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bubsdolan · 3 years

Note

Woah!!! Part 2 to Reader getting in an accident after an arguement with Gray???

{part 1}

there were many moments in grayson dolan’s 21 years on earth where he felt incredibly blessed to have a twin brother, especially one like ethan. from being his best friend and number one supporter in anything, to sharing food and girl advice, learning and growing together and being grayson’s right hand man through life, he had never been more grateful to have ethan by his side in this moment.

that and the fact ethan had purchases a car that can exceed a speed of up to 199.5 mph, meant they wasted no time in getting grayson to the hospital to be reunited with you.

as he sat in the passenger seat, legs bouncing uncontrollably with fear and anxiousness, tears softly rolling down his cheeks, he clutched tightly to the stuffed animal in his hands. a sight for anyone who would laugh at a 200 pound man, crying and cuddling a teddy.

petal, your stuffed elephant, was a childhood teddy your mother had given you the day you were born. you never slept without petal, she was a third wheel in your relationship with grayson as she offered you the same comfort he did every night being away from family home. home was anywhere grayson was, but petal was also a piece of the family you left behind when staffing a new life with the man you loved.

grayson knew you better than anyone and he could guarantee that when you woke up, because he wholeheartedly knew you were- his strong brave girl and you couldn't leave him- that petal would be the first thing you would want to see as much as his angel eyes. the stuffed animal also brought grayson a sense of comfort and reassurance having her with him.

grayson didn't even allow ethan the chance to drive into the car park of the emergency room before he was taking off and sprinting to the reception desk. teddy in hand as he panted out your first and last name. shocking the nurse at his panicked state, dishevelled appearance and the continuous fidgeting on the heels of his feet.

“y/n-y/n y/l/n… she’s in a coma. pleas-please i need to see her. she needs- she needs me.”

“may i ask your relationship to the patient?”

growing impatient, grayson raises his temper to the next level. the longer he was kept away from you, the more agitated he became.

“my girlfriend is fighting for her life right now! i need to see her, i don’t have time for this!”

“bro-” ethan came running in, throwing the tesla in the first available space before jogging after his fragile brother and coming to be the calm, sensible one in this situation. “let me handle it.”

reluctantly grayson stood off to the side, his ears perking and eyes desperately following every patient being rushed through the automatic doors, every doctor or nurse walking past him with sympathetic looks. he hoped someone would tell him what's going on and where you were. the waiting game was torture, but it was only just beginning.

“they’re gonna take us to her now, c’mon.” ethan pulls grayson down the maze like corridors to where the receptionist who he had to apologise profusely for his twins attitude earlier, lead them to the room where apart of grayson was fighting for her life. fighting for his life. he was nothing without you.

ethan let grayson walk in first, accidentally colliding into the back of grayson as he stood frozen outside the door and mentally prepared himself for a sight he never wished to see. his breathing hitched as he took in the sight of you battered and braised. covered head to toe in a mixture of dirt, dried blood and bandages, as the only thing keeping you alive right now were the medical tubes swarming your precious body.

grayson felt his heart shatter into a million pieces inside him. he couldn’t help but feel tears well up in his eyes, imagining how bad your accident had been to the point where you were put into a coma and how he wasnt there to protect you like he has always promised. he pictured how scared you must have been, all alone and defenceless.

with rushed but easy strides, grayson was at your side before ethan even got the chance to thank the nurse and follow behind. not wanting to cause you any further pain or discomfort, grayson gently placed petal under your arm, keeping her close to your body and secure so you wouldn't lose her even in your unconscious state. with a shakey breath, he plants a soft kiss on yours then petals forehead, his own slient way of commciaing to you that he was there. that you had nothing to worry about because he was finally there to protect you.

“hey my sweet girl. im right here, im here and i love you. so much.”

“fight for me yeah? for us.”

grayson automatically took the seat next to your hospital bed, reaching forward to hold your hand kindly in his own as he vowed to himself he wouldn’t leave your beside until you woke up. no matter how long it was going to take. weeks, months, years, he was willing to wait for you.

grayson vividly remembered being told that the brain of a coma patient may continue to work. it might “hear” the sounds in the environment, like the footsteps of someone approaching or the voice of a loved one speaking. he made sure to continually talk to you about everything and anything on his mind. referencing back to the time you would take late night drives and talk about life hand in hand and contently in love.

when discussing your future together on a late night monty’s run, this definitely wasn’t how he envisioned it would turn out to be. what once was a shared dream, was now a shared nightmare.

“e’s here too.”

“hey squirt.” ethan felt stupid speaking aloud to someone who wouldn't respond to him, but the small smile it coaxed on grayson’s face, after hours of sadness, made it worth while. grayson always valued the sibling friendship you and ethan shared. he didn’t even pause for a minute to think about your accident had affected him also, until he hard the nickname ethan often uses to tease you.

swallowing the lump in his throat, grayson spoke up again.

“im sorry. im so fucking sorry. i meant nothing i said earlier, fuck im an idiot. i love you baby, always and forever.”

“we aren't going anywhere you hear me. you come back to us ok, show me those pretty eyes of yours baby. let me hear your laugh, let me see your smile, you gotta wake up for me- please wake up for me.”

grayson begged and pleaded with your unresponsive body. the sound of your heart rate monitor being the only sign you gave him as his eyes focused on your lifeless body. desperately hoping for so much as a flinch from you or a miracle to happen.

he caressed your hand slowly, continuing to cry silently as he looked over to you, feeling like this was all his fault. “i’m sorry” he choked out, resting his head down against the back of your hand. “this is all my fault. i’m so sorry baby.”

grayson wish you could say something back, even if it was to spite him and call him out for his outburst hours earlier. he just wanted to hear your voice again.

“grayson, none of this was your fault!” ethan was quick to jump to grayson’s defence, hating the way his brother was beating himself up over something that was out of his control. ethan feared how grayson would react if the worst case scenario of turning your life support machine off would happen. it didn’t bare to think about.

hearing a knock at the door, grayson wiped his tears quickly before turning to see the doctor was approaching grayson with a warm smile. grayson felt a sense of relief finally meeting the incredible man tasked with saving your life.

“here’s some personal belongings that they recovered at the scene. this seemed to be the only thing to survive the terrible ordeal.” he said, handing grayson an all to familiar box of the watch brand he had non stop being gushing about.

as the doctor made his swift exit, promising to return shortly and check on your progress, grayson opened the box to reveal the item that causes you to end up where you were right now. with no pieces of his heart left to break, grayson felt numb.

the engraving of the date grayson first told you he loves you, joined together by your pairing initials, elegantly graced the under face of the watch. he swapped his old one with the new, staring down at the jewellery on his wrist that held a brand new meaning from the simple pleasure of owning it, he planned to never take it off.

everything seem to make sense now. the guy in the scandalous photo become Crystal clear as he recognised him to be the gentlemen from his brief encounter when trying to surprise ethan with a housewarming gift. much like what you were doing for grayson. he realised it now, when it was too late.

you never cheated on him. you never betrayed him. never used him. he discredited the great lengths you went to in order to surprise him with his dream watch. his own insecurities and the fact he was easily manipulated by twitter fingers and his so called fans, may be the reason you never wake up.

was this watch the only thing to survive the accident? grayson was about to find out.

{part 3}

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 4 years

Text

The Sweet Taste of Your Lips

Stiles isn’t the best cook, but he tries his best, hoping to win the heart of a certain alpha.

For @s-is-for-stiles

(You can read it on AO3 here)

The baking trays and metal pans were stacked in the cupboard, tentatively balanced on top of each other and seconds from falling. Stiles eyed the pile, looking for the cake tin.

He tried to pry it out from under the others, but it didn’t work. The pans and trays came crashing down with a deafening clash. A few fell out of the cupboard and bounced across the kitchen floor.

Stiles set the cake tin up on the counter and began to stack the trays and pans up in the cupboard again.

There was a rumble of footsteps as his father raced downstairs and sprinted into the kitchen.

Stiles slowly stood up, flashing a smile of feigned innocence as his dad’s panicked face appeared in the doorway.

“Are you alright?” his dad asked, looking him up and down. “What happened?”

“I’m fine. The trays fell out of the cupboard,” Stiles explained.

The Sheriff let out a sigh of relief, nodding as he slowly turned to leave. He paused, his weary, wrinkled brow furrowing for a moment as he turned back to Stiles and actually took in the sight of his son.

Stiles stood by the oven, dressed in a pale blue apron with colourful cupcakes printed over it. There were stacks of packets and ingredients scattered across the counter in front of him – flour, sugar, eggs, butter, baking powder and vanilla.

“What are you doing?” the Sheriff asked hesitantly.

“Baking a cake,” Stiles replied innocently, wincing as the baking trays slid about and crashed together with a loud bang.

“What for?”

Stiles dropped his gaze, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Ah,” the Sheriff said quietly, piecing it together. “Mating Week.”

Stiles had been dreading this week. He’d been tense, anxious – scared, even. He’d been trying to think up different ways to impress the alpha he had his heart set on. But he wasn’t strong, he wasn’t pretty, he wasn’t confident. He was quickly running out of ways to impress a mate.

“You don’t have to stress,” his dad said quietly, trying to reassure him. “It’ll work out one way or another.”

Stiles didn’t look up at his dad.

The Sheriff let out a measured sigh.

