Fandom list : https://charliedawn.tumblr.com/post/649827474499338240/hi-i-take-requests-if-some-people-are What I do ? Fanfics and character interaction. Slow update. Sorry. Also, here are the links for the face claims if you've just arrived. https://charliedawn.tumblr.com/post/685517990619398144/face-claims-part-1 https://charliedawn.tumblr.com/post/685519283197034496/face-claims-part-2 https://charliedawn.tumblr.com/post/685519851074306048/face-claims-part-3-final-part-the-hannibal
(different anon here) I remember I sent a request about the slashers months ago but I don't even remember what it was about lmao
Anyways, how are you feeling about fandoms rn? Anything specific you'd like to write about?
Author: "Thank you for asking, dearie. And I just discovered Animal Kingdom and the characters of Shawn Hatosy so that’s what I’d mainly like to write about at the moment. I will continue writing for the slashers, the Hannibal family and the vampires in Sinners of course. But like I said, I’d limit the requests to three at a time. For now, my number of requests is zero."
Hey, Charlie! Is it okay if I request something, or do you have too much requests at the moment?
Author: "Hi, dearie! You can request if you want. I have decided to delete all the requests I had so far because…I know I wouldn’t be able to answer them. I will get three requests at a time for now."
HE EXPECTS A KISS ON THE LIPS. YOU HAVE OTHER PLANS.
Jack Abbot
Jack had just walked through the front door after a long shift. You met him in the hallway with a smile. "Hi." Before he could even say hello, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
You started to walk away when he walked in front of you and looked at you with one eyebrow raised expectantly. "Wait a minute. That’s it?"
You tilted your head—genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"
He crossed his arms. "…Did I miss something?"
You frowned. "No."
"You mad at me?" He tilted his head head to pick up on any sign that you were indeed mad and that he had to run to the store and buy you a lot of sweet treats for you to no longer be mad at him.
"What? No." You huffed a laugh.
"Then why’d I get the ‘thanks for babysitting the dog’ kiss?" He finally told you.
You blinked again and burst out laughing. "The heck? It wasn’t like that."
"It felt like that." He leaned down slightly, his expression softening into the faintest smirk. "I’ve been gone fourteen hours, sweetheart. Didn’t you miss me?"
You gulped and nodded. "F’course I did."
He scoffed and bumped your forehead to yours. "Yeah? Doesn’t seem like it. I was hoping for something with a little more…enthusiasm."
You laughed again. "Oh. I see. You got demands now?"
"Yeah. You made me expect more than lil’ baby kisses. So…" He tilted his head expectantly. "…Try again for me? Hospital coffee tastes like burnt dirt. I was hoping you’d help me forget about it."
Smiling, you slipped a hand behind his neck and kissed him properly.
When you pulled away, he nodded once and smiled in satisfaction. "That’s my girl/boy."
You chuckled. "Satisfied? Got your ‘welcome back’ kiss?"
He chuckled. "Mhm. Oh yeah. World’s better and now I can take my shower in peace." He winked at you before stealing another kiss and heading towards his long-awaited shower.
Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody
You found Pope in the garage. He looked up the second you walked in. Without saying a word, you walked over and kissed his cheek.
Then you smiled. "Hi, baby."
Pope didn’t answer. He just stared at you.
"…What?" You huffed a laugh.
His brow furrowed. "…Why’d you do that?" He looked genuinely unsettled. "…Did I do something wrong?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yup. Absolutely."
His eyes searched your face. "…Then why not here?" He tapped his own lips.
You smiled and shrugged. "I just felt like kissing your cheek."
He continued looking at you as if you had spoken another language. "…But…"
"What?"
"…I’m your boyfriend. You told me that." He pointed at you and took a step forward towards you. "Am I not your boyfriend anymore?"
You blinked and chuckled. "Pope…What are you saying, you absolute goof? Of course you still are."
He stepped closer until there was barely any space between you. "…Then who gets the ones on the mouth if it ain’t me?"
"No one."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
He was quiet for another second and his shoulders relaxed at your reassurance. Then he cupped your face in both hands. "…I want this one." And before you could answer, he leaned in and kissed you deeply, one of his hand cupping the back of your head and the other grabbing the back of your thighs to lift it around his hip.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours as he panted. "…Here. Better."
You giggled and shook your head. "You really thought I was cheating because I kissed your cheek?"
He shrugged and looked around sheepishly. "…Didn’t like it. We together now, remember? I don’t want any of that ‘cheek kiss’ bullshit. I want real kisses that make me feel special. ‘Cause am the only one who gets those."
You blinked before chuckling. "I see. Sorry, baby. Bring me to our bedroom and I’ll show you all the other sort of kisses that are only available to you."
Pope didn’t need to be told twice and carried you to the bedroom—locking the door behind him. Pope loves knowing that he’s special to you…and he gets ALL the special privileges that comes with that. It makes him your person. And you’re his.
Titus Danforth
Titus was reading in the drawing room when you walked in. You leaned over the back of his chair, kissed his cheek, and continued towards the drinks cabinet. "Good evening."
He slowly lowered his book. "…Excuse me, young lady/man."
You looked over. "What?"
"You appear to have missed your target."
"Missed?" You repeated with a curious tilt of your head.
His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was internally fuming at your expression of pure innocence. "My mouth."
You blinked and laughed. "I know where your mouth is, Titus."
"So why did my cheek receive the honor instead?" He asked with frown.
You walked back over. "Didn’t want to disturb your reading."
He stood, setting the book aside.
"My darling…" He gently took your chin between his fingers. "You may rip that book to shreds as long as I get the kisses I deserve. I refuse to believe my reputation has declined to the point where I merit the sort of kiss one gives an elderly aunt."
You laughed and shook your head in disbelief. "Titus. You know I just didn’t think it would be a big deal."
His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity underneath. "…Is there someone else receiving the proper kisses while I’m being demoted?"
You gasped dramatically. "Who exactly am I cheating on you with?"
"I don’t know." He spread his hands. "The gardener? The solicitor? Another member of the high council? MY SISTER?!"
You laughed even harder at that last one.
Titus smiled, pleased he’d managed to make you laugh, before drawing you gently back towards him. "I should like to reclaim my proper greeting. I insist."
You smiled up at him and rolled your eyes. "Fine, you big baby."
This time, you kissed him on the lips. When you pulled away, he looked entirely satisfied. He brushed his thumb across your cheek and smiled tenderly at you. "That’s better."
You chuckled and were about to leave when he pulled you back. He then proceeded to make you sit down on his lap in his armchair and picked up his book to resume reading. You wanted to move, but his hand stayed splayed over your stomach—keeping you in place as he tutted playful. "Now now, my heart. You’re staying exactly where you are. Consider yourself my bookmark. Every few pages, I expect another kiss. Lucky for you, I am quite an avid reader."
Jack had just gotten home from a brutal shift. He barely had time to set his keys on the kitchen counter before you appeared in the doorway.
You hesitated for a moment before asking. "…Can I have a hug?"
His expression softened immediately. Just what he needed. "Always." He stepped towards you with his arms wide open. He needed that.
But then, you lifted a finger. "But…don’t hug me back."
Jack blinked in confusion. "…Why?"
You smiled and shrugged. "Just for a moment. Please."
He sighed through his nose and the corner of his mouth twitching. "Okay. Fine. But I expect a really REALLY good hug after this."
He stood still, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides. You stepped into him, wrapped your arms tightly around his middle and rest your forehead against his shoulder.
Jack instinctively started to lift a hand and caught himself halfway.
"…This feels…so wrong," he muttered—clearly bothered. He liked hugging you after a long day and nuzzled your face since he could do nothing else. "I’ve literally had to stop my brain from hugging you. Feels mean. Are you trying to be mean to me or something? Or are you mad at me?"
You shook your head. "You’re doing great. Just wanted to hug you for a sec’."
For nearly a minute, neither of you spoke. He could feel your breathing slowing, your shoulders relaxing against him. His own exhaustion seemed to ease with it.
Finally, you mumbled, "…Okay."
"I’m allowed now?"
"Mhm."
His arms slid around you. One hand rested between your shoulder blades while the other settled at the small of your back. He exhaled quietly against your hair and closed his eyes. "Oh yeah. That’s the stuff…"
You smiled into his chest. "Better?"
"So much better than whatever that was…" he scoffed and after another moment, he added in that dry, teasing tone you knew so well, "Next time, maybe warn me when you’re in a mood for being weird."
You laughed. "I wanted to see if you’d actually do it."
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "I’ll humor almost anything if it’s you asking." But he then quickly added as he pulled you into another hug. "…Doesn’t mean I enjoyed standing there like a coat rack. Now c’mere and let me hug you a few extra seconds."
Titus Danforth
The library was quiet except for the crackling fire. Titus looked up from the book in his hands the moment you stepped inside. "Hello, my darling."
You smiled tiredly. "Titus. I need a hug."
He immediately set the book aside and stood. "Your wish is my command. Come here."
You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest. He let out a content sigh, one hand settling lightly between your shoulder blades.
After a moment, you mumbled, "…But don’t hug me back."
His hand froze. "…I’m sorry—what was that?"
You closed your eyes and shrugged. "I just…want to hug you for a minute."
He looked down at the top of your head for a long second before slowly lifting both hands into the air with exaggerated surrender. "As you wish." His arms remained stubbornly suspended while you held him as tightly as you wanted.
After a few seconds however, he couldn’t help but complain. "I feel like a decorative lamppost. Should I remind you that we are engaged? Should I also remind you that hugging you is one of the reasons I live for?" He chuckled under his breath, careful not to move though.
Another minute passed before he whispered. "Every instinct I possess is telling me to hold you. And yet I am demonstrating remarkable restraint."
"You are." You agreed and he smirked.
"…Do I receive a reward for this extraordinary feat of self-control?"
You looked up at him with a grin. "Okay. You can hug me back now."
Before you had even finished speaking, his arms slipped around you as he drew you effortlessly against him.
"There," he murmured and rest his chin lightly atop your head. "Much better."
You laughed into his chest. "Honestly? You lasted longer than I thought."
"My darling. I simply honored your request." He held you a little closer and kissed your shoulder. "But I confess…I much prefer it when I’m allowed to return the favor."
Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody
Pope was sitting on the porch when you came outside. The moment he saw you, he stood. "You okay?"
You gave him a small smile. "…Can I have a hug?"
He didn’t hesitate and stepped forward immediately.
You raised a hand. "But…don’t hug me back."
He stopped and his brow furrowed. "…What?" He stared at you for a long moment, trying to make sense of your words. "…Why?"
"Just…don’t. Please?" There was a long pause after that. His head tilted and he frowned. He was clearly unhappy with that request.
"…That doesn’t make sense. I don’t…" He shook his head. "If you need a hug…why the fuck wouldn’t I hug you?"
"Because I just want to hold you."
He looked genuinely confused for a moment and his voice came out whinny. "…But I wanna hold you too."
"I know." You wrapped your arms around his waist. For approximately half a second, Pope remained still. Then instinct took over. His arms came around you immediately. One hand settled at the back of your head while the other pressed gently against your back, pulling you fully against him.
"Pope," you laughed into his shirt. "You’re hugging me."
No answer.
"I asked you not to."
Still no answer.
"That wasn’t the deal, baby." You insisted.
"I didn’t like that deal." He grumbled against your neck like a discontent cat.
You tried to pull back just enough to look at him, but he only tightened his embrace.
"If you come to me because you need this…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "…I’m not just gonna stand there. I can’t."
Even though you knew he hadn’t respected your request…you knew Pope just wanted to hug you back. It was impossible for him not to. He was so touch-starved he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stand just not reciprocating any affection you’d give him.
"No guilt?" You asked after a moment.
He thought about it before huffing. “…Little bit. Not enough to let go though."
You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest.
He rested his cheek lightly against the top of your head. "I like holding you…makes my head quieter." His grip relaxed just enough that you could move if you wanted to, but he made no effort to let go first.
"…You can be mad at me," he murmured, but was relieved when he heard that you weren’t. He closed his eyes and smiled. "Good. ‘Cause I wasn’t gonna stop even if you were."
Warning: Not much. But definitely a lewd idea from Pope. But you’ll see. I watched Shawn Hatosy in the Pitt, Animal Kingdom and Ready or Not 2. I’m obsessed.
JACK ABBOT
Jack had insisted on getting ice cream after work. Unfortunately, you didn’t realise then how indecisive he could be.
