’ car windows were all tinted. Jin and Namjoon came out, greeting your mother respectfully and shaking her hands.

“I can’t say I was expecting the both of you.” She chuckled.

“It wouldn’t be nice of us to make her come alone. Especially if we knew she was meeting you.” Jin patted your head and you shot him a look.

“How nice of you. Right this way.” She led all 3 of you in. At first, you wanted them to just wait in the car, worried that a passing paparazzi would start some fake news but your mother led all of you through the private VIP way in, assuring that no one would see you. You noticed all the interns bowing to your mother as you passed by.

“Still as respectable as ever, huh omma?” You asked as you stepped into the lift with her.

“You would be too if you stayed.” She hummed. You merely shrugged at her comment. You entered her office, seeing the boxes of spare medical supplies stacked in one corner.

“There it is.” She pointed.

“Right-”

“Sunbae.” An intern came rushing in. He stopped when he saw you standing there, eyebrows raised in amusement, along with Namjoon and Jin. His eyes widened when he realised his mistake.

“I’m so sorry! I had no idea you had guests!” He bowed repeatedly. Your mother shook her head with a sigh, rubbing her temples.

“What is it?” She looked up at him. The intern took the file out from under his arm and slid it over to your mother on her desk. Instead of opening it, your mother held it out to you. You shook your head, knowing exactly what she was getting at.

“I just want your opinion.” She still held the folder.

“This is a breach of patient privacy.” You crossed your arms. Your mother was never one to give up but you weren’t here to please her. So you took two boxes, handing them to Namjoon, then the same with Jin.

“I’ll speak to you soon, omma.” You took the remaining boxes and exited her office with the two.

“Can you... do that?” Namjoon asked.

“She’ll get over it. I’m used to her tricks. First she’ll ask me to look through the papers, then come up with a diagnosis and treatment plan. Lastly, all the surgeons will be conveniently unavailable and I do the surgery.” You shrugged.

“Wow.” Jin’s eyes widened. You nodded with a hum. The boys helped to load the things into the trunk of Jin’s car and you slid into the back seat.

“Wanna get waffles?” Namjoon asked, scrolling on his phone as Jin drove.

“You guys eat waffles?” You snickered.

“What’s wrong with waffles?”

“Nothing’s wrong with waffles. You guys eat such fancy food, prepared by private chefs every single meal. I’m just surprised you guys will eat waffles not prepared by Michelin star chefs.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. Jin and Namjoon shook their heads at the same times. Jin pulled over to their favourite waffles cafe.

“Here we are. This is our favourite place.” Namjoon opened the door for you. You stepped out to see the cozy little shop.

“Cute.” You commented. The 3 of you entered the shop and went to stand in line. There were many high schoolers, still in their uniforms there. The two with you obviously caught their attention.

“You know, for people that are meant to be lowkey, you’re very good at it.” You snorted.

“Jealous?”

“Nice try with the whole jealous thing. I just hate unnecessary attention.” You scoffed, stepping up to order.

“I would like a cheese waffle.” You ordered and stepped aside to let Namjoon and Jin order. Jin read the others’ orders from his phone before paying. Namjoon ordered a coffee and you got an iced americano to drink while you wait for your orders. Jin was on the phone.

“Order 42!” The worker shouted. You stood up and went over to the counter to collect the bags.

“Sorry, doc but we may need to make a detour. There’s a work emergency that I need to attend to.” Jin sighed. You shrugged, not really caring. You already had your waffle so you were good to go.

“Fine with me. I have my waffle.” You shook the waffle with a laugh.

“Glad we now know that food is able to make you that happy.” Namjoon chuckled, taking a bite of his own waffle.

“It should only be a while. Would you like to come in or wait here?” Jin asked as he pulled the car to the side of the road to park, unbuckling his seatbelt. Namjoon did the same.

“Depends... Can I bring my waffle?” You raised your eyebrows. Jin laughed with a shake of his head but gave you a thumbs up. You cheered and slid out of the car, standing beside Namjoon while Jin walked in front. The people guarding the front bowed respectfully when they saw Jin approaching, immediately stepping aside and opening the door for you.

“B-Boss, t-they’re in your office.” Someone with a name tag ‘manager’, spoke nervously when he saw Jin.

“They did this?” Jin gestured to the wrecked area.

“I’m sorry, boss. We tried to stop them. We know it is your day off.” He tried to explain but Jin held his hand up to stop his babbling. You tilted your head, turning to look at the mess.

“Luckily this happened before opening.” Jin rubbed his temples. The lounge wasn’t meant to open until later tonight. Fortunately, there were no customers around when this ruckus was caused or it may just cause more trouble.

“Jin oppa!” You shivered when you heard that shrill voice. You scrunched your nose in annoyance while Namjoon chuckled, amused by the girl.

“Shiori.” Jin turned his head. The girl latched herself onto Jin’s arm. She smiled sweetly as Jin spoke to his staff.

“Umm, Jin?” You tapped his shoulder. Shiori turned to you, blinking at your presence then glared as she recognised you as the one Jin called his partner. You didn’t even cast a glance at her.

“What do you want?” She frowned.

“I’m done with my waffle. Can we go home now?” You held the empty paper bag up where your waffle once was. Jin threw his head back in laughter. If looks could kill, Shiori would have you in a pool of your own blood by now. Namjoon shook his head.

“Almost, doc. My apologies, you can have drinks with Namjoon at the bar. Let me just settle the issue in my office. Then we’ll go home.” He patted your head with a smile.

“It’s on your tab!” You shouted, walking to the bar. Namjoon chuckled, trailing behind you with his hands in his pockets.

“Who is she, Jin? Really. She’s always around you and the other boys.” Shiori asked with a pout, walking beside Jin as he began to head upstairs to where his office was.

“I told you, she’s my partner.” Jin tugged his arm back.

“I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms.

“Well, that’s your prerogative. Now go. This level is for authorised personnel only.” Jin opened the glass door that granted access to the hallway where his office was. Shiori was no pleased. As she watched Jin’s retreating back, she stomped her feet and went downstairs. She saw you and Namjoon have a beer at the bar, making minimal conversation.

“Yah.” She stood at your side. You stopped, giving her a side eye before continuing your conversation with Namjoon.

“I’m talking to you!” She shouted.

“I know... I have perfectly working ears. Which you may have now ruined with your voice.” You groaned, sighing in exasperation. Shiori’s jaw dropped slightly at how you spoke to her.

“How dare you-”

BANG!

“Head down!” Namjoon placed his hand behind your head, pressing you against his chest and pulling you to the ground with him. There were screams of shock, employees running everywhere to exit or take cover.

“I need to help Jin. Can you get out of here?” Namjoon asked you, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“W-What if he’s injured?”

“You can’t treat him here if there are armed people. Get out of here and I’ll bring him out, okay? It’s probably nothing but we can’t be too sure.” Namjoon said firmly. You nodded and he looked around before standing up and leaving. You watched him take a gun out from the holster on his belt.

“You stay at the front entrance. You, clear the back entrance. You two, cover me.” Namjoon said to the guards, who were also armed and ready.

“Yes, boss.” They nodded and got into position.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“I’m gonna die!” Shiori whimpered.

“Calm down! We just need to get out of here. Follow me.” You hissed in annoyance. She covered her ears, shivering in fear. You stood up and began to head to the front entrance, where Jin parked the car.

“Damn it! Shiori.” You realised she wasn’t following you and turned around to grab her. Just then, someone grabbed your collar.

“What do we have here?” Some guy smirked.

“A human, duh.” You frowned.

“I saw you walk in with the two bosses. I was spying for my boss that’s upstairs.” He chuckled. You gave him a bored look, which he obviously did not take very well to.

“I’m not afraid to beat a girl up.” He threatened.

“But you’re apparently afraid to use mouthwash.” You scrunched your nose in disgust. The man frowned, slapping you. You closed your eyes, not trying to show how much pain you were as you felt your cheek burn from the impact. Behind him, you saw Namjoon come out, an obviously injured Jin’s arm around his shoulder for support.

“Doc.” Namjoon spoke and the man turned around, taking a knife out and pressing it to your throat. Of course, you were scared. You took a deep breath, trying to think with a clear mind.

“Don’t come closer or I slit her throat.” He threatened.

“Your boss is dead, you’re nothing.” Namjoon glared, putting Jin down on one of the couches.

“Whatever, he may be dead but I know your weakness now. I have the upper hand. You listen to what I say.” He pressed the blade against your neck slightly and you felt a slight cut, the skin splitting ever so slightly.

“You’ve got it all wrong. She’s a mere employee.” Namjoon shrugged.

“He’s right.” You suddenly took a syringe out of your pocket, jabbing it into his left side. The man gasped, dropping the knife and falling to the ground.

“Doc!” Namjoon was quick to catch you before your wobbly legs gave out. You held his arms, taking a deep breath.

“I-I’m fine. We have to help Jin. Let’s go.” You told him. He nodded, helping Jin up and bringing him to the car. Namjoon jumped into the driver’s seat. (Yes, Namjoon has his license in this story lol.) You made a quick call to the estate, letting them know what happened.

“What did you inject that guy with? Shall we bring him in before he gets conscious?” Namjoon asked as he sped.

“He’s dead. That was a syringe of cyanide. I started carrying it around in case of situations like this.” You pressed a handkerchief to Jin’s bullet wound on his right pec. Jin winced and groaned in pain.

“Smart.” Was all Namjoon said.

“Bring him to my office.” You said to the butlers who helped a groaning Jin out of the car. The other boys rushed out.

“You’re bleeding!” Taehyung gasped. You waved him off, rushing to your office. You washed your hands and put your gloves on. Jin was placed on the metal examination table. The first thing you did was try to stop most of the bleeding with gauze and antiseptic. Jin hissed, moving slightly. Hoseok came to help hold him down while you worked.

“Jin, can you hear me?” You asked.

“Y-Yes... Damn, it hurts like a b*tch.” He forced out.

“Keep him as still as possible. I’ll get the bullet out.” With a pair of forceps, you reached in to try and get the bullet out since there was no exit wound.

“F*ck! That hurts!” Jin screamed out, his face going red, the veins on his neck showing prominently. You grabbed the bullet, pulling it out and dropping it onto the metal dish.

“The bullet is out.” You cleaned the wound and bandaged him up then put him on a drip to help with his blood loss.

“Bring him here to lie down. I have to hook him up.” You instructed.

“Yah! Be careful!” Jin scolded the boys. They slowly helped move him to the bed and you hook him up to a heart rate monitor, placing the drip bag on the hook. You took his temperature and covered him with a blanket.

“I’ll get someone to clean this blood up.” Jimin said.

“Doc, your wounds. You’re still bleeding.” Jungkook took your first aid kit. You shook your head, taking it and going to your mirror. You cleaned the wound with some cotton soaked with antiseptic. After that, you wrapped a bandage around your neck. You even put some ointment on your cheek.

“Here.” Taehyung lightly pressed a towel-wrapped icepack to your cheek. You smiled gratefully.

“Jin, have this painkiller.” You held the pills out to him with a glass of water. It only took a few minutes before Jin passed out.

“How did you get this hurt?” Yoongi frowned.

“I don’t know. Some guy that worked for the guy that shot Jin upstairs grabbed me while I was trying to leave. He saw Namjoon and grew scared, threatened me with a knife.” You shrugged.

“Yeah, then doc jabbed him with a syringe of cyanide.” Namjoon chuckled. The other boys’ eyes widened, turning to you. You blinked at them. Cyanide worked quickly in the system and because you purposely jabbed him on his left side, near his heart, the asphyxiation worked a lot faster than it normally would. But it definitely killed him.

“Hell yeah, doc! You’re bada*s!” Jungkook held his hand up to hi-five you.

“It was only for self defence, Jungkook. I didn’t do it for the thrill.” You scoffed, making Jungkook pout for ignoring his hi-five.

“I’ll bring you to your room.” Hoseok said as the maids came to clean your office of Jin’s blood. He walked with you to your room, all the while you held the ice pack to your cheek.

“Maybe I won’t sleep. Feels weird to be sleeping when I’m supposed to be awake. I’ll just read a book.” You said. Hoseok hummed.

“You sure you feeling okay?” Hoseok asked.

“Yeah, a little less shaken than before... But I’ll get over it. I always do, somehow.” You forced a small smile. Hoseok stopped, tugging you gently by the arm to give you a hug.

“Thanks, Hobi.” You patted his shoulder.

“You don’t have to bottle it all up, okay? We all took a while to get over it the first few times.” He patted your head and you nodded. You went to your room and grabbed your book, bringing Kookie with you as well. Kookie followed you, hopping along as you went downstairs.

“Careful, Kookie.” You chuckled. He was so adorable, hopping up and down the stairs like it was his own playground.

“Not resting?” Taehyung asked.

“I’m not gravely injured. So I’ll just stay out here to read.” You waved your book for emphasis. Taehyung bent down to stroke Kookie’s ears and he stood on his hind legs to sniff Taehyung’s hand.

“(y/n), I told you to leave when I went to get Jin hyung. What happened?” Namjoon came out, sitting on the couch beside you.

“I went back to get that girl. She was so scared she couldn’t move. So I turned back to get her but got caught. I may not like her, for obvious reasons, but I wasn’t going to leave her there to get shot up.” You sighed, moving your book to let Kookie sit in your lap.

“You’re really amazing. Insulting someone even when they have a collar grip on you. Yes, I heard you.” Namjoon laughed.

“I wasn’t insulting him. I was merely stating the facts.” You gave Namjoon a flat look. The other boys came and joined you, spreading out across the available seats in the living room.

“Hyung, who were the people that shot Jin hyung?”

“Not sure. I just know they caused trouble at the lounge and Jin hyung went to settle it. When I got there, Jin hyung was shot. The henchmen with the boss were shot too. I had to kill the boss since he was armed. I don’t think they were big. The big ones wouldn’t do that, it’s just dumb, waltzing into the enemies’ turf like that.” Namjoon informed.

“I agree.” Yoongi nodded.

“It’ll be the last we see of them then.” Jungkook smirked.

Ko-fi link

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diana-fortyseven · 2 years

Note

48 for the ask!

Rampage

All hope he’d felt moments ago was washed away when his bare feet touched the cold floor. Alone and almost naked and unconscious, he’d been helplessly exposed to his—at this point—worst enemy.

The one person he thought he could trust with his life had put him in this position; poisoned by what he’d thought was an expression of friendship and love. It’d been means to an end for her, not only the touch, not only the dance, everything. She’d said it, over and over and over again. He was a tool, he was a weapon, he was a loyal pet.

He was alone.

Through the frosted glass he noticed movement. He slid the door open and bit back a gasp when the even cold air outside his small compartment hit his exposed skin. The man in the white coat didn’t notice him, he was too focused on the phone call with Edwards, talking about the serum.

No. Never again.

They took everything from him, his dignity, his brother, his only friend in the world, but they would never take his memories of them. Never again.