“I have to head off to work,” he said. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Stiles replied.

“Alright. See you later, kiddo.”

“Bye, Dad,” Stiles replied.

The Sheriff turned to leave but froze. He hesitated for a second before turning back to the kitchen and walking over to one of the cupboards. He pulled out the bright red fire extinguisher and set it on the counter, leaving without another word.

“I’m not that bad,” Stiles shouted after him, offended.

The sound of his father’s laughter drifted through the house as he left, shutting the door behind himself.

...

The school was abuzz with chatter; students gathered in the halls, talking amongst themselves as some found their mates and others were rejected.

Derek looked around the halls, his eyes searching the sea of faces, looking for one.

He stepped outside, burying his hands in the pocket of his worn leather jacket as he began to walk around the school grounds.

He found Stiles sitting on a bench around the back of the school, hidden away from everyone. An old Tupperware box rested in his lap. His dark brown eyes stared into oblivion, darkened with thoughts and glistening as he blinked away the waves of tears that welled in his eyes.

“Hey,” Derek said softly, stepping over to his side.

“Hey,” Stiles replied without looking up.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, sitting down next to Stiles.

“Nothing,” Stiles said quietly, staring down at the battered, old container in his hands.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, getting the teen’s attention. “I’ve known you long enough to know something’s wrong.”

Stiles bowed his head.

“Whatever it is you can tell me,” Derek encouraged.

Stiles let out a heavy sigh.

“There’s… There’s someone I’m trying to impress,” Stiles admitted.

“Oh,” Derek muttered, trying to hide the pang of pain in his chest.

“But I don’t stand a chance. There’s any way they would ever want me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m skinny, defenceless, and weak,” Stiles said quietly. “I’m anxious, sarcastic, and I can’t cook to save my life. I thought if I just tried then maybe something would work out. But I failed. No one would ever want me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Derek said softly. “Can I have a taste?”

Stiles shrugged, pulling off the old blue lid and holding out the container to Derek.

The cake inside was sunken in the middle and the edges were slightly overcooked and brown. It didn’t look appetising, but it didn’t look inedible.

Derek reached into the container, pulled off a bit of the cake and into it. He coughed slightly, pursing his lips as he tried not to spit it out. He swallowed hard.

“It’s—” His raspy voice broke off as he coughed to clear his throat.

“It’s terrible,” Stiles ventured.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Derek said. “A little dry, maybe, but not that bad.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings,” Stiles told him. He let out a heavy sigh, resting his head back against the rough brick wall and staring into oblivion. His blurred, dissolving into streaks of colour and light as he fought back tears, his voice quiet as he muttered, “How am I ever going to find a mate?”

“Maybe you need to find a mate who likes cooking,” Derek suggested.

“An alpha who likes to cook?” Stiles reiterated.

It seemed absurd; omegas were meant to be the domestic ones.

Derek shrugged slightly. “It’s feasible. I mean, I like to cook.”

Stiles blinked in surprise. He turned to look at Derek. “You do?”

“Yeah. I…” His voice trailed off as he looked away.

“You what?” Stiles asked.

“It’s stupid,” Derek said dismissively.

“Tell me anyway,” Stiles said, almost pleadingly.

“I’ve always wanted to find someone I can cook for,” Derek admitted. “I’d love nothing more than to make dinner and sit down and eat with the one I love.”

“That sounds nice,” Stiles said, his chest aching slightly as he tried to imagine what it would be like.

They settled into a moment of silence.

Stiles turned to look at Derek. “Have you asked anyone yet?”

“No,” Derek replied.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah,” Derek admitted. “But they like someone else.”

Stiles perked up slightly, sitting upright. “Who?”

Derek turned to look at Stiles, a hint of pain in his eyes as he confessed, “You.”

Stiles’ eyes flew open wide.

“What?” he muttered, stunned.

“I’ve felt this way about you for a long time, but I was always too scared to say anything in case I scared you away or ruined our friendship,” Derek explained. He bowed his head, looking down at his hands. “You’re like a puzzle piece; without you, nothing makes sense—I feel incomplete. But when you’re with me… I can’t explain it. It just—”

“It just feels right,” Stiles finished.

Derek looked up, meeting his gaze and losing himself in the golden depths as they caught the light. The faintest hint of a smile turned up the corner of Stiles’ lips.

Derek reached out, cupping Stiles cheek as he brought their lips together in a tentative, loving kiss.

Stiles let his breath fall from his lungs as his shoulders dropped, his eyes fluttering shut as he melted into the kiss.

Stiles’ lips were so soft, so warm – so perfect – that it almost pained Derek to break away.

He drew back slowly, lingering for a moment longer before pulling away completely.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sitting back. He dropped his gaze. “You were hoping for someone else.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Stiles admitted, his voice soft.

Derek looked at him, his brow furrowed with confusion. “But you said you were trying to impress someone.”

“I was trying to impress you,” Stiles admitted.

“Oh,” Derek said, quietly, a puzzled look passing over his face as he thought it through. Realisation washed over him, his eyes widening as he looked up at Stiles. His face lit up with a bright smile. “Wait. Does that mean…?”

“We’re mates?” Stiles finished, a hint of uncertainty making it seem like a question.

“I mean, if you want to be,” Derek proposed hesitantly.

“I do,” Stiles said. “Do you?”

“More than anything,” Derek admitted.

Stiles smiled sweetly. He leant forward, bringing his lips to Derek’s in a sweet, tender kiss.

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dercolaris · 3 years

Text

Fear

Pretty hard stuff to be honest. Taking the tag angst to a new level. Translation of a german story of couse. @shin-arei uhm, still sorry. You know. I’m always writing deep stories and sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that words are often more touching than anything else.

Same song like the original:

https://youtu.be/oz7E_BsKrVI

Enjoy?

The little stone flew across the narrow side street, at the end hit an already badly battered street sign. The red paint peeled off the struck spot, slowly trickling down onto the rough asphalt. Edward's face darkened. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest and snorted in a touch of anger. Sometimes living with the former psychiatrist was anything but easy. Not that the Riddler didn't appreciate the verbal arguments they had, but when things really got intense and down to business, the outcome of the situation was never predictable. In summary it was often way too dangerous. Jonathan had a lot of patience and getting him to the point where he lost his temper was difficult, but by no means impossible for the stubborn tinkerer. At least the thin man came close to his own superior intellect and could articulate himself appropriately. Nevertheless, the black-haired man had actually gone a step too far that afternoon. They had actually discussed a very mundane topic: compulsions and anxiety disorders. The conversation went on until Edward dared to get personal and blatantly accuse the elder of having no foresight through his religious upbringing. That statement pushed the Master of Fear over his limits. The inventor put two fingers to his forehead and began to massage the skin firmly. If Jonathan Crane asked his counterpart with remarkable friendliness to leave the room as quickly as possible, one was well served to comply quickly with this request without replying. A good two hours had passed since that incident. The Riddler glanced at his black watch and clicked his tongue. The former psychiatrist had probably calmed down enough by now not to choke him to death when entering the apartment. To be honest, the man was getting cold in the icy December air. In addition, twilight began visibly in the dirty city. Edward circled his shoulder briefly and strolled a bit absent-mindedly through the adjacent city park, quietly rehearsing appropriate greetings to Jonathan after such an escalated argument. Suddenly an animal ran at his feet, remained calm in the middle of the snow-covered path. The white rabbit stood on its hind legs, turned its head back and forth nervously, then suddenly looked the Riddler straight in the eyes. The black-haired man stopped dead in track, staring lost in the dark eyes of the furball. He couldn't help but admire the beauty of the animal and after a while a small smile settled on his thin lips. Without any warning, a bird of prey suddenly fell from the sky, sank its claws into the poor rabbit's neck. The bunny didn't even have time to make a sound. In the next instant the predator and its defenceless victim had risen and disappeared into the reddish clouds.

The tinkerer's lips formed a thin line. He definitely hadn't seen that coming. He took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts of the rabbit aside, walking faster than before down the path. The apartment building finally came into view after a few minutes, lay grey and partly sunken in the deserted main street next to the closed subway station. This should have been renovated for five years now. To date there has not yet been a handshake to make the place alive again and it would probably remain so for a long time to come. Edward rummaged around in the dark green jacket for a key, then sighed and touched his forehead. The Riddler kept forgetting that the building was actually not habitable and that there was no way to lock it. Overnight, the two villains secured the entrance with some loose wooden beams that they had found when moving in. The material had been lying around wildly in the stairwell. The inventor pushed open the smeared door and slipped into the rotten corridor. If he were in this place for the first time, chills would certainly run down his spine. In addition to the strong smell of mould and wet wallpaper, a growing smell of rotting carcass stung his nose. At some point they had to find decent accommodation - not such a shithole. The black-haired man climbed the groaning wood, trying not to touch the totally destroyed railing. This was peppered with protruding splinters and the crusted blood residue along the shabby material clearly indicated that it was not only he who regularly injured himself when climbing stairs. Why Jonathan had insisted on moving to the top floor of all things remained a mystery to the man. Well, it was only three floors, but this decision still struck him as more than strange. It had cost him a lot of energy to carry all his electronics upstairs and then repair the missing cables piece by piece to ensure a functioning power supply in the apartment. On the first floor the work would certainly have been done in a few hours. Not in three bloody weeks. The tinkerer went to the musty wooden door to their realm and lingered on the threshold for a moment. Somehow he felt uncomfortable. In addition, the unpleasant tug in his stomach was to be interpreted as an unmistakable warning. Edward finally shrugged and pushed the handle down. If his partner was still in a bad mood, he could escape from the building at any time. Hopefully.

