#enimies to friends

[ashlakh]

Cobra Kai

Acquaintences to Enemies to Friends?!!

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So the world is full of problems and being a naive 12 yo, Dani thinks she can fix those problems.

So she follows the best example.

Red hood

And she becomes a crime boss.

And she’s far better than anyone would think. Discreetly taking over various mafias around the world.

Eventually, the anti ecto acts are put in place worldwide.

So Dani (17) and Jazz (21)move to the only place that has citizens that would willingly lie to the government. Danny is in the ghost zone, attempting to evacuate all ghosts on earth dnd then get to work trying to dismantle the AEA. A process that could take over a year or so.

So Dani moves most of her forces to Gotham.

In my mind, Dani’s mobster name is Fantasma btw and her henchmen/loyal workers are called the Draugur.

But Gotham is cursed and over run with violent ghosts, and because Jazz has collage (transferred from Central Collage) and has to keep a job she can’t handle the ghosts.

So Dani is now moonlighting as the vigilante Wraith.

And Jazz is making her go to school during the day (Gotham academy)

While she’s in Gotham, Fantasma catches the attention of the bats because they’re not going to miss what is obviously a big player with a reputation coming into Gotham.

So they send a bat to go undercover

Damian

Damian is like 17 and has just transitioned out of Robin (you can decide whos Robin in his place) and is now (what we vigilante you what him to be, but I’m using Nocturne in this post)

For his first solo mission, he goes undercover as a henchman in the Draugurs. (He wears a mask so he doesn’t get discovered at a Wayne/bat). The only information the bats have is that Fantasma is around his age.

Unsurprisingly, he’s really good at undercover work.

He (undercover name is Crow) quickly makes his way up the ranks.

And he eventually meets the boss Fantasma and becomes her right hand.

And eventually begins to fall for her.

At the same time, he’s trying to catch the new antihero Wraith, who is a very flirty pain in the butt. He’s also been assigned to be the partner of a new student in his class, Danielle, who is incredibly ditzy and clumsy. But she’s not stupid, Damian knows better than to assume that. Especially when she scores highly than him on their geography test.

Basically an entire love hexagon AU including

- henchmen x boss

- vigilante x vigilante/antihero

- academic rivals AU

Relationship guide

Fantasma x Crow- boss that trust her second hand with her life despite not know in his real name. Henchman that is slowly catching feelings and becoming very guilty for lying to her

Nocturne x Wraith- vigilante is getting increasingly irritated by the new Antihero, who thinks the vigilante is hot and flirts with him the entire time they’re together

Dani x Damian- klutzy, clumsy, and popular student ends up having a rivalry with perfect, cold, and outcast over grades and tests. They hate each other.

I love this prompt, and there’s so much I could add to this.

Any thoughts? Would love to hear them!! :))

[crazyapplekiss]

Promises made over lava lakes

Galaxy’s heart was pounding as she scrambled between a cluster of large trees in the crimson forest. The air was thick and humid as she shakily loaded the crossbow in her arms and glanced behind herself as her body shuddered and ached from her impromptu run. Around her, the low growls of hoglins echoed through the forest, stalking the intruder that dared to walk through their territory and foolishly get too close to their young.

The nether wasn’t Galaxy’s favorite place in the world.

Since her first few days exploring the vast oak forests and bright blue skies, she’s spent a lot of her time exploring everything the overworld had to offer. Every corner had a new village to trade in or a long-abandoned mansion to investigate or an old weathered shipwreck to discover. It wasn’t hard to see why the netherworld was the last place she would ever visit.

The land was hot and smelled of smoke. Filled with bubbling lava and sharp red rock that crumbled behind her armored boots, Galaxy often found herself climbing across dangerous ledges that hung mere feet above the red hot sea below or dodging scorching fireballs from ghasts. It always seemed as if death lingered around every turn from the  Crimson forests to Soul sand valleys, the only reprieve one could get was hiding in a small hole and never coming back out.

As much as it was tempting to dig a little burrow and forget about how much death and cruelty the lava dimension had to offer, there were potions to brew and important materials for building that she couldn’t get anywhere else.

Galaxy waited for a few moments more, tensing at every rustle or snap of a branch, and sweating under the heavy layers for her diamond armor as the fungal forest breathed around her in a haze of squealing and roars. From the sound of it, the hoglins might have been distracted by a stay pack of piglins that roam these forests for hunting and she took this as her chance to dart from her hiding place.

Ducking under branches and past blooming red vines, she ran as fast as she could without looking back, knowing that tripping up here could mean a painful death and respawn that would leave her with fewer items than when she started.

In her blind run, she failed to properly check her surroundings and ran straight into the path of another group of piglins patrolling the forest. Usually, piglins would be easy to deal with, they wouldn't bother her if she didn’t get in their way but today she was unfortunate enough to not have any gold armor or gold to trade and they weren’t too pleased to have a stranger invading their space.

The piglins readied their bows and drew their axes as Galaxy raised her crossbow in defence, trying to swallow her panic as she looked for an escape route. There was no way she would survive fighting a whole group of them by herself and the standoff makes her think numbly that she should have tried harder to get someone to watch her back as she travelled.

“Ah fuck me”

Galaxy pulled the trigger in one swift motion, hitting the piglin in front of her and sending the rest into a rage, barely stopping before loading another arrow to fire. The chaos under the trees was a mess of dust and arrows and screams as she darted about, clenching her teeth as she felt arrows graze her skin. She switched her crossbow out for her sword in the frenzy stabbing one of the creatures as it got close and ducked under the swing of another axe as she made a break for an opening. The soft shine of gold caught the edge of her vision as she ran, too close for comfort, and left a dull ache in her arm as she ran but she paid it no mind.

Injuries could be dealt with when the threat of death was more of a memory and the only thing she could hear was the emptiness of the nether wastes.

She ran until she collapsed, gasping and coughing from exertion

and from running so long without a break. Black spots danced in front of her vision as she lay on the warm earth and forced herself to calm. Slowly, the world began to fill with noise as she caught her breath, gone were the howls and squeals of the Crimson forest and the constant unease at the slightest sound of a bowstring and in with the gentle hum that came with the Warped lands.

She blinked as she looked around, hearing nothing but the hum of the forest and the distant sound of lava popping in the distance. The girl pushed herself up with her elbows with great effort groaning at the pain that started to spread through her bones. Her upper arm burned fiercely as she forced herself into a sitting position and a swipe of her palm over it came back bright red.

She looked around again as she struggled to get her rucksack off her back wondering where all the endermen had gone. They are known to live in the Warped forest and no piglins dared to enter. They are especially dangerous to humans if provoked, but she’s sure she isn't human enough to be a threat and she won’t go out of her way to harass the creatures of the nether. It wasn’t worth dying over after all.

She pulled out some bandages and water, momentarily morning the loss of not having a healing potion that could take all her pain away and stitch her wounds immediately. She was lucky enough to get a few blaze rods and nether wart before the trip started to go south, so if she wasn't too exhausted she could start brewing potions tomorrow where the world was more kind and the air was clean.

Making quick work of bandaging her wounds and chugging a whole bottle of water, she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet and packed her things, hoping to make it back to her portal as quickly as possible, only stopping when she heard leaves crunching behind her.

Galaxy felt a spike of fear go through her at the sound, fearing the piglins had followed regardless of the forest she was in before the fear turned into annoyance and anger. She had just wanted a few supplies for potions but she had been chased high and low as if she personally griefed their homes. If the stragglers wanted to march to their death here, it wouldn’t be her fault, their only witness would be her blade and any endermen that would stalk past their corpse.

Galaxy gripped her sword tight as she swung around hoping to catch her stalker off guard and maybe take out a limb only to come face to face with a child.

They’re pressed up against the tree in fear as they stare down her diamond blade, blood-stained and glittering with enchantments. Their hair is a wild mess of pink almost hiding a pair of wide dark eyes shivering in gold armor that doesn’t seem to fit them right. Underneath, she can see the green botches across their skin, of what appears to be the beginnings of the curse, where their clothes and armor fail to cover them.

She narrows her eyes at them, quickly darting her eyes up and swiveling her ears around to listen for the sound of hooves against the dirt. She doesn’t hear anything beyond a distant yowl that she guesses is an enderman.

“Shit, kid. I could've killed you!” she growls, the nether dialect thick with her accent, using her sword to point off into the blue-tinted fog of the woods” Leave! I don’t want you here”

“Please! Hear me out!” they yell in response, not moving from their spot probably from fear of being impaled” Let me stay with you!”

Galaxy whips her head around so fast she’s sure it might hurt later. She wants to laugh at how ridiculous this sounds“No!”

“Please!” they beg” You managed to get past the others and fight them off, just think about it”

“Have you lost your mind! Go home, I don’t need to get attacked by piglins thinking I stole one of their kids! This place is enough stress already.” Galaxy complains grabbing the kid by their arm, ignoring the offended grumble at being called a child, and pulling them off in the direction she believes they came from. If she’s lucky she could bolt and they wouldn’t be able to find her again

“No, no, I can’t go back” they mumble as they stop abruptly and nearly make her stumble. No amount of tugging will move them no matter how much Galaxy tries.

“And why the fuck not?”

“Because they’ll kill me!” this gives Galaxy pause, arms lowering from where she was about to shove them out into the woods and leave them there. She’s never known piglins to kill their own kind, due to them being fiercely protective over their bastions and wondering packs. There should be no reason for them to kill one of their own, especially one as young as this.

“Don’t bring me back to them please” the child begs, eyes shiny with unshed tears” I don’t have anywhere else, there’s nothing out here. You can just help me out of here and I won’t be in your way but please don’t let them find me, “

Galaxy purse her lips as she looks at them again, thin and small and just barely reaching her chin, in armor too big and death hanging over their shoulder if she turns them back out into the hell that is the Crimson forest once more. She holds her breath and sighs, rubbing her face with her hands, surely getting netherrack dust all over her cheeks. She curses herself for having a conscience, for having a heart. For thinking even for a second about how these mobs left their kid out here to die.