It was easy to strangle the man to death when he put away the phone, easy to continue with the two other scientists in the next carriage, easy to kill the soldiers that came next, and the office workers that came after that, and at the end of the train, at the end of his rampage, he stood eye to eye with the man who was responsible for all the pain in his life, and that man offered him the opportunity to forget the pain, forget the betrayal, forget the self-doubt.

#Hitman Fanfic #Agent 47 #Diana Burnwood #Ask Game #Writing Game

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george-fabian-weasley · 3 years

Text

the mad hatter — g. w. (chapter 4)

Summary: Due to your direct relations with George Weasley, you were prohibited from leading the case anymore. But you were given a chance to interrogate him, and the tension between the married couple thickens.

Words: 2,861 words

Warnings ⚠: TW murder, TW blood, TW injuries, angst, thriller, husband!george, sadistic!george, fem!reader, arguments, mentions of sadism

Disclaimer: hey yall <3 welcome back to another chapter of ‘syaf simping for sadistic george!’, I haven’t been able to be active in this site because of work, so I’m really sorry! I’m making it up for yall though, I have some fics ready in no time so wait for it! Reblogs and Comments are highly Appreciated! Enjoy!

the mad hatter masterlist!

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“... What do you mean?” Your voice was slow, yet it was menacing. “You heard me,” He said, sighing. “So you’re saying I can’t have this case anymore?” Your tone was quivering, trying your hardest to control your anger. The man in front of you, Remus Lupin is the A. D. A of the case. He’s going to be the one to put The Mad Hatter— no, George Weasley to jail.

But he’s pulling on your strings at the moment. Tightly.

“It’s inevitable, Y/N—” “Bullshit!” You slammed your hands on your desk, the pain of your palms didn’t sting, the adrenaline coursing through your veins were much stronger. You’re now breathing through your mouth, huffing slowly like a predator towards its prey. You’re angry, very angry.

He’s telling you to back off from your own case.

“You recommended me for this case to the higher ups. And now you want to take it back?” You scoffed, glaring at Remus with the deadliest look you can muster, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“This is my case. I’ve spent a month of my time and my co-workers’ time investigating this prick,” You spat, huffing a cynical smile, “You have no right to take away this case from me.”

“As this case’s attorney, I actually do, in fact, have the right to take this case away from you, Weasley,” Remus spat out as venomously, “Need I remind you that prick is your own husband. You have direct relations to the suspect, therefore you are now ineligible to either investigate him or take any part of this case.”

You two were in your office at the headquarters, door closed shut yet everyone dares not to knock on the room containing two wolves.

“I don’t bloody care that he’s my husband, he’s a mass murderer and should be treated as such, therefore your reasoning to kick me out of this case is utter bollocks!”

“You’re a fucking witness now, Y/N! You’re his wife!” Remus finally matched the tone of your voice, the veins bulging on his neck showed the severe control he had on himself to not explode. He sighed heavily, slightly massaging his temples, “How do I make this clear so you can understand, Y/N,” He muttered loud enough for you to hear, before looking at you straight to the eye.

“You have feelings for your suspect. You married him for seven bloody years so don’t give me that bullshit that it doesn’t matter and you won’t get emotional in that room!” He shouted, hand flinging to the direction of the investigation room, where George was waiting.

Patiently.

“You know this would happen the moment you put him in cuffs. You know already. What do you even want to ask him anyway?” Remus’s tone deflated as his shoulders dropped. You clenched your jaw, hard enough to feel the veins at your temple to bulge. Remus was right, what do you even want to ask him anyway? Why would he do this to you? Why would he lie to you? Why would he play you like this?

Does he even love you?

‘Get a grip on yourself, woman. He’s no longer your husband, he’s The Mad Hatter,’ the voice in your head sternly said, snapping you out from your train of thoughts. You took a deep breath, calming down your temper as you spoke, “I want to ask him why would he target former sexual assaulters, and record himself talking about them.”

Remus shrugged his eyebrows, “Good questions indeed, but what makes you think he’s going to tell you?”

You huffed a smirk, “What makes you think he won’t? I’m his wife, like you said and the mother of his child. I have the leverage that he doesn’t,” You said, feeling your confidence coming back and your professionalism finally resurfacing after what seems like hours of self-wallowing of ‘where did it all go wrong?’

Remus mirrored your smirk, “He fooled you blind for 7 years. What makes you think he won’t try again for the next 30 minutes?” He questioned, and you nonchalantly shrugged with a lazy smile on your lips, “Guess you just have to sit back and watch me do my job.”

The smile on your lips vanished, your grim expression had slightly intimidated Remus, “Let me in that room, and I’ll get him to confess that he’s The Mad Hatter.”

---

He knew you would come.

George smiled as he watched you walk in the room with the case’s file. “I knew you would come,” he watched as you slightly froze at his voice, before a hard look settled on your face, “Yeah, well, I need answers.”

George painted a small smile on his lips, “I’ll try my best to answer you then, my love.” “Don’t call me that.” He tilted his head to you,not quiet catching what you said, “Hm?”

You couldn’t look at him in the eye before, but now you’re standing in front of him, hands placed on the glass table, your fiery gaze straight into his somber ones, “Don’t call me ‘my love’. Or Darling, or Love, or anything. You call me Chief Detective, you hear me?” Your voice was low and dangerous, yet George only smiled at your attempt of intimidating him.

“Now why should I do that?” He asked, and you gave him a cynical smile as you sat across him, “You have no reason not to.”

“Why, haven’t you changed,” George muttered slowly, a smile on his lips. You looked different, and he likes it. Not that he doesn’t like you before, but this version of you; it impressed him.

It excites him.

“Listen, Weasley,” You leaned forward, glancing at the shackles that held George’s hand on the table, “You’re in my house now. So you better start talking before I force words out of that deceitful mouth,” You said slowly, looking at him straight in the eye, smirking in amusement at his lack of fear.

“How funny,” He leaned forward as well, slightly shaking his cuffed hands to hear the rattle of the iron, a playful smile on his lips, “Was I not in your house this whole entire time?” His smirk widened at the clenched jaw you did, amused at how easy he had you wrapped around his finger.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll have your tongue strangling your own neck,” You spat, leaning back on the chair to get away from him for a moment. The man in front of you isn’t the George you knew. It’s not the real George. Or, it is the real George, only he fooled you all this time.

Only thinking about it made your heart boil.

George chuckled coldly, his chuckles echoed through the room. “I’d love to see you try,” His voice was delightful, yet there was something poisonous about it as he smiled at you, “I want to share that thrill with my wife too.”

“The thrill of what?” You asked, and George chuckled again, “Now, my love, you know I’m not as gullible as you think I am to fall for that. Nice try, though,” he winked. You sighed, getting irritated by his play of words, “Let’s cut off the bullshit now, shall we? Let’s start the investigation.”

He shrugged, “I gave you my word. Let’s start then.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. No matter what you do, you can’t help but to feel flutters in your heart when he smiles, or call you ‘my love’. The flutters felt like knives, though.

“Lights out,” you suddenly said. George tilted his head, “What?” “Shut up, I wasn’t talking to you,” You quickly cut him, you faced the one way mirror, “Lights out.”

“You have 15 minutes before Lupin knows, so make it quick,” Zabini’s voice rang out from the speaker, and the lights went out. A while later, the emergency light was on, a red glow looms the entire room, giving the space an eerier vibe.

George looked at you curiously, “What is this, Y/N?” You sat silent. You hated it that you had to plan a secret mission with your team just to have time to talk to your husband. You need answers. No matter what.

So, it was no wonder that you looked up to him with your lips quivering and your eyes weak, “Why did you lie to me?” Baffled with your sudden change of demeanor, George furrowed his eyebrows, “Wha—” “I got Blaise to cut off the electricity here for a few minutes, so the surveillance camera won’t work,” You explained.

“Not even Blaise can hear us, so tell me,” you looked at him again, “Why did you lie to me?”

Watching the vulnerability in your expression, George’s smug facade faltered. He knew you like the back of his hand, you were telling the truth. Yet, George wasn’t stupid. He didn’t know how you act in your work, so he had to be cautious. He put up his wall again as he smirked, “But I didn’t. I didn’t lie about anything.”

His smirk washed off as you closed your eyes, “George, please…” He watched as you wiped away the tears welling in your eyes, this was the Y/N that he knew, the Y/N that he protected for the past 7 years from his truth.

George clenched his jaw, “What do you even want me to say, Y/N?” His voice now lacked the tinge of amusement, you realized he’s serious now. You looked at him, “What happened to you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” He said, and you gritted your teeth, “What happened to you, George? What caused you to be like this?” “This?” He repeated your words. He scoffed, “I’ve always been this, Y/N. I’m just good at hiding it from you and Rafa.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’ve been lying to me for 7 years straight, I deserve the truth,” You voiced out, and George shook his head, “No, you deserve to be away from me. The truth will only make you resent me more.”

“What fucking difference does it make now, George?! You lied to me! You hide yourself from me! Do you even love me?!” You were standing now, slamming your hands on the table. George clenched his jaw, fighting to stay silent.

“Tell me the truth! Do you even love me?!”

“You want the truth? Here is my truth,” he snarled, “I am that sick bastard you always talk about. I am The Mad Hatter!”

“Of course I fucking do!” He stood up abruptly, startling you. The handcuffs rattled more as he tried to yank his wrists away from the table. “If I don’t love you, then I would have drowned you that night we met! I wouldn’t have Rafael with you! I would have killed you!” His voice was loud and clear, yet his feelings inside couldn't exactly say the same thing.

George Weasley had lost control of his composure.

“No, no…” You muttered, shaking your head slowly, “But you’re an angel to me! You’re an angel to me and Rafa, George!” You said, desperation clinging onto your voice tightly.

“If I am one,” He breathed heavily, “If I am an angel, then let me rip off my wings and break apart my halo because I have killed!” He shouted, “And I don’t fucking resent it! Not one fucking bit.”

You were silent in shock from his outburst, while George huffed heavily. His heart was racing with adrenaline, but he hated this one. He looked at you who was still in shock, “Is that what an angel is to you?” he asked cynically.

“Someone that kills for the thrill? If I wanted to, I would have killed you that day you walked into the shop, Y/N,” he said. “But I’d rather kill someone else then kill you and Rafa,” He continued with a small voice. You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

You snapped out from your state of shock and began to shake your head in confusion, “What the fuck are you talking about, George? You mean to tell me that you killed 7 people because you didn’t want to kill us?”

“Yes, Y/N, that’s exactly what I meant,” He spat, looking at you with a snarl, “Who do you think killed my whole family except Fred?” George started to laugh maniacally, “And I’ve only spared him all this time because he’s my twin brother and I need a partner for my business.”

“You… You killed your family?” You breathed out, horrified. George looked at you and smiled eerily, “Who else?” His expression grimmed. “I’ve always been this, Y/N. A monster; who craves for the thrill of the kill, and the stench of blood, and the screams of pain and burn. That’s who I am, that’s who I truly am.”

“... I never understood love. Not even when I married you. But when Rafa came along, he taught me what love is. He taught me how to love. And when I realized I love you both, I realized that I loved my family too. But in the end,” He chuckled again, “I killed them,” He whispered dreamily.

There was a shadow of pain in his eyes, you could sense it. When he looked at you, you found the tenderness he always had in his eyes when he looked at you. For a moment, you wondered if he’s really saying the truth; about him being in love with you. Being in love with your family.

“You,” You watched him look away from you for a moment, pursing his lips, “You gave me a happy life. And I forgot what it’s like to kill. You made me into a new man,” He said slowly. There was silence for a while, it was only you and him, staring into each other. But something clicked inside him that caused him to look away.

He continued in a cold voice, “But I remembered what I did to my family. I remembered how I felt. I loved it, no matter how much guilt weighed on me for years. I loved seeing their terrified faces when I killed them slowly one by one. Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron and, and little Ginny. They’re in my dreams every single day after that, haunting me, taunting me to kill you and Rafa next. Because that’s who I am,” He slowly shook his head, “But I don’t want to.”

His head turned to you, “I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to kill Rafa. If I ever do, I— I—” He scoffed, his eyes wandering around the table wildly, “I don’t know if I can forgive myself for it.”

“For killing us?”

“No, for enjoying it,” George confessed. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to digest it right. Looking at you being quite shaken by the truth, George smiled to himself, “This is also why I didn’t want to tell you the truth.”

“What?”

“You’re looking at me like a monster,” He said softly, lips etching that gentle smile you always adored. He sat back down on his seat, his hands playing with the metallic chain that held him down. “I’m not saying that I’m not one, I just feel better when you look at me with love because I’m your husband, not a sick bastard who kills for fun.”

“It feels nice not to be a monster sometimes.”

“George... “ You didn’t know what else to say, but his name. “T-then… Why did you target former sexual assaulters? A-and why would you record them?” You asked slowly.

George looked at you for a moment, blinked and he only smiled. That’s when you realized that he had put up his walls again. That George who had confessed his love to you, and had confessed his crimes to you was gone, this is The Mad Hatter now.

“I told you the truth, I answered your questions. I gave you my word, didn’t I?” He spoke, as if nothing happened a few minutes ago. You took a deep breath to recollect yourself again. You felt confused, angry, scared, and everything else.

But you’re also hurt.

“... But you did kill me, George.” Your words caused him to look up to you. You were looking down on your hands before standing up straight, sighing as you looked at him, “You hurt me, you lied to me, you deceived me, you played me like I’m no less than a rag doll. Even if you didn’t kill me physically, you killed me in there,” You pointed to his chest, slightly scoffing at the tears welling up your eyes.

And the lights went back up again.

You took a deep breath, pretending everything was fine. “Nott and Zabini will interrogate you. I’m off the case because of you, so I hope you can work with them, and tell them what you just told me,” You said nonchalantly, forcing the lump on your throat to swallow itself back down.

George chuckled, shaking his head, “Nah, I don’t think I will.” You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

At that moment, the door opened and someone came into the room, “This interrogation is over now that I'm here, please leave,” The man said coolly and you widened your eyes as you recognized him instantly as soon as he walked in the room, “... Fred?”

“Ah, brilliant.”

The glint of mischief in his eyes had returned, and you realized that the two brothers in front of you are up to no good.

“My lawyer’s here.”

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#george weasley #george-fabian-weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley fic #harry potter #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x y/n

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chocolate1721 · 4 years

Text

I haven’t seen a lot of the class touring Arkham fics anymore, so here’s my prompt. Ok more salt and rogue trying to adopt Marinette.

So the class is touring Arkham. They were walking through the cafeteria or recreation room, their guide was rushing them because the inmates are due to come any minute. Lila slows down and trips Marinette, then she kicks Marinette’s sketchbook across the room. The class leave Marinette behind while she is scrambling for her book. When she looks up she finds two of Gotham’s Rogues in front of her.