The black-haired man stepped into the long hallway, looked into the all-engulfing darkness. The brown-haired man had a terrible habit of turning off lights when there was no obvious reason to keep them glowing at night. Even the mention that they wouldn't pay any electricity anyway and that nobody would care because no soul lived in the immediate vicinity didn't help to change the older man's apparently final decision. So the Riddler had to live with the lurking darkness in the apartment. This had been a major change for him. Since he almost only worked at night anyway, the light was on permanently in his former hiding place and at least provided some warmth in the littered rooms. The inventor was completely overwhelmed with keeping order. There were just more important things to do and even when he got to the point where he decided to clean up a thousand other things got in his way. Absolutely pointless to try on his own. Fortunately, the firm partnership with Jonathan brought a clean instance into his chaotic life. Even if, during their weekly cleaning of his room, he had to keep listening to how it was possible that he hadn't suffocated in his own rubbish and still found something despite the mess. A small beam of light signalled to the man that the former psychiatrist was probably waiting in the living room. He crept cautiously towards the door, peeking in hesitantly. The Master of Fear sat patiently at the oblong dining table, fingers folded. He barely moved, than suddenly spoke coolly into the room: "Edward. I expected you about ten minutes earlier. Please forgive me, but I'm afraid the meal is already cold or is well on its way to cooling down completely. Come sit with me. You must be hungry after your long walk.” The Riddler froze instantly. Something was horrible wrong here. He felt his breath quicken and the walls began to get closer. Could the black-haired man have inhaled the hated fear toxin when entering the apartment? No, it wasn't possible. Jonathan was still researching a new mixture that didn't smell like death and ruin. The tinkerer slowly released himself from the rigidity and moved carefully to the table, let himself be lowered directly into the chair. A look at the plate revealed that the other had taken the trouble to serve him his favourite food. Steak with herb butter, fried potatoes and a mixture of vegetables. The man looked up slowly, studied at the otherwise usually frozen face of the older man. Jonathan smiled a little, the grey eyes twitched slightly to the side. Even though the former psychiatrist could no longer see him, Edward felt he was being watched and, above all, analysed. What the fucking hell was going on in the head of the blind man? The Master of Fear carefully took the cutlery in his hands and raised his voice, which was far too calm, again: "Don't you want anything to eat, Edward?"

The addressed swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. With trembling fingers he gripped the fork, then dropped the knife of all things on the floor while trying to hold it. Was he really that clumsy today? The Riddler picked up the cutlery and cut into the meat, watching the slightly red juice pouring out. It was grilled to the point. He started to eat, closed his eyes at the pleasant taste in his mouth. To his amazement, it wasn't quite cold yet, even if he would have preferred it to be warmer. The wine seemed to have been chosen to go with the meal and inadvertently made him smile. Edward was never averse to a fine meal. A low laugh instantly ruined the smile. The black-haired man looked up in surprise, the opals getting bigger with every passing second. He could see the Master of Fear, but something was squeezing out of the thin man's head. The loud crack of the breaking skull sounded and dark blood pressed through the pale skin, ran unhindered onto the plate beneath him. Jonathan tilted his head, gave a barely visible smile and asked inappropriately calmly: "Is something wrong, my dear?" The Riddler stumbled to his feet, knocked the chair over in this action and couldn't look away any more. Fingers dug out of the forehead of the former psychiatrist, cupped the flesh with their bloody fingernails. Gradually the hands opened the head wider, revealing the coils of the brain. The brown-haired man's face was now so covered with blood that he was practically no longer recognizable. Edward held his breath. An all-too-familiar face rose slowly from the pulsing flesh, the visage twisted into a menacing grin. The inventor muttered, almost confused: “No, that can't be. That must not be. No no no! You're not real! ”Jonathan looked down slightly, the smile on his lips widening. He replied calmly: “What is it, Edward? Do you already see ghosts or is the poison in your food finally working on your weak and simple mind?” The tinkerer took a step back with each movement of the new figure, and finally hit the icy wall. He was only breathing jerkily. The extremely loud voice of his father echoed through the living room: “What have you done again, you useless son of a cheap whore? Can't you do something right at least once in your miserable life! I can not believe it! You are so pathetic, Edward. Should I drag your hair through the apartment again so that you finally understand that you are no more valuable than the dirty rag in the kitchen with which your ungodly mother wipes the floor?"

The black-haired man immediately slumped, his hands pressed convulsively on his ears. The next moment something caught his wrists, pulled them roughly from the auricles. Again he heard the shabby voice of his father: “Don't you dare to withdraw from me, you disgrace of humanity! I'm far from done with you. Actually, you are normally not worth my precious time, but if I only see your ugly face I get fucking angry. Such an immense waste of my precious genetic material. It's a shame!” The addressee twitched under an upcoming panic attack. Cold sweat ran from his body and made him shiver. He whispered: “Please. I can't help it, father. Please ... ""Please what?", the figure in front of him shouted gruffly in his ear, pressing his forehead brutally against the wall. Another voice, unexpectedly melodic, came through the room. The tinkerer had difficulty assigning her to any person, even if she sounded strangely familiar: "What do you see now, Edward. Your father, probably. Of course, that doesn't surprise me, if we collect all the little details in your medical history.” In the same breath, the walls suddenly moved around him and the floor began to shake. To his horror, other figures climbed out of the solid materials. A cluster of people gathered around him and his father, giving him no more opportunity to escape. He could hear the faceless figures whispering as they moved closer and closer to him. His begetter growled loudly, his voice becoming more distorted with every minute: “I should beat you up on the spot, you worthless piece of shit! Do you actually know how much effort I went to raise you and what it was all for? Just so you can drag my name into the dirt! ”A heavy punch hit his stomach, causing the Riddler to drop to his knees. He coughed heavily and held his aching stomach, writhing under the strong pull. A few fingers on his chin forced him to look up. Edward stared breathlessly into his father's eyes, unable to move. Anxiety. Panic. Despair.

The older one spat in his face and hit his son's right cheek very hard.. Edward slumped to one side, lay trembling on the dusty floor. The crowd around him burst out laughing and pointing their fingers at him, some starting to applaud. “Please father,” the black-haired man breathed hoarsely, “please don't. I can't do it any more, father. Please. I just simply can't. I can't do this any more. Please...” “Shut the fuck up, you miserable failure of life!” This statement was followed by a strong kick on his chest, then another. Again and again the man kicked the tinkerer, spat out hateful insults at his own son. There was an increased, loud cracking sound and the extreme pain left no doubt that his father was breaking his ribs one after the other with brute force. The second, calm voice reached his ears again: “Hmm. I assume he is hitting you right now, right? Regrettable. Really unfortunate. Such a family tragedy with a brutal, almost barbaric alcoholic and an overwhelmed mother who cannot do more than finance his endless consumption with an unknown number of poorly paid side jobs. She probably never had time for you, did she?” His father suddenly stopped stepping on him. Edward drew his legs up slowly and put his face on his knees, crying completely abandoned in his paralysing helplessness. He didn't even notice that the figures around him were slowly disappearing into thin air and that the steady ticking of the cuckoo clock was the only sound left in the living room. Jonathan was still sitting at the dining table, gulping down the last piece of the steak. He spoke softly: “Should you decide to attack me personally again, I will give you a higher dose of poison. That should be enough as a first lesson today.” Edward clawed his black hair, trembling lost on the floorboards. After a while, the former psychiatrist walked past him and locked the door behind him, just leaving the Riddler in that pitiful position.

#DC #Batman #Riddler #Scarecrow #Jonathan Crane #edward nygma #Scriddler #Riddlecrow #arkhamverse

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

The Boogeyman

summary: oc is dr. piper bishop. you may find a full profile on my tumblr (soon). her qualifications are 4 Ph.Ds in different branches of psychology, a master’s in history and bachelor’s in literature all by 22 (I wanted her to compete w/ reid). based on S2E6: The Boogeyman

When her honey-brown eyes fluttered awake, it was still dark. 5:30 am. She rose out of bed, rubbing her eyes, like a child waking up on a Sunday morning. Slipping on her ruby slippers, she staggered to the kitchen, remnants of last night’s class schedule and history projects strewn across her beige countertop, to make a cup of tea. It was strange, here in Ozona, to drink iced coffee, never mind tea. She set the kettle, pulled her long cardigan to cover her chest and regarded the manor in the woods. The whistle shattered her gaze at the dilapidated house.

In Virginia, 6 agents discussed the death of two children in the middle of Texas. "Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago. Blunt force trauma to the head," JJ sighed. There was never a good day nor time to deliberate on innocent and defenceless children. But she’d worked this job too long to slip into that pattern of doom and gloom. "He’s the second young boy to die the same way in the last 2 months. A local hunter found his body in the woods. First victim’s name, Robbie Davis."

"Are these boys connected somehow?" asked Morgan.

"Ozona’s population is roughly 2 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well, if they weren’t linked before they certainly are now." Morgan wore the same grim expression of exasperation as JJ. The agents agreed that they were both murdered by the same offender who was hunting children. The repulsiveness wasn’t lost on any of them.