“Fine, only to the nether wastes you hear? I swear to god if you’re lying to me” she starts, glaring hard at them and they scramble up of the floor and wipe their tears.

“No! I’d never! Thank you! Thank you!”

Galaxy’s compass lays gently on her chest as she fixes her bag on her back and begins her hike through the Warped forest, one heartbeat and armored boots followed by the soft clicking of hooves.

--

Notes:

My Actual Minecraft gameplay: put a boat down and a baby piglin got in and I took it to the overworld and promptly forgot piglin's can't survive there. Spent five minutes freaking out that I killed it and lost my friend, now lil dude is now immortal and chilling in my living room.

[fanfictiondramione]

You were alone, left out in the cold Clinging to the ruin of your broken home Too lost and hurting to carry your load We all need someone to hold

You've been fighting the memory, on your own Nothing worsens, nothing grows I know how it feels being by yourself in the rain We all need someone to stay We all need someone to stay

Hear you, falling and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day, you we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

(Someone To Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic)

[shiftythrifting]

[nerds-worlds-blog]

How l look when the slow burn starts to actually burn

[cute-sucker]

stupid boy (part 1/2)

[13.04.2024]

note: this is like a childhood series that i kinda wanna do...enemies to lovers obviouslyyyy!! (depends on what y'all want - but i might do a series for it/i will be adding a part 2 thooo) heavy inspired by rina kent book. words: 1,180

⊹˚. ♡

rafe was someone constant in your life.

from when you were little, with scraped knees, lolly pop in hand. you had moved to kildare when you were seven years old, and couldn't fit in at all. you felt like a lost cause, moping around the house. you didn't know who he was, yet you knew there was a bold boy next door, who climbed trees and claimed to have seen peter pan at night. 

yet, you didn't know this about him when you were a small seven-year-old, no you met him at your lowest. 

when your parents told you they were getting divorced. 

"honey, your dad and i.." your mother began, and both of them shared a knowing look, and then your mother leaned closer to you. you felt the turmoil in the air, yet little seven-year-old you didn't know what was going on. 

"your mom and i are getting a divorce." your dad finished the sentence. 

divorce. 

the word sounded foreign to your lips as you tried to whisper it out, the words were too cold as you tried to stretch it out. it didn't sound good. 

"what does that mean?" you asked slowly. 

at this your mother winched, "we'll be having a break. you won't see your dad a lot. maybe for a while," she finished, giving your dad a cold look. he seemed to cave into himself, and when you tried to meet his eyes he gave you a sad smile. 

you heard your voice go shakey, "divorce?" 

"honey-listen, you'll have two christmas, two birthdays-" your dad began almost to console you. 

instead, you felt your heart race and hot tears pool in your eyes. 

the question you begged to ask was 'why,' and then you wanted to scream, yell and tear the house down. 

but you did none of that, instead, you sat there, your hands shaking and hot tears streaming down your face. as a seven-year-old this was too much to process, too much to think about. 

your pretty dress was drooping, and before you knew it you were sprinting as fast as you could, a horrible croaking coming out of your mouth. the wind whipped in your face, and your chest heaved as you made it to the park. 

the park with its whimsical trees, and its cool wind. you picked berries nearby, and let yourself get dizzy on the swings. the slides were high and daring. it was the place of adventure, and to you, it was a place of safety. 

suddenly a small hand tugged at your hair. you gasped looking up to a roguish boy who squinted down to look at you. he had deep cobalt eyes, and eyed you with distaste. you knew him...he was rafe cameron, a year older than you and lived nearby. 

"why are you crying?" 

your lip wobbled, as you felt your tears fall to the ground. he pulled your hair again, and you cried out. 

"get off me!" you cried out, wincing as you held your hair to your head. he seemed to go still but peeked at you curiously. you felt annoyed now, and instead of crying you glared at him. 

he looked confused now. "look you're not crying anymore." 

"yea' cause you're a big idiot." you spat at him, still rubbing the spot on your head. he was a daring boy to do such a thing to you, and if you weren't so messed up you wouldn't hesitate to beat him up. 

"why are you crying?" rafe asked you again, and this time you sniffed and turned away from him. 

"just cause." 

he shrugged now, "i make my sister cry sometimes," he confessed sheepishly, "i shave her barbies hair off, and dad told me i should stop." 

you frowned at him, "that's not really nice." 

"well, you're not nice either 'cause you're lying to me right now." 

that was a fair point, and you found yourself defensively clutching your dress, your hands reaching for something to ground you.

"my parents are getting divorced." 

saying out loud made it more real. 

"that's it?" 

you felt your anger bubble up now, giving another cry. "what do you mean that's it? they were talking about different holidays, and i heard them fight. they scream and yell and- and i'm really scared." 

at this, the boy sobered and kicked the weeds under his foot. 

"sorry." 

you shook your head at his apology, swatting him away. he was an idiot this boy, a mean one at that too. you couldn't believe what he was saying to you. this small idiot of a boy. 

"can you leave now?" you told him, ordering him almost. yet he didn't respond to you. finally, you raised your voice, fists balled up. "leave me alone!" 

"why?" 

he looked confused, dangling his feet below the bench, and staring at you with that intense look. you wondered where his parents were, and then second you wondered if your parents were looking after you. 

you struggled for words now, "i don't like you very much, and you're mean, and-and i don't like people seeing me cry." 

"i'll tell you a secret." 

this piqued your interest, and you tried to pretend like it didn't. but the rafe seemed to notice the way you twitched in interest, and grinned at your curiosity. he inched closer to you, bumping his shoulders next to yours. 

"what is it?" you asked him annoyed, yet you couldn't help but look up at him. 

"you look ugly when you cry." 

your breath caught in your throat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. the fleeting moment of curiosity evaporated, replaced by a surge of hurt and anger.

"how dare you?" you muttered, your voice trembling with indignation. "that's not a secret, that's just mean!"

the rafe's grin faltered, his cobalt eyes widening in surprise at your sudden outburst. but instead of apologising or backtracking, he seemed to double down on his callousness.

"hey, i'm just being honest," he retorted, his tone defensive. "if you don't like it, tough!"

"why do you hate me? you don't even know me," you cried out. 

finally, he stiffed, and then folded his arms, and then whispered something under his breath. you couldn't help but gruffly sigh, as you noticed he wasn't going anywhere.

"what did you just say?" 

rafe scowled now, "i was gonna tell you to smile more, 'cause you'll look pretty then, but you interrupted me!" 

"-and that will make what you just said to me?" 

rafe's scowl deepened, but beneath the defiance in his gaze, you caught a glimpse of something else—a flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even regret.

"i thought you might feel better," he muttered giving you a dirty look. yet behind his eyes, you saw confusion. 

"well, it didn't." 

with that, you turned on your heel and stormed away, refusing to give him a piece of your frustration.

he was a stupid boy.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

FIRST PLACE part 3

pairings: Xavier thorpe x Fem!reader summary: hating each other doesn't really work out when there's different feelings hiding beneath it. warning: swearing, them being assholes to each other. note: reader is Wednesday's cousin. again. pretty long. I told myself this would be the last part but I got carried away. sooooo part 4 tomorrow so comment if you would like to be tagged in that

part 1 part 2 part 4

Xavier's POV

"Y/n!" I knocked on her window "can we talk"

the lights were off but there was noise coming from inside

"you can't ignore me forever" I sighed.

the window was slightly open so I took my chance and pushed it open more. climbing into her room.

I looked around and walked to her desk. looking at the statue of a frog playing an instrument. It was an odd concept but it seemed like something she would like, I picked it up and examined it closer until I heard footsteps coming to the door, I quickly put the frog down and made my way out the window again.

---

"you snuck into my room" you said walking up to Xavier

"what?" he questioned, Looking at you confused

"you broke into my room last night" you stated

"no I didn't" he denied quickly

"there's no point in lying, Xavier. there's proof. you're an amateur in that department"

"what proof do you have then?" he asked, getting annoyed

you pulled out a little zip-lock bag with a single hair in it

"is that a strand of hair?" Xavier spoke surprised and shocked

"a strand of your hair, yes" you nodded

"that could be anyone's hair" he defended himself

"It could've been, that's why Wednesday got it tested" you insited

"what the hell do you mean you got it tested?" he replied

"i think you know what it means" you huffed

"you're insane"

"I got to my room last night only for my room to smell like you, I find my frog in the wrong place and a single hair my floor. not to mention my window was an inch more open than when I left it. and when I looked out of it, I find that you're not at you painting on the wall, but your supplies are" you investigated "care to explain why?"

"again, you're insane" he scoffed

"no, I'm just observant" you spoke dully

"right, ok" he rolled his eye

"why were you in my room?" you demanded an answer

"I wanted to talk to you" he shrugged

"what is so important to tell me that you had to break into my room?" you huffed, crossing you arms

"wel- how do you know what I smell like?" he trailed off

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows

"you said you got to your room and noticed it smelt like me. how do you know what I smell like?" he smirked

"because it smelt shit just like you"

"are you sure about that?" he chuckled

"I'm certain" you said before you turned away.

as you walked off, you and Xavier both took a deep breath and gulped.

---

During Outreach day, you snuck away from your group to go to the cafe

"what do you want?" Xavier asked

"A coffee, that's what everyone comes in here for" you told him simply

"what type of coffee?" he sighed

"one without your spit in it" you shrugged

"why would I spit in your coffee?" he shook his head in disappointment

"I don't know, the look on your face said it"

"what coffee would you like?" he questioned

"maybe a frappe" you said, looking at the menu at the top

"maybe? it's a yes or a no" he huffed, getting impatient

you smiled sarcastically "first of all, you're not getting a tip anymore. and yes, I'll have a coffee frappe"

"7.50"

you gave him the money and walked to your table. looking out the window to the street

you pulled out your phone and scrolled through pages, seeing Enid's page was updated with the latest 'gossip'

it was a photo of two people taken from a distance, you couldn't recognise the people in the photo so you read the description

'these two seem to talk a bit too much for them to be just enemies' it read

it was only posted a minute ago, with only one like and a single comment

as you looked at the comments under it you saw a comment from Xavier

'Enid take this down right now'

it was until then that you noticed it was you and Xavier in the photo

"here's your Coffee frappe without spit" Xavier put down the drink

"thanks" you mumbled

you messaged Enid, telling her to take the post down as soon as possible, not even a second later she gave in and said she would take it down. you thanked her and put your phone away, taking a sip of your drink.