Harley and Ivy weren’t expecting to have anything exciting to happen. There has been gossip about a foreign class touring Arkham, but other than that it’s been pretty quiet. They walked into the recreation room and froze. There is a child there. There is a child by herself there. They immediately went over to her, and they saw shock in her eyes when she saw them.

“Hey there girlie whatcha doing here by yourself?” Harley asks her gently.

“Uhm, my class and I are on a tour, but it looks like they forgot me.”

Harley and Ivy steered her towards an abandoned sofa and sat on either side of her. They soon got her to spill what’s happened. Harley went into ‘therapist’ mode. Marinette didn’t know how long she was talking about her problems, but she soon had her head in Harley’s lap while Harley strokes her hair.

Once all of the tears have been shed. Marinette showed them her designs. Some based on Gotham architecture, some based on the vigilantes, finally presenting outfits based on them. Ivy and Marinette start talking about making an eco friendly fabric. Harley knoticed what time it is and walks over to the door. She bangs on it a few times to get someone’s attention.

[[More]]

“What is it?”

“You know that French tour from earlier?”

“Yeah what about it?”

Harley moves enough for him to see Marinette talking passionately with Ivy. “I think that left someone behind.”

The worker pales drastically. They ran like a bat outta hell to get their superiors. This news ran up the chain of command until it got to Gordon.

Gordon was having a stressful evening. The Joker recently escaped, there were more muggings this past week than usual, and now he gets a call from Arkham. Only telling him to get over there as fast as possible. Not knowing what he is going up against he called Batman.

Batman and Red Hood arrived at Arkham. As they approach Gordon to see what’s going on they hear a worker panically describing how he found a French child in the room surrounded by the inmates. Red Hood demands to know which room. Once getting the info they both rush to the room. They were expecting the worse: torturing, beatings, crying. What they were NOT expecting is a small French girl braiding Poison Ivy’s hair while having Harley Quinn braid her own hair.

“The riddler should be shot and his clothes should be burned, then the ashes have to be scattered at the four corners of the world. The different shade of green on that man is more than a forest. Like, having a green themed outfit is fine. Wearing it everyday is fine. But what is NOT FINE is whereing every shade of green PLUS purple question marks. It’s like he’s asking to be slapped!” Marinette ranted.

Red Hood grabbed Batman’s shoulder and pulled him out of the room. He turned fully to Batman, placing both hands on his shoulders, he started shouting. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO ADOPT HER! DO YOU HEAR ME! SHE IS TOO PURE AND INNOCENT! I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO CORRUPT HER!”

Batman just brushes him off and (glides? Shadow melts? Skulks?) into the room.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I ask what is going on?”

Marinette yelps in suprise. Spinning around to come face-to-face with the dark knight himself. “Uh-um-I-I-I-“

“She won a scholarship for her class. They were taking a tour today and left her behind. She said she has been bullied by the class for a while, and there is this one girl lying about everything.” Harley intervened for Marinette.

“Hmmm, you won the Martha Wayne scholarship?” Marinette nods shyly. Batman kneels down to be eye level with Mari. “What’s your name?”

Marinette looks at him and smiles brightly. “My name’s Marinette.”

After being dazzled by her bright, sunshine smile. (Red Hood is in the background being the dramatic ass he is shielding his eyes and yelling “TOO BRIGHT”) Batman then speaks up. “Your class wasn’t supposed to tour Arkham.”

Marinette freezes. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Arkham is far too dangerous to tour. Who decided that the class was to come her.” Batman questioned her as they walked towards the door.

Before she could answer Harley interrupted. “Oi, Batsy! You can’t adopt her! She is our baby!”

“That isn’t up to you Harley.” Batman retorted.

“I told you earlier Bats, you’re not adopting another one” Hood spoke up.

“B-b-but I already have parents” Marinette informs them.

“It’s ok sweet pea we adopted you emotionally.” Ivy soothes.

“Ok let’s go inform Gordon what happened.” Red Hood directs her to the commissioner while Batman stepped away to make a few calls. He then calls Marinette’s parents, and tells them what happened. They give him permission to watch over their daughter.

By the time he walks back to where Marinette is, both her and Red Hood are ready to go. Hood helps Marinette into the back of the Batmobile, then climbs in next to Batman. Batman then turns to Marinette. “I called Mr. Wayne and informed him of what happened. He told me to bring you to his house, he wants to know what made yours class think you had a to of Arkham.”

“Thank you Mr. Batman.”

Marinette gets out of the batmobile and meets Alfred at the door. Batman calls Red Robin. “Red Robin I want you to find out why the class went to Arkham today.”

“10-4 B”.

By the time everyone returned from the cave Red Robin had what he needed.

“So it turns out one of the students made a fake email, under your name and told the teacher that they had a tour that was left off of the schedule. Then sent an email to Arkham to have them expect them.”

“Who was the student?”

“A Lila Rossi.”

“Hmmmm it seems like we will have to keep an eye on the situation.”

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

Ok so now it’s a few days later and the class is at Wayne Enterprise taking a tour. When the Riddler suddenly takes them hostage.

“Which one of you is Marinette?” Riddlers demanded

The class has no hesitation when pushing Marinette into the him. Marinette quickly regains her balance and squared up to him.

“What do you want with me.”

The Riddler gets close to her face in a dramatically scary way. Then quickly backs up and shows off his outfit. “I heard you don’t think I’m stylish.”

This is all the invitation that Marinete needed. She lays into him. No mercy.

“Absolutely. It’s worse in person than in the pictures!”

The Riddler gasps dramatically. “How dare-“

“Oh I dare. I dare I can redesign your entire wardrobe and make it look 10 times better.”

As all the hostages are being saved the class tries to leave, only to be stopped by an officer.

“Ma’am I’m sorry but you have to stay and give your statements.”

Bustier was insisting that it was too dangerous for them to stay there. If the police want their statements then they can come to their hotel and get them. The officer motions to the bus driver to not leave. The bus driver is more than happy to stay put. He is sick and tired of this ungrateful class.

Not too long after, Marinette and the Riddler walk out. The Riddler looks excited about his new clothes. He is so ready he heads straight to Gordon. He asks Gordon if he can have a package delivered to Arkham. Gordon is suspicious until Marinette shows him her designs. Gordon agrees.

As everyone is giving their statements Lois Lane arrives. Alya is extatic, she thanks Lila for getting her an interview with her idol. Only to turn around and see her idol interviewing Marinette.

Lois marches towards the girl who seems to be at the center of all this. A small girl standing next to the Riddler. She approaches her and asks for an interview. The girl agrees but apologizes in advance for any miscommunication between them. Lois asks her what happened. Marinette explained how the Riddler came to see if she really didn’t like his clothes and how she ended up redesigning them.

“But how would he know you didn’t like them?”

“Maybe Aunt Harley and Aunt Ivy told him?” Marinette shrugs.

“Wait! As in Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy?! How do you know them?!”

“Oh we met when my class left me behind in Arkham.” Marinette says nonchalantly.

Everyone around them freezes.

Caline quickly comes over and starts telling Lois that “you can’t trust everything she says. We are from France, so she most likely misunderstood you.” She continues to try and pass of Marinette as incompetent, troubled, attention seeking, and being a bad role model for the other students. All of this is caught on camera.

Bustier then roughly guides Marinette back to the class.

As Lois is processing this, the officer that stopped the class from leaving came over and explained what the class did. Leaving that same student behind in a hostage situation, then demanding to leave. Lois is horrified.

Both she and the officer go to Gordon and ask if they can use the body cameras of the officers there in the story.

Gordon immediately agrees. Once he knows why.

The story ran that very night.

#maribat au #maribat #aunt harley #aunt ivy #riddler is too green #caline salt #bustier salt #caline bustier salt #lila salt #class salt

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starlocked01 · 3 years

Text

The Black Coffee Widower

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 3- Coffee Shop

WC: 4.2K

Summary: Virgil works the late-night shift at the local coffee shop. That's where he poisons and picks up his victims. He wasn't ready for the one who didn't fight back.

Content Warnings (there's a lot today): Serial Killer/Coffee Shop AU Unsympathetic Virgil, Poisoning, Kidnapping, Swearing, Gun Violence, Negative Self-talk, Self Hatred, Murder and Attempted Murder, Implied Sexual content. Sexual innuendo, referenced rape, referenced mutilation, Strangulation, Hospitals, Police

@dukexietyweek

The simple fact was that they glowed. Virgil had long ago given up on trying to explain it to himself; they just glowed when he saw them. It was like a premonition- a beautiful soft light that needed to be contained lest it sullied the rest of the world by leaving it dim and grungy in comparison.

Virgil was grungy. He knew very well he didn't and would never glow as they did. Maybe that was the reason why. Maybe if he ever had to tell someone why he did it, he'd tell them that.

He killed them because they glowed and no one should be able to glow.

However, he'd never cared all that much about the whys. The hows were so much more fun. How did he pick his victims? Easy. They glowed and walked in at the wrong time. How did a weak, little, pathetic loser subdue the perfect glowing people? Bitter coffee was a perfect cover for bitter poisons. How did he end their lives? Any way he pleased.

How did he avoid detection? A healthy dose of anxiety kept him careful. Too many of the brightest glowing people escaped because they'd be missed. He never went by his legal name anywhere. He stayed patient and alert. He was the nobody that no one could ever remember. Playing barista sucked but it was the perfect cover. No one ever suspected the sulky, little, dimwitted worker stuck on the insomniacs shift at the quiet little 24-hour cafe. And no one ever really noticed if the store's hours were a bit unpredictable between 2 am and 4 am. That was the best time for hunting; it worked and Virgil wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

---

Virgil knelt, his latest catch already unconscious and tied up behind the counter when the doorbell chimed. Cursing at himself for forgetting to lock the door, Virgil grabbed a refill pack of napkins and stood cautiously. He gasped, finding the man who had entered shone twice as brightly as the woman he already had tied up. Certain that Miss Double-Soy-Latte-with-Hazelnut-Syrup-and-Whipped-Cream-you-got-that-Sugar? wasn't about to wake up and cause a scene, Virgil watched the man as he studied the menu.

The first thing he would do is take the man’s studded wrist gauntlet and fishnet fingerless gloves. Those things couldn't belong to someone who glows. Virgil squinted and could just make out a loosely looped studded belt to match, hanging off the man’s hip and exposing his lack of undergarments. Virgil hungrily followed the curve of that hip with his eyes up to the man's stomach peeking out underneath the ragged edge of a homemade cropped band t-shirt. He wanted to punch that stomach, to feel what it was like when the man tensed and when he stayed soft in compliance.

Next, he stared at shapely arms crossed in front of the man's chest. Those arms looked strong as a vice and he wondered how much effort it would take to break those delicate bones to render the muscles useless. Would he break first?

The man wore a sleeveless leather vest, displaying a museum's worth of inkwork, tentacles and snakes, and other writhing forms accented periodically with teeth and eyes and fangs and beaks. A rendition of the Harry Potter Death Eater mark set into the shoulder and tattooed thorns circled his neck. Virgil found himself getting hot under the collar and decided two in one night would be a fun challenge.

It was hard to see the man’s face until he flashed Virgil a brilliantly blinding smile as if on cue. The smile was all the sign Virgil needed to know this man would die tonight. He was practically begging Virgil to save him from the light radiating from his face. His gorgeous, handsome, wild-eyed face.

Virgil wanted so badly to touch the messy, overdue 5 o'clock shadow, to feel the scars left by razor nicks and frequent skin irritation. He wanted to wipe away the heavy eyeliner and mascara, run dirty fingers through greasy, dyed hair. He wanted those eyes to see him for who he is so he could spare them the pain of hoping there had been another ending once he'd entered the shop.

If the stranger was uncomfortable with his intense gaze, he certainly didn't show it as he approached the counter. Virgil squirmed as a cacophony of overlapping mismatched beats of a second hand overwhelmed his entire sense of hearing. Looking down, he quickly spotted a wristwatch on the unconscious woman's wrist and stepped on it to deaden the maddening sound. Soon all he could hear was the new customer's watch ticking erratically as though it needed to be wound up.

"Heya, kitten! Like what you see, baby?" the man smirked at Virgil as he leaned down on the counter and made sultry suggestive eyes at him.

"Excuse me?" Virgil hissed, recoiling from the familiarity.

"Woah, kitty's got claws huh?" the man giggled. Virgil stiffened, well aware how close the man could come to looking down and spotting the woman. And if he attempted to turn him in it wouldn't end pretty. He didn't want to have to clean up the shop after a struggle before having his fun.

"What are you ordering?" Virgil asked tersely.

"Me-ow. Guess you don't swing my way- darn. I bet you've got a totally bodacious booty too," the man batted his eyelashes at Virgil.

"That isn't on the menu. Order or get lost, yeah?" Virgil growled, trying to seem as disinterested in the enticing man as he could manage.

"Right. Seven shots of espresso, a shot of creamer, and a shot of the pineapple ginger concentrate, s'il vous plait," the man listed off as though he'd ordered the same thing a hundred times.

Virgil froze, unsure how to ring up the disgusting concoction, "what the hell? What kind of drink is that?"

"It's like me. One of a kind," the man beamed, brushing bleached silver hair out of his eyes, "can you handle that, kitty kat?"

"Stop with the pet names," Virgil rolled his eyes and finished inputting the drink, "um.. that will be… $6.69."

"Eyo! Sixty niiiiiiine," the man giggled emphatically while pulling out his money to pay.

Virgil rolled his eyes, "childish. Name for the order?"

"Uh, your phone number."

"What?"

"Damn you don't take hints!" the man placed one hand on his chest and bowed with a flourish, "my name is Remus, and I think you're very cute, kitty kat."

"You are maddening! Just call me Virgil!" he snapped, getting a cup ready to prepare the last drink Remus would ever have, "it's gonna take a minute to pull all those shots. Gosh… that much caffeine could kill you…" Virgil smirked at his own joke.

Remus took the smirk for a friendly smile and grinned, "I got all night for you, Virgil."

"That's cute. I'll let you know when it's ready," Virgil smiled, making direct eye contact as he added his favorite blend of sedatives to Remus’s cup.

It only took 30 seconds before Remus hit the floor with a confused grunt. Virgil was almost impressed the man had downed half the drink in one gulp. Moving quickly, Virgil locked the shop and dragged Remus back behind the counter, binding and gagging the flirtatious idiot. Tonight was going to be so special.

---

It hadn’t been easy, moving both bodies- cursing his weak, pathetic self the entire time. He made sure to dose both of them again after stashing them in the trunk so he could go back and finish out his shift.

He smiled pleasantly at the officers who stopped by just before the morning shift, careful to not give them any reason to be suspicious as he packed up day-old donuts and prepared two drinks nearly as caffeinated as Remus’s drink had been but significantly less poisoned. But still a little poisoned because fuck the police.

It took every muscle in Virgil’s body to not run gleefully to the car when the morning shift came to relieve him from work. He hid his excitement behind his usual persona of snarky disinterest and exhaustion until he was safely in the car and blasting his favorite CD on the drive home.