^-^

Piper Bishop was a history teacher. She asked herself why every day. Every day she’d sit on her front porch, sipping on tea, asking why. Her entire life, she’d wanted to help people, and her entire life, she questioned if it was enough. She wasn’t smart enough to go to medical school, her father had made sure she understood that at most. Her clear preference for the humanities was seen as repulsive, condemned for "supporting these damn bleeding-heart liberals". Neither were Daniel’s remarks lost on her either. She remembered her last reunion with her siblings. "You have 4 Ph.Ds Pipes," he’d said, blues gazing at browns. "Why are you teaching school kids?" She’d find the answer every time a young girl whispered about a bully in her ear, every time a young boy bared his scars to her. She’d tried doing the psychiatry gig, but the stigma behind her patients meant she had none. Her father’s words still stuck to her. Though she’d shaken him off, his voice became her own. What if he is right though? What if you really won’t amount to anything? Piper laughed at her own absurdity. She’d almost missed the sunrise. The warm sun peeking out at her behind the trees melted away all her doubts. "Time for school Dr. Bishop."

^-^

"You guys hear Elle was cleared?" Spencer sat down with his cup of hot coffee next to Derek. Well, more sugar than coffee anyway.

"Self-defence," Derek stated, flipping through the files, with an air of disbelief.

"So it was a good shoot." Derek turned towards the young agent.

"She hit what she was aiming for." JJ commented without a glance at the two men in front of her, eyes focused on the case at hand.

"That’s not what I meant."

"I know." The blonde agent said.

"If they cleared her," Morgan asked, "then how come she’s not here with us? Or Hotch?"

"Focus on the case," Gideon reprimanded, seated away from them. Taking it as a sign to change the conversation, JJ handed out the autopsy reports. Morgan then suggested the bludgeoning was a form of frustration or rage.

"With no apparent sexual motivation," Reid added, "that’s rare when the victims are this young."

"The unsure is taking pleasure from the kill itself." Gideon contributed.

"If it’s not sexual, what’s the significance in killing young males?"

"Most serial killers prey upon specific types to carry out fantasies of revenge.” Spencer answered, drawing on his memory. “Bundy killed women that looked like an ex-girlfriend who jilted him, Dahmer claimed that schoolyard harassment federal into his fury."

"Okay, so maybe these kids represent someone who victimised the offender?"

"Unlikely," JJ replied, "they just found another body. 11 year old girl."

^-^

Piper glanced over her desk quickly once more. Her worksheets were ready, her timeline of Alexander the Great was drawn up and her map of Alexander’s territory was pinned, dotted with little flags and sketched out. She was determined to make this module the best one yet to make up for the tension in the classroom. She’d already lost 2 kids to that coward in the woods, she wasn’t about to lose a third. The Persian horde had arrived and the young doctor opened the gates to receive the 45 little kids raging to their beloved history teacher. No, 43 now, she chided herself. Closing the door, she mentally reminded her to control her emotions. She turned to face her little devils, "Who’s ready to fight the Macedons?"

Her warm eyes flitted across the desks. That was weird. Three desks were empty this time. "Has anyone seen Sarah?" She entertained her class for a while and told them to take a worksheet each while she made a call. Piper popped her head into Mr Davison’s class and asked him to keep an eye on her class. She tapped her fingers erratically while the administration office checked up on Mrs Peterson. "Well,?"

"Dr. Bishop, Sarah’s not at home either."

Piper took a shaky breath before entering her classroom. She’ll be fine. She probably got lost on her way to school. The police will do their job. Relax.

"Okay, who can tell me who Alexander is?"

Hailey jumped up and recited, "Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the…" The young brunette stumbled. Piper could see the happiness leech from the young girl’s face.

"Argead dynasty, idiot." Jeffrey yelled, sticking his tongue out. "She can’t even speak. Are you dumb, Hailey?"

"Enough, Jeffrey, don’t you ever put someone else down for trying. If you keep your head down and keep studying, maybe you can be a teacher too, but trying and failing is better than doing nothing at all." Piper turned her attention to the tears rapidly forming in the child’s blinking eyes. Piper handed her a tissue from her desk and kneeled down next to her. "It’s okay kiddo. We make mistakes sometimes. That doesn’t mean we stop trying. What do you think that word says?" After a couple of tries, Hailey got the hang of it, and Piper could move on.

"Alex spent most of his years on a military campaign through western Asia and northeast Africa," Piper said, drawing their attention to what she’d say was an impressive map. "And by the age of thirty, he had created one of the largest empires of the ancient world, stretching from Greece to northwestern India."

^-^

Gideon and the local sheriff trudged through fallen leaves to the site of where the battered boy was. "This isn’t a dump site," Gideon noted, "the murder happened right here." Kneeling down, he said, more to his own benefit than the sheriff, "Autopsy report claims no sign of a struggle."

"Poor little guy never had a chance."

Gideon envisioned the incident. The 8 year old boy walking past, turning back to see his abuser.

"The victims knew their killer." He muttered to himself. "Followed them to this spot."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, the kids went this deep into the woods because they trusted them. Probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. We’re looking for someone intelligent, methodical, but the method of killing doesn’t fit. It’s confusing. Doesn’t make sense." Gideon’s words were as fragmented as his thoughts, desperately trying to pull the pieces together.

Less than a quarter mile away from the other dumpsites, the gangly doctor stood next to the bagged and battered kid. "Violence was post-mortem," revealed the medical examiner on the case, equally horrified at the scenes unfolding over the past few weeks.

"So, the killer’s becoming more brazen."

"But now he’s spending more time with the victims even after death." Morgan glanced at the yellow 'Hunting Area' sign nailed to a tree. "If he’s a hunter," Derek turned to Spencer, "he’d know every inch of these woods."

^-^

The PA squealed out just as Piper was getting to the Persian conquest. "All students, please head to the assembly hall immediately, all teachers to the teacher’s lounge." The young woman herded the daydreamers out, grabbed her Doctor Who mug and rushed to the lounge. Whilst pouring herself a cup of coffee, James told her about the parents and the BAU members coming to discuss the murders. Steeling herself for a gruesome speech, Piper headed over to the hall to introduce the kids to FBI agents while James stayed behind to console parents. While the soles of her sneakers rushed, her head wandered. Who were these agents? Were these kids gonna be okay? At the entrance to the hall, her forehead wrinkled and her body collided with a lanky agent and her warm coffee stained the whole of both their cardigans, her brain juice spilling all over the floor.

"Sorry," they both exclaimed. Gideon and JJ walked by, snickering as she entered the hall, but Gideon barely spared them a glance.

"Seriously, I am so sorry." Piper gushed. "I have some tissues, and there’s a bathroom right there."

The agent just laughed and took the cardigan off. "Don’t worry about it, it’s brown anyway." He stared at your TARDIS mug. "Is that…" Piper blanched. Did she now also have to explain Doctor Who to him?

"I know it looks like a phone booth but it’s actually a…" She stumbled. "I have no idea how to explain this without sounding like I’m a complete lunatic."

"No, I know what Doctor Who is." He chuckled softly.

Piper sighed in relief. "Finally, you have no idea the glances I get for this thing."

"Reid!" Gideon yelled from the hallway.

"That’s me. Bye." Spencer waved awkwardly at the young woman in front of him, before sidestepping her quickly to get to his mentor.

^-^

"It could be someone you know or it could be a stranger you pass at the grocery store. But it’s vital that we keep our eyes open and our children close. Now as Ozona’s guidance counsellor, I can only help your children with the aftermath but our police department is working with the FBI, gathering information on the case. To elaborate on that, Agent Jason Gideon." James introduced the middle-aged agent to the anxious parents sitting in the lounge. Reid stood behind his mentor.

"We want you to know we’re doing everything we can to find the person responsible. Until we do there are a number of precautions you need to take. Let me go over some of them with you."

^-^

Piper watched the kids attentively, just barely paying Agent Jareau and Agent Morgan attention.

"It’s a buddy system," JJ started. "That means you always go everywhere with a friend."

"That’s because bad men and women only talk to us when we’re alone."

"We don’t know what these guys look like yet. It might be someone you know."

Hailey raised her hand.

"Yeah, sweetheart, you got a question?" Piper was touched by the kindness in Agent Morgan’s voice. You couldn’t fake that tenderness.

Hailey took a deep breath, "There was this little girl once on the news who just got grabbed right in front of our house. Could that happen to us?"

The tall agent looked back at Agent Jareau. Piper understood the hesitation.

"Hailey, sweetheart, nothing will happen to you, you have my word." She walked over to the young girl and gently rubbed her shoulder. "So long as you listen to the FBI, honey." She nodded to the agents and stepped back.

^-^

"Any more questions?" Gideon asked.

"Did you ever find his hat?" Mrs Faye asked in a trembling voice, fighting the urge to cry.

"'Scuse me?" Jason was confused.

"The red one I put on him. He was wearing it when he left."

"I’m sorry, Mrs Faye," Jason rubbed his hand.

"Mandatory curfew at 5pm." James interjected and dismissed the parents. "Just make sure you know where your children are."

^-^

Piper grabbed her bag after the last bell had gone. The ghosts of Robbie, Nicholas and Sarah hadn’t left your head. She wished she could kiss the fear away from those kids. Piper jumped at the rap on the door.