----

"what the hell are you doing?" Xaviers voice called out from the rain. you looked up at him to see him with an umbrella

"why are you here?" you glared at him

"Wednesday told me you planned on going around here." he explained

"that doesn't answer my question" you blinked blankly

"just get under the umbrella" he moved closer to you, trying to get you under the purple umbrella with him

"I don't need protection from the rain" you stated

"I don't want you to get sick" he pleaded

"since when do you care if I get sick or not?" you investigated

"fine" he grumbled

"what's wrong with you?" you rebuked

"nothing?"

"stop. you've been acting weird lately and I don't like it" you spat

"what do you want from me?" he quizzed

"to act like you did before, like you hate and not care about me" you declared

"I do hate you" he nodded his head

"that's not what logic says" you pointed out

"what logic?" he retorted

"you have a drawing of me in your notebook, you're always around me now and you kissed me the other day" you announced "any logical person would say that you have feelings for me, but I refuse to be under your trap"

"trap? what trap!?" he said loudly

"the one where you think you can trap me into thinking I don't hate you" you explained

"you're insane! you know that? I'm basically serving my feelings to you on a silver platter here and you say I'm trapping you?" he yelled at you

"yes, that is what I said" you nodded

"what is wrong with you?!" he screamed as the rain got heavier

you stayed silent, you didn't want to answer him anymore so you just stared at him blankly.

"I could ask the same question" you mumbled, walking past him

----

It was quiet in the quad as you stared at the boy from afar.

he was oblivious to you behind him as he painted the wall

"I hate you" you must of scared him for a second time and made him mess up for the second time

"oh yeah? care to share why that is?" he huffed, mad at you

"you are an asshole"

"yeah? you're not the nicest person either" he rolled his eyes

"I have done nothing to you!" you yelled at him

"is that really what you believe in your twisted little mind?" he growled. putting his paintbrush down and backing you up into a pillar

"It's not a belief, It's a fact" you corrected

"you know what else is a fact?" he took a short pause, not caring for your answer "you're being a bitch"

"I've always liked dogs" you glared at him

"you can't be serious? I tell you I like you and you just walk away like I don't matter. Like my feelings don't matter!" he yelled "and the sad part is that you don't even care, you think you're treating me fairly!"

"I hate you, how else am I supposed to treat someone I hate?" you questioned

"yeah, right, why do you hate me again? because you're afraid of showing your emotions? afraid of the true feelings you have for me?" he laughed dryly

"you scared me" you stated

"I scared you" he chuckled, licking his lips while looking down at his feet, he shook his head amused as his dimples became more defined

"that's pathetic. I scared you one time and you hate my guts and torture me for years? I apologised for doing it a million times!" he yelled hysterically

"why are you so mad?"

"I was trying to impress you! I have always tried impressing you but you don't get it. you just flip out. I was excited to show you what I could do. I didn't draw or animate for months after that. you hurt my feelings and you didn't even care!" he shouted

"why should I care?" you grilled

"do you seriously have no emotions or feelings whatsoever? it is so pathetic how little empathy you have for others." he scoffed

"feelings are a waste of time and emotions show weakness" you explained dully

"you are" he took a deep breath "a horrible person"

"I'm trying to not hurt your feelings" you said

"you already did! did you seriously think you can treat me like shit and not hurt my feelings!?" he screamed, running his hands down his face in frustration.

"it's not my fault I can't interpret you're emotions, it's nothing personal." you shrugged

"No, it never is with you, is it?! and you can't even apologise, you just come out with an excuse! I'm done with your bullshit. I should've been done a long time ago" he sighed angrily, hitting the pillar he had you against

"why haven't you sooner?"

"Because I love you!" he disclosed loudly "it's kind of hard to just forget those types of feelings for a person and leave"

"you should've told me" you swallowed a lump in your throat

"why do you think I came to your room that night, and even if I did you would've turn me down. every. single. time" he smiled sadly

you didn't know what to say. you couldn't form words. you didn't love emotions, but you couldn't stop them, it was a human right to have feelings.

"I'll see you around, Y/L/N"

he walked away from you one last time.

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

taglist: THERE ARE SO MUCH OF YOU I SWEAR

@apollo3475 @jiyaisdope @ihrtsabrinaclaudio @kpop-core @xavi-thpe @sammarvel123 @1201pm @ur-mom-is-h0t @barryswifey @ilovethesmiths111 @honey-with-tea @l-3rk @meankim @your-left-sock @thorpin @gx0sty @yayaistime @ygyofoyyxo @users09 @meme-queen-1999 @czeniess @gutterrataesthetic @parkersmyth @absurd-raven @lnnlove @aureliapappa @idccc @sstilinski @beautifuldisasters-things @gengen64 @issy1554 @mxltifxnd0m @spooky-bitch420 @dyhlanobrien @pauphs @soobin-my-beloved @herejustforjj @lovurryy @diorheaven @karagrace @pepswag10 @pockeymcmockey @mogli-bear @finnwantsmefr @ttayl0rswift @error404-energynotfound @renn-pumkin-head @lieutenant-roos @satan1cwh0r3 @sanzusmile @harrys3rdnipp @theprettytragic @aunicornmademedoit @dahliamae @mxgvmiii

I hope I got everybody! I'm sorry if i got everyone! there was so many of you I had to get through.

[jomgiiu]

HEAT OF THE MOMENT

The king of Hawkins high, Steve Harrington asks you out on a date but not for the reason you think. After that night, you learn who the real Steve Harrington is.. or so you thought. 

paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

CW: ANGST ANGST ANGST, i guess bully!steve?, steve being a douchebag, king steve taking effect, swearing obviously, mentions of wounds/blood not to major. 

A/N: i wrote this one a whim, got carried away it’s not the best but i need feedback to see what i should do next with it lol. i liked writing season 1 steve, i made him meaner than in the actual show but ofc i hope you all dont mind! enjoy and reblog! (not proof read and poor writing oops)

Last night was the worst nights of your life, you got stood up by Steve Harrington. He'd asked you on a date during lunch and you obviously said yes. You and your friends were giggling and whispering about it all day, they gave you advice about what to do and say, what to wear, how to do your makeup, they seemed more excited than you. The moment you got home you got ready. He said he’d be there at 6 and it was already 3, so you had enough time to plan everything out. You put on your favorite record, pulled out your lucky socks, and got ready. The outfit you picked look like it came out of a magazine, so elegant and beautiful; Steve was definitely going to fall for you. At least that’s what you thought.

Sitting on the couch, you waited and waited and waited. 6 o’clock rolled around and the butterflies in your stomach would not stop.  

6:13. He's just running a bit late.  

6:28. Maybe he had car trouble?

6:41. Maybe he actually meant 7!

7:15. Or maybe he didn’t mean anything at all.  

7:35. You were nothing to him.  

Your parents didn’t get home from work until 8, so you decided to go up and change to save yourself the embarrassment of them asking about anything. Feeling like you came out of magazine just to feel like you were a thrown-out magazine because it’s the wrong issue. You went to sleep that night, crying over a stupid boy and a stupid date. It was stupid.  

-

What felt like forever, you finally got to your locker. Fumbling with the lock, you got it to open and put your things away, grabbing stuff for your classes.  Laughter was heard a few lockers down, glancing over it was Steve and his idiot friends. You sighed and shut your locker. You didn’t want to confront Steve but you had the right too. Confidently, you walked over to them but that instantly left when Carol whispered something to Steve, making him snicker. Your stomach felt like it was twisting and winding, you felt sick.  

“Hey, you!” Carol greeted; her words were sweet but was sour coming out of her mouth. You gave her a small wave and went to focus on Steve. He had on a blue polo, Calvin Klein jeans and a dark windbreaker complementing his outfit. His hair was perfect as always, he spent more time looking at himself than he did anyone else.  

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Um,” the words were stuck in your throat. His stare was burning you. Either you chicken out or you confront him.

“Where were you last night?” the words came out in almost a whisper.  

“Huh? What was that?” he put his hand behind his ear, leaning down a bit to you. “What did you say?” Steve’s teasing was cruel, he has a smirk planted on his face waiting for you respond.

“I think our friend here asked about your date last night.” Tommy commented.  

“Ah.” Steve moved his hand away from his ear and resting it in his jean pocket. “Listen, I was planning on going but I got wrapped up in somethings. I was going to call. Promise.” The sympathy in his voice was forced.  

“Yeah, Steve was too busy studying anatomy with Nancy.” Tommy teased, making Carol slap him on the chest playfully. Steve smirked and looked at you.

“Tom, pay up man.”

What?

You tried to process what was going on. You watched Tommy give Steve a $20, shoving it in his pocket looking so proud of himself.  

“Why did-”

“Oh gosh, for being a straight ‘A’ student, you really are stupid.” Carol said.  

“W-what?”

“Tommy over here told me if I asked you out, I'd get the 20. I did and I got the 20.” Steves words felt like a knife to the heart.  

“You put a bet on me?”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!” Tommy exclaimed, making everyone laugh.  

“You really believed that Steve would go out with you!” Carol snorted.

“I-”

“Listen, you seem like a great girl, I just don’t think you're up to the Steve Harrington standard. Nancy on the other hand, well she is. Don’t get me wrong, she just like you but more put together you get what I mean?” Steve’s words were harsh but said with ease.  

You began to shake, you tried to hold the tears back forming in your eyes letting one fall down your cheek.

“Aw are you crying?” Carol pouted.  