So here you were, waiting as he was standing at the counter staring at all the options because he couldn’t decide between chocolate swirls, rocky road or cookies and cream. Then he looked at you with the brightest smile you had ever seen in your entire existence before declaring. "You know what? Give me all three."
You bit back a laugh. Right. Why choose when you could have everything?
The two of you then wandered through the park. Jack draped an arm around your shoulders, stealing little bites from your cone while pretending he wasn’t. You mustered the darkest glare in his direction when you saw he had almost licked his way to the biscuity part and his face looked so innocently clueless.
"What?" he grinned. "Can’t help it. Tastes better when it’s yours."
Mind you he had just THREE SCOOPS in his own! When a little blob landed on the tip of your nose, he stared for a second before chuckling.
"…Don’t move." He leaned down and kissed your nose. "There. All better."
He then pretended to go for a kiss, but instead gobbled down the remaining of your ice cream in a few seconds because he’s a stealing greedy old bastard (affectionately) who lost interest in his own ice cream 6 minutes ago.
In retaliation, you stole his ice cream and ate it. Serves him right. You didn’t realise how he was looking at you like you hung the stars in the night sky or how without your ice cream to enjoy, he had to unfortunately settle on leaving sticky kisses all over your neck.
Really…it wasn’t his fault. Your neck was right there. Shouldn’t have left it unprotected while you had to hold back your laughter as you were too busy trying to finish his 3 scoops.
POPE CODY
"You like ice cream? We should get some ice cream sometimes. You and me. Y’know. Without…like…the others. We should do that. It’d be an ‘us’ thing."
That was how Pope invited you on an ice cream date without actually saying that it was an ice cream date. It definitely wasn’t because he had noticed that you had been spending more time with Deran lately…
His mind went ice cream is enjoyable and your presence is enjoyable = both should be equally enjoyable.
That’s how he found himself watching you, sitting on the hood of his truck while you happily ate your cone near the beach.
"You gonna eat yours?" you asked with a teasing smirk.
He shrugged but didn’t answer. He usually loved his one scoop vanilla ice cream cone. Simple joy in his life. But right now…he couldn’t look away from you and realised that out of the ice cream and you—he preferred enjoying you.
Meanwhile, his ice cream was already beginning to melt. You sighed and leaned over, taking a bite from his cone before it dripped everywhere.
His eyes followed the movement. He looked at his cone, then back at you before holding it out. "You finish it."
You frowned. "You don’t want it?"
"I like watching you enjoy things more." He blurted out without thinking.
Later, when a streak of vanilla ended up on the corner of your mouth, Pope reached over without saying anything, brushed it away with his thumb and licked his thumb clean without a single trace of hesitation or embarrassment.
Yep. Definitely his new favourite flavor.
He should definitely ask if he can eat ice cream off you. Maybe shirtless. Would you say yes? Definitely nothing wrong with that idea…or at least he thought so as he stared at you again, his brain already conjuring the picture in his head.
TITUS DANFORTH
Titus had bought ice cream from all the best places in the world. He had paid people to fly and drive it to the Danforth estate when you were gone and decided to surprise you one night by disposing them all on the long table in the dining room. "Take your pick, darling."
Titus sat at the head of the absurdly long dining table and smiled as he saw your eyes widen in shock when you entered the room. The polished oak had disappeared beneath tubs, cartons, silver bowls packed with dry ice, and crystal dishes overflowing with scoops in every imaginable flavor : vanilla from Madagascar, pistachio from Sicily, gelato from Florence, black sesame from Tokyo, honeycomb from New Zealand…
You stopped in the doorway and gasped. "…Titus."
He smiled smugly. "Now…I may have gotten carried away. But can you blame me? You deserve the best this world has to offer."
You were at a loss for words. He stood up and stepped towards you, taking your hands and kissing them both. "I know you’ve had a rough week. Let me treat you."
Your eyes watered and you chuckled before shaking your head in disbelief. "Titus. You could’ve just taken me out to get ice cream."
He frowned, as if the mere idea was an offence. "Where’s the romance in that?"
You looked around the room once more before shaking your head, unable to stop smiling. "I don’t even know where to start."
"Excellent." His grin returned. "That means we’ll have to sample all of them."
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. "All of them?"
He led you by the hand to two silver spoons on the table. He picked them up and smiled back at you before kissing your cheek and whispering. "We have the entire evening. This is a refrigerated table. It keeps the ice cream cold as long as we want…"
You laughed again. "Oh. I see. You really planned this."
"I did." He seemed so proud of himself. "Also the rest will go to the staff. I believe they would appreciate it."
You stepped closer and cupped his cheek, stroking his cheek tenderly. "You know buying half the world’s ice cream isn’t why I love you."
He chuckled and kissed your palm. "Oh I know, but it does make it harder not to love me, right?"
Hey! So I have a question for a request, if you don't wanna do it, you don't have to! Or if your really busy just ignore this one! So how would the Hannibals react if reader just randomly cuddled them? Once again if you don't wanna do this, ignore it! Love your work Charlie. ♡
HANNIBAL JR:
You had a bad day and hugged him unexpectedly while he was reading in his study. He didn’t even question it and made you sit on his knee to hold you better. "What is it, my dear?"
If you refuse to talk about it, he would instead make you read to him or bake with you until you cheered up. Hannibal Jr. knows that the best remedy for sadness is often to keep your mind occupied.
If it’s just a nice little hug because you’re happy and you want him to see? He will simply hug you back and give you the attention you crave.
HANNIBAL SR:
"Hush now, little lamb. You know tears are useless. Now, tell me. What has made you so upset? Is it a who or a what that is troubling your young mind?" Hannibal Sr hates unnecessary tears. Crying won’t fix the problem, but he will take care of it. You just need to tell him what’s wrong.
If it’s a hug of appreciation, he will hug you back and pat your back gently in appreciation. Hannibal Sr. will always appreciate a little hug from time to time. Just not everyday.
MORGAN:
The moment you hug him, he knows something is wrong. He will immediately hug you back and kiss your forehead. If it’s just a regular hug he will just smile and be happy for the tender gesture. But if he’s right and you are in trouble? He will fix it.
KEVIN HANNIBAL:
"Okay. That was weird." Kevin likes to talk, but he is not physically affectionate. He never hugs anyone unless it’s Hannibal Jr. because he’s the emotional anchor of the three boys. But you hugging him? He would see it as something weird or unnatural at first. But then, he would get used to the idea and just expect it. Like he’s gonna get his hug on a weekly basis now or his week is ruined.
PETER HANNIBAL:
Momentarily stunned. But will then hug you like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. I’m talking about big bear hug that will make you fall backwards.
I took a personality test a whole back and my results came up as INFP, (Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving). I looked around and Arthur Fleck had the same personality type as me, Arthur we match!
Arthur : "…I see. Another one who feels and sees too much in silence. How tragic. How beautiful. Welcome to the clown club, sweetie."
May we please have more 1990 Pennywise x plus size reader? I love the last one you made 🥹🥺
The old rocking chair creaked with every slow, lazy sway. Pennywise had claimed it the moment it had appeared in the hospital. No one else was allowed to sit in it. He liked how the wood groaned beneath him and how the rhythm sounded like a heartbeat.
It had become routine. Every evening, after the hospital had quieted down, he would crookedly curl one long finger towards you.
"Come here."
You already knew what he wanted. Without protest, you'd wander over, and he'd pull you sideways onto his lap despite the fact that you were hardly small enough to fit comfortably.
Somehow, he always made it work. One arm settled securely around your waist while the chair rocked back and forth in silence.
And then, it would happen. His gloved hand— or sometimes his bare one-would begin wandering over your sides. He'd squeeze gently, trace the curve of your stomach and let his fingers sink into the softness at your waist. Sometimes he'd rest his palm there without moving at all. Other times he'd give your side an absentminded little squish.
It should have felt strange, but it didn't.
However, Pennywise hated being touched.
Most people couldn't even brush against his sleeve without earning a sharp glare.
Handshakes disgusted him and crowds irritated him. If someone accidentally bumped into him in a hallway, he'd disappear before they could apologize.
And yet, he was holding you every night and touching you constantly.
One evening, after nearly twenty minutes of gentle rocking and his fingers kneading the softness of your belly, curiosity finally got the better of you.
You looked down at the large hand spread across your stomach. "...why do you keep doing this?"
The chair continued rocking.
Creeeak... Creeeak...
He didn't answer right away. Instead, his thumb slowly brushed across your side and the softest parts of you that were most satisfying to his touch.
"You are soft."
You blinked and laughed. "
"Really? That's it?"
He nodded and pressed his nose against your cheek. "Mm."
You laughed again. "I thought there'd be some deep reason."
"There is."
You tilted your head curiously towards him.
His yellow eyes stayed fixed on your stomach, watching his hand disappear slightly into the plushness beneath your shirt. "When I touch other people." His nose wrinkled. "They're all angles."
He sounded vaguely offended by the concept.
"Bones."
Another slow squeeze.
"Sharp."
His fingers shifted higher, gently pressing against another roll at your side with quiet fascination. "You are not."
The statement was delivered with complete sincerity. "You bend. You give. You're warm and you feel good when I squeeze."
He couldn't explain it better than that.
To him, most humans felt fragile. Hard edges beneath thin skin. Brittle things that might snap if he held them wrong. When he rested his hand against your side, it didn't feel wrong.
"And," he admitted after another long silence, "you never tell me to stop."
Your expression softened. "I would've if I didn't like it."
"I know." Another gentle squeeze. "But you don't."
"No." You agreed. You then leaned back against his chest, letting your hand settle over his where it rested comfortably against your waist. He stiffened for only half a second before relaxing again.
"You know," you murmured with a teasing smile, "if anyone walked in right now, you'd have a lot to explain"
His eyes narrowed. "I could still eat them."
You snorted. "Right. Good plan."
He smirked at your agreement and gave your side one last absent, affectionate squeeze before the chair continued its steady familiar rocking.
Hiii Charlie, so I fun fact had a dream about Kevin Hannibal and I woke up and thought of your blog. So maybe a Hannibal family story where Kevin’s partner keeps him from getting arrested by diverting police attention. Also very random but you should listen to the song damned by Miguel and drink water and eat while you do it. Much love ❤️
To be Kevin's special someone took a certain amount of skills. You had to be patient, crazy, open-minded and creative.
When Kevin found all these qualities in you?
He knew you were the one.
But it became even clearer when he realized just how far you would go to protect him and his family...
One day when him and his family were hunting in the woods :
Someone had called the police. One of the people they were hunting no doubt. Shit.
Peter was supposed to check they no longer had their phones on them before the big hunt.
Kevin stood perfectly still with his shirt reached in blood.
The whole family was taken aback. They had already killed all the preys but hadn't yet disposed of the bodies and had blood on them. They were also far away from the manor and the police would no doubt find them before they could make it back.
Morgan sighed before wiping the blood of his face with a handkerchief, "Well...that's inconvenient."
Peter had already started panicking. "We're all going to prison!"
Hannibal Sr. simply adjusted his cuffs. "Peter. Compose yourself."
Hannibal Jr. calmly glanced towards the noise of police cars. "Let us review the options."
Before any of them could stop you, you ran.
Moments later, an ear-splitting scream echoed through the woods. “HELP!”
The first police officers burst through the trees towards the sound. They found you stumbling into the path, clothes torn by branches, dirt covering your face, breathing as though you had been running for miles.
One officer caught you before you collapsed.“Easy! What happened?”
You looked over your shoulder with wide, terrified eyes. “They’re after me!”
“Who’s after you?”
You were about to answer, but then started laughing instead. “Wow. Nice costumes. Love the whole police force thing. Amazing work.”
The officers blinked. “…what?”
You pretended to be the one surprised: “What what? Aren’t you the actors Jerry hired to play the police? We’re shooting a survival movie!”
One officer frowned. “You’re shooting a movie on this property?”
You nodded with a grin. “Yeah! The Hannibal’s are in on it as well! They’re playing the murderers and chase me through the woods! They should come running right about now.”
Behind the bushes, Morgan pressed a fist against his mouth to hide a laugh as he saw how you were easily playing the policemen.
The officers looked uncertain. “Where are the others?”
You pointed confidently in the opposite direction from the Hannibal family. “We’re shooting over there. I could introduce you to our movie director?”
Without another word, several officers took off through the forest toward the direction you had indicated. The remaining officers stayed with you, trying to piece together the increasingly bizarre story. “So…you’re an actor?”
You grinned widely. “Yeah. Why? Did you have complains?”
They didn’t answer you, they only looked down at the blood on your shirt and asked: “And the blood is fake?”