"Agent Morgan. What can I do you for?"

"Just a few routine questions." Piper gestured to the seat next to her desk.

"How can I help you?"

"How long have you worked here?"

"Must be about a year now."

"As a history teacher?" Piper smiled.

"Did you guess from the armour and the coffin?" The tall doctor swung his head to take a look at the almost replica of armour.

"Have you noticed anyone looking at the children in a strange way?" Morgan continued.

“Is this an original?”

“Gods, no. Everyone knows a teacher doesn’t make enough to own original Macedonian armour. Also Greece refuses to sell any artefact to American citizens considering their scuffle with the British Museum.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she considered Morgan’s question. "I don’t think so. The chances of a child predator in a small town are ridiculously low since state law requires registered sex offenders live 2,000 feet from schools and Texas’s registry is public. I suppose the problem would then be unregistered ones, in which case, kids are always under supervision. Most likely, only someone the kids trust would be the coward doing this. In that scenario, the only adults with that kind of trust would be family friends, family, the teachers and the bus driver. I’ve met all the parents and none of them fit the psychological requirements of a sexual predator and honestly, neither do the teachers."

Morgan smiled at your thought process. "Huh, you’d make quite the profiler, but we don’t think it’s a sexual act since the bodies don’t show any sign of a sexual assault."

Piper mulled over the new information. "I know those kids. They’re good kids and even if it just boils down to a case of rage, no adult within their inner circles would be capable of such a thing. It’s not that it’s impossible, but it is highly unlikely. A lot of these people have kids of their own." She saw the disbelief on their faces so she switched tacks. "What’s your profile of the killer?"

"We can’t disclose that to the public yet."

"Then think of it as a consultation." Piper said, pulling out her resume from an inner drawer.

Morgan whistled and Reid glanced at the sheet over his shoulder. "4 PhDs in clinical, child, abnormal and counselling psychology. Why are you a history teacher?"

Piper glanced at the door. "Everyone told me to start my own practice, and I did." She pointed at the glowing resume in Derek’s hands. "When people heard about this, they came too. But slowly they stopped. At first I thought it was a good sign. But I’d call them in a month, and they’d tell me they’d slipped back into their addictions, or their depressive episodes." She combed her hand through her hair.

"So I quit, packed my bags, moved to Ozona and asked for a teaching position." She let out a shaky breath. "I am more than qualified to help you out, Agent Morgan, so please let me." Morgan looked back at Reid who shrugged.

^-^

"Can I have your attention please?" The local department turned to focus on Agent Gideon. "We’d like to make something clear." He cleared his throat. "Due to the velocity of change, we predict this offender could try to strike again at any time. His confidence builds with every attack."

"Look for someone physically fit, shy, kind disposition. Someone you may trust with your own child. Because the killer targets kids, he may be small himself," Morgan took over, "and though we keep referring to this unsub as he, do not rule out a woman."

A mother and her young son rushed over to the small congregation. Piper recognised her. "Excuse me. My son Matthew never came home today."

Gideon stepped forward, asking where he was last seen. "His teachers saw him in the parking lot after school." At that moment, all officers and agents moved to start looking for the boy. Reid and Morgan turned to the map, trying to figure out how and where he may be taken. Noticing the woman in distress and panic, JJ asked the woman to take a seat. Piper watched the scene from a corner and focused on the little boy with her.

"What are you thinking about over here?" She knelt down in front of him.

"Nothing," said the child softly.

"You look awfully upset to be thinking about nothing. Wanna tell me what’s wrong?"

"Matty said he was just gonna ring the doorbell. At the haunted house. On the hill."

"Finnegan’s place," interrupted James.

"Forever kind of a local legend," the sheriff informed the agents. "Folks say he watches kids from the window. Hunts 'em. Skins 'em. Eats 'em."

"Why weren’t we told about this?" Morgan faced the sheriff. "Fables often come from an ounce of truth. We should exhaust every possibility."

^-^

As day turned to night and the FBI agents raided Finnegan’s manor, Piper sat on her porch, mulling the profile over and over. She knew the people in town. She’d have known if there was a killer in their midst. Do you, though? You think you know better that professional profilers? What, because you wrote a few research papers in 4 years. Get a grip. She glanced at Old Man Finnegan’s place. He’d stopped coming into the town after his wife died, she knew that much. No, it couldn’t be him. Why would the kids trust a man they fear? So, who? Shaking her head, the young woman walked into the house. She grabbed a mandarin from her little fruit bowl and busied herself making a cup of tea. I have to be making an assumption. C’mon Pipes! Her mind flashed back to class. The little boy in her 7th grade class yelling at little Hailey then the incident in April in the parking lot. Ignoring the yell of her kettle, Piper left her orange on the counter and rushed to her dining table to her binders. She scrambled to her 7th grade class binder. Jeffrey Charles and on top, her cursive handwriting that her mom was so damn proud of. Father, James Charles, guidance counsellor. Mother, unknown, left in Apr. 2006. She flicked to her notes.

Disruptive. Borderline bully. Possesses strained empathy for others. Loner. Apathetic towards school. Can be attributed to broken family.

She glanced at the time. 1:30 am. Shit. Should I call Morgan anyway? Piper pulled out her phone and the card Derek had given her. Not giving her brain the chance to overthink, Piper dialled the number. After 7 rings, she hangs up. Of course he didn’t pick up your call. Did you really think what you have to say matters? She brushed the nasty voice of her dad off, but left the phone on the table. She took the kettle off, turned the lights off, locked the door, and went to bed.

^-^

The boys separated in the night, torches and guns at the ready. Gideon and Reid took the back while Morgan and the sheriff took the front of the house. Morgan flicked the lights on and off, but nothing happened. "Definitely haunted."

Gideon and Reid edged towards the garage. "FBI," Gideon yelled, only to hear the soft mumbles of a child.

"I didn’t want the old man to find me."

"All right," Gideon said, rather gruffer than he intended, "No one’s gonna harm you."

^-^

Spencer settled down in the darkness. "Hey Garcia, did you get anything?" he greeted their tech analyst softly.

"Well, only that Finnegan’s house in the hill is like the Bates hotel of Ozona, Texas." She grinned and continued her knitting.

"Yeah, we heard the legends."

"Spencer, seriously, people that go into that house supposedly never come out. SpoOky!" Penelope sang.

"Garcia, could you at least pretend not to enjoy that rumour so much considering I’ve actually entered the house?"

"Sensitive," she mocked the young doctor. "Sorry,"

"Besides, local police say there are no reports of that happening."

"Yeah, this is true. All complaints filed were false alarms. But then there is that matter of his missing wife," the blonde taunted.

"Wife? What wife? When did she go missing?"

"Almost 50 years ago," she said sinisterly.

"Is there no record of her ever being found?"

"I got 2 words for you my friend, rear window." Reid abandoned his files to pay attention to his dear, quirky and unrelentingly mischievous friend. "That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious, bite-sized little pieces."

Something creaked outside Reid’s window.

"Think about it, Spencer," she continued, "she may have never left the premises." Garcia could barely contain her giggles. "She may still be in the house," she whispered into her mic.

That creaking something creaked again.

"Garcia, I’m sitting here in the dark, alone. Thanks."

"While you’re waiting for a potential murderer to come home, that’s kinda dangerous." Garcia smiled into her mic, twisting her pen in her hand and picturing the deliciously scared features on Spencer’s face. "Kinda sexy," she added.

"I gotta go," Reid said, looking out into the darkness on the other side of the window.

"You’re having creepy fun, I wish I was there."

As Reid turned off his cell, he glanced back towards the noises on the stairs. Slowly standing up, he felt something. An entity. A presence. An existence. Spencer turned his head around, only to bump into a tall, dark stranger and he jumped, terrified. "You really are afraid of the dark," Derek said, smiling.

"I’m working on it," Spencer shot back quickly and walked away.

"You should work a little harder."

The sheriff came back to the group, reporting that his deputy would get the boy back safe. Morgan shook his head. The whole town was on edge. Perhaps that’s why Finnegan was in the wind. The agent flicked his torch to the wall, only to see a rack of rifles.

"The unsub didn’t use a gun," Gideon pointed out. He kept walking, piecing together his thoughts aloud. "Finnegan’s an avid hunter, why didn’t he use it?" He reached under the table to pull out Robbie’s lunchbox and Sarah’s backpack.

"I guess Finnegan brought the kids back here before finishing them off. But why wouldn’t he get rid of the evidence?"

"He considers them trophies,"Spencer said softly.

Morgan huffed. "When this is all said and done, I’d like to hang his head on a wall."

^-^

Morgan, Reid and Gideon paced the next crime scene, only this time it wasn’t a child. It was Finnegan. The medical examiner explained that he died of natural causes.

"His heart probably gave out while setting this trap," Reid suggested.

"Yeah, well, karma’s a bitch," the M.E. commented, "those coyotes were gnawing on him for a week."

"Before the second or third murders even happened," Morgan pointed out.

"This area’s off the travelled path, it’s a wonder anyone even discovered him at all."

"If you ask me," the medical examiner suggested, "those leaves didn’t cover him by themselves."

"If Finnegan’s been dead all this time, who’s living in his house?"