“I just thought you wanted to actually get to know me.” You choked out.  

“Get to know you? I’d rather talk to a freak than talk to you. But I guess that’s what I’m doing now huh?” Laughter erupted around you. People stopped and stared at you, all eyes were on you, people where whispering and giggling.

You quickly walked away from them, tears clouding your vision you didn’t want to go anywhere else but out. Your friends tried to stop you but you ignored them, you were just trying to get to your car where you could be alone. Getting in your car, you finally let it all out. They humiliated you in front of everyone, Steve placed a bet on you, everyone knew why. You were a loser. You’d never be Nancy Wheeler and you’d never be with Steve Harrington. Going home that day felt awful, you told your parents that you got sick and just needed to be home for the day, or the week. Thankfully, they took the bait and let you come home early and stay home for the week. Your mom went to the school to pick up your work you missed and that kept you occupied for the time being but didn’t distract you from your feelings.  

It didn’t help either that one of your friends called you, basically screaming at you that Steve asked her out on a date and she was calling you from the diner payphone that they were at right now. Your heart almost about blew up when you heard that. The day he does that to you, he asks one of your friends out? You told her congrats and when she briefly asked about your date, you just told her that you canceled because you didn’t feel well, hence why you left school today. She instantly bought it and told you that she’ll update you later and hung up. Of course, everyone had a crush on Steve and everyone wanted to be Steve. You wanted Steve but you didn’t know his personality, you didn’t know who he was as a person until now. Every girl he’s been with was ranting and raving about him and the dates he brings them on, you just wanted to experience one. You knew you were pretty, smart and you had a pretty decent reputation, why would he do that to you. Steve made you feel like nothing. He made you feel ugly, stupid and a loser. Steve Harrington was an asshole and no one knew that expect for you.  

=

Tuesday finally came. You begged your mom to stay home again, since you did Monday. You tired the fake puke trick but she saw right through it. Your mom convinced you if you went to school, you could buy something out of a catalog. You couldn’t pass that opportunity. If you were coming back, you were coming back looking like you haven’t been crying for the past week. You threw on the cutest outfit you could find, made sure the tear stains were off your face, kissed your mom goodbye and headed to school. The moment you walked in, the counselor grabbed you by the throat and dragged you into her office. Ms. Kelly was a nice lady; it was clear she cared about the students but it annoyed you because you didn’t want to talk. She asked how you were doing and what you plan on doing to keep your grades up. You explained that you have all your work, you just need to turn it in.  

“Wonderful!” she said.  

Ms. Kelly looked down at her paper, dragging her finger along until she stopped.  

“Ms. Click has actually requested to see you, I told her I'd send you down to talk to her. She couldn’t wait until your period. You can also take your work for her class and turn it in then.” She said, writing a hall pass. “Just come back here when you’re done okay?” You nodded gripping your history work, taking the hall pass and walking to Clicks. You liked Click, she was nice to you and you had her 5th period which was such a calm class, you liked everyone in there. As soon as you opened the door to Clicks, everyone's eyes were on you and even pair you didn’t want. Steve Harringtons.  

“Oh, perfect timing! Class, turn and talk about the question on the board I'll be a moment.”  

You walked into the classroom more to Clicks desk. She smiled at you and offered you a little candy. How could you say no. You handed her your stack of papers as she sat down at her desk.

“How have you been. 5th hour hasn’t been the same!”  

You glanced around the class to see the people. Steve was still looking at you. You began to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.  

“Oh, I've been sick. Flu season I guess.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for doing your work while you were sick. Not a lot of kids even do their work in class.” you nodded. “I called you here to obviously see if you were alright but also to see if a student can borrow your notes. You did them perfectly and I think it would help them. Don’t worry, he’ll give it back to me so you can have it back.” Click began to look through another pile of papers.  

“Sure, who’s using it?”

“Steve.”

The color drained from your face. God was not on your side today. You didn’t want the cause of you missing school to look at your notes, it’s his fault he’s stupid.  

“Ah, here we are,” She pulled out your notes and handed them to you. “Give those to Steve please and you can be on your way. We can talk more in 5th hour!” She smiled. You grabbed your notes and have her a tight-lipped smile. Turning away from her desk, you walked to Steve’s. He clearly wasn’t doing the assignment, just goofing around and flirting with the girls around him. Making it to his desk, he stopped talking to the girls and instantly looked at you.

“What-”

“Ms. Click wanted me to give you my notes to help you out.” you interrupted, holding out the notes to him.  

“Pfft, I don’t need your notes. I don’t want to read mistakes.”  

Hold it together.

“It wasn’t my choice. It was Ms. Cli-”

“Does it look like I care about what she has to say? No. Do I care what you have to say? No. I'm surprised you even came to school today looking like this.”

The girls around him started giggling and whispering to each other.  

“I think I look fine.”  

“Well, I'm glad you had the confidence to wear clothes from the salvation army.”

Don’t cry.

“For your information, I got an ‘A’ on these notes and Ms. Click said I was the only one who got an ‘A.’ And I got these from a catalog and I'm sorry my daddy doesn’t buy me every new thing like your ugly BMW you drive and at least I'm not a wannabe dickhead.”

Steve put his hands over his chest, having a shocked expression on his face which quickly switched to a smug look.

“Wow! You got me there! You showed me!” Steve scooted up closer in his seat, resting his arms in front of him looking right at you.  

“I'm not the wannabe sweetheart, you are. You want to have my money and BMW so bad but here you are driving your run-down Ford Escort and thinking that catalog clothing is going to save you. It’s not. Sure, you think you're all smart but looks will do you better in the future. Remember that.” Steve snatched the notes from your hands and started to talk to his friends again. 

You left the classroom so fast, before you could say goodbye to Ms. Click. The whole day you were worried about what Steve said. About how you looked and how looks will get you places. You knew it was bullshit, you had colleges already begging for you to go to school but it’s the way Steve said it. Worse of it all, you went to 5th hour, hoping for a good period. Until you got your notes back to notice he scribbled all over them, writing things, drawing crude things on all your work. You frantically began to look through the notes until one comment stood out to you.  

‘When you walk out of school, make sure to wear the bag on your head I left you at your locker. You need it.’

Tears filled your eyes. You shot up from your seat and ran out of your class. Ms. Click was yelling for you as you ran down the halls until you got to your locker. There you saw a paper bag with eye holes cut out of it, tapped to your locker. You ripped the bag off your locker and fell to your knees, sobbing into the paper bag. Why was Steve being so mean to you? You should be ruining his life; he shouldn’t be ruining yours. This all started with a date that turned out to be a joke and then ever since your life went downhill. Classmates from your period found you and tried to comfort you of what happened. You broke and told Ms. Click what happened and what Steve did which led to Principal Higgins getting involved and calling your parents and Steve's. He got a suspended for the rest of the week which was a relief to you but didn’t help the situation. Now since this situation, you were known as the ‘Cry baby.’ Your friends tried to help you feel better and stood up for you when the time was right. You were grateful to have a support system but not grateful for Steve Harrington.  

=

It’s been a few months since the whole Steve situation and some forgot about it and moved on to other things like the Byers youngest boy going missing and Barb Holland also going missing, making the whole town worried. Steve was still a dick but he didn’t pay any mind to you though, he was too busy dealing with his goons and his dream girl, Nancy Wheeler. A part of you still had a crush on him, just the smallest he was still cute but he was still a dick. You had to go see Ms. Kelly every Friday since what happened which you didn’t mind but it was still annoying. It was the same bland conversation about your week. If there's any people giving you a hard time, grades, college, just boring, stupid conversations that waste your time during 6th period but you got to leave earlier which was a plus. Before you left, Ms. Kelly told you that your mom called and wanted you to stop by Melvald’s to grab some more dish soap so that’s where you are now, looking for dish soap and Melvald’s. Why are there so many soaps? You never paid attention to what one you used it was just soap.  You notice someone move at the conner of your eye, you paid no mind to it until you noticed who the someone was. The navy-blue jacket, the blue jeans, the green shirt, the hair. Yeah, it was him.  

Oh god not here.  

Focus on the soaps.

Glancing over at him he was looking at the band aids and ointments he looked dazed, squinting at labels trying to make it clear. Then a pair of hazel eyes fell on you, making you quickly look at the soaps. You swore your heart was going to explode it was pounding so fast, it felt like someone was squeezing your whole body you couldn’t breathe. Was this really happening? Why was he here? How could you not see his BMW in the parking lot? Anxiety riddled your body as you heard someone shuffle up to you. God don’t let it be you.

“Hey,”  

Frozen in place, you moved your head slightly to look at him. You were taken back by the way he looked. The right side of his face was bloody and bruised with the wound already scabbing over, his right eye swollen, a small cut settled on his lip following one on the bridge of his nose., going slightly down to the right of his cheek.  He looked awful. You tried not to stare at him too much, you didn’t want to be rude but it was impossible to look away. Who did this to the king of Hawkins high?

“Sorry to bother you. I just--I can't really read this. Is this the right ointment?”

Your eyes trailed down to the box he was holding making you huff out a laugh.  

“Well, if you have hemorrhoids then yes, but otherwise no.”  

“Uh, no. Not necessarily.” His face turned a light shade of red. “I need something for um,” he pointed to his face rising his eyebrows. “This.”

“I’ll help you. Hemorrhoid cream definitely isn't gonna help that.” you kicked yourself for that and made your way to where he was before. Steve stood watching you look through the hundreds of creams and ointments on the shelf. You eventually found one and replaced it the original ointment in Steve's hand for the new one.  

“Zemo will help a lot it does wonders; it makes it less itchy and heals quicker. You'll thank me later.”  

Steve looked at the medicine and looked back at you. There was no hatred in his eyes, no cruelness. Just hurt. He was hurt inside and out; he was guilty for what he’s done to you and so many others. He’s guilty for hurting the only girl he loves. He’s hurting.  

“Thanks.” that’s all he could say to you in this moment. A simple thank you, not anything else.

“Have you cleaned them?”  