You chuckled. “Yeah. Amazing, isn’t it? My boyfriend Kevin does it homemade. You should definitely come by the manor to see his work!"
Back in the clearing, Hannibal Jr. watched the officers closely and smirked. “They’re buying it.”
Morgan smiled and nodded in agreement. “Remarkable.”
Kevin laughed under his breath. “They’re actually believing them.”
“They’re believing the confusion,” Hannibal Jr. corrected. “When people are presented with enough absurd details, they often stop looking for more plausible explanations.”
Hannibal Sr. glanced at Kevin. “Your partner possesses excellent instincts.”
Kevin smiled softly as he watched you continue spinning an increasingly impossible tale with complete conviction. “I know.”
Hannibal Sr. nodded and smirked as he saw policemen coming their way. “Kevin. Peter. You know what to do. We should welcome them.”
Kevin and Peter looked at each other and nodded before taking out their phones to pretend they were filming the entire time.
…
Later that evening, safely back at the manor, Kevin wrapped his arms around you the moment you stepped through the front door.“I LOVE YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE MADHOUSE!”
You smiled into his shoulder. “Me too.”
Morgan laughed from the sitting room.
“Given another ten minutes, I believe you would have convinced them they were actual extras in the film.”
Hannibal Jr. looked at you over the rim of his teacup. “I underestimated your improvisational abilities.”
Hannibal Sr. offered a quiet smile. “You protected this family today. Thank you.”
Kevin simply laughed, kissed you passionately and held you a little tighter, thankful that he had found the one person in the world who was just patient enough, just creative enough, and just crazy enough to love him.
Would Jason and Michael share a partner or are they both too possessive to share?👀👀
Michael loves you and Jason.
Michael is a father figure for Jason so they wouldn’t exactly fight because they usually don’t have the same type. But if they do? Michael would let Jason have you since he tends to kill every woman he loves. Michael is the responsible one so he knows Jason deserves something good in his life, more than him that is.
But if you decide you want both, everyone would notice it. Michael spends far more time with you and Jason. If you or Jason is injured, Michael is the first one standing beside you. Michael notices when Jason is overwhelmed and silently redirects attention away from him.
If someone mocks you or Jason, Michael’s stare alone becomes a warning.
Michael’s affection is very practical. One thing I could see happening is Michael silently teaching you or Jason things.
Jason or you struggles with something. Michael walks over, takes the object, demonstrates, hands it back and leaves.
Michael’s version of affection is acts of service. He will show you love by doing things for you or showing you how it’s done.
As for Jason? He would be the one to say that they can share. He’s not exactly possessive. Jason grew up feeling abandoned and alone, so when he becomes attached to someone, he tends to stay close.
Besides, he loves Michael. They’re both part of the silent trio. They don’t need words to understand each other. He would first ask you if you would be alright with it of course.
But once you’re on board, there wouldn’t be fights—I don’t think so anyway.
Jason needs that strong figure to hold him up sometimes because Jason always felt alone and has daddy issues. He likes being told what to do.
If Michael sits somewhere, Jason naturally chooses the spot nearby. Jason trusts Michael completely. If Michael gives him a warning look, Jason listens. If Michael tells him to stop, Jason stops.
No questions asked. He knows everything Michael does or says is for their safety. He’s not gonna go against him unless he really disapproves.
The relationship would basically look like this :
I think the harder part wouldn’t be Jason and Michael sharing you. It would be sharing your attention.
Jason would probably want reassurance—holding your hand, staying physically close, seeking comfort. While Michael would linger nearby, silently watching over both of you. You might find yourself sandwiched between them on the couch simply because Jason leaned against you and Michael quietly took the other side without a word.
The challenge would be making sure you don’t get overwhelmed by caring for two emotionally dependent, mostly nonverbal giant men who express affection by quietly following you everywhere. That sounds less like a rivalry and more like having two very different protectors who both decide you’re part of their family.
In bed:
Michael would naturally take the lead at first. Michael is calm, observant, and tends to make decisions when Jason hesitates. Meanwhile, Jason would be more tentative because he craves reassurance and trust. He’d constantly be checking your reactions and if you seemed uncomfortable, he’d pull back immediately.
Michael is…big. Let’s be honest he’s a giant and his whole body suggests that he isn’t lacking in the under-the-pants area. So, safe words are a must and he would be really careful about not hurting you or Jason in the bedroom. Because he can hurt you.
Jason cries sometimes, this is why he needs reassurance all the time and most of the time, either you or Michael have him in your arms. Because otherwise, the boy feels like he’s doing something wrong.
However, Jason would gradually become more confident thanks to you and Michael. At first Jason constantly looks for approval. Over time…he would start making decisions himself. He would learn to recognise what feels good and just go with it. To hear you or Michael’s moans or sounds of pleasure would become his reassurance.
One thing I don’t think would happen is jealousy between them. Instead, their attention would probably be focused on making sure you feel safe and included. If Jason becomes overwhelmed, Michael is the one who steadies the situation without making him feel embarrassed.
Also: cute cat video with them both because I love it. 🥰
You woke up and sighed as the terrible headache came back. You still managed to ask, “How are the patients ?”
House raised an eyebrow at the question and shook his head. “You have a temperature hot enough to burn down a village, you’re sweating like you just took a shower, and you’ve passed out last night, yet you’re still thinking about the patients?”
You winced as you tried to sit up. “I did not make my round tonight. I need to do it now.”
He rolled his eyes and held you down by the shoulders. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re running a fever. You’re staying put until you’re not running a temperature anymore.”
You groaned and whined and complained and tried to squirm your way out of his grip, your voice cracking with every protest you made. “Let me go ! I have to—I have to check…The patients need—”
“You stop that right now, or I will be getting the sedative shots.” He seethed.
You were too weak and too tired to keep fighting, so you simply went limp in his arms, looking at him through weary eyes. “I need to.”
“You don’t need to do anything. Do you have any idea how panicked both the staff and the patients will be if they find the hospital’s head nurse passed out and unconscious in the hallway?”
You had to admit that he was right and finally gave up. You stayed still and silent for a moment—thinking.
“They are…exceptional, you know?” You eventually breathed out. “The most…exceptional people I have ever met.”
“What are you blabbering about? Who is?” He sighed.
You smiled. “The patients. But the staff too. All the people who work here. The ones who held on as long as they did. I could not have asked for a better job…”
He remained silent, confused but attentive. He didn’t understand you, that he was sure of. He probably never would. “If you love this place and the people who live here that much…then you better stay here with me and get some rest.”
You smiled and opened your eyes slightly to look at him. “Even you are…exceptional.”
He stayed silent and simply stared at your weary but sincere eyes and your feverish face. He couldn’t even bring himself to say something mean or sarcastic as usual. All he could do was slowly wipe the sweat away from your forehead. “Exceptional?”
You nodded and smiled. “The best in your field, or so I heard.”
He watched as you let your eyes slowly close, finally allowing your feverish body to rest. He placed another hand behind your head, his fingers massaging your messy hair, the sweat from your fever making your hair damp, and his thoughts raced through his mind again. He leaned his own head back and slowly exhaled, closing his eyes and letting his other hand gently lay on your back, feeling each rise and fall of your heavy breathing.
He had truly lost his mind, hadn’t he…But he did warn you. Everything that would happen next would be entirely your fault. Right. Everything was your damn fault.
You were nothing more than some healing Tinkerbell, a crazy woman…He was a man of science, he should start acting like it.
Later
A nurse came in and found the both of you on the couch—asleep. She approached and shook you awake. “Head Nurse Y/N ?”
You groaned and slowly opened your eyes. That was the most sleep you think you’d gotten in a while…wait. You opened your eyes fully, and realized that you were laying on top of a sleeping House.
You immediately tried to detangle yourself from his grasp and stood up in a hurry. “Right. What is it ?”
The nurse grimaced. “Hum…Sorry to bother you. But one of the patients is gone from their cell. Michael? Michael Myers? He’s gone.”
You sighed and shook your head. “I see. Another sleepwalking episode I imagine.” You sighed. “Fine. Thank you. We are coming. I will wake up House.”
The nurse nodded and quickly walked out of the room. You looked down at him, who was still sleeping on the couch. You then gently shook his shoulder, trying to wake him up. “House ? Wake up…”
He groaned and sat up, running his hand over his face and rubbing his eyes.
You sighed. “Sorry. But we need to go. Michael. He is gone.”
“Again ? Seriously?” He sighed and shook his head before standing up. “Hasn’t he done this enough times already?”
You smiled and shrugged before leaving the room. You then instructed all guards to swipe the surrounding forest. The nurses and doctors would look inside the hospital. House followed behind you. You looked in the cafeteria, the common living room which was still under construction and even the attic.
House popped up a bottle of Vicodin in his pocket to take a pill but hesitated…
Did he really need it? He was able to fall asleep the night before without any Vicodin pills. Granted, he was exhausted and he was also tired from helping you through your fever, but…He put the bottle back in his jacket pocket. He would take it later, he decided. Right now, he needed to find that goddamn patient.
He then saw you outside and walked over to you. “Any news on Mikey Boy yet?”
You shook your head negatively, until the facility’s priest came forward. “Head Nurse Y/N? Doctor House?”
You and House turned around and looked at the priest. “Yes, Father Cornelius?”
He sighed. “I…believe I have found Michael. Please. Follow me.”
Both you and House followed the priest towards the chapel. House rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath. “Of course. Of course he’s in the chapel. Because we all know Michael’s a devoted Christian man...”
You stepped in and Michael was indeed standing there with a bloody knife in his hand. You frowned and stepped closer.
“Michael ?”
He turned to you with those soulless eyes, the ones that showed nothing but pure evil.
The priest stayed by the door, keeping his distance. House stood behind you, trying not to show his own fear.
You took a deep breath and took a few steps closer. “…Are you okay, Michael?”
No answer. Michael simply continued staring at you with those unnerving lifeless eyes.
The priest spoke behind the both of you, his voice growing worried. “Head Nurse Y/N, be careful…”
You nodded wordlessly and looked down at the bloody knife. “…What happened ? Did someone attack you, Michael?”
No words came from him. The only thing that happened was him slowly lifting the knife higher in the air, the blood dripping onto the floor. The priest made a small, soft gasp from behind the both of you, and you could hear him speaking to himself, muttering a prayer.
Meanwhile, House was wordlessly watching the scene and feeling more tense by the second.
You didn’t flinch. “Could you please give me the knife, Michael? I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself with it. Are you hurt?”
Michael clutched the knife tighter. There was something about his cold, emotionless expression that was beginning to…make you uncomfortable. You’d seen him act like this before, but for some reason, something wasn’t right this time around.
The priest, from the door, began to speak again. “Dear Lord, please protect us…let us not come to harm—“
Another moment of silence, Michael surprisingly spoke. “It wasn’t me, that was hurt…” He looked down at the blood on the knife, his expression still unreadable and his eyes pitch black.
Doctor House spoke up behind you. “Y/N. Step back. The patient is currently unstable. He’s dangerous…”
You didn’t show fear and simply extended a hand. “Michael. I know you do not want to hurt me. I am sure you had a good reason for hurting someone else tonight. How about you give me the knife and we can talk about it? You and me?”
A few seconds of silence passed, Michael simply stared at you. The priest was holding his breath at this point. House seethed. “Y/N, I’m warning you. Back. Up. Right now. You’re too close.”
Suddenly, Michael lifted his knife again and House immediately tackled you to the ground before you could be stabbed. He then called out to the priest, his voice hard and cold.
“Call security! Now!”
The priest immediately ran outside and you quickly grabbed House to help him up so you could run away.
Michael followed the both of you.
He heard Michael behind you two, those odd footsteps getting closer and closer. House’s leg was suffering and you knew he wouldn’t be able to run for much longer.
You looked back at Michael who was getting closer…Your eyes watered and you knew you didn’t have much time. You saw the door of the confessional and pushed House inside before closing the door behind him—leaving him completely confused.
He pounded his fist on the door. “Y/N! What the hell are you doing?! Let me out of here!”
You used your body to keep the door closed and whispered. “You need to stay alive.”
He panicked, trying to open the door to no avail, and he realized that you were using your body to prevent him from getting out. His breathing was ragged by this point and he pounded on the door again, desperately. “Y/N! Let me out of here! Y/N!”
Before you could answer, Michael grabbed your arm and spun you around. He then grabbed you by the throat and pinned you against the wooden door…The tip of his knife pocking your side. Your eyes widened in shock and fear as you could feel the cold blade of the knife against your skin. You attempted to kick him, but he tightened his grip on your throat, preventing you from defending yourself.