Pulling directly into the garage, Virgil shut down the car and giggled as the door shut slowly on his prisoners' last hope for rescue. Working at a leisurely pace, Virgil dragged first Remus then the woman down into his basement, both drowsy and barely able to make a complaint. It only seemed fair they die in the order they'd been caught so Virgil laid Remus out on the couch while he tied the woman down to his workbench.

The woman began to moan pathetically just as Virgil was tying down the last limb. It was not a moment too soon. He chuckled to himself and smacked her face a few times to help her wake up.

"Look alive, sunshine! You won't be much longer, I'm afraid," Virgil quipped as she blinked awake and started to panic at the restraints holding her down.

God, he hated when they screamed almost as much as he hated the watches. Virgil waited as long as he could stand the high-pitched whining pleas for freedom and help before loudly shushing until she quieted.

"Shh! Stop yelling or I will restrict your breathing," Virgil hissed, laying a prohibitive finger to her lips, "I promise you'll live longer if you stay quiet."

"You'll let me go?"

"No. I'll just take my time," Virgil smirked as the color drained from her face and her lip began to quiver, "ohh. Ohh, don't be so dramatic, sweetheart. It's time to grow up and realize death is inevitable."

Virgil laughed as she started screaming again, only turning away when Remus stirred from his sleep.

"Oh, dear. You've woken up my other guest. Now you know, he's special. You're going to have the life choked out of you, slowly but surely, but he gets to lose a lot more than his life. Count yourself lucky, sweetheart." Virgil turned to examine the man on the couch again as he blearily blinked up at him.

"You coulda'sked, kitkat," Remus mumbled nearly incomprehensibly. Virgil tilted his head in confusion as he watched Remus. The man slowly regained awareness, and even as Virgil stood above him with a hard frown, he smiled back up at his captor.

"What the hell are you getting on about?" Virgil asked with a growl, hoping to startle that unsettling grin off Remus’ face.

Remus laughed, "you coulda just asked if you wanted to do a scene, cutie! Although I love the attention to realism. Like you actually drugged me to bring me home!"

Virgil stared, completely in shock at what he was hearing, "wait.. you think…"

"That you were too shy to ask me out so you drugged me and dragged me back home? Yes," Remus nodded enthusiastically, "if you have some whips and an electric hand mixer we can have some real fun, you sexy little kitten!" Remus bumped his eyebrows suggestively, leaving Virgil absolutely stunned.

"What is going on here?!?" the woman on the table cried out.

"Shut the hell up!" Virgil barked back at her, too confused to do much more than stare at Remus. Why did he like this? Why did Virgil like that Remus liked this? He felt hot and confused but also certain about one thing he absolutely wanted.

Experimentally he reached down and laid his hand on Remus’ exposed stomach. Watching Remus for his reaction, Virgil slowly slid his hand along the skin and up to Remus’s chest. Remus shut his eyes with a smile and shivered at the touch, "oh yeah, baby. I can purr for you, kitty. Anything you want."

Virgil inhaled sharply, pulling back his hand and looking back at the other prisoner as she lay whimpering on the table.

Well shit, what was he supposed to do with a captive audience?

---

Virgil didn't know what he'd been thinking, letting Remus go after all was said and done. Remus had been fun and so down for all of his sickest fantasies, supplying quite a few of his own. He'd stolen Remus’ watch and put it on the woman's body before shooting both timepieces on her wrist. The ticking had probably driven him to let Remus go. That had to explain it

He dumped the woman as far as he possibly could and hoped beyond reason that Remus wouldn't recognize her in the news and realized what he'd done. For a week he lived in fear of the cops showing up at work or worse his house, armed with search warrants and one hell of a witness. For a week, nothing happened.

It turned out he'd worried for nothing. Just when Virgil began to itch again to get rid of another glowing being, despite the police pressure pushing him to lay low, Remus came back in during his shift.

"Hello, my little purrrfect kitten!" Remus beamed as he walked into the shop.

Virgil froze and slowly turned back to face him, "you- you came back?"

"Mhm. Never got your number but I wanted to see you again, Virgie. Figured we could have some more fun this time," Remus smirked as he leaned casually against the counter, "one usual with the special sauce please!"

"Special sauce?" Virgil asked, still amazed Remus had even come back to the cafe.

"You know," Remus leaned in close and whispered, "the stuff that knocks me out so you can take me home and we can get it on freakier than my last BDSM club"

"Wow, you- you liked it that much?" Virgil let out a low whistle. He studied Remus again, stricken by the fact he didn't glow so much this time. Even though Virgil wanted to take care of another glowing bastard, he was so much more interested in this willing abductee.

"Yeah, I did! That shit's hot as fuck!" Remus beamed. Virgil checked the time on his terminal display and realized it was nearly the time his least favorite police patrons would be making their morning run.

"Look, uh… why don't we save the tranqs for my place?" Virgil smirked as he started to prepare Remus’ strange order, "I'm amazed this drink doesn't put you in a coma already."

Remus giggled, "sometimes it takes a little something extra to get the heart pumping, yeah?"

"Hm. Well, I get off in two hours-"

"I'll be sitting right here in the corner then. I wanna get to know you, Virgie."

"A horrible mistake for you, really," Virgil laughed, heart fluttering far too much.

"Plus I think I left my watch at your place…"

"I haven't seen it this week. We can look though," Virgil lied smoothly, knowing very well the police had the timepiece in evidence.

Remus kept flirting as Virgil cleaned the store and served the early morning crowd, true to his word about waiting to leave with Virgil. They walked out to his car and Remus held out his arm expectantly when they sat down.

"What?" Virgil asked suspiciously.

"You're off the clock, let's get this party started. Surely you have the special stuff in here- you injected me last time."

Virgil flushed, "um.. really? You don't want to wait to know where we're going first?"

"How am I supposed to pretend I'm getting kidnapped if you don't knock me out? At least tie my hands?" Remus bat his eyes at Virgil who rolled his eyes and leaned over to grab a scarf out of the glove box.

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah but you like it, kitten."

---

Logan stared at the evidence bored, absolutely baffled. In 5 months there had been 18 victims, a consistent signature, and every promise that someone would turn up with a connection to this perp. Or someone should know where these folks had been headed when they fell into the unsub's trap.

And then after Lydia with the two watches- nothing. No bodies were found for weeks. No whisperings of the media-named Black Widower who aggressively mutilated his male victims almost beyond recognition after raping them and humiliated the women after strangling them with silk scarves.

"I just don’t understand. Guys like this don’t go dormant! It's against every drive they have. What are we missing, Patton?"

Patton looked up from his third cup of coffee, "I don't know, Lo. What about the two-unsub theory? Maybe they met up and are keeping each other occupied?"

Logan rolled his eyes, "oh sure. Two serial killers, one who's gay and one who hates women meet and start playing house. Real cute."

"It could happen…" Patton replied defensively, already reaching for a second donut as his partner glared disapprovingly.

"No. I think it's the same unsub. The watches are always shot while the victim wears them. It's consistent. It's a single, unique signature that the media still hasn't published. If it's two different killers, they knew about each other and were purposefully copying each other long before they went dormant."

"Well, I'm not going to complain that we aren't finding more victims. I'd rather people not be mysteriously killed and maimed by the Black Widower...s," Patton lifted his chin defiantly. He stood and walked over to the evidence board, studying the geographic profile again, the map showing a confusing cluster of dumpsites, victim's homes, and last sightings, and puzzled over the strangeness of the case.

"If this case goes cold, we may never find the unsub. He lives his life, free to decide to start again while all of his victims lay rotting in the ground. Their families don't deserve to live with that fear," Logan sighed heavily in near defeat, "of course I don’t want more victims. I want this man caught. Why did he suddenly stop?"

---

For a month, Remus had come in once or twice a week, asking Virgil for the secret sauce and flirting with him until the end of his shift. The randomness of his timing and anticipation of his visits made it impossible for Virgil to hunt. He didn't quite mind because seeing Remus was always better than the thrill of the kill.

Virgil finally relented and watched with quiet admiration as Remus celebrated over getting his number, and their relationship only moved faster after that. Pretty soon Remus was able to convince him to go on an actual date after work, grabbing breakfast at a nearby diner and hitting up his apartment afterward. Virgil had rarely spent so long away from his own home, but being out with Remus made him feel almost normal.

Media slowly stopped covering the Black Widower and Virgil smiled to himself just imagining how frustrated the police must be that they couldn't find him.

Virgil was happy, laying next to his boyfriend who loved him despite almost every eccentricity. He almost believed nothing could go wrong with Remus there.

"Uh, kit kat? I have a bit of a confession to make," Virgil winced, cursing himself for being so naive to believe that foolish sentiment.

"What’s up, dukey?" Virgil rolled to his side to face his boyfriend, "you can tell me anything."

"I don't- promise you won't get mad or like.. react badly?" Remus asked quietly, alarming Virgil even more.

He gently laid a hand on Remus’ neck and rubbed that roughened cheek with his thumb, "what's going on, Rem? You're scaring me."

Remus visibly gulped and whispered, "I know what happened to my watch. Virgil, I've always known.."

Virgil pulled back slowly. So this is what it actually felt like to be caught. His heart hammered in his throat, making a verbal reply impossible. He strained to not start crushing Remus’ throat and his own heart in his panic. This was love and this was a threat and god the way Remus looked at him right now only complicated everything else so much more.

He wasn't scared. He wasn't wriggling away from Virgil’s touch. Remus stared death in the eye unflinchingly.

He'd always figured his boyfriend must be brave or stupid, but Virgil hadn't counted on both.

"I know… what you are… and I still fell in love with you, Virgil. If you're gonna… could you at least drug me first and let me kiss you with my last breath?"

Very quickly several pieces fell into place as Virgil stared at the man who loved him despite every flaw and couldn't even beg for his own safety or life.

Remus knew what happened the night they met.

Remus had made the connections to the other murders and the subsequent drought of victims.

Remus could have turned him in- directly to the officers at the shop a half dozen times and a hundred other times when they weren’t spending time together.

Remus loved him.

Remus loved him and was scared of this confrontation.

Remus was not scared of dying.

Killing his boyfriend would be the exact link the cops would need to capture him.

Not killing his boyfriend for knowing his secret would be the largest risk imaginable.

Virgil couldn’t live without Remus

His hand was slowly choking Remus out despite his reluctance to take action.

Virgil gasped and pushed Remus away roughly, darting out of the bed and down the hall. He didn't stop until he heard Remus calling out for him.

Shit.

"Virgil!" his voice came out hoarse and painfully weak sounding. Virgil knew he should run.

But Remus was calling for him. And this was his fault.

"Virgil?" it was a question, asked in a voice that couldn't get enough air to support itself. He could leave and Remus would probably die a very painful death, all alone, with his fingers and palm emblazoned in the bruising that would provide the cause of death.

Remus loved him. He couldn't let this be the end.

Virgil flew back into the bedroom, grabbed the landline, and made the call.

"Remus, I am so sorry. Just keep breathing, baby. I am so so sorry!" Virgil apologized profusely, waiting for the emergency operator to pick up.

---

Hospital staff had to pry Virgil from Remus’ side as they moved him quickly into the O.R. Virgil paced and wondered how exactly to explain Remus’s injuries without getting arrested to distract himself from the fear that Remus would die in surgery.

He should have never let himself get so close to someone so smart and funny and perfect and… glowing. Virgil sat and waited for the doctor's verdict, pulling his hood over his eyes to block out the throngs of injured, sick, frantically glowing people around him.

Ages passed until Virgil heard his name and looked up suddenly for the source. A doctor and a police officer stood before him and all of the adrenaline in his body screamed that he needed to run.

"Uh.. how is he, doc?" Virgil asked, fighting himself to not scream or make a scene.

"Remus Crowne is currently in recovery and you may visit him. Due to the nature of his injuries, we have contacted the police to speak with him first," the doctor intoned, voice dripping with suspicion.

The officer took the pause to speak up, "would you like to make a statement, Mr. Kier?"

"I just want to see him," Virgil replied in a raspy voice, shaking his head in denial as he stood.

"Very well. This way, sir," the doctor led Virgil and the officer back towards the recovery rooms. When they arrived, Virgil nearly choked seeing Remus talking with the same two officers who came into his shop each morning. The shorter one knelt beside the bed to hold Remus’ hand. He spoke softly and asked all the questions while his partner stood tall and took notes, looking incredulously at the injured man. Virgil instinctively wanted to barge in and protect Remus from these pigs but the third held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Before long the two officers left the room, eyeing Virgil disdainfully. He waited for the words that would send his world crashing around him even more than it already had.

"You- you can go in now, hon," Virgil's head tilted in confusion as the third officer let him go, "just be more careful in the future."

"I- what? No charges?" Virgil barely whispered, glancing towards the bed where Remus laid watching the tv.

"Believe me, if it had been me, I don’t care how consensual- I would have pressed charges for sending me to the E.R. have a good day, sir. Come along, Patton." The stricter-looking cop turned, gesturing to the kinder one and all three left quickly. Virgil beamed and ran to Remus’ side.

"You're welcome, kitten," Remus coughed and reached for Virgil’s hand.

"I'm so sorry- I didn't want to, Rem-"

"Shhhh. I told them it was a sex fantasy gone a bit too far. If I'd known you liked strangling dudes too-"

"Now you shush!" Virgil leaned in close, "you get better fast now, okay?"

"I always wanted to date a serial killer.. promise you won't leave me over this?" Remus grinned weakly up at Virgil, "I could help you, ya know."

"Shhhh this is just the pain meds talking. You don’t know a serial killer," Virgil laughed as tears of relief streamed down his cheeks. He gave Remus a dramatic stage wink and held his hand securely.

"Aww, you're right. I'm just stuck with a pretty boy who doesn't know his own strength," Remus grinned and watched Virgil rather than the tv until a nurse came to shoo his boyfriend away for the night.

Remus couldn't wait for their first hunt together.

#dukexietyweek2021 #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #serial killer au #coffee shop au #please please please mind the content warning #please remember that reblogs help more than likes ^ ^#shit i'm like 10 minutes late nooooo

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spencerreidslove · 4 years

Text

Let’s Be Bad

A/N: I was rewatching season 6 episode 13 “The Thirteenth Step” when it hit me. What if Spencer and Y/N were a crime duo being hunted by the BAU? So this idea was born. This fic is my baby and probably one of the longest things I have ever written. There is mentions of aclchol, a couple sexual themes, and normal Criminal Minds case stuff, so be aware. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 with their interrogation and stuff.

————-

“Buckle up crime fighters, because this one is bad.” Garcia said, standing up at the board. She clicked the remote to show a murder scene, four bodies in total, in a totally destroyed gas station.

“Not only did our bad guy murder four people last night in Chandler, Arizona, the police believe that he also did this.”

Gracia clicked her remote and the picture changed to another scene, six bodies this time, in a drugstore.

“A massacre just outside of Las Vegas, three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks is a long cooling off period.” Rossi said.