“Uh no, just had an aspirin and a cold coke to put it on.” Steve shrugged.  

You sighed.  

“Okay, just get that, I'll finish what I need and meet me outside okay?”

-

The stinging sensation of the alcohol covered cotton pad on the open wound made Steve wince, making him pull his head away from you. You muttered a sorry and he just huffed and let you clean him up. Never in a million years you would be sitting here in the Milvad’s parking lot taking care of Steve Harrington. He watched you carefully as you take your time with him, carefully moving so he wouldn’t be in as much pain as he already was. It took someone to beat the absolute shit out of him for him to realize how much of a dick he was. How miserable he made people feel. How miserable he made you feel.  

“Sorry, this happened to you, I can't imagine how much it hurts.”

Steve scoffed at your sincerity.

“I deserved it, you out of all people should be happy this happened to me.”

“A little part of me is,” you admitted. “Who did this to you?”

You put the cotton pad down and grabbed the Zemo putting a glob on your finger and gently rubbing it in over his wound. Steve hissed at the contact.  

“Jonathan Byers.” Steve mumbled.  

“Oh wow.” You were quite shocked that a quiet boy like him could rock Steve’s shit. Steve was fit, he had to be for basketball and baseball so you assume he could win a fight. You finished applying the Zemo and giving it to Steve.

“Make sure you put this on twice a day, and only once if you shower. It should help the itch and the scaring a bit. You'll be healed in no time.”  

Steve held the Zemo in his hands and watched you clean everything up. You were really pretty up close. Yeah, he looked at you close up a lot of times but this time he noticed every detail of your face, every curve, every wrinkle, every texture, he was scared of looking away because he didn’t want to forget it. Steve thought back to the paper bag he taped to your locker, Tommy and Carol thought it would be a funny idea and so did he at the time. When he was in the principal's office with his dad with you and your parents, he glanced at you and his chest was tight. Your head was hanging low, tears falling down your cheeks and landing on your hands, silent sobs coming from you. Steve recoiled when heard let out sobs after him and his dad left the principal's office. Mr. Harrington made it clear if he pulled that shit again, he would be kicked off the basketball and baseball teams, he wouldn’t get into an ivy league school and end up as a drug dealer on the streets. Mrs. Harrington told him that’s no way to treat girls, there’s no reason to bully girls anyway. She was disappointed in her Stevie and Stevie was disappointed in himself. Of course, that didn’t stop him from being an asshole, if he didn’t get caught then he wouldn’t have to go through that whole fiasco again so he moved on from you and started being an arrogant prick either way to everyone around him. That ended up getting beat up, ditching his “friends” and getting taken care of by the girl he bullied.  

“Thanks for doing this, you didn’t have to you know?”

“I know.” you responded.

“Why did you?”

You sighed and looked at him. He looked so vulnerable, his hazel eyes soft and looking at you. Steve looked like a lost puppy; in some cases, he was. Now he was. He had no friends anymore, he was hurt and lost, no guidance, nothing. You seemed like the only thing keeping him afloat at this moment.

“Unlike some people Steve, I care. No matter what you did to me, how you treated me, you deserve some type of -- I don’t know but I was always taught to help people that needed it. I know you know what's right. I know what you have to do, so do it. You're better than this Steve Harrington.”  

You walked towards your car, quickly getting in throwing the stuff in the front and driving off before Steve could say anything to you. Deep down, you knew Steve was a good person he was just around bad people. As much as you hated it, you knew he had to apologize to Nancy, he had to make everything up to her and even Jonathan but it was selfish to think he’d do the same to you.

[goddess-lovers]

what if in my fanfic, i make red and chloe FINALLY have some sort of relationship (slowburn + enemies to lovers), but then something happens (smiles) and it makes red never see chloe again.

just .. what if?

goodnight!

[thebunnednun]

The Fawn and the Wolf John Wick X Assassin! Reader (Part 1)

Warning: Eventual smut and violence. Size difference, predictor/prey, and other kinks.

Summary:

"Who the hell wants to marry a man they've never met?" Certainly not you. After staging your own death to escape a forced marriage orchestrated by your ruthless family, they retaliate by sending the infamous John Wick after you. Now, you're fucked in more ways than one. Evading Baba Yaga himself is no easy feat, especially when he's sympathetic to your plight but bound by a marker to bring you back. Amidst the chaos, you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to John, his allure undeniable as you embark on a thrilling game of cat and mouse across the globe. As the stakes escalate and the danger intensifies, you're caught between loyalty and freedom, you face a daunting choice that could change your life forever. What are you going to do? Marry the man your family has picked for you? Or do you start over with the surprisingly kind killer you meet?

Notes:

This is my First John Wick fanfic! I just finished the movies and wish I watched them sooner. In this narrative, certain deceased characters resurface, their roles pivotal to the plot, although not all events adhere strictly to canon. The timeline aligns closely with the events leading up to the fourth movie The only original characters are your family members. I will add a playlist for this later.

-----------------------Chapter 1: A Rainy Reception-----------------------

The rain fell heavily, each drop a tiny hammer against the pavement, as John Wick stepped out of his car, the relentless downpour quickly soaking through his coat. Beside him, the Bowery King emerged from the passenger seat, his fedora pulled low over his brow.

They moved with purpose toward the grand mansion ahead, its lights a faint beacon in the night. A tall, silent butler waited at the entrance with an umbrella, shielding John and the Bowery King from the worst of the rain as he led them inside. The transition from the cold, wet night to the warm interior was jarring. The mansion was dimly lit, corridors lined with rich, dark wood and plush carpets that muffled their footsteps.

The butler ceremoniously pushed open the imposing wooden doors, revealing a cavernous living space ensnared in a palpable tension. In one dimly lit corner, two figures loomed, engaged in an intense, hushed altercation, their silhouettes etched with conflict against the subdued light.

Across the room, a woman occupied a plush armchair, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp. Her posture rigid, she seemed lost in the glow of her phone screen, oblivious to the charged atmosphere enveloping her.

Meanwhile, at the love seat, another woman's furrowed brow betrayed her vexation as she meticulously sifted through a stack of papers. The lamplight cast harsh shadows across her features, accentuating the strain etched upon her face as she wrestled with the weight of her responsibilities.

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, their senses keenly attuned to the tension in the air. 

The first man broke off his argument and approached John, extending a hand. "Mr. Wick, thank you for coming," he said, his voice a mixture of relief and urgency. He was a man of moderate stature, with a tailored suit that bespoke both elegance and authority. His dark red hair was meticulously styled, framing a face marked by sharp angles and a gaze that flickered with a blend of admiration and barely contained arrogance. 

John shook his hand, noting the faint red marks on the man’s face, resembling a slap with claw-like scratches. "You called, I came," John replied, his tone neutral.

John’s eyes swept the room. This family was different from the others he had encountered in his line of work. There was a genuine sense of concern here, a seeming desire to protect one another was rare among the families he typically dealt with. 

"Please, follow me," the man said, leading John to a side room—a cozy, well-appointed office. The décor was traditional, dominated by dark wood and leather. A photograph on the desk caught John’s eye: a young girl, smiling brightly as she held a bouquet of flowers at what appeared to be her birthday party. Her expression was one of pure, unfiltered joy.

"We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us," he said, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken concerns. "I'm Nick. Nick Morales."

The man gestured to a chair. "Have a seat," he said, taking his own seat across from John. "We need your help to bring back our Fawn."

John raised an eyebrow. "Fawn?"

The man nodded. "That’s what we call her. She has these big, doe eyes." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She’s gone missing, and we can’t let this disrupt the family’s image."

The younger man who had been arguing with him followed them into the room. He looked noticeably younger, perhaps in his early twenties, with a lean build and an intense expression. His eyes darted between Nick and John before he took a step back, clearly sensing Johns curious gaze. 

He had a slight smirk on his face as he glanced at his older counterpart. "A tantrum," the younger man said, prompting a glare from the elder.

John's curiosity was piqued. "Tantrum?"

The elder man sighed, the red marks on his face catching the light. "Yes. Things got out of hand."

The younger man chuckled, earning another glare. "She’s got spirit, I’ll give her that." After a brief moment, he excused himself and slipped out of the room, leaving the three of them to the tense atmosphere of the spacious living room.

John leaned back in his chair, assessing Nick. "I’ll need more information. Each of you will give me your version of what happened. Maybe then I can piece together the truth."

The elder man nodded. "Fine. We’ll tell you everything you need to know. Start with me."

As John prepared to dive into the first interview, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone in this room wasn’t being entirely truthful. The question was who, and why. He would have to tread carefully, piecing together the fragments of their stories to uncover the real reason behind the young woman’s disappearance.

John and the Bowery King sat side by side, facing Nick across his expansive wooden desk. The photograph of the young woman at her birthday party stood prominently, her smile bright and full of life. John noted the detail—it was clear Nick valued tradition and perhaps had stood in for her father during the celebration.

Nick leaned back in his chair, his expression one of contemplation mixed with worry. "She’s always been spirited," he began, a hint of fondness in his voice. "Born stubborn. We often butt heads over it.Trying to punish her was often futile. She usually gets the upper hand."

John listened intently, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me more about the night she disappeared."

Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She was frustrated. We had a disagreement about the future. The family has... other plans for her. It escalated, and she stormed out. Later that night, we realized she was gone."

The Bowery King interjected, "And the slap mark on your face?"

Nick’s hand unconsciously moved to his cheek. "During our argument, she lashed out. It’s not the first time. She’s got a fiery temper, but this time... it was different. She was more determined, more desperate."

John leaned forward slightly. "What about her aspirations? Getting out isn’t a typical path for someone in this... environment."

Nick nodded, his expression softening as he looked at the photograph. "She’s smart, driven. Always wanted to do something more with her life. I understand her wants, but we have to do what's best for the family. Sacrifices have to be made. Everyone does their share here. We all do."

John’s eyes narrowed. "So she left because she felt trapped?"