^-^

Piper Bishop rose later than usual. 7 am. She’d missed the sunrise. Shit. Pulling on her slippers, she went through the rounds; a cup of tea, pancakes, review of the class schedule and that’s when she remembered. She meant to call Morgan in the morning. She dialled his cell again. Nothing. Sighing, she told herself she’d drop by later today. She changed into her favourite outfit, white satin button-up, dark blue pants, grey blazer, drop necklace.

^-^

"Here’s a question," Reid asked, crossing his legs on the couch, "if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound in nobody hears it?"

Morgan stared at him. "What the hell are you reading over there?"

"I was just thinking," Reid gazed back at the journals on his lap.

"Found something," Gideon announced. The boys followed him into the kitchen.

"Provisions," he said, staring at the near-dozen near-empty dishes, "delivered by the church to every elderly’s doorstep." He waved his hand to all of them, saying, "Each one dated after Finnegan died."

"So the unsub ate everything?" Morgan asked.

"Almost everything," Gideon answered, "unopened bowls of creamed spinach thrown in the trash, each one wrapped with duct tape."

"One with each tray," Spencer noted, handling the casings carefully.

"So we’re looking for a guy who really, really hates spinach?" Morgan was exasperated.

"Who doesn’t?" Spencer retorted.

"Ritualised, meticulous, organised."

"He would eat the same particulars." Reid was confused.

"Full prints," Gideon ordered. At that, Gideon’s cell rang and seeing the name, walked out.

"It’s about Elle, isn’t it?" Spencer said, walking closer to Derek, arms crossed. "I talked to her in Ohio."

"Reid, we all talked to her."

"No, no, I talked to her before. I went to her room one night and…she was drinking."

"She almost died. I’d be drinking too."

^-^

To say Piper was frustrated would not even begin to cover her chagrin at being unable to talk to Morgan. He wasn’t answering his cell and she couldn’t find a sub this last minute. Her students felt the tension and none wanted to see her explode. They kept quiet, answering their comprehension questions of Alexander the Great’s Persian conquests. As soon as the bell rang, she started, rushing students out the door and grabbing her bag. She dialled the sheriff’s number and asked to meet his as soon as possible.

"Just hear me out, Sheriff," she pleaded.

"You really expect me to believe that a child could do something as heinous as this."

"Jeffrey isn’t an ordinary child. His mother left him in April, you know that. Children grow resentful of other children anyway."

"That’s ridiculous. So he’s a little jealous." He got up and started pacing.

"Except he’s not just resentful about mothers, it’s about James too. You and I both know how much he cares about those kids. Some days he calls me at 3 in the morning to talk about how stressed he is. Not 'cause of his workload, but 'cause he’s worried he’s not doing enough. Sheriff, I’m begging you to see reason."

"No, you’re delusional."

"I don’t think you know what that word means and you definitely aren’t qualified to use it.”

"A child would never do this."

"That’s exactly why you’ll never find your killer."

"Are you doubting me, Ms Bishop?"

"No," she said forcefully, "Quite frankly, Sheriff, you don’t know the first thing about kids. I’ve seen how worried Langdon gets sometimes because he’s scared that his Daddy isn’t going to come home one day. I’m not doubting your ability, Sheriff, I’m doubting whether you’ll find the unsub before another child has to die. 3 children are dead, I’m trying to help and for the record, it’s Doctor." For once, she felt calmer and having said her piece, she walked out the sheriff’s office, greeting Agent Gideon politely before she walked away from the both of them.

^-^

"Why the woods, JJ?" Morgan asked, sipping his terrible coffee in station’s waiting room.

"Hmm?"

"Your fear, you said it was of the woods. Why?"

"Oh, I was a camp counsellor when I was a teenager. In the woods up in Vermont, I had the night shift. Tucked the girls in, turned off the lights, you know the typical stuff. Everything seemed fine, all the kids were asleep, you know. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until, I noticed there was some blood on the hallway floor. So I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed and he was just lying underneath his covers, dead. Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast, out the door, down the hall, I just remember it being really dark and once I got to the door, there was another counsellor. I guess she must have heard me scream. Anyway, they caught the cleaner on his way to town. He must have had the knife on him. So, that’s when I decided didn’t like the woods." JJ fought to suppress her giggles at Derek’s expression.

"You’re serious?"

"No," She laughed. "No, I don’t know why I’m afraid of the woods. Why is he still afraid of the dark?"

"Yeah, Reid?"

"Because of the inherent absence of light," he replied.

"That was good JJ," Morgan’s phone started ringing, "Just know that paybacks are a bitch."

"Hey girl," he called to his favourite tech analyst.

"I love our relationship. We barely need words."

"Talk to me baby."

"So I pulled two sets of prints of those trays," she said.

"Two?"

"Yeah, one of them belonging to a child?"

"Okay, which one of the victims? Why don’t you work with the Ozona Coroner’s Office?"

"Oh baby, that’s so yesterday. I’ve already got those minions working on it. The other set, however, is on the database. Name is James Charles, he’s the-"

"He’s the local guidance counsellor helping with the investigation."

"You’re kidding. Sending address now." Morgan looked at the two agents who had just abandoned their cups.

"Call Gideon. We know who the unsub is."

^-^

Piper was supervising the history projects. She’d managed to pull off having a history fair with a Renaissance theme to cheer the kids up. Each kid had to make a diorama and the history department would judge based on creativity, historical merit and above all enthusiasm, a word she was not feeling. A month ago, she would’ve been over the moon, but now, all she was thinking about was when the next body would show up. She’d yelled at the sheriff and Agent Gideon had seen it. It was unprofessional and now they’d never listen to her. So you finally agree then? It was a stupid and unnecessary thing to say. Clearly you aren’t as praiseworthy as teachers say. "Ugh," Piper swept her short wavy hair into a tight ponytail. Kneeling next to Langdon, she asked him where Jeffrey was. His shrug was worrying. Piper pulled out her cell and called the administration office. "Hi ladies, is Jeffrey at school today? He’s not in my class."

"His dad called him in sick."

"Thanks, girls." Piper tried to push it out of her mind. Maybe she was wrong.

After school was out, Piper grabbed her things and left. That’s right baby girl. Just let the police do their job and just go home like the insignificant bitch you are. She grabbed her helmet and was about to drive home when she got a call from the ladies in Administration.

"It’s James. They’ve arrested them Piper. What do we do?"

"Hang tight Claudia, I’ll deal with it, okay."

^-^

"Here’s the deal," Morgan leaned over James in the interrogation room, "I could stand here and tell you what I think you were doing in Finnegan’s house for the last 2 weeks. Or, you could do us all a favour. Sign a confession, maybe get a little something taken off your time. What’d you say?"

"I never stepped inside Finnegan’s house." James stared right back into Morgan’s eyes.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Piper slammed the door behind her. The agents turned from staring at the small television screen. "Seriously, you think Jamie would do something like this?"

"Piper," The sheriff started.

"No, you don’t get that privilege anymore. It’s Doctor or nothing because clearly you don’t value my experience, Sheriff. I’m sorry to interrupt what clearly isn’t a waste of your time, Agents, but James couldn’t have done any of this."

"Then why won’t he talk to us? He had the baseball cap at his house, his prints are all over the food trays. I don’t see another explanation."

"His prints were on the food trays because he volunteers at the church’s food drive and he’s not the one with the baseball cap, it’s his son. That’s why he called him in sick yesterday, it’s why he’s hiding the truth from you all. James doesn’t have the time nor the motive. If his wife left him, why would he attack kids? More importantly when? When he isn’t at school, he has a session with a kid. If not there, helping with your investigation or handing out food for retired folks. The man has no opportunity and no motive. If anything, he’d be killing women resembling his wife, but instead he’s devoting every possible minute of his life to this community. As for why I think it’s Jeffrey, if you’d listened to me, Sheriff, the kid lost his mom in April. If you don’t know, if a kid loses a parent when they’re in their formative years as a result of abandonment rather than death, they grow increasing resentful of kids who do have their parents. Except for Jeffrey, it’s like he lost both. When his mother left, James devoted his life to the community and as a natural consequence, Jeffrey lost his father too. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but 3 kids are dead and Jeffrey is missing." They were all standing up, ignoring the interrogation and gawking at Piper. Reid couldn’t stop staring at her and her ears began to redden significantly. Gideon broke the silence.

"Stay. Observe. You know him better than we do. Watch his behaviour and tell me if you don’t think he’s guilty."

Piper was slightly relieved that Gideon took her seriously enough to let her stay.

"How these last 6 months been for you James? Not too good huh? I don't know, your whole life is falling apart isn't it? Oh yeah you got to be feeling a loss of control, sense of abandonment. And I would guess, a little impotent maybe?" Morgan chuckled. "Come on man, give me something! Why did your wife leave you? What happened James, she get bored? I mean you don't seem all that exciting to me. She started feeling a little uninspired? You're not a minute man, aren't you? Uh, that's what it is!"

"You don’t think that’s a little uncalled for?" Piper exclaimed.

"We need him to talk. If he gets angry, he may slip up." Piper settled down.

^-^

"You think Dr. Bishop’s right?" Reid asked, playing with the handcuffs in his palm.

"I don’t know. I can’t believe a kid could be capable of something like this. She seems close to James too. Could be covering for him."

"I guess so."

"You know, it's bad enough his mother left and now his father's in custody. We’ve also got to take the poor kid into child services."