“M.O’s the same, though. All shot in the head and then all dragged into a line, store totally destroyed.” Prentiss said.

“With last night’s murder bringing the body count up to 10, the police need our help now. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch said, standing up from the table.

“Seriously? You want to go somewhere cold?” Spencer asked as you made your way into a small sandwich shop, just over the Utah border.

“Yes! Imagine waking up on Christmas Day to a white Christmas.” You said, wrapping your arms around one of Spencer’s.

“Where would we go that’s like that?” He asked, looking up at the menu, printed on a board.

“Wyoming. Up in the mountains. It’s nice there. We’ll get a cabin, live up there, together.”

“Alright,” Spencer said, smiling. “We’ll go to Wyoming. After.” He put one of his arms around your shoulders.

“After.” You agreed.

The two of you made your way to the counter, where a man, no older than 20 or so was waiting.

“What can I get you?” He asked, cleaning a spot on the counter.

He looked up and immediately his eyes latched onto yours.

Spencer said his sandwich order, but the boy didn’t seem to hear him. He was too busy staring at you, making you very uncomfortable.

“Hey.” Spencer said, slamming his hand on the counter. This seemed to knock the boy out of his trance.

“Sorry.” The boy said, still not taking his eyes off you.

“Take your eyes off my girlfriend and take our orders.” Spencer said, getting angrier.

“Sorry, she’s just like really pretty.” The boy said. Under his breath he mumbled, “I don’t see how she ended up with you.”

“That’s it.” Spencer said. He reached into his waistband and pulled out his pistol. Spencer quickly shot the boy in the head, and then turned to the other two patrons in the store. He quickly shot them, and then started moving to put them in a line.

This wasn’t the plan. You had only killed 2 days ago, the police would be quick to link you to this murder. But, Spencer sometimes had a temper and when it took over, there was no going back.

You pulled out your own pistol, and shot the remaining store worker who had come out from the back room.

“I’ll line them up.” You said to Spencer. “Go clear the security cameras.”

Spencer nodded and went into the back room. You spent the next few minutes lining the bodies up in a row. When you went into the back room, you saw Spencer toying with the panel that controlled the cameras.

The cameras quickly went blank, and only showed dark screens.

“I’m so glad you’re smart enough to know how to do that.” You said.

“IQ of 187 sweetheart.” Spencer said. “C’mon, let’s get going before the cops show up.”

“Hotch!” Emily called putting across the parking lot. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

Hotch turned his attention from the local police officer to Emily.

“A witness was next door at the craft store and saw a man and woman leave the sandwich shop together a couple of minutes after the gunfire.” Emily said.

“We’re looking for a man and woman killing team?” Hotch asked.

Emily shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Another witness said he saw the back of the liscine plate from across the street.” Morgan said, coming up to the group. “He didn’t get any numbers but he saw it was from Nevada.”

“Makes sense of their first murder was in Vegas.” Emily said.

“Prentiss, make sure the witness who saw the man and woman gets to a sketch artist. Morgan, see if the man remembers what type of car they were driving, then see if Garcia can find anybody from Nevada who drives that model.” Hotch said, directing out tasks.

“Going from three weeks to a 2 day cooling period is a massive deescalation.” Rossi said. “Something in that shop must’ve set them off.”

“You said the security cameras were wiped?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah, you can’t even access them now.” Rossi said.

“Get then to Garcia, she’s the only person who might be able to get them back and working”.

“They’ve found out that we’re a man and a woman team.” You said, calling out to Spencer, who was in the bathroom. You were laying on the bed in a random hotel, watching the news, where a blonde woman was talking about your most recent murder.

“Doesn’t matter. They haven’t linked us to the others, have they?” Spencer asked, coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“They don’t have a clue.” You said.

“Good. For all they know we just shoot random people. They have no clue about the others.” He said.

You smiled as he came over beside you and started kissing your neck. “They’re never gonna get us.” He said.

You laughed a little as Spencer nicked lower on your neck.

“They’re too stupid to know what we’ve done.” You said. You could feel Spencer smile as he continued his kisses lower.

“What have you got Garcia?” Hotch asked to the laptop that was sitting on a table in the local police precinct.

“Not a lot, sir. Whoever wiped these cameras is some kind of genius. It’s nearly impossible to get the footage. And I am a cyber genius.” Garcia said.

“So you can’t get any footage off them?”

“Sir, I said it was nearly impossible. I will have this footage recovered wether it kills me. Au revoir!” Garcia said, signing off.

“These sketches aren’t helpful in the slightest.” Prentiss said dropping the pictures on the table. “The witness said she only saw the side profile of the woman and the man had sunglasses on and was faced away from her for most of the time.”

Hotch sighed. “We don’t have enough.”

“Ok, why these people? Why these places? They’re clearly going somewhere, but where is that?” Morgan asked.

“We have too many questions and not enough answers.” JJ said.

You were laying across the backseat of the car, your head in Spencer’s lap. You were drinking some kind of random alcohol Spencer had picked up straight out of the bottle.

“I can’t believe we’re here.” Spencer said, stroking your hair and looking out of the window.

“I could’ve waited.” You said.

Your car was parked down the street from your childhood home. It was your brother’s birthday and you knew he would be home. It was finally time to exact your revenge, just had Spencer did.

“Y/N, c’mon. It’ll be good for him to be gone.” Spencer said. “Plus, I get to see your childhood room in all its glory.”

You laughed a little and shoved him lightly. “You got it?” You asked.

Spencer moved as he reachedfor his bag in the front seat. He pulled out a small vile of poison. “Wouldn’t forget it.”

You slowly sat up. “We have a birthday party to attend.”

“Oh!” Garcia cried, looking at her computer screen.

She quickly reached over and dialed for Hotch’s phone number. “What have you got, Garcia?”

“I got the footage back! It took a lot of work and a lot of trouble but I got it! It’s already sent to your tablets.”

Hotch picked up the tablet and clicked play on the video Garcia sent him. In the video, a young man and woman were walking into a sandwich shop, talking and holding hands.

“Keep an eye on those customers that just walked in.” Garcia said.

They reached the counter and engaged in a heated discussion with a worker.

“There’s no sound on the original video, so I don’t know what they’re saying.” Garcia said.

The man took a pistol out of his waistband and shot the worker, and then turned and shop the other customers. The woman reached and grabbed a pistol and shop the other employee that had come running out.

The woman began lining the bodies up while the man disappeared into the back room. The woman joined him, and then the cameras went dark.

“Garcia, run their faces, see if anything comes up.” Hotch said.

“Already on it. If they have ever been photographed, I will find their entire life.”

Hotch let out a sigh of relief.

They finally had a break in the case.

“I’m nervous.” You said. You and Spencer were standing on the front porch of your childhood house, waiting to ring the bell.

“It’ll be fine. We get in, act all friendly, and then we put it into their drinks, and then we get out.” Spencer said, coming over and rubbing your back.

“Alright.” You said, ringing the doorbell.

There was a moment before somebody came to the door. “Y/N?” A woman asked on the other side of the door.

“Hi, Mom.” You said.

“I thought you said you’d never wanted to come back here again?” Your mom asked.

“Yeah, well things change.” You said. “This is Spencer, he’s coming in too.”

You and Spencer made your way past your mom into the living room where your brother and his wife were sitting.

“Y/N?” You brother asked.

“Max.” You said, addressing him. “Happy Birthday.” It took everything in your power not to slap him. He was the reason for all your suffering.

“It’s nice to see you.” He said, standing up and going to hug you. You flinched slightly, but still managed to hug him back. He squeezed you just a little too tightly.

“And who’s this?” Max asked, looking at Spencer.

“Spencer.” You said.

Max sighed and shook his head. “Never one to elaborate.” He stuck out his hand for Spencer to shake.

Spencer kindly shook it back, giving Max just the slightest smile.

“Happy Birthday.” Spencer said.

You caught Spencer’s eye as Max moved to sit back down. It would be a happy birthday, just not for Max.

“We are looking for a man and woman killing team, they are most likely in a relationship and are on a mission.” Hotch said, standing in front of the local PD.

“At this time we do not know what their mission is, but we believe they are on a trip to reach that point. They started in Nevada, and were last seen in Utah. They could be headed for any of the surrounding states, including back to Nevada or Arizona.” Prentiss said.

“They are rapidly devolving, as they went from having a three week cooling off period, to two days. We don’t know when they’ll strike again and have to catch them sooner rather than later.” Rossi said.

“All of their attacks have been in small stores; a drug store, a gas station, a sandwich shop. We believe they choose these places due to personal connection to one. Whoever they are going after probably owns a small store.” Morgan said.

“With that in mind, we suggest all owners of small stores who know somebody who looks like this, to keep an eye out. Do not try to approach them, they are armed and dangerous.” JJ said, from her place outside, briefing the news.

“Everybody keep an eye out and be vigilant.” Hotch said.

The crowd dispersed. Morgan’s phone began to ring.

“Talk to me Babygirl.” He said, answering.

“Well, tall dark and handsome I have some great news for you. I got a hit off the faces from the security feed.” Garcia said.

Morgan put her on speakerphone and the team gathered around to listen.

“Your man is Spencer Reid. Child prodigy from Las Vegas, he graduated high school at age 12 and his IQ tests 187. He dropped out of college at age 16 due to the fact that his mother’s schizophrenia was getting worse. Reid became her full time caregiver until around age 25, when he sighned her up for a new drug test that involved her living in a new campus.

“It seemed to be working, until a year ago when the main Doctor administered a new drug cocktail that was not FDA approved, and ended up killing Reid’s mother and several other patients.” Garcia said.

“Garcia, where’s that doctor now? They might be going to kill him if they both lost a parent.” Rossi said.

“I would say yes, but it seems like they already have. Four weeks ago the doctor, his wife, and son were found dead in their apartment from cyanide poisoning.” Garcia said.

“What about the girl?” Prentiss asked.

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is from Silverton, Colorado. She was working in a casino in Vegas until around a month ago.”

“Must be how they met.” Morgan said.

“She filed several cases against her older brother Max Y/L/N for physical abuse, but the charges were dropped everytime. From the looks of her hospital records it was bad.”

“They’ve exacted their revenge on Reid’s nemesis, now they want revenge for Y/N. Garcia what’s Max’s address?” Hotch said.

“He won’t be there. On his wife’s Instagram it says they’re going home for his birthday. I’ve sent you that address.” Garcia said.

“We need to get there, and fast.” Rossi said.

Talking and laughing with your family for several hours was painful, and Spencer could tell. They had watched you suffer for years at the hands of your brother, and did nothing.

“Why don’t I refill everybody’s drinks?” You asked, standing up.

“I’ll help you.” Spencer said.

After you had collected everybody’s cups, you made your way to the kitchen where you filled everybody’s cups with what they had asked for.

Spencer pulled the cyanide vial out of his pocket, and put a little bit in each cup. When you returned to the living room, you handed everybody their cups and watched as they took drinks.

It would be a few minutes before the poison started to kick in, but you couldn’t wait.

After a few moments, your mom started to choke.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Your dad asked. Then he started to choke. After just a few seconds, everybody was on the floor, choking in pain.

You and Spencer quickly came around, grabbing phones and smashing them with your heels, making sure no one could call 911.

When you reached Max, you kicked his face. “That’s what you get you son of a bitch!”

You kicked him again, and again. Before you could do some more damage, Spencer grabbed your arm.

“We better get out of here, darling. We have a lot of ground to cover.” He said. You nodded and followed him out of the house, with one last slam of the door.

“Dammit!” Morgan said, entering the house and seeing that all members of the Y/L/N family were dead in the living room floor.

“They’ve already been here.”

“Hotch, these bodies are still warm, they can’t be far away.” Prentiss said. “We probably just missed them.”

“Hey! We just got a hit from APB, their car was seen headed twoards a hotel a few miles from here.” The local sheriff said.

“Dave stay here and figure out what happened, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, with me.” Hotch said.

You and Spencer we laying on your bed in your hotel room, drinking the same alcohol from earlier.

“You were right.” You said.

“I am about most things. Be more specific.” Spencer said, taking the bottle from you.

“That it would feel good to have him gone.” You said. “I already feel twenty times freer.”

“I knew you would.” Spencer said. He placed the bottle on the bed side table and rolled ove on top of you. “I know lots of things that would make you feel good.”

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door.

“Spencer Reid! Y/N Y/L/N! This is the FBI open the door!” A male voice called from the outside.

You and Spencer both looked at each other in terror.

Could they maybe have found us? Your eyes asked.

The door was suddenly knocked open and FBI agents were flooding into your room.

Spencer and you were being pulled apart and cuffed.

“Spencer Reid, Y/N Y/L/N, you are being charged with the murders of 21 people.” A serious looking man said.

“What?” You said. “You have the wrong people!”

“No we’re pretty sure we don’t.” A brunette woman said.

“You have to have the wrong people! We haven’t done anything!” Spencer said.

You were both being hauled up by the agents behind you.

“Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” The agent behind you said, reading off your Miranda rights.

Your eyes caught Spencer’s as you were pulled to separate police cars.

Could this really be it? You thought. It looked like it just might be.

Tags! (Open)

@rexorangecouny @magnificentmgg @rachelxwayne @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @just-damn-bored @andreasworlsboring101

#aaron hotchner #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #derek morgan #dr spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #mgg #spencer reid fanfic #penelope garcia #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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soranihimawari · 3 years

Text

Bella Donnas & Love

This is the final installment of the Hanahaki Disease AU featuring the Seijoh Four. This is a Mattsukawa Issei x Yin (YN/Reader) story.

Word Count: 4.3 K

Warnings: mentions of depression, suicidal attempts, mentions of burn out, and intrusive thoughts

Recommended Audience: 17+ (minors recommended to not read because of the warnings attached)

Pairing: Mattsukawa Issei x reader// MIA->MIF [Mattsukawa Issei angst to Mattsukawa Isei fluff]

Mattsukawa Issei is a simple man. He sees the world in copious amounts of black, white, and gray; it isn’t because he is colorblind either. It is because he knows his worth. Truthfully, his parental figures were always a bit worried about their son especially given the profession he has chosen to pursue. Being in the business of burning and or burying the dead, Mattsukawa Issei is a fan of the loneliest times in a lifetime: they say when we are brought into the world, we are alone, and when we pass on, we too exit the world alone. There is nothing wrong with finding a job in the business of death, but even angels have demons. And for Mattsukawa, you are an exquisite example of the dichotomy between his dark side and your eventual akin to the brighter side.

It is a known fact in Japan, the pressure to be perfect or to fit into the mold of society has been a fatal flaw throughout the years. This is the main reason why at exactly two fifty-five in the morning, Mattsukawa Issei notices a young person, hanging out on the edge of the skyscraper across his workplace. There was a late night arrival to the city morgue; he just needed to be there to sign the paperwork to turn over the embalming processes to his mentors. It was the deceased wishes to be buried in the mausoleum in the home town of their forefathers: the mountain side of Nagasaki.