House heard the commotion happening outside and pounded on the door harder and more desperately, his voice growing hoarse from shouting. “LET HER GO, YOU ASSHOLE!”
“M-Michael.” You tried to speak up.
Your voice was strained with his hand still tight around your throat, making it difficult to breathe. Michael kept a firm grip on you, pushing you up against the confessional door and his face remained perfectly expressionless.
House continued to bang on the door, desperately trying to get it open. “Michael! No! Don’t do it!”
“I’m your friend…Michael. You know I am. I do not want to hurt you. And I know you do not want to hurt me.” You told him with tears in your eyes. “I read to you. I taught you how to read and write…I am not your enemy, Michael. You know I am not. Do not let your bloodthirst overwhelm you, please.”
His soulless eyes simply looked at you, his grip not letting up. He did not want to listen to you.
“M-Michael?” You slowly lifted your hands to his mask. “It’s okay. Just…listen to me. Please.”
Michael tensed up once you placed your hands on his mask. He slightly loosened his grip on your throat, and it became slightly easier to breathe. You slowly removed the mask and strands of blond hair fell and covered Michael’s face. You could hear his ragged breath and when you touched his cheeks—you felt tears running down his face. You soothed him and slowly held him against you. “It’s okay…”
He stood there, still and stunned and his grip on your neck loosening even more. House was still shouting, although it was becoming quieter and he was running out of energy from the endless pounding on the confessional door.
You whispered. “It’s okay, Michael. You’re safe. No one will hurt you.”
He looked shocked as you held him. He was breathing heavily. He was confused and frustrated, but he didn’t try to fight you anymore. He just stayed there, feeling your touch, your soft voice and your gentle soothing.
House was no longer banging on the door and his breathing slowed down behind the confessional door. He was listening intently to the soft, tender words you were speaking. Michael was pressed against you and breathing rapidly.
He was trying to understand what was happening and why you were being so gentle with him. He didn’t understand it. Your voice…the words you were saying, the way you were holding him. It all seemed so…peaceful, gentle, kind.
You stroked the top of his head. “Drop the knife, Michael. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
He stayed motionless, still breathing heavily and deeply confused by your words. He had killed numerous people already, yet you were still holding him, you weren’t repulsed by him, you were still being so kind and gentle. He could feel your hands on his head, your touch so soft and comforting…even when you perfectly knew who and what he was.
He could feel the tears streaming down his face and he couldn’t understand why he was even crying right now.
You continued to whisper words of comfort and affection, trying to make him understand that despite knowing what he has done, you still cared.
Suddenly, the knife clattered to the floor and he held you in a crushing hug with his face pressed against your shoulder. His nails dug into your skin painfully, but you did not complain. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. Let go of the knife, Michael.”
He was shaking and crying against your shoulder. And you? You just let him hold you tighter, allowing him to find comfort in you, even as your skin was bruised and scratched from his nails.
You continued to soothe and console, whispering softly and gently into his ear. “It’s okay, Michael…”
Suddenly however, guards came in and shouted for Michael to get down on the floor. You raised a hand. “Stop it. Do not frighten him.”
The guards were confused at your command, but they obeyed, as they watched the strange scene of you holding Michael in a tight hug, his maskless face buried against your shoulder. Finally, Michael released you and you managed to get away from the door of the confessional. House stepped out and stayed silent. You were still smiling…that sweet smile meant to charm and comfort.
“It’s alright. They won’t hurt you, Michael. I promise.”
Michael was still looking into your eyes, and there was something different about his expression…he looked almost…sad. House watched the whole scene with a stunned silence, trying to process what he had witnessed. The guards stepped forward and led Michael out of the chapel. The moment he was brought outside, you winced and started shaking.
You rubbed your own arms and tried to reassure yourself.
House stepped up to you and finally spoke, his voice quiet. “You’re an idiot.”
“I know.” You whispered—you eyes devoid of any emotion.
He kept staring at you for a few more moments before looking away and crossing his arms. “You could’ve died tonight.”
You nodded. “Well…death awaits us all.”
House’s eyes softened as he saw your empty expression. He put a hand on your shoulder.“Are you alright?”
“I…I’m fine.” You smiled at him. Even now, even when you almost died, you were still giving him that…damn smile.
He gripped your shoulder tighter and stared at you. He didn’t buy your answer at all. “Don’t give me that crap. You just had a man try to kill you, and you’re telling me you’re fine?”
You closed your eyes. “…I am still breathing.”
He could see right through you, he noticed how your hands still shook, how your skin was pale with adrenaline and how you were holding back your tears. Why were you still trying to act like you were alright? You weren’t okay.
He forced you to look at him. “That’s not the answer I was looking for, sunshine.”
Your smile twitched. “…It is the only answer you will get from me, House.”
He shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he held your cheek in his hand. “Not good enough. Now quit smiling. You’re not fine, so why are you trying to make it seem like everything is ok?”
You sighed and pulled away. “Do not pretend you care.”
His expression hardened a little as you tried to pull away. “Believe it or not. I do care.” He put a hand on your shoulder and forced you to look back at him. “I swear, if you force me to ask you what’s wrong one more time—“
You turned around to face him and finally snapped. “Doctor House. I almost died today. So no. I am not okay. But I have a job to do. And letting the patients see my fear, my doubts and my anxiety won’t help them or me. I am the head nurse of a hospital for slashers and supernatural beings. Every word, every movement and every emotion is being put under a microscope. I do not have the time to be sad or angry or upset…”
There it was…the truth behind everything. The reason why you were so cheerful to a fault, why you were always smiling, why you were always helping people. He stared at you…at the tears and the emotions and the pain and the fear…He saw the size of your heart. And it scared him.
You wiped your eyes and stood up straighter, trying to regain composure. “I can’t be weak. I don’t have the…luxury of being anything but fine.”
House, for once, didn’t know what to say.
Your heart was so huge. It almost made him feel small.
Your entire body was shaking from the tension, and yet you were still standing there, with your hands balled into fists and trying so hard to hold it together. “I am not fine. But I am not an idiot. I am not crazy. I am not naive or stupid. I am more realist than you ever were! I know what it takes to be a nurse in this hospital! I know that if I lose that smile you hate so much, then all I worked so hard for comes crashing down! Everything breaks and leaks and runs into the sand to disappear forever!”
He just…stood there, silently listening to your words. You were yelling, and it was the first time he had ever seen you this…emotional. You were no longer trying to smile. You were crying and shouting and shaking and gripping your coat, desperately telling him what it was like for you.
“I CARE ABOUT THE PATIENTS, THE STAFF AND EVERYONE BETWEEN THESE WALLS ! I DO BELIEVE IN REDEMPTION ! I DO BELIEVE IN THE BEST OF YOU AND ME AND EVERYONE ! AND IT IS NOT FAIR THAT I AM BOUND TO BE THE ONLY ONE TRYING TO FIX THINGS ! IT IS HARD ! IT IS HARD AND IT HURTS, HOUSE !”
You stood before him, breathing hard, exhausted and struggling to keep it all together. This woman…this woman he would always call crazy, this woman he would insult and belittle day in and day out…was sobbing her eyes out in front of him. You were no longer the smiling, cheerful, optimistic person he had known you to be. You were angry, desperate, and emotional…everything he had accused you of hiding.
You tried to dry your tears. “Go on. Mock me. Drench me with your sarcasm and skepticism. I am sure you are dying to do so…But I will be back tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. So watch me help the patients or stay out of my way !”
He finally spoke again, his voice quiet, and he took a step closer. “No.”
You looked up at him, surprised at his response. “No? What…what do you mean ‘no’ ?”
He took another step closer, looking at your red eyes and disheveled hair. “I’m not gonna mock you. And I don’t want to be in your way.” He took another step closer. “No…I won’t mock you. I won’t mock you because I’ve spent weeks trying to prove you’re delusional. Every time I think I’ve found the evidence, you go and make another murderer cry.”
You were taken off-guard. In all the teasing and arguing and bickering you would face with him, you had never, not even once, seen him agree with you.
“You know what’s annoying? You’re actually good at this. I still think you’re insane. I just don’t think you’re wrong. I couldn’t do what you do, even if I wanted to pretend to be a good person for a day and try.” He told you honestly.
You were speechless. Here he was, the most cynical man you had ever met…He was the last person you would expect to ever receive any sort of compliments from. And yet here he was, the man who had been a complete jerk to you, drying your tears and calling you exceptional…You sighed and pulled away before picking up his cane. You then returned to him and gave it back to him.
“…It may be so, but I can’t do this on my own. I need help. Your help.”
He looked at you, surprised at your words and a bit confused. He took the cane from you, his hand grazing over yours for a second.
He raised an eyebrow and gave you a look. “My…help? You need my help?”
You smiled. “Yeah. I know. Shocking. But you are the only doctor who actually lasted in this place. You made it where so many failed. You are just as exceptional as I am and this is maybe why I…respect you as much as I do. Our methods are different. But I believe together we can do great work.”
He stood there in stunned silence, just looking at you, before finally speaking again. “Alright…I guess someone’s gotta have your back. But I have to warn you. I am terrible at trust falls.”
And there he was, being the bastard that you knew again…and you didn’t mind it at all.
Your smile grew a little as his sarcasm returned. “It’s okay…We’ll get there eventually.”
You then both left the chapel.
Back in the hospital
You were sitting in the infirmary as House asked you to show him your injuries from Michael. You sighed and lifted your shirt for him to examine the bruises and nail marks. He examined them, running his fingers gently over the marks and bruises, trying to assess any serious damages.
His eyes were fixed on your skin, and you could hear his own breathing slightly uneven.“Michael did a number on you…”
You smiled weakly. “He was scared. And upset.”
He nodded, tracing his fingers over the marks on your skin without even thinking. “He was still an asshole for that…”
He suddenly realized what he was doing and stopped touching you, pulling his hand away.
He quickly spoke up. “…Anyway…these look like they’re gonna hurt at the end of the day. Let’s get some ice on these nasty bruises.”
You nodded. He stood up and headed over to where all the medical supplies were store. He grabbed some gauze and ice to help with your injuries. He returned and stood in front of your seat and placed the ice and gauze on the table.
He then spoke up again. “Lift up your shirt again.”
You huffed playfully and smiled. “If you wanted another peep, doc. You could have just asked…”
He rolled his eyes as you teased him, but he couldn’t help the small smirk that formed on his lips. “Ha ha. Very funny. Just shut up and lift up your shirt.”
You chuckled and did as he asked. “Is that what you do now? Ask poor nurses to show you their battle wounds so you can have an eyeful?”
He just barely suppressed another smirk as he started applying the gauze to your side. “Please, you have no idea the kind of things I’m willing to do just to get people to show more skin.”
He ran his hands gently over your side, feeling your skin and wrapping the gauze snugly around your waist. You chuckled and stayed silent after that. He finished up, making sure the gauze was securely wrapping you.
“Done. How does it feel?”
You stood up. “Better.”
He nodded, folding his arms. “Good. Make sure that stays on for at least 2-3 hours.” He then smirked, looking at your now gauze-wrapped waist. “And no more trying to get crushed by crazy patients, alright?“
You smiled. “No promises.”
He raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face.“You planning on getting crushed again? That some new fetish of yours ?”
You huffed. “Who does not dream to be crushed by a murderous mountain of muscles ? Every girl’s dream…” You pulled down your shirt. “Well, see you later, Dr. House.”
He didn’t lift his head. “Gregory.”
You froze and looked back at him quizzically.
He eventually lifted his eyes towards you. “My name. It’s Gregory. You can stop calling me Dr. House.”
You blinked before smiling. “Alright. See you around then, Gregory.”
One hour later…
You went to Jason Voorhees’ cell. You asked the guards to open the doors and entered before sitting down on the floor of the cell.“Hello, Jason. Remember me?”
Jason lifted his head up to look at you, but the rest of body remained still. He stared at you for a few moments before slowly nodding.
You smiled. “Good. I am so sorry I couldn’t come visit you earlier. It has been a very busy month…”
Jason didn’t respond, he just continued to look at you. He didn’t look hostile or angry. He was just…quiet. You coughed and took out something from your bag. “I…brought you a gift.”
You put down a small toad figurine in front of him. “I hope you like it? If you’d prefer a frog, I can bring another one.”
He looked down at the small figurine before gently picking it up, turning it over slightly to inspect it.
He seemed to…like it.