"Partly," Nick admitted. "She’s always been our Fawn, the youngest, so we’ve always looked out for her. Losing her means losing more than just a family member.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Nick’s words hanging heavy in the air. John considered everything he’d heard so far. The story was starting to take shape, but there were still pieces missing.

Nick broke the silence. "Each of us has a different opinion on the matter. Maybe talking to the others will give you more insight."

John nodded. "I’ll speak with everyone.”

Nick met John’s gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of conflicting emotions. Within a slip second, his gaze hardened. 

"We just want her back. Safe and sound."

With that, Nick stood, signaling the end of the first interview. The Bowery King gave Nick a reassuring nod as they both followed John out of the office, ready to piece together the rest of the story from the other family members.

“I’m coming in!”

As David entered Nick's office without hesitation, his presence was like a gust of wind, stirring up the calm atmosphere. He was dressed in a casual yet refined style, reflecting his laid-back personality. His dark blue curly hair, with streaks of vibrant colors, framed his face, giving him a distinctive look. The family symbol faded into the sides of his haircut, a subtle nod to his roots.

Ignoring the usual formalities, David addressed Nick directly. "I'm here to poach them, Nick," he declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Nick, slightly annoyed, waved them off, knowing David's penchant for impulsive decisions.

As they made their way to David's office, the Bowery King couldn't help but notice the change in David's appearance. "What's with the hair?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

David chuckled, running a hand through his colorful locks. "Bright Eyes did this. She wanted to leave her mark before she left."

“So, David, we heard you got some insight into what happened with the Fawn,"John said, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

David, slightly shorter than Nick, sported dark blue curly hair cut in a taper, with the family symbol faded into the sides. He exuded a laid-back demeanor, contrasting with Nick's more formal disposition. His tanned skin was complemented by his navy suit. "Yeah, we've been trying to piece it all together. Starshine’s been like a ghost since she left." 

John nodded, his mind was still processing the details Nick had provided. David had led them down a hallway and stopped at a painting of a log cabin seven doors down from Nick’s office. John watched as David’s fingers quickly found a latch allowing the image to pop open. They reached another door, which opened to reveal David’s office. The room was more personal, less formal than Nick’s, with a distinct sense of nostalgia hanging in the air.

“Welcome to the lounge!” 

In David's office, the fusion of modern technology and Caribbean aesthetics was striking. Colorful tapestries hung on the walls, complementing the sleek gadgets scattered around the room. The space felt inviting, with comfortable couches inviting them to relax.

David gestured for them to take a seat on the comfortable couches, a contrast to the formal setting of Nick's office. 

"Make yourselves at home, fellas," David said, his voice warm with hospitality. "Take a load off, fellas," David said, gesturing to the couches with a sweep of his hand. "Can I get you something to drink? Rum? Whiskey? I've got a few options that might suit you."

John nodded appreciatively, while the Bowery King opted for a glass of rum. As David poured the drinks, John's eyes wandered to the photograph on the coffee table. In the picture, you were clad in pajamas, and beamed with youthful joy. Surrounded by the family on what appeared to be a Christmas morning.

"That's a beautiful photo," John remarked, his voice soft with genuine admiration.

David's gaze softened as he glanced at the picture. "Yeah, it's one of my favorites. That was a good day, you know? We were all together, no worries, just enjoying each other's company."

He paused, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Those eyes of hers... they've seen a lot, but they still have that same innocence somehow."

John leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "You mentioned the nickname 'Sunshine.' What's the story behind that?"

David chuckled, a hint of fondness in his tone. "When she's grumpy, I call her Sunshine to lift her mood or be an ass. Just depends, really."

The Bowery King studied the photographs adorning the walls of David's office, his gaze lingering on one in particular. "Ironic you call her a Fawn. Her eyes... they're so bright."

David's expression softened as he glanced at the picture. "Yeah, she hates it when we call her that. But you can't deny the resemblance.” He chuckles and hands the men a different picture. “She looks just like a deer in headlights if you startle her. The nickname stuck through childhood." He leans back into the coach with his eyes trained on the photos. 

As John methodically flipped through the binder Nick had handed him, each page revealed a new layer of the Fawn’s past assignments. His gaze shifted to David, a silent promise reflected in the depths of his steely eyes.

The Bowery King leaned forward, his curiosity evident. "What sort of tasks did she undertake while she was with the family?"

David's features darkened, a bitter edge seeping into his expression. "She had her hands in everything," he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. "From infiltrating crime rings by posing as innocent girls, ransoms or kidnappings, to carrying out seduction missions. She mostly got rid of the garbage."

John's jaw tensed as he absorbed the weight of each revelation. "And her age when she started?" he inquired, his tone betraying his growing concern.

David's face contorted with bitterness as he spoke the words. "Seven," he admitted, the syllables heavy with the burden of the truth. He set down his glass and faced the men head on. Now, he was serious. 

The gravity of that admission settled heavily upon John's shoulders, John's resolve only strengthened. Seeing the shift in David, John settled into his chair, the Bowery King beside him, both men attentive. 

The Bowery King's brows furrowed in disbelief. "Seven? That's young to be involved in all of this," he remarked, his voice tinged with questioning.

David's expression grew more solemn. “Despite everything she's been through, she still sees the good in people. With her job I don’t know how the fuck she does it."

John shot him a sharp glance, a silent warning to tread carefully. He understood the implications of such a revelation. But dwelling on it now would only distract them from their goal.

"We need to focus on finding her," John said, his tone clipped and to the point. "The past is done. We're here to bring her back, no matter what it takes."

David nodded, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knew better than to dwell on the past, to let it cloud their judgment in the present.

"Tell me about the night she left."

David sighed deeply, his eyes reflecting the weight of his memories. "We were all here, trying to have a family dinner. But tensions were high. She and Nick had another argument. It was about her future again. She’s been so focused on becoming a lawyer, but... the family business demands sacrifices." 

He paused, his voice thick with emotion. "After the argument, she left the table. I thought she just needed some air. It wasn’t until later that we realized she was gone."

The Bowery King spoke up, his tone probing. "And the slap mark on Nick’s face?"

David’s expression darkened slightly. "She’s got a temper, no doubt about it. She slapped him, her sharp nails left those claw marks. But it wasn’t just about anger. There was hurt there, deep hurt. She feels like we’re holding her back, trapping her."

John leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "Do you think she left to pursue her dreams? Or is there more to it?"

David hesitated, glancing at the photograph again. "She wants to be free, to follow her own path. But it’s not just about becoming a lawyer. She feels suffocated by the expectations, the pressure. She wants to help people. And here... she feels like she’s just a pawn."

John considered this, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. He needed something more. "What does she mean to you, David? Personally.”

As David hesitated, his gaze shifting to the photograph once more, he spoke with a mixture of fondness and concern. "She's everything," he admitted, his voice softening. "More like a daughter to Nick and a sister-like cousin to me."

John nodded, understanding what he meant. "What do you think happened to her?" he asked, his tone edged with urgency.

David sighed deeply, a troubled expression crossing his features. "I'm not sure," he confessed. "Starshine turned off all her trackers before she left. Here," he reached for a remote on the coffee table, selecting a video of a burning estate. "This might shed some light."

As they watched the footage, David explained, "During her youth, Nick was taking care of her while in the military. He sent her away while on tour." He paused, his voice tinged with bitterness. "She was sent to live under the care of Cordelia, a terrible woman of the underground. She was known as a prominent matchmaker. She used stolen girls to carry out arranged marriages. If you weren’t married off she’d use you for…. other missions."

As David played the video of the burning estate, the screen flickered with images of flames engulfing the once-grand structure. The news report accompanying the footage described the scene in vivid detail, with some locals referring to it as an inferno that consumed everything in its path.

"The fire broke out in the dead of night," David explained, his voice grim as he recounted the events. "It spread quickly, devouring the estate within minutes. The rest of the area is fine though."

The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, detailing the confusion of firefighters about the containment of the blaze as it raged on. Smoke billowed into the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the surrounding area.

"Authorities are still investigating the cause of the fire," the anchor continued, "but eyewitnesses report seeing mysterious figures fleeing the scene before the flames erupted."

John's brow furrowed as he absorbed the information, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. The Fawn’s connection to the estate and its destruction raised more questions than answers, adding another layer of complexity to the mystery surrounding her disappearance.

As the news report concluded, David turned the volume off and kept his eyes on the screen, the room enveloped in a heavy silence. The burning estate loomed large in their eyes.

“You know, you live with someone your whole life and watch them grow up to be so sweet. It makes you forget how dangerous they can be.”

David's caramel skin contrasted with the cooler tones from the TV. "I suspect she's somewhere near New York by now," he added, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

The Bowery King, intrigued by David's role in the family, posed a question. "What do you do, David?"

David hesitated, his gaze shifting to John before answering. "I work as the family accountant and tech personnel," he replied before shifting back into his easy going nature. "If you mean in the familiar sense, I'm the one who often stirs the pot, taking Bright eye’s side in most arguments and helping her wiggle out family duties so she can live her life."

John studied David's features, noting the similarities between him and the Fawn.

"Nick and I often clash over what's best for her," David admitted, a hint of defiance in his tone. "But we both want her to be safe, no matter what. You know what happens in this life when your family isn’t there to protect you."

While David's gaze turned back to the flickering images of the burning estate John absorbed his words, the weight of their meaning settling heavily upon him. He couldn't help but mentally note the differences between David and Nick, their contrasting appearances reflecting their divergent personalities.

Turning his attention back to David, John posed a question that had been weighing on his mind. "Between you and Nick, who do you think she'd listen to more?"

David's brow furrowed in thought, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "It's hard to say," he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. "Nick is stricter but he does love her. I've always been the one she turns to when she needs a favor." 

John nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the cusp of uncovering something more sinister.

Before John could stand, David opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. He slid it across the desk to John. "I almost forgot. We’ve placed trackers in her earrings and her earbud case. I can’t get a read on her location yet. Once I override the bugs you’ll be able to track her exact location."