You were having a rough day: you were told you by your employers that you’ve been slacking for too long getting numbers for the statistics presentation coming up with business partners across the South China Sea. Then your grandparent were strictly feeding toxic lies to your parent(s) about how you would never find a suitable partner to marry you. Quite frankly, because you put your career and studies first, you had no issues putting your family in their place. The intrusive thoughts, snide comments about your appearance, was enough for you to glance at the sleeping pills that were prescribed to you to assist in a normal pattern, to invade your subconscious. The events which led you to climb the fire escape up to the rooftop garden in your kitten heels made for a daring flirtation with death. There have been nights the last couple of months where your heart is heavy in your chest, your lungs are intoxicating you with the poisonous belladonna petals.

“What a time to find out I’m going to die a lot sooner than I thought,” you sighed into your palm. Your eyes scour the hazy city in the afterglow; after a tizzy of a day you had, you chose that perhaps this might be a sign of the universe you were better off dead. Either that or your soulmate would be in extreme pain and you didn’t want to disappoint their perception of your love. Then again, you wouldn’t know what love, honest, and kind would feel like even when you’re about to let it all go.

You are devoid of emotion as you bring yourself to your feet. A hand of yours drags across your face. The drop is high enough to entice little to severe damage like broken legs, or severe head trauma, but to be truly free, you wish to be put out of your misery as quickly as possible.

Mattsukawa sees the figure clad in a lighter powder blue and his eyes are wide with fear. The morgue worker and delivery driver had already gone off into the night to complete the rest of the deliveries of bodies to the funeral homes. As soon as he finished locking up and registering the corpses, Mattsukawa was determined to see your hair wind blowing on the rooftops. The blurred vision he sees makes the twenty-seven year old shiver. Even in his line of work, this was the second instance he wanted to save someone. He knew of you: the business woman who was suffering from a similar ailment to him. The belladonna hues from your rebellious highlights enticed him to notice how you seemed a bit off at the coffee house you frequent by the funeral parlour he had been working at.

“Excuse me,” you said, holding on to your mug. Your knuckles were white with tension, so Mattsukawa did something unexpected of himself: he gave you way, but instead of sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant cafe, he sat directly across from you. The crowd was getting to be a bit noisy, but you and him sat there staring off center, hyper fixating on the number of people sign in either direction.

“Why do you smell like belladonna?” You asked. You had a glance meet you with a harsh smile.

“It’s part of my line of work. I use it to bury the dead at the request for all nameless suiciders that wind up on my table,” Mattsukawa explains. The oils from his embalming course was enough to mimic actual belladonna, but has he noticed from her, it wasn’t coming from just his hands: it was coming from her hair. He asked a question about why you seemed so strung up lately and like a fool, you told him everything which was bothering you. If anything, this man was a silent confession box. He seemed like the genuine article, so when you check for the time, you realize it was time to leave and head back to the office to grab the final jump drive for the presentation. Things at work seemed to have gotten better since the next time you’d see your precious Mattsukawa would be in the next life. You never truly disclosed your name to him, so he made a note call you Bella or Donna (whichever you preferred really). His smile is flirtatiously coy and you felt your cheeks grow a bit warm from the moment he told you his name.

For whatever reason, perhaps Mattsukawa was feeling a bit lucky, he asked you to dinner the day before yesterday. He wanted to know you, truth and all, bruised and damaged as you were, the meds your doctor prescribed were starting to cushion the intrusive thoughts. However that changed the moment you give him a nod, he grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the cafe; gently he squeezes your fingers for reassurance.

“You’ll do great Miss. I believe in you,” Mattsukawa whispers in the last part. The cafe begins to echo again, so you couldn’t hear the last part, but you were sure it was an encouraging word. Mattsukawa was the first person in a long while to give you something so few in your battlefield mind would want (or need): hope.

“Goodbye Mattsukawa.”

With that said, you were gone from the cafe and headed back into the office where a different manager made your life hell because their normal assistant was very organized, but the constant comparison was enough to make your head explode.

Presently, you stand on the ledge, glancing down like a superhero vigilante, but just as you were about to take a dive, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist. The hands are interlocked under your empire waist line and if it wasn’t for the fact your hair was probably in a ponytail prior to this predicament, you’re sure your band was lost to gravity and the wind. You thrashed about in your captor’s arms, not realizing this person was about to save you from an awful mistake.

You see, Mattsukawa Issei is a funeral employee; he dresses sharply like an agent of the Grim Reaper. He is suave and debonair; he loves watching the life cycles of the various flower arrangements in his mentors stores go throughout the seasons. His heart and soul is full of vibrancy you have yet to comprehend; Mattsukawa was always a strong individual and you could ask anyone of his friends in school what kind of person he was. So, what made you so different? Sure you were stressed out, anybody could see that, but Mattsukawa picked up on the depressive aura you emanated. Did he really want to sit in front of you that afternoon? Sure; it was mainly because he couldn’t shake this feeling ever since you were ahead of him in line to order that he was supposed to meet you here (even if you were at your lowest post appointments at the business office downtown).

You struggle to let go, but the owner of these hands does not wish to loosen their grip on you; you ask twice kindly to be left alone and the soft ortund tone of the stranger’s voice from the cafe stops you from thrashing about further.

He tumbles back and lands on his arse with you sitting on his lap, pressed against his broad chest. His sleeves from the black oxford shirt he wears is rolled up to his elbows, and his hands still are in an interlocked position. Mattsukawa has seen some pretty fucked up causes of death recently, yet this time, he wanted to save you, not bury you. He wants to see you tomorrow night at dinner in the diner close to his loft; he wants you to understand maybe death isn’t all that grand and if you struggle with your mind everyday, he wishes to someday be of importance to you. You’re in charge of your own autonomous decisions, yet Mattsukawa wants you to give him a chance to prove to you that love, hope, and for the very fortunate, miracles exist (even if you weren’t shown any).

“You’re sick,” he closes his eyes. Apparently, you pick up on the frown in his voice and somehow, you’re sixth sense of empathy decides not to fight his tonality, but rather when you subconsciously agree and call your mental state one of a landmine, he doesn’t make a fuss. It was a short exam and you realize may be life is worth living for a nano-second. You could have an entire relationship with this man from the cafe in a span of two hours, if that. The fates must have had a wicked sense of humor when pairing either of you to the other: one who works with and around death, the other has an affinity to try and cross into the next life every moment things in the sea turn too rough.

You slowly stop trying to fight him the moment you hear his voice toss in the wind. Instead, you move your hands to hover limply on his, leaning back and letting his breathing calm you. The smell of belladonna from your hair oil wafts through the air. “Suicide is not how I want your story to end.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about or-o-or,” you stammer on. “Perhaps I don’t want to be alive anymore because people keep interfering.”

This causes Mattsukawa’s heart to gain a solid crack. You toss your head back and land harshly against his sternum, causing him to grunt and inhale sharply.

It rips seamlessly to his soul. In the past six to eight years since he entered his chosen profession, he has seen corpses from all ages, the youngest being eight who suffered from a myriad of health issues including Hanahaki because the playground friend in their preschool years was going to be theirs when the time properly came. Mattsukawa, the night he was on duty for the wake, anonymously donated the flowers that would have made the child laugh on wishes. Sure, life does have it’s moments when it tests us, yet he couldn’t wrap his head around the burn out business person from earlier this week, who was now in his arms, safe.

Unintentionally landing on his back with you on top of his chest was not how he had pictured becoming a hero. Just for one night, Mattsukawa Issei, the stern and most silent of the volleyball players in high school, was a hero worthy of saving a life.

“Argh,” he groans.

He coughs quietly away from your face when his hands loosen their hold. You chose to not chastise him about not wearing a sweater in the middle of autumn. After all, this man was the only one who would be daft enough to try and stop you. You curl into him, hiding your face in the satin finish of his dress shirt; you promise to buy him a new one as long as you let him hide your eyes and you break down. You’re crying over the smallest inconvenience and on top of feeling like a burden to the man, you consistently apologize by saying it’s no one’s fault especially his when you catch yourself in your darkest moment.

Mattsukawa listens to your request: with one hand, he covers your left side of your face, the right is patting your hair down, reassuring you that he will console you until the sobs stop and the sniffles remain.

“You’re lucky I live and work not too far from here doll,” he whispers into your hair. You’re calming down as you hiccup the last couple of bubbles of air. You nod in understanding the words he was saying, but you still have your eyes closed to shield himself (and keep your pride intact) when he would peer into your bloodshot ones.

“Don’t worry about me tryin’ anything either. You’ve been through enough tonight. Just let me take care of you for the rest, ok?”

“Mmhm,” you agree. He sits up half way and you rise with him, your eyes ever looking westward until you see one of his handkerchiefs from his back pants pocket dangle in your line of sight. You stifle a laugh, utter a thanks, and begin to dry your face. Mattsukawa, when you were done, doesn’t hold your face anymore, even if it pains him to do so. Your free hand decides for both of you: your left reaches for his and you bring the calloused hand, opened palm, to your cheek. Your skin is soft and sticky from the tears, but if anyone were to ask Mattsukawa what it felt like to save a life, he would humbly point you out in a crowd and say ‘Ask ‘em yourself.’

“I lost sight of the things that brought me joy,” you say quietly. You’re breathing in his cologne and it smells like whiskey sours. The scent grounds you, as you recall your therapist giving you stress-relieving tricks such as naming five to ten things your senses pick up on. Your cheeks feel soft like mochi ice against Mattsukawa’s open palm; you see the neon lights hazily glow in the city below you; and finally, you hear his shirt ruffle against the shell of your ear when you finally calm down.

“Everyone does,” Mattsukawa agrees. “Can you do something for me?”

“Mattsukawa-san,” you said his name and he chuckles in surprise. You remembered his name? This was even better than before. He finds himself falling gently in like with you. The love between long lost friends is what keeps him afloat. Unwillingly, you find yourself amusedly smiling at his tanned skin glowing with a soft hues under his eyes. Was this man blushing?

“Call me Issei or Mattsun,” his voice says when his other hand loops around your waist. He buried his head on your right shoulder.

Tonight you learn that even strong and by your standards of “fine men” do in fact cry. You blink a couple more times and he just cries a mixture of tears he has no control over.

“Mattsun,” you say, voice soft like the breeze sending a boat to sail. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“You could have said you weren’t feeling well if you didn’t want to go out with me,” Mattsukawa jokes, turning his head to the side so you wouldn’t see his tear stricken face to the side. He asks you, if you felt comfortable enough, to just stay still for a moment.

The rooftop rendezvous was not what you had in mind when you came home from clocking out, but considering you were heavily contemplating ending your existence earlier, this one request was not too hard to fulfill. The belladonna in your bronchioles seemed to dislodge itself into your lungs. You stay as still as your companion had asked and you breathe in time together. His curls are soft to the touch and when he relaxes his shoulders when you run a hand through his hair, you feel him grin on the right of your shoulder blades.

Was this what it felt like to be you every hour before you both met at the cafe? This profound sadness doesn’t leave his heart nor does he quite shake the feeling of the leaves of the belladonna flowers taking root in his lungs. The flowers bloomed slowly since his twenty-third birthday were the same ones you dyed your hair for. You’ve been suffering with the hanahaki disease for quite some time, you confess back to him.

“Is that why you were here? Trying to jump?” Mattsukawa asks an innocent inquiry. He seemed like he was about to be scolded for the first time in seven years, yet you thought it was kind of adorable. And so you do something you haven’t done in a very long time: you scoff (although you were sure it was closer to a giggle.

“No,” you reply. “I was contemplating jumping because all my triggers hit at once, so I’ve been in a depressive episode for quite some time before we met.”

“Oh,” Mattsukawa acknowledges. “Do you want to stay the night?”

“…that’s awfully forward of you,” you say. Your pragmatic inner voice says to decline, but there is a mischievous side of his mannerisms, nonetheless you are curious. It is late into the evening already, so perhaps the offer is a better one. After all, you think the change of scenery would do you some good, so you humbly agree.

Roughly an hour later, you find yourself in Mattsukawa’s living room area. Offering his shower to you, you ask if there is something he can lend you. It is an old shirt with his high school cactus logo on it, but the shorts he tosses to you has a VBC and his old number stitched on the back pocket. Mattsukawa hands you a spare towel and tells you how to work the shower in his bathroom. Twenty minutes later, you sit close to the kotatsu even if it’s not too cold outside at the moment, you tend to sleep better underneath one.

Prior to your shower, Mattsukawa-san graciously gave you a small tour of his loft when you arrived. The walk wasn’t too far from the rooftop building and so you two walk side by side until the loft complex came into view. Mattsukawa says hi to the doorman who makes a joke or two about how he had almost pulled another overnight at the funeral home.

“Be careful with that one miss, he’d work himself to death! Ha! Work himself to death,” the doorman says, wiping a faux tear from his eye. You snickered covering your smile with the back of your hand. When you put it to the side of your body, Mattsukawa notices how dazzling your smile is. How would someone who smiles this much at a pun, hold so much carnage of self-doubt and depressive thoughts in their heart? Is that why your flowers and your scent are wrapped in poisonous belladonna? Mattsukawa shakes this thought to the furthest parts of his mind. You’re here now, in the next room, safe under the same roof.

The master bedroom door is opened just a crack once Mattsukawa is half-dressed in his pajama pants, parading around shirtless fetching a glass of water from the kitchen. You were already seated on the barstool peering out the sliding glass door of the patio outside. Jumping was not the way to die for you, you think. Perhaps if you died with love, perhaps you’d have a better chance of reincarnation than you thought. The ambient sounds of the refrigerator and the water spout being used brought you back to hold the gaze of your host for the evening. You made a conscientious decision to cash in on your PTO at your work location for the next two weeks via e-mail. You explain to the HR representative you were feeling burn out and your therapist was working with you to battle the depressive episodes you were going through. The automotive message came back saying someone from the office of internal affairs would look into the chain of command in your division. However, you could care less about work at the moment, since you were enjoying the company of the person who helped kept you tied to this world.

“You like what you see?” Mattsukawa says smoothly. The water glass is placed on the counter in front of you. After graduation from Aoba Josai, running and other kinesthetic stretches were included in his workout regiment. You froze, placing your phone face down to the extreme left of the counter space. The granite glowed in the soft lamp from behind you, casting shadows in the grooves of his muscular features.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” you tease. “But I do like the person who saved me from making a huge mistake.”

Mattsukawa nods as he leans forward to rest his chin in his hand.

“I’ll always come running to you Yin,” he gives you a nickname close to the currency your country uses. This causes you to roll your eyes, yet you reassure him it was filled with endearment.

“You sound like you’re going to love me until the day I properly die Mattsun.”

He wasn’t expecting you to climb halfway across the granite counter, stretching your back further parallel to the floor (your feet are balancing your lower half on the chair).