"It’s the law."

So is jaywalking. I don't have to like it. Good afternoon this is Agent Jareau, with the FBI, we're gonna be picking up Jeffrey Charles in about 20 minutes, if... Okay, I see. Thank you."

"What is it?"

"Dr Bishop may have been right."

^-^

"Jeffrey never was at school today. His father said he was sick." JJ informed them.

Piper’s instinct was to yell 'Aha!' but thankfully she went against it.

"Reid, go though his apartment." Gideon ordered.

"No, you don’t seriously still think this is his fault."

"I think he may have blamed his kid for his failed marriage."

"Then I can’t watch this interview. Let me help Dr Reid with the search." Everyone looked to Gideon.

"Okay, fine. Reid, keep an eye on her."

^-^

"Why are you so sure it isn’t him?" Reid asked her softly.

"Hmm?" Piper looked up from the abandoned dirty dishes.

"What you said back there, how are you so sure?"

"I’m not exactly the most experienced psychologist. I mean, I’ve studied it, wrote about it, talked in conferences about it, but I haven’t applied it, not the way he has. I guess, if he does turn out to be the killer," she huffed, "then he’s not the man I hoped he’d be." Reid stared at her.

Piper pulled the elastic from her hair and moved past Spencer to the bookshelf.

"It’s difficult. Being a single parent. Not that I would know. But I can understand." She pulled a book of the shelf. Kurt Vonnegut. "But James handled it as best he could. He put his personal trauma aside for the whole community. Only issue was," she turned to look back into Reid’s soft gaze, "his kid got the brunt of it. Most saints have something to hide, Spence. Gandhi accused his eldest son of 'alcohol and debauchery,' even sexual assault. And no-one believes me because no-one’s met the kid. He has serious rage issues, strained empathy for others and is apathetic to others."

"Huh. Look at this." Piper moved towards the doctor.

"It’s an EpiPen. So?"

"So, at Finnegan’s house, we found all the creamed spinach duck-taped and thrown out."

"Spence," Piper levelled her gaze, "Jeffrey has an allergy to dairy."

^-^

"Can I have a word with him?" Gideon asked. Morgan nodded and left the room. "It’s a rough day, huh? Coffee?"

"Yeah I wouldn't mind."

"Milk?"

"Please."

"So how long have you known that your son is a murderer?" Gideon abruptly asked without breaking eye contact.

"What are you talking about?"

"You might have been the one who brought the food trays to Finnegan's, but your son ate them, everything but the creamed spinach."

"You want me to confess? Is that what this game is? That's fine. You bring me another pen, I'll write out my confession."

"We found an EpiPen in your kitchen."

"So what that proves that my kid has an allergy."

"To milk."

Piper had had enough. "Let me in there, I’ll get him to talk. If Gideon threatens the freedom of his child, James won’t talk. He’ll talk to me."

"Not with Gideon in there." Morgan chided you.

^-^

Piper sat cross-legged on the chair, head resting on the back of her arms. Morgan was almost falling asleep. Reid was on his 8th cup of coffee. Piper’s ringtone woke Derek up and she couldn’t help laughing. "Big bad Derek Morgan’s afraid of a ringtone?" she laughed and raised the phone to her ear.

"Hi, Mrs Belle. How can I help you? Is Tracy okay?" Piper’s change of expression from glee to gloom wasn’t lost on anyone. "Okay, sit tight Mrs Belle, we’ll find her. Please relax." Piper hung up the phone and tied her short hair up again.

"Tracey Belle was just reported missing. Last seen getting off her school bus on Fuller Road."

^-^

What happened after was just a blur. Piper had managed to convince Gideon to let her come, citing her certification for hostage negotiation. They’d all strapped the Kevlar suits on and found a spare for her. Reid and JJ left in one car, Morgan and the sheriff in another and Piper was paired with Gideon.

"Why are you a history teacher?" Gideon asked.

"Hmm?"

"You’re 25, you have 4 Ph.Ds in Psychology, a Masters in History and Bachelors in Literature."

"Thought I wasn’t doing much good in a university classroom. Swapped it for an elementary school"

"I’m a profiler. Don’t lie to me."

"Yes, sir. They wouldn’t come because they didn’t want people to think they or their kids were crazy. So I stopped. I wrote books and papers. I taught at universities. But I kept getting this nagging thing in my head, that I should be doing more. So I packed and moved."

"Where’d you teach?"

"The main ones. Guest lectured at Brown for months at a time. Harvard was my alma mater so I was there for a semester. Columbia offered but I rejected them. They were kinda stung that I chose a high school over them." He chuckled at that. "None of you smile a lot."

"Hmm?"

"Especially you. Do the cases get that bad?"

"Yeah."

"So why do it?" The car stopped near the woods. They both got out of the vehicle and headed towards the others.

"Because it has to be done." He looked over at her and smiled.

^-^

Tracy was running. Her bag was gone. Jeffrey was going to hurt her. She knew she was at the playground, but after a few minutes, the woods had enveloped her. She prayed that her mom was looking, that someone was looking, but the only thing that filled the little girl’s little heart was the dread. Dread that in these big bad woods, she was all alone with a killer.

"Split up, she’s gotta be somewhere."

Bishop and Gideon ran through the woods looking for the small blonde.

"Tracy!"

Trees.

"Tracy!"

Trees everywhere.

"Tracy!"

They were looking for a red and a blond needle in a green and orange haystack.

"Tracey!" Jeffrey cried in a sing song voice. "Let's just go home. I was only playing! Why do you have to be such a baby? Tracey?"

Tracy’s feet hurt. She should have been home by now. She staggered towards the nearest tree and hid. He couldn’t find her here, would he? Her breaths were jagged and she was terrified.

Bishop heard screaming. "Tracy!" They ran towards the piercing scream. She saw the scene unfolding and determined to be anything but helpless, Piper ran in between Jeffrey and Tracy. "Stop!" Gideon ran to Jeffrey, locking him in one arm, throwing the bat away with the other. Piper pushed Tracy into JJ’s arms and breathed with relief.

^-^

In the aftermath of things, James was pacing, scared of what his kid had become, terrified of what would happen to him. Piper held her head in her hands, sitting on the parkside bench. Morgan gently pushed Jeffrey into the car. Reid sat next to her.

"You did good."

"Did I? I blamed a kid for a serial murder because he lost his mother. What does that make me?" Piper lifted her head to look at him.

"A profiler." Spencer rubbed her shoulder and walked away. Piper glanced at James, pacing.

"You think you could have prevented this?"

"Maybe if I’d been there for him…"

She put a hand on his shoulder. "James, you’d put the world’s problems on your own back if you could. You can still be there for him. What he did, it isn’t his fault and it isn’t yours." He looked at Piper, his gaze shattered, his soul broken.

"You really believe that?"

"I believe that care and love can make anything possible."

^-^

Piper packed her things slowly. She folded her maps, packed away the Macedon’s armour and the Egyptian coffin.

"So where to next?" Gideon leaned on her desk, arms crossed.

"Vacation to Italy, maybe Venice. Figuring things out." She shrugged.

"You did good today, but…you could be better."

"I’m sorry?"

"I want you on the team." Piper levelled her gaze to Gideon, standing straight.

"In what capacity?"

"Consultant, on a temporary basis. If you put in the hours and do the classes, maybe even an agent. You in?"

"This a one-time offer?"

"Yes."

"I’m in."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jj #gideon #spencer reid x oc #reid x oc

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megalony · 5 years

Text

Come here

My second Warren Worthington imagine which I hope everyone will like.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae @langdonzvoid @butlegendsneverdie @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap

Enjoy.

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

Warren had been hesitant at first to come to the school for gifted youngsters, even though there were people like him a lot of them were younger and just beginning to learn about their mutations. None of them had wings like he did, and none of them were as battered as Warren was. He felt out of place as soon as he walked through the doors until his eyes landed on one girl in particular who seemed to steal all of his attention without meaning to. (Y/n) had seemed so captivating to Warren, and she hadn't treated him like he was different or vulnerable like others did. Nor was she wary or scared of him like so many others were, and he wondered if that was because so many kids were hesitant to be around her too. They both seemed to keep to themselves until she plucked up the courage to talk to him, and they had become joined at the hip since.

Considering how everyone at the school was mutant Warren found it weird how they could still act like some mutants were bad or frightening when they were all the same. (Y/n)'s mutation was what warded some of the students away from her, she was telepathic but also had the ability to cause people mental pain making them think that they were actually hurt.

Looking up to Raven who was stood in front of the room Warren felt his jaw tightening at the notion that she was going to randomly partner them up for this defence class which he saw no reason for her to do. Everyone had their respective partners for this class and no one kicked up a fuss, why was she deciding to change everything? Especially when everyone was clearly comfortable with who they were partnered with.

Warren wanted to be with (Y/n) because he knew she hated this class. Due to her kind of mutation Raven and the professor had decided that it would be in her best interests if she learnt hand to hand combat without using her mutation when everyone else was encouraged to use theirs. Learning this Warren immediately partnered with her because he taught her how to do hand to hand combat but he didn't try and fight her. He didn't use his mutation to his advantage or push her because she didn't feel confident in this class. As long as he taught her the basics he saw no reason to move her from her comfort zone to actually fight her. He knew what he was doing, he had been fighting when he was in the cage, that was his life he knew how to fight to stay alive he didn't need this class.