John opened the box, inspecting the discreet tracking devices. "This will be useful. Thank you, David."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of their shared mission hanging heavy in the air. With each passing moment, the urgency of their task became more apparent.

The silence was broken by the clicking of the lock, a sound that reverberated through the corridor like a distant echo. John and the Bowery King exchanged a quick glance, their senses sharpened by the unexpected interruption. Instinctively, John's hand drifted towards his holster, ready for whatever might come through the door.

As the woman skillfully undid the lock, David couldn't help but whine, "You better not teach Nick the code, Joselyn."

She chuckled, her fingers deftly working the mechanism. "Oh, come on, David. It's not that much of a secret. If Nick wanted to come in, he absolutely would."

With the lock finally disengaged, Joselyn swung the door open, greeting John and the Bowery King with a warm smile. "Welcome, gentlemen," she said cheerfully. "Please, follow me."

She led the way down the corridor, her lively persona filling the air with energy. As they walked, Joselyn couldn't resist taking the Bowery King's arm, a simple gesture of respect for her elders.

"We're just across from David's office," she explained, her voice bright and welcoming. "I've got some tea brewing if you're interested. And maybe a few snacks, too."

As they reached her office, Joselyn ushered them inside, the space reflecting her eclectic tastes and organizational prowess. With a wave of her hand, she gestured for them to make themselves comfortable, her warm demeanor putting them at ease.

Her office was meticulously organized, with a sense of order and precision. A picture of the reader, much younger, wearing a kindergarten graduation cap and holding a diploma for "Best Future Lawyer," was prominently displayed. Another picture of her wedding stood next to it

Joselyn gestured for them to sit, taking her place behind the desk. "Would you like some snacks?" she offered, pointing to a tray of assorted nuts and dried fruits on her desk.

The Bowery King nodded appreciatively. "Don't mind if I do," he said, reaching for a handful. John politely declined with a slight shake of his head.

"Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How can I assist in your endeavors today?"

As John and the Bowery King settled in, John couldn't help but ask, "Joselyn, what exactly is it that you do here? 

The Bowery King, always one for understanding the full picture, pressed on. "But the jobs you do now, what are they exactly? And the Fawn’s current role?"

Joselyn leaned back, her demeanor shifting to one of professional seriousness. "I run an agency that focuses on finding missing children and disrupting human trafficking networks. It’s dangerous work, but it’s what drives me. The Fawn, when she isn’t in hiding, assists with some of the more covert operations. Her skills make her invaluable in rescuing those who have been taken and dismantling trafficking rings."

"And she started this life so young," the Bowery King mused, shaking his head.

"Yes," Joselyn replied, her voice tinged with regret. "It’s a harsh reality, but it's also what makes her so effective. A double edged sword, really.”

John nodded, appreciating the gravity of what Joselyn was saying. "Thank you for sharing this with us. It helps us understand the stakes."

Joselyn smiled softly, though her eyes remained serious. "Just be careful. Mamita is young but she isn’t someone you want to underestimate. She's survived this long for a reason."

“And what’s the story behind the Fawn being sent to Cordelia?"

The mention of Cordelia sent a noticeable shift through Joselyn. She took a deep breath, her usual warm demeanor clouding with anger. Her voice lowered to a hushed tone. "Unfortunately, I am still a ‘made woman’. As for the witch, I tried to get custody of her, you know. But I was denied because I was 'too young' and not married yet. That poor girl... Cordelia was a nightmare. It was impossible to get her out of the contract."

She took a deep breath, composing herself before speaking. "Mamita was just a child when she began her training. It’s something I never agreed with. She was far too young, as was Amalia, who was trained at the same time. Amalia, fortunately, has retired now."

John’s curiosity was piqued. "How did Amalia manage to retire?"

Joselyn's expression softened slightly. "Mamita always loved Amalia like a blood sister. She made sure that when Amalia wanted out, she could get out safely. I don’t know what she did. She refuses to tell us. Amalia now leads a quiet life and can keep her children away from all this."

The Bowery King nodded, absorbing the information. "And what about your marriage?”

A wistful smile touched Joselyn's lips. "Yes, when it came to my marriage, I had to complete an impossible task. She was my cheerleader. I can’t go into the details, but she did it because she really wanted my now-husband in the family."

John's curiosity deepened. "Why was that so important to her?"

Joselyn's eyes sparkled with warmth and a hint of mischief as she recounted, "Mamita’s exact words were, 'Because you're soulmates,’ cute, isn’t it?

Turning the conversation, John asked, "Tell us about the Fawn’s relationship with your husband." He couldn’t allow his mind to start flooding with images of Helen.

Joselyn smiled wistfully. "He calls her 'muñeca,' meaning baby doll. He respects her dream and sees her as the goofy kid he once met. She gifted him a pair of golden-rimmed glasses that he often wears to match mine. Despite everything, he tries to make her feel safe and loved."

The Bowery King interjected,”The sister he never had?” 

“Exactly.”

"Would he be hiding her?" John probed.

Joselyn shook her head firmly. "No. If he knew where she was, he would have taken her home, even though he doesn't agree with everything we do."

John leaned forward slightly. "And why didn't you leave to join your husband’s family?"

A shadow passed over Joselyn’s face. "He's an orphan. We decided not to have kids until we can raise them without worrying about the family’s constant turmoil."

The Bowery King nodded, appreciating the depth of Joselyn's commitment. "You've sacrificed a lot."

Joselyn shrugged with a sad smile. "We all have. But we do what we must to keep those we love safe."

The Bowery King’s curiosity was piqued. "And who is this 'Mamita’s' best friend, Michelle?" He passed over a picture of a young woman with platinum hair and a slender figure from the binder. 

Joselyn’s expression softened slightly. "Michelle is actually Nick's age. She was almost sold off when Nick tried to rebel and leave the service.” Her hands turned to shredding a stress ball on her desk.

Joselyn’s shoulders were tense as she recounted the night. “Mama assassinated Cordelia and helped the other girls escape. We had to pay billions to cover it up.” She closes her eyes before sighing deeply through her nose. “Michelle disappeared the same night Mama left after going to confession, and we assume they're together. Nick wants to find Michelle on his own."

The Bowery King frowned. "Confession?”

"Michelle is Catholic, and Mama enjoys going with her to pray for her victims," Joselyn explained. John noted this mentally, intrigued by the implication of an assassin clinging to religion.

Joselyn took a moment, her expression grave as she met John's gaze. "I think it's time I'm completely transparent with you. Mama isn't just an assassin for our family's interests. She's a hired gun, servicing the highest bidders, whoever they may be."

John's eyes narrowed slightly as he absorbed her words. It struck him as peculiar that a family would send one of their own daughters to carry out such perilous tasks instead of relying on their established network of operatives. His mind raced with conjecture, weaving a tapestry of suspicion and intrigue.

Why would they entrust such responsibilities to someone so young and potentially volatile? Was there more to the Fawn's involvement than met the eye?

As Joselyn's voice faded into the background, his thoughts grew more insistent. Perhaps the Fawn had stumbled upon a secret, something she wasn't meant to see. And this arrangement—her role as an assassin—could be the family's way of ensuring her silence. It was a chilling possibility, but one that resonated with the shadows lurking beneath the surface of their world.

He blinked, refocusing on Joselyn's earnest gaze. "Thank you for being honest with us, Joselyn."

Joselyn's nod held a hint of understanding. "Just be careful, John. You know an animal is more dangerous when wounded."

John acknowledged her warning with a curt nod, his mind already racing with strategies and contingencies. As they delved deeper into the intricacies of their mission, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were treading on treacherous ground. 

John leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Joselyn. "Where do you think your Fawn might have gone?"

Joselyn sighed, tapping her fingers lightly on the desk as she considered the question. "There are two likely places. New York or Japan. She has an apartment in Japan, and New York was our home base."

"Where would she be in those cities?" John pressed.

"In New York, you'll most likely find her in a park or casino. She doesn't like to gamble—it's more about the thrill of the card games. If you need to keep her attention, playing a game with her might be your best bet. But be warned: she's very cunning and deceptive. If she thinks you're a threat, she'll leave. Mama doesn’t like to fight unless absolutely necessary."

"And in Japan?" John asked.

"Adores the scene culture there- especially dance clubs. She could be hiding Michelle in one of her apartments there. If you find Michelle, she will come after you. But you need to be extremely careful.” Her hands were now flat against the polish glass of her desk. “If she believes Micheale is in any danger, she'll kill you on sight. She's fiercely protective."

The Bowery King interjected, his voice thoughtful. "And why would she hide Michelle in Japan?"

"Japan's a place where she can lay low and blend in. She has friends and safehouses there, and it's far enough from here to avoid immediate detection. Michelle didn’t agree with the decision either and she probably wants time away from Nick." She slowly slides her hands into her lap. “I couldn’t go with her because of work. So I’m glad someone is with her.”

John nodded, digesting the information. "So, New York or Japan, dance clubs or casinos. And if it comes down to it, I should be prepared to play a game with her."

"Exactly," Joselyn affirmed. "But remember, she's unpredictable. She's been through a lot, and her instincts are sharp. Approach with caution."

"Thank you, Joselyn," John said sincerely. "This gives us a direction."

Joselyn nodded, her expression a mix of concern and determination. A debating look crossed her face before Joselyn reached for a small frame on her desk, a recent picture nestled inside. With a gentle smile, she handed it to John.

"Here," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness. "You should take a more recent picture of her. She's... she's quite beautiful, isn't she?"

As John accepted the picture from Joselyn, his breath caught in his throat as he took in the image. His eyes were drawn immediately to the subject—you. In the photo, you exuded a softness that seemed to radiate from within. Your complexion was flawless, with a natural glow that hinted at youthful vitality. Your features were delicate yet defined, each contour lending an air of elegance to your appearance.

Your hair cascaded in soft waves around your shoulders, framing your face in a way that accentuated your delicate features. A gentle smile played at the corners of your plump lips, adding a touch of sweetness to your expression. 

