MHA/BNHA and Aftons Oneshots/Story Starters

Detective

Michael is tired of watching his father take the hits for him. He doesn't understand— "You're hurt, please, I'll take her one time I don't think you can take another beating—"... until it is him. He never understood how his father could take each and every slap and cruel words while still covering his ears until Michael was the one listening, a bruise stinging on his cheek and hands firmly clasped over Elizabeth's little ears. Because Elizabeth is so little, only four years old and Michael understands his father now, understands why he is complacent because Michael is doing the same for Elizabeth now.

~~~

William calls Henry at two in the morning. "What's going on?" Henry mumbles, sleepily slurring his words. But William doesn't make fun of him in that flirty way he always does— no, his voice is fearful and twisted and urgent. "Come over here right now. Don't tell anyone."

Henry, the trusting fool he is, gets in his cat a few minutes later, barely a coat thrown over his pajamas.

The Afton household is in shambles. Every blind is pulled and each window looks locked tight. Only the most inner lights are on. And... God, they show a grisly scene.

William is still in his pajamas, gripping the phone like a lifeline in one hand and gently rubbing his daughter's head with the other. Elizabeth, in turn, has pulled Evan tight to her chest, forcing his gaze away from the wreckage before him. But William looks too shocked to do the same for her.

Clerose is on the floor. Not just on the floor—she looks dead. How could she not be dead? Her skin is pale and her neck is ripped open, crimson blood staining everything.

Henry draws a shaky breath. "We have to call the police."

Elizabeth reacts immediately, "No! No police! Uncle Henry, you—you can't call the police, you can't! You don't understand Uncle Henry they'll take him! I—I can't let them take him—" she begins to hyperventilate, eyes so wide and pupils so dilated in the poor light that Henry can only make out the barest ring of green around her pupil.

"Hey, hey, calm down. I won't call the police yet. Just...let me talk to your father." Henry peels William's fingers off of the telephone and pulls him into the corridor.

"William, you killed her?! Why?!" Henry hisses the moment they are out of sight. And hopefully out of hearing range.

William's hands fly up, noticeably clear of blood. "I—I killed her because—because she was going to hit my kids." But Henry already saw the bruise on Elizabeth's cheek and the one on William's, and he's definitely seen the ones on Michael.

"Nice try. She was already hitting your kids. Why tonight, of all nights? Unless you killed her because she hit too many of them. But for that to be true, she'd have hit Michael...speaking of him, where is he?"

William doesn't answer that. "I've seen Elizabeth with bruises before. She was already hitting them, and you didn't kill her then. So there's gotta be something else going on here. You might've been stopping her from hitting Michael, or Evan, again..."

A rustle from the second floor. William grimaces and shifts to block Henry's view.

"Or since your hands are so clean, someone else did it, to stop her from hitting you."

Henry flicks on the hallway light. William throws up his arms, but Henry pushes him aside. And this gives him a very clear view of Michael, the oldest, staring at him with what Henry can only describe as pure terror in his eyes. And since his hands are gripping the backpack in front of him— no doubt filled with food and clothes— Henry can very obviously see the blood smeared on them. And in the back of his mind, he's always known that if someone were to snap, it would always be Michael first.

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661 words
No I don't quite know what's going on either. Inspired by Tumblr if I'm honest
2/8/23