Jean looked to (Y/n) in sympathy at the partner she had gotten paired up with, noticing how Warren's thoughts got a lot louder and his wings seemed to tense as if he was getting into a fighting stance.

"I'll be right over there. Anything happens send me a message." Warren mumbled before his lips pressed to the top of her head, his arm tightening around her middle. Send a message was just a little thing between them meaning telepathically call out to him if she felt she couldn't do this class anymore or needed help or anything at all. Unwinding his arm from around her Warren placed a lasting kiss to her temple, his eyes showing he didn't really want to go. But he knew it was more trouble than it was worth to kick up a fuss so he made his way over to Jean.

(Y/n) didn't say anything when Vince walked over to her, wishing for once that she was able to use her mutation in this class so then this would be over before it had even begun. Vince was good at defence he knew exactly what he was doing and he wasn't about to go easy on her or let her practice without trying to fight back like Warren did. (Y/n) just wasn't good at defence, she didn't see the point when her mutation rendered her enemies useless in a matter of seconds even if it did put a strain on her mentally. She had no need for combat due to her powers and yet Raven and Charles still wanted to put her through this on the off chance her powers simply disappeared.

She could see the tired look on Vince's face as his anger rose. She wasn't fighting him, all she was doing was dodging his punches and kicks without throwing any back at him. Warren watched her in pain as she scuttled around the mat, throwing about one punch in the twenty minutes they had been practising.

"For God's sake (Y/n) can you actually do anything but run?" He sighed in aspiration as her shoulders slumped and she shook her head, unsure if he was telling her or asking her but either way she couldn't do combat. Sighing he motioned his hand for them to start again, not wanting to stop because there was no one else he could partner with and if Raven saw them switching partners she wouldn't be best pleased.

Leaning to the right (Y/n) managed to dodge a punch Vince threw her way, her right leg quickly kicking out in an attempt to catch him off guard since she hadn't really done combat with him today. A gasp leaving her lips when Vince seemed unfazed her foot connecting to his stomach as he simply grabbed her foot instead. Twisting her around and roughly pulling on her leg until she fell forwards onto her stomach, landing on the mat with a huff. The wind was effectively knocked out of her system as Vince suddenly dragged her backwards making her fear levels increase dramatically.

Just when she thought he was stopping and her head turned around he let out such a malicious laugh. Seeing how defenceless she was when she couldn't use her powers to protect her seemed rather funny to him. (Y/n) knew she was horrible at this class but at least with Warren, he never tried to push her limits and he never once thought of making fun of her. Not everyone was good at every class and this simply wasn't one of (Y/n)'s best classes.

"You really are useless aren't you?" Vince stated more of a joke than a question. Reaching out Jean grabbed Warren's arm, her mind quickly halting his actions so he didn't rush over and start a fight. Seeing how his wings suddenly stretched out as they tensed in a fighting stance once again, his hands curling into fists as his shoulders raised at the comment when it reached his ears. Warren couldn't see how someone could talk to her like that, (Y/n) couldn't do combat, not everyone could and that wasn't a bad thing. She didn't ask to be paired with him just like he didn't want to be paired with her.

"He can't fucking talk to her like that." Warren stated in a low voice, knowing Jean felt the same because she was one of (Y/n)'s good friends. He didn't want to stand and watch someone insult his girlfriend and pick on her like that when they clearly saw she was struggling. It wasn't fair and it was grating on Warren's nerves very much.

"Don't start a fight, that won't help her. Now come on." Shrugging off her hand Warren glanced back to his girlfriend one more time before sighing and nodding. All he wanted to do was go over there and give Vince a piece of his mind or to knock some sense into him but at the same time, he couldn't really cause a scene either. Raven was doing her rounds around the room and she would reach (Y/n) and Vince soon enough, he wouldn't dare say or do anything wrong when Raven was within earshot.

"Stop it." (Y/n) stated quietly, her eyes darkening in their colour as she watched Vince suddenly press a hand to his stomach before falling to his knees. Giving her the chance to stand up as she made him think that he had been winded. Using her powers wasn't strictly allowed but they weren't actually fighting right now, Vince was trying to take advantage of her inability to fight and she wasn't having it.

"Fight me then, and don't cheat." He spat back, taking a moment to catch his breath back before they both pushed themselves to their feet.

Glancing her eyes around the room, (Y/n) wondered if she could find the courage to leave the room. Simply walking out would put Raven in a bad mood and get herself into trouble but there wasn't any other option because she couldn't carry on doing this anymore. Vince had the upper hand by a mile and if (Y/n) couldn't use her powers than Raven was rendering her defenceless and she knew it. Everyone knew that when paired with Warren he didn't fight her, he simply tried to help her learn how to punch and kick properly.

Everyone also knew that they couldn't say anything about it or dare tell Raven that Warren was taking it very easy on his girlfriend because he would start a fight with whoever said anything. He wasn't letting them both slack off in class, he was taking a different approach to help (Y/n) and there was nothing wrong with that.

Right now (Y/n)'s rather weak kicks and punches were making no impact to Vince and it was making him more riled up and ready for a proper combat fight. He was starting to get joy out of her weak punches and constant dodges because he had a very big upper hand which was giving him a thrill. Finding it funny that he was put with someone who had no defences who he could quite literally push around without getting told off.

"Vince stop, I've had enough." She growled, anger fueling her words though she didn't sound very convincing or like she was making any kind of impact on his decision making. He was enjoying this too much.

"Oh come on, you haven't done anything but run around like a headless chicken." Her body began to shake when he knocked her onto her back on the mat, lurking over her getting ready to throw another kick to her whilst she was down which was against the rules. "Your little birdie isn't here to save you now." His words sent a new wave of fear washing over (Y/n) like never before, the tidal wave of emotions so harsh that she couldn't find the ability to breathe anymore when she never had to think twice about it before.

(Y/n) didn't know what came over her.

The anxiety that she put up with every day seemed to overload and short circuit her system. Her limbs pulling close to her middle as her eyes burned into the boy leering over her frame. Watching in shock as he suddenly seemed to contort as if trying to morph into a different shape or person altogether. His limbs jerking as he doubled over before pulling back, feeling every punch and kick her mutation was supplying him with without her having to do anything but strain her mind.

When a particularly harsh blow to the nose was impacted on Vince he stumbled backwards until he hit the floor, his hand clutching his face as he shrieked like a banshee. Her mind finally letting go of the hold she had put him under when she saw he was no longer a threat to her anymore.

His sudden shriek caught the attention of a few others around them who stopped to see what was happening. Everyone knowing this was practise, they shouldn't be hurting one another but (Y/n) had no choice, if she didn't hurt him first then he would have hurt her and that wasn't fair. Considering how he had tormented her for over half an hour now with training.

Turning her head to the right (Y/n) locked eyes with Warren who had taken one step closer after hearing what Vince had sneered before he stopped. His expression showing he was conflicted between being proud that she had stood up for herself and pissed with the boy now incapacitated for a moment on the floor. His eyes narrowed when he noticed how (Y/n) was trembling when she finally stood up, her arms wrapping around her middle tightly which he knew she did when she was anxious or upset.

"I- I'm sorry." She mumbled, unsure why she was apologising to him when he deserved to be at the end of her mutation which she only used to stop herself from getting hurt.

"Fucking bitch."

(Y/n) didn't see his advance until it was too late. His hand balled up into a fist and hit her right in the side of her face catching her nose which caused her head to snap to the left. She didn't have time to recover from the shock before his hands were on her to shove her roughly to the ground, watching her land on the wooden floor with a bang.

Warren had had enough.

Seeing how (Y/n) simply curled up on the floor made Warren's heart completely shatter in his chest like a broken mirror. The anger that had been pent up inside of him suddenly exploded like a pipe that had burst in his system. With a rather heavy breath, Warren suddenly barrelled over to Vince, his hands fisting the boy's shirt to yank him closer until Warren's height was towering over him. Without saying one word, he sent his forehead bashing into Vince's nose before letting him drop to the floor like a rag doll. Watching the blood pour from his nose like someone had turned on a tap in his head.

He didn't think twice before sending his foot right into Vince's stomach, winding him for real as opposed to his mind simply being tricked to let all the air out of his lungs. Warren's eyes were burning like they were holding a fire within them. "Don't fucking touch her again." His voice was lower than usual as he bent down to sneer the words at the boy currently bleeding in front of him, trying to catch his breath but it was coming as a struggle.

"Warren!"

Pulling back up Warren pushed past Raven who should have seen something like this coming. She was the teacher, she was meant to look out for them all and understand but every time (Y/n) said that she couldn't do combat and she didn't like this class Raven pushed her to continue. It wasn't fair to push her and not let her use her powers and it wasn't fair to push her out of her comfort zone and put her with someone who had a very clear advantage over her.

"Come here." Warren's voice changed drastically in less than a minute. Going from an intimidating threatening tone to a caring and rather quiet voice as he bent down beside (Y/n). His arms slipped under her frame as he helped to sit her up, their eyes locking before (Y/n) burrowed herself into his chest. Relaxing when she felt Warren's wings suddenly enveloping around her on instinct without him having to think about the action. "I've got you."

#Warren Worthington III #warren x reader #X-men #X-Men Apocalypse #ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine

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