He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t speaking either, but the way he was gently holding the figurine made you believe that he wasn’t disappointed. You sat down opposite him and smiled, watching as he kept observing the figurine. The two of you just sat there for quite a while in almost absolute silence, with the exception of the occasional sound from the guards standing by outside of the cell.
It was strangely peaceful. Just the two of you sitting across from each other…
“You like it ?”
He slowly nodded, still gently turning the figurine over in his hand.
“Are you…doing okay ?”
He looked up at you for a moment before slowly nodding again. Even though he wasn’t speaking, Jason had no problem communicating when he felt like it.
You observed him closely as he stared at the figurine and gently pet its head with one finger. He seemed so incredibly fascinated with this figurine, holding it with such care and attention that he never showed for anything else. Meanwhile, you just sat there, watching him, noticing those little mannerisms that made him so much more human than people made him out to be.
You coughed to catch his attention. “I was actually wondering if…perhaps you would like to see the frogs and toads near the lake?”
He tilted his head quizzically and stared at you thoughtfully, as if you contemplating a particularly difficult question. Then, after a few moments, he nodded once more.
Your smile widened and clapped your hands together. “Wonderful.” You stood up and knocked on the door of Jason’s cell. “Could you please open the door? Jason Voorhees is allowed 30 minutes of fresh air outside of the facility.”
One of the guards looked at you with a worried frown. “Are you serious? You’re letting this guy out of his cell?”
You coughed again. “When I will need your opinion, I will be sure to ask for it, sir. Now, this is my patient. And each patient will be allowed 30-minutes of recreation.”
The guard just grumbled to himself, not happy about this situation but he had no choice but to follow your orders. “Just know I won’t hesitate to shoot him down at the slightest sign of aggression.”
Your smile turned forced. “Right. Thank you for your valuable input. Open the door.”
The guard muttered one final remark before opening the door and letting out Jason. “This is a terrible decision…”
Jason stood up and quietly walked out of the cell door as soon as the guards opened it. He took note of the guards and their guns and looked at you, expecting your instructions.
You smiled and offered him your hand.
Jason gently placed the figurine in his pocket before looking at your hand. He stared at it for a few more moments before gently taking it. His hand was so much bigger than yours, almost enveloping your hand entirely. However, he held your hand very gently. You kept walking forward and opened each door until the very last one. Jason lifted a hand to cover his eyes as the sunlight reached his eyes. But he still let you lead him outside…hearing birds chipping away in the distance as you both kept walking.
He followed you with his head ducked down slightly. Even when the intense sunlight hit his eyes, he continued to follow you, trying to keep a hold on your hand as you guided him to the edge of the lake. He looked around, trying to get used to the sun on his skin, the breeze, the birds and the smells of nature. It had been such a long time since he had experienced something like this…
And then, you released his hand. You had arrived and smiled back at him. “Nice, huh ? I do sometimes miss the sunlight staying inside all day.”
His hand hovered in the air for a few seconds, feeling the absence of yours before dropping it back down to his side. He just nodded at your question, still not saying a word, as he kept looking around. He seemed entranced by it all. It was as if he hadn’t seen nature in years…and maybe he hadn’t. He just stood there, his eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the sunlight on the water of the lake, his head looked around as he drank in all of the different smells and sounds…
He then stepped closer to the lake and crouched down to sink his hand inside the fresh water.
His eyes closed and he looked genuinely happy.
Your smile softened at the sight of him gently stirring up the water with a single finger, the ripples continuing across the surface. He still hadn't said a word, but his breathing, his body language, his facial expressions, his mannerisms and the way he was sitting by the lake…all of it was enough for you to know exactly what he was thinking and feeling.
You walked closer and crouched down next to him to ask knowingly. "Enjoying yourself?"
He turned towards you and stared for a few moments before nodding. He then turned his gaze back towards the water, his large fingers gently skimming the surface, causing ripples to travel across the water and eventually reach the edge of the lake.
A calm silence surrounded the two of you, with nothing to disturb the tranquility.
You mimicked his movements.
He looked at you briefly, noticing that you were stirring up the lake water with your fingers as well. He returned his attention back to the water. But you could guess the ghost of a smile on his face.
His eyes then caught something moving in the water and in a matter of seconds, he had caught a fish with his bare hands.
You were about to congratulate him and ask if he would like to cook it for dinner when he suddenly lifted his mask to bite down into the fresh still-kicking fish.
You blinked before chuckling. “Well, that’s certainly a way to eat fresh.”
He looked satisfied with his catch and tore through the skin and flesh with his teeth, ripping it apart with savage strength. It was both disturbing and impressive, seeing such a grisly display, but…there was something else in his expression, beneath all the gore and viciousness. All the other patients ate their food as they were served, but Jason…he had always preferred to eat with his hands and mouth directly.
You smiled and looked into the water before attempting to catch a fish yourself, only for the fish to slip out of your fingers and slap you with its tail. You were stunned and started laughing. Jason made a small sound—a light chuckle, and his chest rumbled slightly. You turned to look at him and you were surprised to see that he was smiling. He was actually showing his teeth.
But he then realised he still had his mask off and promptly pulled it back down.
You continued to smile at him, having caught a glimpse of that small moment of genuine emotion. There was a sudden silence, save for the sound of the lake water and the birds chirping.
He was still holding the now fish skeleton in his hand, wiping the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. But that small smile was still burned into your memory. Unfortunately, the 30 minutes were up quicker than expected and the guards brought Jason back in his cell.
Once back inside, Jason curled up into a ball where he usually slept and held onto the figurine, pressing it to his chest. You couldn’t help but smile at the precious sight.
But then, General McCain arrived and stopped next to you. “I heard you almost got killed by Michael Myers this morning. And now you let Jason Voorhees out of his cell? Do you have a death wish? Is that what this is?”
You turned to look at him with a frown on your face. “Jason’s a patient—same as the rest. And he has been behaving very well lately. As for Michael, he was sleepwalking and was scared. He just needed someone to reassure him. So no, I do not have a death wish. I’m just doing my job.”
McCain shook his head, his expression harsh and unforgiving. “I don’t think you understand how serious this is. We’re not dealing with regular patients here. These are mass murderers, psychopaths, rapists, serial killers—”
You rolled your eyes, cutting him off. “I know the file of every patient here. I know the severity of their disorders. I know them better than you do. You may be the head commander of this facility, but I’m in charge of all the patients. I am responsible for the well-being and recovery of every patient here, and that includes Jason.”
McCain gave you a disapproving look before l suddenly grabbing your upper arm tightly. “You are gonna get yourself killed. You think a couple of smiles and kind words are gonna magically cure these monsters?”
You winced. “Let go of me. It is that sort of attitude that has been damaging the patients’ health and safety.”
McCain tightened his grip on you, his fingers digging into your skin. He was more than fed up with your insolence. “You think these people want to get better? You think they even can get better? They’re mad, and the only thing you can do is lock them up in a cell and throw away the damn key.”
You glared at him. “Now that is going too far! I know you would rather that be the case. But I can assure you that as long as I am breathing, none of the patients will ever be treated like wild animals or mistreated ever again!”
McCain rolled his eyes. “Don’t you get it ? There is no rehabilitation for these people. You trying to get all chummy and friendly with them is only gonna get you killed!”
You growled and finally managed to yank your arm away from his grip. “No, you don’t get it. You haven’t even tried to talk to them. They’re not getting better because of the lack of treatment, the terrible conditions, and the fact that they are left alone with their thoughts!”
McCain scoffed. “The whole ‘being stuck in padded cells’ thing is to keep them from killing each other, and themselves for that matter. That’s the only treatment they’re gonna get, because they can’t be trusted around anyone else. They’re too dangerous.”
You were furious at this, clenching your fists by your sides. “That’s a load of crap and you know it! I know about the lack of therapy they used to get, the crappy food, the solitary confinement. None of that helped at all! They need help…And I want to give them that help.”
McCain sighed, getting irritated. “And how many more times are you gonna get almost killed today? Michael Myers attacked you earlier. How did you calm him down? By reassuring him and calling him by his name. That won’t work on every one of these psychos! You can’t talk your way out of danger every time !”
You were about to answer when Jason, who had been woken up by the screams, roared as he pounded on the door. He was clearly unhappy by the way McCain was yelling at and grabbing you.
McCain looked at him and huffed before getting his remote out. “See? You keep thinking that they somehow feel something for you. But you’re wrong. They don’t. They attack anyone and everyone…They’re animals.” He then pushed a button and Jason screamed in pain as electric shocks went through his body.
You looked at Jason who fell to the ground as the electric shocks ran through his body.
You felt pure anger.
Not only had McCain yelled at you, but he’d shocked a patient who had been completely non-hostile just a few moments ago. You could see the pain in Jason’s eyes as electricity coursed through him.
You grabbed McCain’s wrist. “Turn it off. Now.”
McCain did not look happy, but he did turn the remote off. “You gonna defend him now? He’s a psychotic, murderous serial killer, same as the rest of them. They’re not even human.”
You looked at him, your eyes filled pure, cold anger. “You say that like it’s a hard fact.”
You could see Jason still laying on the ground, groaning in pain as the electricity stopped. His breaths were haggard, but he was at least okay. McCain, on the other hand…
You just looked at him, taking a step closer. “You keep saying that you want to protect everyone…but they are the patients. They should be treated with as much respect and dignity as everyone here. How do you assume they will get any better if you only keep punishing them? They do feel things.”
McCain was becoming increasingly annoyed.“They feel blood-lust and killing instinct. That’s about it.” He suddenly grabbed your arm again. “And they’ll turn on you. They always do.”
You grunted as he grabbed you again, and you tried to pull your arm away. “No, they won’t. They aren’t stupid. They know better than to attack the only person who’s willing to listen to them.”
McCain scoffed disdainfully. “Oh yeah? Let’s put that theory to the test, shall we ?!”
He then dragged you away towards another cell and without a second thought…threw you in it. “They haven’t had their dinner yet. Let’s see how long they’ll ‘listen’ to you.”
You stumbled after him. “McCain, what are you doing?” McCain stopped in front of the reinforced cell doors, the yellow warning lights casting harsh shadows across the corridor.
“Proving a point. You think you can just waltz up to any of these monsters and have a little chat? You think they’re all gonna be friendly and sweet to you? Well, let’s see how you deal with the ones who are not human.” He looked at you with complete certainty. “Prove it.”
You frowned. “…What?”
He pointed towards the heavy steel door. “You keep telling everyone these monsters can be rehabilitated. You keep saying they’re people. Fine.” His voice was cold. “Walk in there and spend the night.”
Silence filled the corridor. The guards looked at each other—horrified. They knew who’s cell that was. The Penny Brothers…
“I-I don’t.” You started.
He stopped walking and looked at you from over his shoulder. “And why not? You said you could handle yourself, that the monsters in there are just misunderstood people. I’m giving you a chance to prove that. So go on.”
Your heartbeat sped up and you tried to quiet it down. You shook your head and looked at the cell. “Listen. That wouldn’t prove anything…”
McCain spoke again. “Does that mean you understand and give up? You will let me do my job without interfering?”
You remained silent for a moment, then you quietly answered. “I’ll spend the night.”
McCain blinked and stared. “What?”
He hadn’t even considered that you’d be foolish enough to agree.
You turned towards him. “If I refuse, then every time I’ll ask for better treatment, you’ll remember today.” You took a slow breath. “You’ll say I didn’t even trust them myself when it was time to prove my convictions.”
You looked at the guards. “Please unlock the door.”
None of them moved. They all looked towards McCain—waiting for him to put an end to this madness. But he didn’t. He gave a single nod.
The heavy locking bolts disengaged one by one. The massive door slowly rolled open. You looked at Pennywise and Penny who were now both staring at you with bright yellow or red eyes.
They were hungry…and you looked like dinner.
You took a deep breath and entered the cell. McCain seemed to regret his decision, but it was too late. He walked away.
You were spread out on the bed—snoring with drool dripping down your chin. The sun shone through the curtains and hit your face, slowly waking you up. As you began to stir, you heard the familiar sound of a cane thumping against the floor, as well as the sound of a coffee percolator in the kitchen. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sighed tiredly before getting up. You then followed the sound of cabinets opening and closing.
When you reached the kitchen archway, you saw House rummaging around the cabinets, searching for something. You sighed and sat down at the table before laying your cheek on the smooth surface.
“Morning.” You mumbled.
He smirked in response. “Morning to you too, sleeping beauty. You were out like a light last night. I could've probably shot off a gun right next to you, and you'd still be asleep.”