His hand finds its way to the small of your back and he says a quick, “pardon me.” The onyx eyes he owns close and crinkle upward like small crescent moons before you feel his pursed lips press against your forehead.

“You’re safe here,” you hear him say. His warmth is a welcomed blanket of comfort for you; his words are kinder than your own thoughts.

“Will you kiss me properly?” You ask.

“In the morning, first thing,” he answers. “But first, sleep.”

Mattsukawa walks around his counter to keep you from hanging in the balance thus lowering the risk of you falling knees first on the floor.

“Remember how you fell on top of me?” Mattsukawa’s voice is low. You swallow nervously; you affirm that you do. “Good. Now hold on to me sweetheart.”

He leans back against your left side of your suspended body and he wraps an arm around your mid-section and you push off with your elbows. The next thing you are aware of, you are being carried like a drowsy child to the living room where you sit on Mattsukawa’s lap like before. You raise a hand to his smooth face, your fingers tracing the highest points of his features; his eyes flutter close to the sensational spell you are casting; he is about to fall in the in-between of sleep and lucidity when he feels your lips press firmly against his. When you back down, he stops you with one word: “More. One more time.”

You turn your head at an angle the moment you feel his hands turn you around to straddle him more comfortably.

“Better,” you confirm. Your nose teases his own and he languidly looks at you before he pushes your back playfully and your lips meet his again.

You sigh against his lips when your knees come into contact with his cushion; his arms move away from your hips to your ribs. The callouses he earned over the years of playing volleyball in high school memorizes the map of your skin. Together, the aroma of belladonna almost dissipates the pain in your lungs the longer you are breathing in everything the young man in front of you is giving.

This was as brave as you wanted to be right now. You’d be more adventurous months into your new found relationship with your restaurant-cafe rendezvous man. Your hands trace his collar bones before they found their purchase on the sides of his neck.

“I like that,” you say when you are given a chance to catch your breath. Mattsukawa’s hands rest on your love handles again and he pushes you into a loose embrace. Your hair tickles his shoulder when you rest your head against his pectoral.

“I like this too,” he says, running his fingers lightly up and down your spine. “Close your eyes and rest for a while Yin. We can talk about this in the morning, ok?”

You stifle a yawn, agreeing.

A few minutes later, after you are truly asleep, Mattsukawa supports you in his arms and he carries you like a child, careful to support your neck as your legs rest limply above his hips, to his room. He lays you down first and then proceeds to tuck you in; staying above the duvet, he watches over you breathing in and out steadily, the last small petals escaping your lips when you cough softly in your sleep. Mattsukawa stares at the last shriveled one on the corner of your lips and swats it away.

“Pretty angel, don’t scare me like that. I don’t want to lose you,” Mattsukawa reaches over to hold your hand; fingers intertwining around your own and you squeeze his back. “You’ll be alright and I will help you keep nightmares away.”

“Why?” Your voice is laced with sleep. “Why do you want to love me?”

“Because our story is just beginning my love.”

Mattsukawa rubs his thumb over your knuckles and when he lies down further on his bed next to you, he rests a protective arm over your shoulders.

#sora scribbles #sora after hours #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #🌻 txt #haikyuu x reader #cw: intrusive thoughts #cw: depressive episode for yn #cw: unsuccessful suicide attempt #cw: burn out form work and life in general #mattsukawa x you

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littlefreya · 3 years

Note

omg i just stumbled across "jerk" and i think if i don't get more of your august walker pieces i'll die 😭😭 seriously i love a good hate fuck and more importantly, I LOVE YOUR WORK!!

Hey, bb!!! Thank you so much for this. Jerk actually has a part two called Easy Prey 💖

Anyway, since you asked for more August, here is my August Walker Masterlist

One-shots

Smut 🔥🔥🔥

Velvet Chains - Soft!August x Reader (smut. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c… ) - For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Prince of Darkness - Devil!August Walker x ofc (DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell.)🎃 NEW 🎃 The Devil ascends back to earth in search of his bride.

Dangerous Games - August x Reader x Walter Marshall (Smut, sex, MaleDom/FemSub, cockwarming, orgasm denial, male masturbation, praise, degradation, facial, mentions of DP and anal) You’ve got yourself into a perilous situation with two dominant men. Now the question is: which punishment will you choose.

More under the cut

Destroyer of Angels - August x ofc (Smut, Non-con, breeding kidnapping, loss of virginity, ) The cruel Duke August Walker takes what he wants and what he desires above all is a young maiden

Nice Day for a White Wedding - August x Reader (Explicit Smut, maleDom) What made you think you can get away from August?

Violent Delights - August Walker x Reader (Smut, facefucking, rough oral, depiction of bodily fluids, some eventual fluff, MaleDom/FemSub.) You will give August what he wants, you will let him fuck your pretty little mouth and come down your throat. His pleasure - is yours. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Poison Honey - August Walker x Reader ( Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.) Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Elevator Ride - August Walker x Reader (grinding, public fingerfucking, exhibitionism, depictions of sex, orgasm denial.) Riding the elevator with Agent August Walker, you believe he would never dare try anything with all these people around, but oh, darling, you could never be so wrong. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Pink Umbrella - August x Reader (Fluff to smut, soft!August Walker, DD/LG, thigh riding, gloves fetish (it’s a thing now), dirty talk, a tint of angst and slight twist ending.) August is on a mission in beautiful Paris and had you join the ride, but while he wants you to stay safe at the hotel, you have other ideas.

Midnight Special - Artie Walker x Reader (Romance) The end of the summer annual BBQ is usually boring, but this one is about to take an interesting turn. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Hood Ornaments - August x Reader ( unprotected public sex, rough, maleDom/femSub, hair pulling, anal play, creampie, depiction of bodily fluids, profanities, praising and degradation, glove fetishism, exhibition) August fucks you at the parking lot while wearing leather glove

Jerk - August x Reader (male masturbation, lewd language, mentions of rough sex, degradation, anal and oral (both male and female receiving), depiction of bodily fluids and slight angst.) August sits alone in his office, thinking about the one he can’t have.

Easy Prey - August x Reader (dark, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, teasing, dirty talk, gunplay, sweet degradation and praise ) Direct sequel to Jerk. Ring or not, August promised himself that he will make you his, in whatever mean possible and he kept that promise.

The Big Bad Wolf - August x OFC ( abuse of power, rough cage fucking, hatesex, unprotected sex, hinted breeding, risky creampie, possessive behaviour. On the safe side it’s borderline dub-con.) If there is anything August enjoys it’s breaking those who resist him. Now trapped in his little cage, the little bird has no where to fly to

Daddy’s Girl - August x OFC (Explicit Smut, hatefucking) She walks around pretending she is better than him. August is going to show her who is the king around here.

Afternoon Delight - August x Reader (smut, daddy kink, Cock warming ) You leave work early and come home to find August pleasing himself in your shower. His Princess - August x Reader (Explicit smut, daddy kink, creampie) August works too hard and all day long, you miss him and decide to tease him with some photos of you in lingerie Thanksgiving - August x OFC (Explicit smut, public fingering) August Walker, the hardened CIA agent is meeting his girlfriend’s parents for a thanksgiving dinner. She’d rather forced him into it. Now, how sorry is she going to be by the end of the meal? One more touch before we die August x OFC (Explicit smut, romance) Set in a cabin on the mountain, August and his woman make passionate, desperate love. Sense Challange - Touch Bourbon and Candy August x OFC (Explicit Smut, daddy kink) After a frustrating day at work, August just wants to sit down and enjoy his princess, in any way possible.

Sweet & Spicey August x Reader (Sub!August, oral, Smut + Fluff ) You get to pay August the favour and finally take control

Nasty - August x Rader (Explicit Smut, meta-voyeurism) August is fucking you and forcing you to watch while he is doing it. Basically, the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written.

The Director - August, Sy, Henry, Walter, Geralt x OFC (Explicit Smut - gangbang, breeding, anal, basically everything) He said no one touches her but him, but he is willing to make an exception, as long as it’s on his terms.

Crimson - August Walker x Reader (Smut, period Sex, mentions of blood and such, dom possessive behaviour, slight breeding kink.) 🎃 NEW 🎃 Having Period sex with August

Black Tears - August Walker x OFC (First-person POV, smut + angst) 🎃 NEW 🎃 There cannot be peace without first a great suffering, but how much suffering can a person endure?

Fluff 🌈🍧🧁

Kiss it Better - August Walker x OFC (3rd person POV Fluffy, sticky, gooey fluff and floof with a tint of naughty suggestion) 🎃 NEW 🎃 August takes care of his girl after she fell

Monster August Walker x OFC (Romance) They call him a monster, but he is your monster

Shelter - August x Reader (Strictly soft sticky fluff) Lazy morning cuddles with August 🎃 NEW 🎃

Something Wicked - August Walker x Reader (Fluff) August sleeps tightly and you decide to exploit the situation. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Angel, can you hold me? - Soft!August x ofc (Angst to fluff) Bad guys need to be held as well

No More Tears - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV, Angst) On a cold autumn night, August muses over the girl he lost.

Series

The New Order mini-series - August x OFC, Smut, romance (completed) FBI Agent Lizzy has no idea that her dominant boyfriend, August Walker, is a dangerous terrorist. Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|

Stalker Walker 🎃 NEW 🎃 Drabble series, August x Reader (Smut, stalking) [ 1 ][ 2 ][ 3 ][ 4 ][ 5 ]

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x ofc

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snowdice · 3 years

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 58]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26

Wow I am tired and have a headache, but also I have to get my grading in by tomorrow so...

If I get too miserable, I may stop abruptly and get up early to finish it in the morning.

Chapter 27

After an, honestly quite aggravating, breakfast full of Virgil’s cognitive distortions about the likelihood of being poisoned, Logan was relieved to finally be able to leave the dining area. In consideration to those serving breakfast, Patton did not lead them through the door in the back of the dining room that went directly to the kitchen, and instead took them out of the room and down the hall to a different entrance. This one had a guard stationed across from it as, despite what Virgil may believe, the castle workers did consider the possibility that someone would want to sneak into the kitchen for nefarious purposes.

Said guard, of course, saw nothing wrong with the prince and the head chef’s son entering the side door even with the bonus stranger. In fact, he may even have known Virgil could be coming through this door if Ms. Heart had mentioned him.

Though Virgil hadn’t managed to catch it, Logan knew enough about Patton’s mother that he’d surmised that she had insisted Patton bring the boy to meet her. It was bound to happen at some point anyway, Logan knew, and he wasn’t particularly worried. After all, this was Patton’s mother. Virgil himself didn’t even seem particularly concerned.

Logan had seen him panic and, while he tugged a bit at the sweater he was wearing, the motion was not particularly fervent, so he was likely just slightly nervous.

Of course, that may be because he did not know Patton’s mother specifically wanted to meet him and just assumed that they were starting the necessary process of introducing him to castle residents with a low risk person.

When they entered the hallway, Logan could already hear the usual noises of the kitchen: the clattering of plates, the bubble of conversation, and the sound of Ms. Heart’s voice calling out instructions.

He did see Virgil hesitate, but Logan couldn’t sus out why and Patton was already ahead of them and opening the door into the kitchen. It was fairly calm for the kitchen considering it was meal hours. Logan imagined that Patton had chosen the time between when the day guards ate breakfast before their shifts and the night guards after their shifts on purpose. There was still a bit of chaos as dishwashers attempted to catch up during the lull and a few orders were still being made, but overall the mood seemed, to Logan at least, to be light as Ms. Heart ordered her kitchen around.

Yet, Virgil clearly did not see the situation the same way that Logan did. He froze when the kitchen door swung open and some of the workers turned to look at them. He took a step back, bumped into Logan, startled violently, realized it was Logan, and then side stepped to hide behind him. Logan looked back at him in confusion, but Virgil said nothing, proceeding to mutely peer over Logan’s shoulder.

Patton had moved over to greet his mother as she wiped her hands off on a rag. She glanced over at Virgil and Logan and Logan saw Virgil shrink back a bit.

Logan could see Ms. Heart’s eyes soften as she tracked his movement. She turned to the woman next to her and said something before moving to remove her apron and hang it up in its designated area. Virgil’s hands clenched in the fabric of Logan’s shirt when she turned back to him.

“It’s fine, Virgil,” Logan told him, but Virgil didn’t seem to believe him. Luckily, Patton had turned back and seemed to realize something was amiss.

He stepped back over to them. “Hey, honey,” he said. A plate clattered in the kitchen and Virgil just about ripped Logan’s shirt.

Patton frowned sympathetically. “Too loud?”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “You are digging your fingernails into my skin.” Patton shot Logan a glare. “What?”

“How about,” Patton’s mom suggested. Virgil’s fingernails dug more into Logan’s skin. “We go to my office.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Mama,” Patton said. “Come here, Virgil.” He reached over to touch one of Virgil’s hands and had to pull a bit to get him to release Logan. “It’s back that way, away from the kitchen,” he said when he managed to twine their fingers. He stepped around Logan, probably so there was still a buffer between Virgil and the kitchen and tugged him in the correct direction.

Ms. Heart shot a glance at Logan and Logan felt irrationally like she was trying to read his thoughts. Logan smoothed his features out and turned to follow Patton and Virgil towards her office.

As head chef, Ms. Heart had a small office where she could plan menus without the hustle and bustle of the kitchen and have meeting with people who needed to discuss dietary needs and restrictions. It was very well organized, but still looked fairly messy because of the numbers of decorations she had in it. She had a tendency to keep everything that Patton made her, thus she had his childhood drawings on the wall and little projects stacked on her desk and on the shelves. A lumpy cat statue acted as a paperweight on a stack of papers on her desk and there was a vase of fake flowers (as it could not actually hold water) sat near the window.

By the time Logan entered the room, Patton was trying to coax Virgil into sitting down on one of the two mismatched chairs, but Virgil was having none of it. He had turned to face the door and was yanking at his sweater in nervousness.

Logan noticed that Ms. Heart did not come far into the room, instead pausing near the door. She did, however close the door to give them privacy, and that seemed to distress Virgil more.

She seemed to contemplate him for a moment. “Hello,” she said, her voice softer than Logan was used to hearing. “You must be Virgil.”

It seemed as though he were willing himself to magically shrink, but he still replied. “Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Patton’s mom.”

“I know, ma’am.”

“There’s no need to be formal, Virgil.”

He hesitated. “Okay,” he said somehow quieter.

Her eyebrows drew together in concern, and it seemed that she decided to result to her default way of making people more comfortable. “Would you kids like some candy?”

Logan saw Patton’s hand squeeze Virgil’s lightly. “That would be great, Mama.”

She nodded and walked forward towards her desk. Virgil turned so his back was never to her. If she noticed, she didn’t react. She just grabbed a small tin off one of her shelves and took the top off. “How about a peppermint candy?” she asked.

She offered the tin out to them. Virgil stared at it like it was a venomous snake. Logan decided to act, stepping forward and taking three of the pieces of peppermint candy from the dish. He stepped over to Virgil and Patton and held out his hand, offering Virgil first choice out of all three.