“…Right. Thank you for giving me a place to sleep for the night.” You yawned.
He shrugged as he continued looking through the cabinets. “It was better than letting you pay for an overpriced room at a sketchy motel with some criminal waiting outside to mug you in the middle of the night.”
You smiled. “Would it be possible to have a cup of coffee?”
He nodded and closed the cabinet. “The machine's going, and it's brewing a fresh pot. It should be all ready in a minute or two. I was looking for something edible but…it has been a while since I’ve eaten breakfast.”
You nodded understandingly and your eyelids started falling on their own.
He noticed and smirked. “Still tired, huh?”
You didn’t answer and he hummed before nodding to himself. “Yeah, judging by the drool stain you've got going on, I'm gonna guess that the answer to that is an obvious 'yes'.” He turned his gaze back to the coffee machine for a moment before looking back at you. “Hey, you want cream and sugar?”
Your eyes were closed and you snored.
He rolled his eyes and smirked. “I don't know if that's a feat of sleep deprivation, or proof that you could definitely sleep through any disturbance—” He was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the percolator finishing its brew. He sighed before pinching your nose closed to wake you up.
You opened your eyes, looking around blearily and groggily, trying to process what just happened.
“You were sleeping so soundly, I was afraid you might die on me from lack of blood flow to your brain.” He explained. “Also, did you want cream and sugar in your coffee, or are you just drinking it black like any sane individual out there?”
You hummed, “Cream. Sugar. Lots of it. I need that sugar rush to last the day.”
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Cream and sugar? And you call yourself a nurse?”
You lifted your hands to reach forward. “Come on. Please?”
He rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Cream and sugar it is.”
He turned back to the coffee pot and prepared it before stirring it up and bringing the mug over to the table. You smiled and cupped your hands around the steaming cup with a small satisfied smile.
He huffed and took a sip of his own coffee. “You look like one of those weird kids on TV having hot cocoa with marshmallows on a cold winter day. Does a little morning cup of Joe really make you that happy?”
You smiled and lifted your cup towards him. “Thanks, Santa.”
He rolled his eyes. “Please. Don’t insult me. I'm nothing like…that big round-faced jolly man with his white beard who says hohoho. I hate red and I suck at giving presents.”
“But you made me coffee.” You retorted playfully and took another sip.
He rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, and? The man makes toys for children and makes his way around the world every year, giving toys to people who've been nice. Making coffee is nowhere near as charitable.”
“Making coffee is a gift too. You did something for me.” You insisted—but clearly you were having the time of your life messing with him. He rolled his eyes again and took another sip of his own coffee as he watched you finish your liquid dessert and then put the empty mug down on the table.
“We should get ready for work.”
He nodded and stood up. “Yeah, gotta see more of the mad men.”
You both got dressed, went into the car and drove back to the hospital. Once there, he opened the car door and pulled himself out. You then both made your way towards the main entrance.
The moment your foot stepped inside the hospital, you straightened up and your expression changed.
Time for work.
He noticed and smirked. “Ahh, there it is. Nurse mode.”
You nodded wordlessly. “I would advise you to do the same. The patients can be quite the troublemakers. Just do not let your emotions show fear or anger.”
He scoffed. “I’m a doctor. I worked in the ER. You know what kind of people get referred to the ER on a regular basis? Drug addicts, prostitutes, the mentally ill, gang members, criminals, the homeless…I’ve seen and dealt with the worst of the worst, and I’m good at keeping people from seeing what I really think.”
You nodded understandingly and you both rode the elevator up to the right floor.
…
A few hours passed, Dr House was just coming out of one of the patients’ room when he saw you in the hallway, looking into a patient’s file on a clipboard.
He limped over to you and looked over your shoulder. “What do you have there?”
“Brahms Heelshire’s file.” You answered without looking at him. “Yesterday was his third escape attempt this week…”
He scoffed. “Brahms Heelshire? Really? That guy’s been here for what, 4 or 5 years? And he’s still trying to escape?”
You nodded absentmindedly. “I just do not understand…why? He has no family anymore. Nothing to go back to.”
He looked over the file. “Well, there’s usually only two kinds of people who try to escape as frequently as he does: the ones who haven’t come to terms with their current situation yet and the ones with severe mental illnesses. Given the current situation, I’d wager it’s probably a bit of the former and a good bit of the latter.”
You nodded and started walking towards the patient’s cell. He followed you. “Do you really think he’s going to talk to us? I mean…that guy could just decide to kill us both.”
You smiled at him playfully. “Do not speak and I think everything will be just fine.”
He lifted a skeptical eyebrow at you, slightly surprised at your sudden sass, but he still smirked. “Oh, really? Challenge accepted. I’ll be as silent as a church mouse.”
You chuckled before taking out a stuffed bear from your bag. “Cute?”
He gave you a questioning look. “Are you planning on using that to tame Brahms?”
You smiled enigmatically, but didn’t answer before entering the cell. You looked around and found the poor man curled up at the foot of his bed. House followed behind you and took in the sad sight. It really was a pitiful picture: a man curled up like a child with a blank stare. He looked sick and exhausted.
You sat down on the bed and offered him a friendly smile. “Good afternoon, Brahms. Did you sleep well?”
The man didn’t answer at first, but then groaned and buried his face into his arms before muttering an inaudible reply.
You smiled. “Ah. Not so good then I take it?”
He didn’t look up, but he muttered again in response—a little louder this time. “When does it ever get ‘good’ in here?”
You nodded understandingly before scooting closer and taking out the stuffed bear to sit it down on the bed. The man lifted his head and turned to look at the bear, his gaze moving from the toy to you before turning his head back down.
You coughed and made the stuffed arm wave. When he saw the toy wave, he immediately sat up. You smiled victoriously—at least now he was paying attention. “This is Miss Daisy. Miss Daisy wants to know what is going on and what it would take for you to give her a smile.”
He stared at the toy curiously before extending a tentative hand. He eventually touched the toy bear, running his fingertips over its soft and fluffy surface. Meanwhile, Doctor House remained silent as he had promised and observed Brahms’ reactions. The patient seemed happy enough as he squeezed the toy. He then pressed the plushie against his face and inhaled deeply.
“You like the gift ?” You asked as he continued to hug the toy, nodding his head as he buried his face even deeper into its fluff.
You nodded. “Could you perhaps tell me why you have been so eager to leave recently?”
He lifted his face from the toy momentarily and answered in a weak and quiet voice. “I don’t like it here…”
You nodded again. “I see. May I ask why? I understand that there has been some improvements in living conditions…I thought it might change your wish to escape.”
He looked down at the toy bear. “It feels like a prison in here…it makes me feel trapped. I just want to go outside—anywhere else.”
You nodded understandingly. “I see…Well, I cannot promise to get you out of hospital grounds yet but, perhaps would you like to go outside? Have access to the gardens? Would that improve your mood?”
His eyes lit up at the idea, and he nodded vividly, clutching the toy even tighter and bringing it closer to his chest. “Yes please.”
You nodded and wrote it down. “Noted.”
He nodded again, cradling the toy bear in his arms and pressing it against his chest. “If I…” He paused for a moment, looking down at the toy. “If I…behave…could I make a special request?”
You smiled. “Sure thing, Brahms. What do you want?”
He suddenly went silent for a minute. You heard him say something, but it was mumbled into the toy, and too quiet to hear. You leaned forward a bit closer to him. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch that. Could you repeat please?”
He moved the stuffed toy away from his face, and he looked away, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I…I wanted to ask…if I could have…” He looked at you and then back down at the toy, then back up at you. However, he couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “…a friend.”
Your eyebrows raised in surprise and you tilted your head a bit. “A friend?”
He nodded, but still did not meet your eyes and fiddled with the bear toy. “Yes. Just…a friend—a nice person to talk to and play with. Please?”
You felt your heart go out to him. He seemed so pitiful, and desperate. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his arm. “I’ll see what I can do, Brahms.”
He looked up at you for a moment, his eyes wide and hopeful before he looked down at the toy, and then back up at you. “Really? You can get me a friend? You won’t just say you will and then forget about it, like everyone else…?”
You shook your head with a small reassuring smile. “No, sweetie, I won’t do that. I’ll personally see that you have a nice, kind, and caring friend. I won’t forget about it, I promise.”
He seemed satisfied with the promise, and he hugged the toy even closer, rubbing his face against the bear again. “Thank you…”
You chuckled lightly and nodded, patting his arm gently. “Yeah, of course.”
He let out a breath and closed his eyes, nuzzling his face against the toy once more as a happy and relieved look appeared on his face.
You nodded and then looked at Doctor House. “This is Doctor House. He will examine you now. Would you agree to that?”
He looked over to House and seemed scared for a moment, but then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s fine…”
You smiled and nodded as well. You kept an eye on Brahms, making sure he stayed calm and at ease as House approached. The doctor looked down at Brahms and nudged his foot with the end of his cane. “Stand up, big guy.”
Brahms slowly stood up from the bed, being careful to keep his toy clutched tightly in his arms as he did. House nodded and set his cane against the side of the bed. He then looked Brahms up and down, looking for anything that might be wrong. He then noticed a small scratch on Brahms’s right arm. “What happened here ?”
Brahms looked down at the scratch and held up his arm, showing it to House. He then seemed to remember something, and his gaze dropped sheepishly—like a toddler. He mumbled an answer, the sound too soft for either of you to hear.
House raised his eyebrow and leaned forward closer to Brahms. “Couldn’t hear you, kid. Say it again, a little louder this time.”
Brahms raised his voice, though it was more timid than anything and replied, his gaze still on the ground. “I tried to escape again and a wire in the fence cut my arm.”
House nodded as he listened, noting the injury. “Well that was a stupid thing to do, wasn’t it? You’re lucky you only got a scratch.”
He nodded, still looking down and holding his toy tightly. “Yeah. I won’t do it again…”
House nodded and sighed, looking Brahms up and down. “It’s really a shame, and you’ve tried it, what—three times this week? Pal. Take a clue.”
Brahms’s shoulders slumped even further downward as he was scolded. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop…”
House shook his head in response. “Well, you’d better, or next time you might actually hurt yourself. You’re lucky you only got a scratch this time. That fence is designed to keep people like you from escaping. What if you hit your head next time you try to escape? Or break something? There’s no point in continuing to try to escape, so I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
Brahms tilted his head. “I just…want to get out.”
House hummed as he proceeded to bandage the wound. “Really now? And where do you plan on going when you do get free? Do you even have somewhere to go?”
Brahms didn’t respond. He just looked away sheepishly, fidgeting nervously with the toy in his hands.
House sighed and rolled his eyes. “Exactly. You don’t have a plan. You don’t have any place to go. You don’t have a job, or money, or anything. You can’t take care of yourself. All you’re gonna do is end up back here, probably with more scratches and broken bones, so just accept it and stop trying to escape.”
Brahms hummed. “My family gave me money.”
House scoffed as he finished the bandage. “Your family might’ve given you money years ago, but it’s 202… now. There’s a very, VERY strong chance that any money you were given is worthless now. And besides, what would you do with it? Build yourself another manor? Keep preying on harmless babysitters? Kill whoever bothers you in your gloomy teenager phase?”
Brahms looked down at the floor and started to get teary-eyed, clearly affected by the doctor’s words and the trauma from his past. “I…I-I don’t…”
“Doctor House.” You intervened with a displeased expression. “A word outside?”
He looked at you and rolled his eyes, but he still hobbled out into the hall. You stepped outside after him and you faced him with a disapproving frown. “We are supposed to help them—not berate them.”
He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “I am helping him. I’m toughing him up so that he’ll quit escaping and hurting himself.”
“This establishment is about redemption. What message are we sending if you start telling them that there is no escape?” You reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling the truth. And reality doesn’t care about feelings or being ‘nice.’ It’s better to get him used to the idea now that he’s not going anywhere than to keep lying to him and telling him that there's hope.”
You frowned in incomprehension. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head and sighed in exasperation. “Exactly what I said. That kid in there is never getting out of this hospital. There’s no point trying to feed him stories about how he’s capable of going free and living in the world again. It’s never going to happen, and it’s better to get him used to that idea now than to let him continue thinking he has a chance.”
Your jaw twitched. “I BELIEVE in them. I believe in sending them back into society.”
He rolled his eyes again. He put on a fake smile and added a sickly-sweet tone to his voice in an attempt to tease and mock you. “Of course you do, ‘sunshine’.”
Your eyes widened at his mocking tone and you shook your head. “If you do not believe in their redemption, then what are you doing here?”
He rolled his eyes again and dropped the fake smile. “I’m a doctor. I work wherever I’m needed. Or wherever I am paid. I don’t have a choice in the matter, and I’m not here for their ‘redemption’.” He made air quotes around "redemption" to indicate the sarcasm in his sentiment. “I am here to make sure they stay alive. And because I was mildly interested in the special freaks you seem to have locked up.”
You gasped and thrusted a finger into his chest. “We never use that word. Take that back!”
His eyebrows shot up and he looked at your finger on his chest with an annoyed expression, then back up at you. “What ? ‘Freaks’? Why? Can’t handle the fact that that’s what they are? They’re abnormal, and therefore freaks. I’m just being ‘honest’. One of the qualities you seem to value so much.”
You grit your teeth and seethed. “Careful, Dr. House. There is a thin line between honesty and cruelty.”
He rolled his eyes again. “Oh, spare me. They’re in a hospital for homicidal lunatics, and they’ve clearly got severe mental problems. You don’t fix reality by changing the vocabulary. You think they’re gonna get offended about me calling them freaks?”
He turned towards the cells and as if to prove his point he shouted. “FREAKS!”
Your chest heaved and you glared at him. “I obviously made a mistake hiring you…”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. You do not have any doctors besides me. None of my predecessors lasted. I am here for as long as I’m paid to be here. You’ll just have to deal with me. Besides, you just don’t like the fact that I’m not acting like your perfect ideal of a doctor.”
You looked him up and down. “Obviously not.”
He smirked and shrugged. “So sorry to not fit the job description. I’m so sorry I’m not some cheerful, happy doctor who gets all gushy over people with mental problems and wants to treat them like they’re children…”
“No. I wanted a doctor who I could trust.” You snapped. “ I wanted a doctor who understands my vision. I wanted a doctor who wanted the patients to get better!”
He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t give me that crap about wanting the patients to get better, alright? You may genuinely want that, but you’re delusional for thinking that you can actually get these people to become normal. They were locked away for a reason, and trying to get them to rejoin society is an unrealistic pipe dream.”
“Then this discussion is over.” You seethed and turned around to leave.
He grabbed your arm before you could leave and spun you back around. “Hey, wait. Don’t get all pissy now.”
You glared at him and wretched your arm away. “To be a sunshine takes everything I have. To stay positive and keep smiling are my ways to give the patients something to look forward to. What do you offer them?”
He put his hands in his pockets and glared right back at you. “Realism. I offer them someone to be real with them. Not someone who tries to baby them and treat them like they’re not outcasts, like you do…”
“THEY ARE NOT DEAD YET, HOUSE!” You snapped. ”They can still dream of better things than your cold harsh reality.”
He looked at you with a slight look of surprise as you shouted, but he still answered defiantly. “Don’t you get it? That kid in there,” he gestured towards the cell, “he’s a serial killer. What better things do you think he deserves?”
Your eyes watered. “They deserve a chance, House. An actual chance. They are broken. But they can be fixed. We can glue back the pieces.”
He sighed in disbelief and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “People aren’t like that. They’re not a puzzle to be pieced back together.”
A single tear rolled down your cheek. “…And I thought you’d be smart enough to understand the importance of hope.”
He looked away towards the cells and muttered. “Hope’s for idiots.”
Your heart clenched in your chest and you quickly wiped your tears. “…Right. Thank you for your honesty.” With that, you walked away.
House found himself standing still for several moments before he cursed and hobbled after you. “Y/N. Wait.”
He fell. You did not look back.
“Would you hold on for a second?” But you were already gone. He cursed and grumbled to himself as he sat on the floor. He rubbed at the ache in his leg and sighed. “Great. Just…great.” He tried to stand up, but his leg was feeling worse than usual. He leaned against the wall and tried to get up again.
He finally managed to stand up and stopped next to a cell where a voice spoke up.
“Pff. Way to go, jackass.”
He turned towards the cell and rolled his eyes, immediately recognizing that insufferable voice. “Oh, great. You—of all people…”
Freddy smirked. “Making our lil’ mama bear unhappy? Tut-tut. Bad idea, House.”
He rolled his eyes. “Bite me, Krueger.”
Freddy grinned and suddenly grabbed House’s arm and pulled it inside his cell.“Sure. If you insist...” He then bit it hard.
House shouted obscenities and tried to pull away, dropping his cane as he tried to retrieve his arm. “Let go of my arm, you crazy bastard.” His arm was bleeding now, and Krueger still had a vice-like grip on it. He could see the blood trickling down his arm, and he tried to pry his arm free from his grip, but he was too strong. “I said let go, Krueger!”
Freddy didn’t obey and only sank his teeth deeper as the other patients started making noise or even laughing around them. He tried to pull his arm back again, but it was no use. He punched Krueger as hard as he could in the ribs with his free hand, but he still held on like a rabid animal.
Suddenly, a voice raised behind him. “FREDDY.”
You stood there.
Krueger froze, though his grip was still as tight as ever. He turned to look at you, as did House.
You stepped forward and faced Freddy. “Let go of the doctor’s arm. Now.”
Freddy smirked challengingly and tightened his grip on House’s arm. “And what happens if I don’t?”
You hesitated—reaching for the familiar remote in your pocket to activate the electric collar around Freddy’s neck. You could hurt him. But instead…you asked. “Let us say you break or rip off the doctor’s arm. And then what, Mister Krueger? What do you think will happen?”
Freddy chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “He’ll cry in pain, and I’ll have a good laugh.”He chuckled again, tightening the grip on House’s arm, though not enough to break it, just enough to make it ache a bit more.
You nodded. “Okay. You have a good laugh. Then what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll let him go, and I’ll get put in solitary for a few days. Big deal.”
You sighed.
“Freddy. I am going to be honest with you.” You took a deep breath. “I have bet a lot on you and all the patients in this hospital. I have made an important deal with someone to improve you and the other patients’ living conditions. I am not ready to give up. But you need to show that you have improved. I need you and the other patients not to harm or kill any members of staff…I need you to trust me and let go of Doctor House’s arm. Please.”
He smirked before looking at House’s bleeding arm, then back at you. “You’re trying to bargain with me, huh? How cute…but why should I care about your lil’ deal?”
You closed your eyes and thought about it. Telling him about future consequences or rewards wouldn’t help. Slashers are unable to grasp long-term benefits. Then, it hit you. “You asked for a garden, right? I remember. I already made the demand and all the necessary equipment should soon arrive. I am trying, Freddy. But it’s hard when nobody else seems to think you can be or do better. And if you keep hurting or killing staff members then I won’t be able to help you anymore. And that would mean less for you—a lot less than what was granted so far and me possibly getting fired.”
He looked at you curiously for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side as he thought about it hard, then his grip on House’s arm loosened a bit. He was silent, his eyes glued to your face, trying to discern if you were lying or not.
You opened your eyes—cold sweat running down your face. “Please.”
He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, and then suddenly let go of House’s arm, shoving him back into the hallway. “Alright, mama bear. I’ll play your little game for a while. Maybe for a few days, or a week or two. But don’t think I’m doing any of this for your sake. I’m doing it for me, and only for me.”
House stumbled back into the hallway and took a few steps backwards, holding his injured arm. He looked down at it, at the bite mark that was inflicted by Krueger. “Great. I’m probably going to need shots now…”
Freddy cackled and flipped him off. You took House’s good arm and dragged him away. He didn’t resist, but as you both started walking, he looked at you quizzically. “You realize what you just did, right? You just made a deal with a homicidal psychopath.”
You glared at him. “It was that or you lost your arm. You should be thanking me on your knees right about now.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, spare me with the self-righteous indignation bit. I’m fully aware that you made a smart choice and that you helped me out. I’m just saying you made a deal with a madman that’s all. The Springwood Slasher? The guy who kills people in their dreams? And you want to trust him? That’s gonna blow up in your face at some point…”
You didn’t answer.
He rolled his eyes again and sighed. “Oh, right, I forgot…you don’t like negative comments about your precious ‘redemptive’ dream, do you? You’re just going to keep ignoring me until I agree that all of your patients are just misunderstood and need help. Yeah. That’ll work out great.”
You reached the infirmary and sat him down on the bed before looking around for some medicine and bandages. He sat down on the bed and rolled up his sleeve, exposing his wounded arm up to his elbow. “That bastard got me good…”
“You’ll live.” You replied flatly.
He scoffed and looked at you with a glare. “Oh, thank you so much for that comforting bit of wisdom. I feel so much better now.”
“What blood-type are you?” You ignored his comment and decided to focus on the most important.
“B/T. Why? You gonna give me a blood transfusion too, Mother Theresa?” He mocked and huffed before looking away.
You hummed. “Guess what? It’s your lucky day. We match.”
“Of course there would be another convenient twist. Of course you just happen to have the same blood type as me…Why am I not surprised?” He sighed and laid his head back.
You smiled. “Relax. It’s just a bite. It’s not like he cut off your arm.” He winced as you touched the wound, his fingers clutching the sheets of the bed. You restrained a laugh.
“Oh, go ahead and laugh. I’m sure you’ll be laughing your ass off if I get blood poisoning and my arm falls off. I’m sure that’ll be hilarious.” He grumbled.
“Do not worry. You know I would never let your arm fall off.” You replied assuredly.
He rolled his eyes again. “Oh, right. Nothing will happen to me because you’re here, my hero.”
“Eeexactly.” You smiled and finished bandaging his arm.
He looked down and lightly touched the bandages, critically assessing your work. “Just a question…have you always been this insufferable, or did you become this annoying after starting this job?”
You smiled again. “It is an innate gift I believe.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see. So you’ve been born and raised to be a pain in the ass then. Wonderful. You’re the pinnacle of human achievement, truly the best of our species. Tell me, what made you want to work at a nut house instead of a legitimate hospital?”
You smiled—but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That is a story for another day, doctor.”
He huffed and shrugged. “I’m sure it’s such an inspiring story. Saving the lost souls of the most horrific killers this world has to offer. Aren’t you just a saint?”
You went to the sink and wordlessly washed your hands while he continued to sit on the bed.
“You should go into the Olympics, you know. You’d do great in the self-righteousness competition.” He jabbed.
“Oh? Is that so? Maybe I should…” You replied evenly with a thin smile and dried your hands in a towel. You then turned around to face him and said sarcastically. “But then who would be there to care about the poor little doctor who doesn’t care about his own life?”
He looked up at you with a slight glare, his expression turning to an annoyed one as you smirked down at him. “Don’t try to play the ‘who’ll take care of me’ card. I can take care of myself just fine; I already have, before I met you.”
You hummed. “And yet, you are here. In this hospital. Must mean that your former colleagues didn’t like you very much.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes again, his glare getting even more exaggerated. “Oh, you’re brilliant, you know that? You got me there. I don’t have a comeback for that. How about next you tell me how I’m still single and how I work too much—so you can complete the list of obvious things about me?”
You chuckled. “Why tell you things you already know?” Your eyes met his and you added. “How about being nice to the only colleague who actually tolerates you and wants to keep you alive? And a thanks? That would be a start.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine. Thank you for not letting me die. Satisfied?”
You smiled. “Immensely. Now if you will excuse me, I have patients to take care of.” You turned around and left—leaving Doctor House to meditate on your words..
That night
It was late at night and everyone had gone home for the night. However, you had fallen asleep at your desk. House limped down the dark quiet halls. He wasn’t sure why he had had the sudden urge to be up and about, but he couldn’t just stay in his office, staring blankly at the ceiling.
So here he was, wandering the corridors, hoping to just kill time. He slowly walked past your office and noticed that the light was still on. Curiosity took hold of him, and he slowly poked his head through the crack of the open door.
Sure enough, there you were, slumped over your desk—sound asleep. What was it with you and working yourself to death? He quietly walked over to your desk, looking down at you with a bemused smile.
Your cheek was pressed against a list of files with a paper written: POTENTIAL FRIENDS FOR BRAHMS HEELSHIRE…
He picked up the list and skimmed over it, chuckling to himself at the idea of you looking for friends for Brahms, because the little boy man had asked for one.
Five Hargreeves.
Michael Myers.
Penny.
Jason Voorhees.
He shook his head as he read the list you had made. No way in hell would any of these freaks ever agree to befriend that creepy little doll fanatic. He looked down at you and shook his head with an amused smile. You were insane…But then, his hand moved on its own to stroke the back of your head.
He froze as his hand moved across your hair, and he realized what he was doing. What was he doing? What the hell was this?