He hesitated before glancing between Patton and his mother. He must have decided that Patton’s mom wouldn’t risk poisoning Patton and took one of the pieces. Patton took another one of them and popped it into his mouth. Logan ate the last piece.

“Thanks,” Virgil said to Ms. Heart before placing his piece in his mouth.

Logan watched Virgil’s eyes light up a bit when the flavor registered. His posture didn’t completely relax, but he seemed at least a bit less like he was contemplating jumping through the window. His trust was almost worryingly easy to buy sometimes. All it took was a not poisoned peppermint.

Ms. Heart seemed pleased by his reaction. “I’m actually going to be making some new ones soon and I’m trying to get rid of these. Would you like to take another one for later?” she asked, holding out the tin.

He looked at it warily again, but he still stepped closer slowly and took another piece. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ms. Heart said, eyes looking over him intensely. “You look like you could do to with a few more sweets every so often.”

Virgil tilted his head in that way he did when he was particularly perplexed.

Patton giggled a bit. “She means your skinny.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Logan already gave me a malnutrition potion for that.”

“Did he now?” she asked, her eyes flickering to Logan. Logan winced. He was definitely in trouble for not bringing him directly to her. He was sure he’d hear all about it as soon as she caught him without Virgil in the room.

She turned back to Virgil with a smile, and Logan imagined Virgil had no idea how dead Logan was. “Well, that’s a very good start, but if there was need for a nutrition potion, we should be careful to make sure you get enough calories and nutrients every day going forward.” She sat down at her desk. “Why don’t you and I talk for a bit about making sure you get some good food.”

He still looked cautious but was predictably enticed by the promise of food. He did not sit still, but he did put his hands on the back of one of the chairs and slightly lean on it. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, I’m going to have a few more specific questions, but let’s just start with what are your favorite foods?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Virgil replied immediately.

“He really likes chicken alfredo,” Patton contributed.

Virgil perked up at the name of the food. “I did like that,” he agreed.

“Alright,” Ms. Heart replied. That’s a start.

Chapter 28

Thomas did not have to be told that something had gotten Helen Heart in a tizzy. He could tell just by the amount of food she had sent up on his dinner tray. She always made and pushed more food when she was stressed, and he couldn’t help but chuckle when he found both a hearty serving of roast beef and a mini chicken pot pie on his plate along with three vegetable side dishes and a side of macaroni and cheese.

He could also guess what had happened to illicit such a response. Thomas had caught up to Jeffers Deknis in his garden and they’d spoken at length about Logan and Patton’s new friend.

There was no way that after said discussion, Jeff had not mentioned Virgil (and more importantly his friendship with Patton) to Helen during their daily gossip sessions. There was also no way that Helen had heard the words “child” and “too small” in a sentence and hadn’t flipped. From there the inevitable sequence of events was clear: Patton went home, Helen talked his ear off until he agreed to bring Virgil to meet her, Helen met him and immediately committed herself to making sure he ate three square meals a day as well as multiple snacks.

Thomas had sussed all of that out before the kitchen worker bringing him his dinner had mentioned what had happened that day.

That in mind, he decided to wait until after dinner should have been cleaned up before walking his own dinner leftovers down to the kitchens.

Thomas was unsurprised to see Jeff already in the kitchen. He was sat at a small table off to the side where kitchen workers usually took their breaks. The only person other than Jeff and Helen left in the kitchen was a dishwasher who was finishing up. Helen usually spent a couple of hours after dinner in her kitchen or her office organizing for the next day and in case anyone needed food on an off hour, and then there was a night cook who would take over so she could go back to her set of rooms.

Helen took the tray of leftovers from Thomas herself and shooed the dishwasher out of the way. “I’ll handle the rest myself,” she told the girl. “You can leave.”

She nodded and started to take her apron off. Helen dumped the tray on the counter without care and turned back around to usher Thomas into one of the kitchen chairs. Thomas went willingly and she turned to fill the tea kettle with water and set it on the stove.

“It take it she met Virgil,” Thomas said to Jeff.

“She’s adopted Virgil,” Jeff replied, taking a bite out of a cookie.

“And what of it?” she asked. “Someone obviously needs to feed the boy. Speaking of, you’re grounding your son by the way.”

Thomas took one of the cookies for himself. “Why am I grounding Logan?” he asked.

“He was worried enough about his health to make him a nutrition potion, but still did not bring him to me,” she harrumphed.

“I see,” Thomas replied.

“In Logan’s defense,” Jeff interrupted. “the boy seems rather timid. He may have worried about you scaring him off.”

Helen slapped him with a dishtowel.

“Actually,” Jeff continued. “From what I’ve gathered he didn’t have contact with anyone since the time I saw him a couple of weeks ago until now.”

“Any adults,” Thomas corrected with a frown. “I’m pretty sure he, Patton, and Logan must have been around each other considering how close they already seem to be.” He paused, “Logan implied he wasn’t particularly… comfortable around adults.”

“I did get that impression, yes,” Helen said, pouring the hot water from the kettle into a tea pot and carrying it and some cups over to the table.

“He was incredibly jumpy,” Jeff confirmed. “I imagine he does not have good experiences with many people, but he seems to have grown attached to Logan and Patton. He defers to them in most things and seemed a bit protective.

“Where did he come from?” Thomas asked.

“I’m not sure,” Jeff said. “I found him hiding in the garden shed a couple of weeks ago.”

“Did he sneak in?” Thomas asked.

“That’s what I would have thought,” Jeff replied, “but when I asked, he said he wasn’t trying to steal anything and that he was supposed to be in the castle. So, I’d assumed that meant he was the child of someone living in the caste.”

“But neither of us could find anyone who knew him,” Helen said. “Of course, we didn’t even know his name until now.” She seemed to decide the tea leaves had sat long enough because she started to pour them each a cup of tea.

Thomas took a sip. “Earl Grey,” he commented. “I guess I’m not sleeping much tonight.” It was her ‘planning tea.’

“We need a plan,” she said, “but we’re going to have to be gentle.”

“At least with Virgil,” Jeff said.

Thomas laughed lightly, “and what do you plan to do with the other two?”

“I have my ways.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “You say that,” she said, “but you’re too soft. The two of them learned to run circles around you and your powers years ago.”

“We should talk to them though,” Thomas said. “Separately from Virgil.”

“We should,” Helen agreed. “I already spoke to Patton a bit yesterday, but I will again. We should see if we can ask around and find out why he’s in the castle. We don’t even know how long he’s lived here. Or who brought him here.” The look on her face told Thomas she wanted to have a talk with his guardians whoever and wherever they were.

Helen took a drink of tea, it seemed to calm herself. “We need to make sure whatever has been happening to him is not happening in these walls,” she said.

Thomas had honestly… not thought about that. He’d assumed whatever made Virgil so skittish was in the past, but it was possible that it was ongoing. The thought made him sick.

“Perhaps you should try to talk to him, Thomas,” Helen suggested.

Thomas winced. “I am not sure that is a good idea...”

“Why not?”

“We don’t have the best track record… I don’t think me being around him would be a good idea.”

“Oh, please, Thomas,” Helen said disbelievingly.

“No, you don’t understand,” Thomas said. “He seems disproportionately afraid of me. I think it’s a mix of me being king and how we met.”

“How did you meet?” Helen asked.

“I… gave him a bit of a fright,” Thomas admitted. “Logan and Patton weren’t in the room and I didn’t know who he was. He… ended up under the bed. Then… the second time I saw him he accidently ran into me. He freaked out again.” The memory still made Thomas feel gross. It also made him think there was a lot more to his backstory than the three of them understood.

43410

“Perhaps Jeff can try to talk to him then,” Helen said. “It sounds like he was calmest around you. I’ll push Patton towards taking him to the garden more often. I bet fresh air would do him some good anyway.”

Jeff nodded. “I will try to talk to him a bit more.”

“Great,” Helen said, but Thomas already knew the conversation wasn’t over. “Now we need to talk about strategic events to throw over the next few months that Patton and Logan to invite Virgil to. We’ll start slow, but we need to make sure he feels welcome in the castle.”

Thomas met Jeff’s eyes. Yeah, it was going to be a long night.

Chapter 29

Virgil finished eating the breakfast Patton’s mom had sent for him. It had been going on a week since she’d made the menu for him. She sent up little cards with each meal and he was supposed to rate each thing she sent on a scale from 1-5. Logan would read it to him before he ate, and Virgil mark the little box on the card. Usually, he would put a 4 for everything (he had tried to do 5, but Logan had told him 5 was reserved for things like chicken alfredo). Three was for things that he was neutral on, 2 was for things he didn’t like but could tolerate, and 1 was for things he didn’t like. So far, the only 3 was the unseasoned porridge she’d sent one day.

“Finished?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“What would you like to do today?” Logan asked. “Patton is busy until after lunch, and then we thought you might like to go back to the garden again. It’s supposed to drop in temperature over the next few days, so it will be the last good day for it.”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I don’t care what we do today though.”

“Well, there are a few options,” Logan said.

“What do you want to do?” Virgil asked.

Logan made an expression, and Virgil titled his head. “I’m don’t have anything in particular I want to do,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Virgil said immediately.

“You would not be interested in the activity I wish to partake in,” Logan said.

Virgil squinted at him. “I’d be interested in laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling.”

Logan chuckled. “No, truly. The activity I would do if you were not present would involve reading.”

“You can read to me,” Virgil suggested.

“…In Sanskrit.”

Virgil frowned at him. “Isn’t that, like, some sort of dead language?”

“It is,” Logan said. “I taught myself to read it to read a specific book called the Pragilium Text. It’s an encoded book that leads to a magical location that I have been trying to decode for years.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “You can do that.”

“It would be in the library,” Logan said.

“Okay.”

“But…” Logan said. “It would in no way be interesting to you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Like I said. I’m content to lie on the floor for a few hours.”

Logan frowned. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You wouldn’t be making me,” Virgil said. “I want to go. Maybe you can find me an easy book I could try to read?”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, decisively.

“Very well, get dressed and I will show you the library.”

Virgil stood to do so and a few minutes later, Logan was leading him out of the royal wing.

Both of the guards greeted him kindly, and Virgil hunched his shoulders in a bit, but said a soft “hi.”

The library didn’t end up being too far away. It was through the small dining hall and to the left where the staircase to the kitchen was to the right.

“This is not the main library,” Logan said. “It is just a smaller one. The royal librarian comes here only about once a week to organize. Some other castle residents might come in too, but it is usually mostly empty.” Virgil could tell just by listening for a few seconds that the place was likely empty (unless someone was lying in wait).

“I’ll look and see if there is something simple for you in case you’d like to read. You can explore a bit if you’d like,” Logan said.

Virgil nodded and stalked off into the shelves to secure the area. There were many books, not that he could quite read any of the spines. The bookcases were mostly cramped into the space. There was the open area where they’d come in with a few comfy chairs and Virgil found a desk near one of the windows. It had stacks of books including one pretty large and old one. He looked at it curiously.

Virgil heard Logan’s footsteps approach from down an aisle. “That’s the Pragilium text,” he said.

“It’s pretty,” Virgil said, looking at the design etched into the cover.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. He reached forward to touch it and opened it carefully. The print was small and didn’t look like the letters Logan had taught him so far. There was a small map on the side that Virgil could at least guess at the meaning of.

“You can read that?” Virgil asked.

“I can,” Logan said. “Very few people can though.”

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile.

“Now,” Logan continued. “I found you a book. I apologize as its subject matter is for younger children, but it has many pictures that can help give you context when you don’t know something. You don’t have to read it if you do not wish to, especially as we haven’t gotten very far in our lessons, but I thought you might like the challenge.

He handed him the book and Virgil took it with a smile. “I’ll try to read it,” he said.

“Well, you have free reign of the library. Feel free to continue to explore and to interrupt me if you need to.”

Virgil nodded and took the book before deciding to finish his sweep of the library. It turned out that appearances were not deceiving, and the library truly was empty. Once he was certain about that, he looked around for a comfortable place to settle down and try to read the book Logan had handed him. He found a sturdy looking bookshelf near where Logan was reading at his desk. He scaled it quickly. It was a little bit dusty at the top, but it wasn’t a bad place. It was close to the ceiling and kept him hidden pretty well, but still gave him enough room to pop up onto his elbows. If he looked left, he could see Logan down bellow with his head in the book, but if he looked right, he could see the entrance to the library.

He pulled the book in front of him and looked at the cover. It was covered in drawings of different colored flowers. One simple white flower was in the center and there were three words on the cover. He squinted at it and silently tried to sound it out based on what Logan had taught him so far. He could guess that the larger word was ‘flowers’ based on context. So, he was pretty sure it read How Flowers Grow.

He flipped open the book. Logan was right, there were many hand drawn beautiful pictures. He could pretty much understand what was happening just from them even if he couldn’t read all of the words.

It was an interesting book even if he couldn’t read it and it was obviously made for small children. Judging by the pictures it seemed to be detailing how plants, or at least, flowers grew through some kid planting and caring for a flower over the course of some amount of time.

Virgil had, of course, known flowers grew from seeds, but it was interesting to see things about how the stem would pop out of the seed in the ground and things about the roots growing.

He more looked through the pictures than read it the first time but had flipped back to the front to try to read the words when he heard the library door open.

Virgil perked up in awareness, but then settled when he recognized Patton’s footsteps. Virgil tilted his head to watch as he walk directly to Logan’s hideaway.

“Hi,” he said, gaining Logan’s attention.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied. He glanced at the window and must have seen that time had passed because he closed his book and shuffled his papers.

“The guards said you came here,” Patton said, glancing around. “Where’s Virgil?”

Instead of letting Logan answer that question, Virgil pulled himself forward, with the book in one hand and slid off the bookshelf to land lightly on his feet next to Patton.

Patton screamed before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Logan had placed his hand over his heart. “Where on Earth did you come from?” he asked.

Virgil blinked at him and then pointed to the bookshelf he’d been on top of.

“How long were you up there?” Logan asked.

“Pretty much the whole time,” Virgil answered.

“I…” Logan said. “I didn’t even know.”

Virgil squinted at him. “You need to learn to look up.”

Patton giggled.

Virgil turned on him. “You need to learn to case the area.”

“Oh honey, your shirt is all covered in dust,” Patton said instead of responding to his very valid criticism. Virgil frowned. “Let’s get you changed and then go grab some lunch.”

“Lunch?” Virgil asked.

Patton chuckled and grabbed his hand. “Yes, sweetie, lunch. Then garden.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “But you do need to learn to be more observant.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say,” Patton said.

Logan just rolled his eyes.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out into the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see flowers but see all of the flowers grow. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits. They ended up in the food garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on the direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests, I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin them so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some leftover.”

“Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on your, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop.”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you want to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at the large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected to understand his words and the exasperation in the tone he said them in.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

#not writing #proofread stories

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