He snatched his hand back and closed his eyes, trying to regain control of his body. He exhaled and ran his hand across his face instead, trying to compose himself. He needed work. Right. Work. So instead he looked over the files you were looking at. He took one of them and read over it, curious what information you had gathered on the potential friends for Brahms.
Some of the names on the list made sense, but some…made him do a double take. Jason Voorhees was a high-level threat patient. Even he rarely went into his cell…So why would you even think about him?
He looked over your notes. They both had family trauma, they both were rejected as a kid and seemed to share child-like traits…
He put down the file and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was crazy. But somehow it also made a lot of sense.
He shook his head before taking a marker…Time to act like his old jerk self again! He uncapped the marker—ready to scribble whatever on your face—but couldn't bring himself to do it. He looked over your sleeping form once again, then looked at the marker in his hand, feeling more and more frustrated with every passing second.
He couldn't force his mind to think the negative things that were his MO. He leaned against the side of the desk and sighed again. He shook his head. He was behaving like an idiot. Hell, he should be drawing all over your stupid face right now, like his brain was telling him to do.
His fingers slowly slipped to the back of your neck and he frowned a little as he noticed how warm you actually were.
That wasn’t normal.
“Hey, Y/N?” He called you, but you didn’t answer. “Hey, come on, wake up, sunshine.” He called out to you again, a bit louder this time.
When you still didn’t respond, he put down the marker on the desk and moved next to you. He gently shook your shoulder, trying to make you respond with increasing worry. He tried once again to shake your shoulder, and this time, you groaned and slowly lifted your head off the desk, but you didn’t seem aware of your surroundings.
You then noticed Doctor House and smiled—clearly in a daze “Hi…Sorry. I fell asleep. My head is…killing me.”
He sighed with a mixture of worry and relief, seeing that you were at least awake now. “Yeah, no kidding. You’re burning up…”
You scoffed and stood up. “Nonsense. I feel fine…”
You almost fell. He caught you with difficulty. “Right. You can’t even stand on your own two feet, don’t try to feed me that garbage. You’re sick. Take it from the doctor.”
You didn’t move and groaned again. “I shouldn’t be sick. I have work to do. Your leg will give out and then we’ll both fall like two idiots…”
He sighed. “…My leg’s fine. It’s not like I’m gonna collapse if you lean on me. You need to lie down. Come on.” He moved you both to the couch in the corner of the office and laid you down. “….How long have you been feeling sick?”
You sighed. “I don’t know…This afternoon? I went to check on a patient and returned to my office and now my head has a giant hammer inside pounding against my skull…”
He sighed again, feeling your fever once more. “Don’t you know better than to ignore signs of an oncoming illness? You’re a nurse, aren’t you?”
You looked up at him with eyes half closed and a massive headache before seething. “Fffffffffffffffffff—you.”
“You can’t even swear at me properly. You really are sick.” He replied with a smirk.
You sighed and resigned yourself to being a slug. House watched you for a long moment, expecting you to protest again. Instead, you simply curled up slightly on the couch, your eyes drifting shut immediately. It was so unlike you that it bothered him. The woman who spent every waking hour racing from one crisis to another, who somehow had enough energy to smile at every patient she met, had turned into this…over-exhausted pile of flesh.
He glanced back towards the cluttered desk. Several empty coffee mugs sat forgotten among the paperwork, and there was a half-eaten granola bar still in its wrapper that looked as though it had been abandoned hours earlier.
Judging from the state of the office alone, you hadn’t been taking particularly good care of yourself.
His eyes narrowed. “No wonder.”
He pushed himself upright with his cane and limped over to the small cabinet in the corner of the office that served as your emergency medical supplies. He opened it without ceremony, rifling through its contents. Thermometer. Blood pressure cuff. Disposable gloves. Antipyretics. Oral rehydration salts.
He grabbed what he needed before returning to the couch.
You didn’t even open your eyes when he slipped the digital thermometer beneath your tongue. “…Don’t chew it.”
You gave him an incoherent grunt that sounded vaguely offended but obeyed nonetheless. The thermometer beeped and he pulled it free to look at it. “One hundred and three. What an idiot…”
You frowned without opening your eyes. “I heard that.”
“I’m counting on it.” He reached for the bottle of fever reducer, shook two tablets into his hand, then filled a paper cup with water from the cooler in the corner. “Sit up.”
He slid one arm carefully behind your shoulders and lifted you just enough that you were sitting against the armrest. Your head immediately lolled sideways until it came to rest against his shoulder.
He placed the tablets into your hand. “Medicine.”
You looked down at your own fingers as though they belonged to somebody else. “…How?”
He sighed tiredly. “You put them in your mouth.”
“…Oh.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Medical school. And yet here we are.”
You swallowed the tablets with the water he held for you before immediately allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder again. House found himself sitting there far longer than he’d intended. His original plan had simply been to confirm you weren’t dead. Then it had become making sure you took something for the fever. Now…he was apparently functioning as furniture. For the first time since he’d met you, you looked genuinely at peace. His eyes drifted back toward the files scattered across your desk.
Every page was covered with observations written in your handwriting—not about what crimes they’d committed, but about what made them laugh, what frightened them, what foods they preferred, which staff members they trusted, how they reacted to praise, and which patients might calm each other instead of provoking one another.
You stirred against him. “House…”
He looked down immediately. “What?”
“…Don’t…forget to feed the Penny Brothers…”
He blinked. Despite your fever, despite barely being conscious, you were still worrying about the patients. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Right…”
Haiii i just got these piercings and I couldn't help but think about vampires reactions to fresh piercings on the reader >°< can you write about sinners and their reactions? Please <3 I got nipple piercings but feel free to change the piercings to fit the characters :3
REMMICK
Remmick knows that piercings are a sign of beauty in many cultures. He used to hang out with many people who would pierce their skin for the fun of it—even vampires did it. The moment he sees them on your skin? He smiles and shrugs. "Can’t wait to play with ‘em later."
He may be drooling.
STACK
Stack whistles when he sees these beauties on your skin. He’s obsessed, "C’mere, baby. Lemme see ya."
He pulls you into his arms and smirks before playing with your piercings. He then kisses the newly-pierced zones and chuckles.
"I believe we gotta celebrate those beauties, don’t ya think?" You end up in the bedroom.
BO
Bo stares.
He then smirks and whistles. "Hello there, sweetheart. Nice lil’ things ya got there. Mind if I touch? They sensitive?"
He starts experimenting and touching them curiously.
BERT
Bert is stunned before he giggles maniacally and starts clapping his hands excitedly. "Oooh. That looks really nice. Can I touch? Please? Can I touch?!"
He will insist until your give in and let him touch you.
JOAN
Joan is confused. "Why would you do that to your own skin?" It would take her time to get used to it, but she would eventually learn to appreciate them.
CORNBREAD
Cornbread is happy to see you with them. He grins and pulls you flush against his chest. "Look at ya. Love the new look."
MARY
Mary smiles and puts her hands on your waist. She admires the piercings and grins. "Pretty as a picture."
ANNIE
Annie likes them. She compliments them and tells you that they are beautiful. She also wants to touch them, but won’t without your authorisation. But she still admires you.
Hi Charlie! Could you write about the Hannibal family. Maybe the reader is a family friend or someone they see as family, and the reader ends up getting really hurt by someone like a broken leg or something. How would the family react?
HANNIBAL SR
"Oh dear little lamb…don’t be sad. You have a family that loves you. That is all the reassurance you need…" He says and kisses your knuckles.
He then proceeds to find the man who hurt you and breaks his kneecaps—the man screams for his mommy as Hannibal Sr. continues to break each of his limb with a smile on his face.
"PLEASE—"
CRACK. His left arm.
“Shhh.”
CRACK. His right arm.
“There, there.”
CRACK. An ankle.
“You’re only upsetting yourself with your pathetic screams for help.”
MORGAN
Morgan is a doctor, a doctor who knows exactly how many bones exist in the human body and how much blood loss it takes you to bleed out and die.
So Morgan brings the man deep into the forest and calmly explains every injury he’s about to receive in scientific detail. No one hears the earth-shattering screams he produces as Morgan proceeds to cut off each of his fingers.
Morgan visits the hospital after finishing his…other appointment. He immediately checks your charts then personally argues with three nurses. Morgan would become a nightmare for every medical professional involved. It means the hospital staff would quickly discover they have acquired a second attending physician they never hired.
"Why is their medication dosage this low?"
"Doctor—"
"Answer the question."
HANNIBAL JR
You almost wish he would yell. At least then you’d know what he was feeling. Instead, he simply sits beside your bed and reads while keeping one hand on yours.
He knows you’re awake.
"Who was it?"
You tell him. He nods and says nothing more about the matter. However, the man later receives a visit. Hannibal Jr. dismantles people psychologically. He learns their fears, their insecurities and their secrets.
And then he quietly pulls every thread. Within months the man is living in constant paranoia.
The worst part? He can never prove Hannibal did anything. Because Hannibal Jr. never leaves evidence behind. And then one day, the man mysteriously vanishes. You don’t ask what happened. You just know that the family had a lot of meat to eat this week.
KEVIN
"…What?" Kevin cannot believe there is an idiot who thought he would be clever enough to hurt you and get away with it.
His eyes darken and he loses all emotions in his pupils. It is a frightening sight. He stares at you and smirks. "Don’t worry, princess. Kevin’s gonna fix this for ya. Real quick."
He proceeds to drive to the man’s place and break every single thing he has in his house. When the man returns later, he walks on shards of glass and ceramics all over the place.
He doesn’t even get a warning before Kevin hits him with a baseball bat—so hard that he instantly hits the ground. Then Kevin kicks the back of his head, the shards of glass and ceramics piercing the skin of his face.
The man screams in pure agony and Kevin smiles before taking a picture.
PETER
Peter looks innocent. That is the problem. Most people see the blond curls, the big dark eyes, the soft voice, and immediately assume he is harmless.
The man who hurt you makes that exact mistake.
Peter spends the first few days at the hospital sitting beside your bed. He holds your hand whenever the pain gets bad. He brings you books, snacks, flowers—anything he thinks might make you smile. But something about the way he looks at you makes you uneasy. Because Peter only looks that calm when he’s already made up his mind.
A week later, the man receives a knock on his door. When he opens it, he finds Peter standing there.
Alone. He is holding a small gift basket. The man almost laughs as he gazes up sweet innocent little Peter.
Peter smiles. "Hi."
The conversation starts pleasantly. The man answers because Peter seems harmless.
Peter’s smile never changes. The longer the conversation continues, the more frightened the man becomes. Because Peter slowly removed his mask. The lies. The affairs. The money hidden from relatives. The betrayals. The things he thought nobody else knew.
He knows everything.
Finally, the man stands. "You need to leave."
Peter remains seated. His expression is still gentle and kind. Yet the room feels colder.
"You hurt my family." The words are spoken softly. "I don’t think you understand what that means."
With that, Peter gets out a knife and straddles the man to stab him 50 times without losing his smile. At the end, he cleans himself up and calls Grant to come and clean up the mess.
GRANT
The man notices the truck first. An old pickup parked across the street. Then he notices it again the next day. The same truck. The same driver. The same pair of tired eyes watching him.
Eventually the man approaches. "What do you want?"
Grant lowers the window. "Just looking."
"Looking at what?"
Grant studies him for a moment then he shrugs. "Nothin’ special."
The man spends the next week becoming increasingly nervous. Because Grant never leaves. One evening he finally snaps. "WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?!"
Grant steps out of the truck and scratches his beard. "You hurt somebody."
The man swallows. "It was an accident."
Grant nods. "Maybe. Doesn’t matter much to the person lying in a hospital bed."
The man takes a step backward and Grant watches him closely.
"That’s somebody’s kid." His voice is barely above a whisper. He then chuckles humourlessly. "Man…you chose the wrong family to mess with."
Grant sighs before rolling up his sleeves. "You’re lucky, y’know?"
"Why?" The man asks suspiciously.
A faint smile appears on Grant’s face. "Because they could have come and ended your life. Instead, they asked me to deal with ya." With that, Grant starts punching and kicking the man to an inch of his life.
The next day…
You smile when you see him. "Hey, Grant."
He smiles back. "Hey, kiddo." He sets the soup he bought on his way to the hospital down and pulls up a chair. He starts listening to you with a smile and nods along. As though he hasn’t spent last night beating up a man. Because in Grant’s mind, that’s not what matters. You’re healing and everything else is just maintenance.