But it was your eyes that captured John's attention the most. Large and doe-like, they held a sweet mischievousness that seemed to pierce through the photograph, drawing him into their depths. At the same time, they were pools of warmth and innocence. He could tell you had a figure under the sweater dress you sported. Yet beneath the outfit, there lay a quiet strength in your arms and legs that spoke volumes.

In that moment, you really did reminded him of a deer, graceful and vulnerable yet capable of resilience.

As John studied the picture, he couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. She was a vision of purity and innocence, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of their world. And yet, there was a strength in your gaze as you looked into the camera. 

"She is," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Joselyn's gaze softened as she watched him, her own sadness mirrored in her eyes. "I’m still fighting the marriage order.”

The Bowery King leaned over to glance at the picture, his expression contemplative. "She looks too young," he remarked quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

The words snapped John out of his reverie, his thoughts jolting back to the task at hand. Whatever he was thinking, he dismissed it immediately. John nodded in agreement, his mind shifting gears as he placed the photograph in his suit's breast pocket.

"Thank you," he said, his voice steady once more. "We appreciate your help, Joselyn. We'll be in touch."

The Bowery King nodded in agreement. "Yes, we appreciate everything you've done for us."

Joselyn smiled warmly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "It's been my pleasure. Thank you for trusting me."

A small, soft knock echoed through the office, drawing the attention of John, the Bowery King, and Joselyn. They exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the interruption. Rising from their seats, they approached the door together.

As she stepped aside to open the door, a figure appeared in the doorway. With a soft smile, Joselyn stepped back to allow the newcomer to enter.

"Amalia," she greeted warmly, her voice tinged with affection.

Amalia, the retired operative, stepped into the room, her presence calm and composed. She nodded politely to John and the Bowery King, acknowledging their presence with a small smile.

"Joselyn," she said, her voice gentle. "I heard you had visitors. I hope I'm not intruding."

Joselyn shook her head, her smile widening. "Not at all. These gentlemen were just leaving. Thank you again for your help, John, Mr.King."

With a final nod of farewell, John and the Bowery King made their way out of the office, leaving Joselyn and Amalia alone together. As the door closed behind them, the room fell into a comfortable silence, filled with the quiet camaraderie of old friends reunited.

“Come along, mine is the second to last one.”

The hallway was dimly lit, the only source of illumination coming from the sporadic flashes of lightning that streaked across the sky outside the large window at the end of the corridor. As John and the Bowery King made their way towards Amalia's office, the sound of rain battering against the windowpane filled the air, adding to the somber atmosphere of the building.

Amalia's office stood apart from the others, a solitary beacon of light as almost everything inside was creme or white with black accents. Situated next to the expansive window, it offered a view of the storm raging outside, the turbulent clouds casting eerie shadows across the room. The minimal decorations within only served to accentuate the starkness of the space, a far cry from the warmth and liveliness of Joselyn's office.

As they approached, John and the Bowery King couldn't help but notice the scattered toys strewn about the room, a stark contrast to the seriousness of their mission. Squishy toys lay abandoned on the floor, their bright colors standing out against the muted tones of the office. A small play kitchen sat in one corner, its plastic utensils and pretend food scattered haphazardly across the miniature countertops.

Amalia greeted them with a weary smile as they entered, her tanned skin glowing softly in the dim light. Her long wavy black curly hair cascaded down her back, framing her face in a halo of darkness. Despite her petite stature, there was a quiet strength in her gaze that spoke volumes, a resilience forged through years of hardship and sacrifice.

"Excuse the toys on the floor," she said quietly, her voice tinged with resignation. "I haven't had much time to tidy up."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, a small chuckle escaping them as they gently set aside a squishy toy that had been inadvertently sat upon. The tension in the room eased slightly, replaced by a sense of camaraderie amidst the chaos.

Before they could ask their questions, Amalia took a deep breath, her expression serious. "I'm over this," she said firmly. "I'll be explaining everything."

Her words hung in the air, a solemn promise of revelations to come. And as the storm raged outside, it seemed as though the tempest within was about to be unleashed.

"We were inseparable," she explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "After my father was taken out during an assignment and my mother was killed in a tuff war, we only had each other. Our grandmother raised us, but it was [Name] who became my rock.”

John couldn't help but notice that it was the first time anyone had used your first name, and he couldn't deny how lovely it sounded. But he quickly refocused, his attention returning to the weight of the conversation at hand.

"The same thing happened to [Name]," Amalia continued, her voice heavy with emotion. "We witnessed it, and we killed the people responsible. And that's when it was decided that we would become assassins."

John and the Bowery King listened intently, the gravity of Amalia's words hitting home. They knew that the life of an assassin was fraught with danger, but hearing about the tragic events still spurred something within them.

Amalia paused, her gaze flickering towards the window where the storm raged on outside. "I'll spare you the whole sob story of the training," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "But I hated having to be both people. A daughter of a prominent family and a trained killer. And [Name] hated it too. It was destroying her mental health."

The notion of Amalia's last name caught John's attention, and he couldn't help but wonder about its significance. "Morales," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Is that your husband's last name?"

Amalia shook her head, her expression somber. "No," she said quietly. "But I only kept it out of obligation. The truth is, I've never felt like I truly belonged to that family. And now, with everything that's happened... I'm not sure I ever will."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, recognizing the significance of the family name in the context of their world. They knew that in the shadowy underworld they operated in, family ties ran deep, binding individuals to a legacy of blood and loyalty.

"I see," John replied, his tone respectful. "Family is everything, especially in our line of work."

Amalia nodded, a hint of resignation in her eyes. "Yes, it is," she agreed quietly. "But sometimes, family can also be a burden, a weight that drags you down when all you want is to break free."

Her words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the complexities of their shared existence. And as the storm raged on outside, it seemed as though the tempest within her heart was taking physical form. 

The Bowery King's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications sinking in. "What happens hypothetically if we can't find her?" he asked, his tone somber.

Amalia's reaction was immediate, a surge of anger bubbling to the surface. "I have to take over!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with frustration. She paused, taking a moment to collect herself before continuing, her tone tinged with bitterness. "I never wanted this life, but I have no choice. If [Name] isn't here to fulfill her duties, then it falls to me."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, the gravity of Amalia's words not lost on them. They had known that the consequences of your disappearance would be severe, but hearing it spoken aloud by someone who would bear the brunt of those consequences drove home the reality of their situation.

Amalia's anger simmered beneath the surface as she continued to speak, her voice strained with emotion. "You want to know why I'm so angry?" she asked, her eyes flashing with intensity. "BecauseI fell in love with the oldest son of a rival family."

John's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his shock mirrored by the expression on the Bowery King's face. "You did?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Amalia nodded, her anger momentarily overshadowed by the weight of her confession. "We dated for years in secret," she explained, her voice trembling with emotion. "But none of the elders in his family approved of him. They saw me as nothing more than a pawn in their game of power and influence."

As Amalia recounted the demands placed upon her by the elders, a bitter laugh escaped her lips, carrying with it the weight of years of resentment and frustration. "Finally, one of the elders agreed to our union, but only if I agreed to do the impossible," she continued, her voice filled with bitterness. "They demanded that I take on a series of missions that no one could possibly accomplish."

John's eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of what Amalia was revealing. "But how... how did you manage it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Amalia's expression hardened, her anger and fear surfacing. "I didn't," she said, her voice trembling. "I was secretly three months pregnant and terrified. So, [Name] offered me a way out. She pretended to be me and did all of the missions herself in a single month."

John was struck silent, his shock evident. The Bowery King interjected, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That's impossible."

Amalia shuddered, closing her eyes briefly. "I don't know how she did it," she admitted, her voice heavy with emotion. "But she did. And now I have two children and one on the way." She placed a hand tenderly on her growing belly, a mixture of love and fear swirling in her eyes.

The Bowery King glanced at John, then back at Amalia. "She must have liked your husband," he remarked.

Amalia's anger flared again. "She hates him," she spat, her words dripping with venom. "But she did what she had to do to protect our family, just like I'm doing now."

John leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fit together. "You were the one who commissioned me?"

Amalia nodded, a faint, weary smile tugging at her lips. Without another word, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a marker. John recognized it immediately as one of his. Before he could ask where she had gotten it, she tossed it to him. "Give my sister-in-law my regards."

Now he understood why the family had been so open.

She stood up, motioning for them to follow her across the hallway to the last office. As they walked, she reached for a chain around her neck, pulling out a key to unlock the door. With a click, the door swung open.

Inside, [Name]'s office was a sanctuary of unexpected tranquility. The walls were painted a soft, inviting color—clearly her favorite—creating a serene and almost ethereal atmosphere. Several carefully chosen works of art adorned the walls, each piece adding depth and personal significance to the space. The large windows allowed the stormy light to filter in, casting a moody yet gentle glow over the room. Plants adorned the windowsill, their flowers in full bloom. 

Scattered toys on the floor hinted at a lingering sense of playfulness, an odd juxtaposition to the gravity of their conversation. A locked closet stood ominously in one corner, suggesting secrets guarded closely. John’s gaze was drawn to a large stereo system complete with CDs and vinyl records, a record player sitting proudly beside a plush, inviting sofa.

The desk was strategically placed in the corner, maximizing the room's openness and making it feel expansive despite its purpose. Weights lay neatly under the desk, alongside a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers—unexpected touches that spoke volumes about [Name]'s need for both comfort and stress relief. A large bookshelf, filled to the brim with an eclectic mix of titles, suggested a mind constantly in search of knowledge or escape.

John took a moment to absorb the room's details. Every element seemed meticulously curated to reflect [Name]'s duality—her strength and vulnerability, her chaos and order. It was a room that spoke of a life lived in the shadows yet yearning for more.

Amalia watched him closely, her expression a complex mix of pride and sorrow. "This is her office," she said softly, her voice heavy with unspoken memories and regrets. "It's where I saw her last."

John nodded, the seriousness of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. The room was a testament to [Name]'s resilience, a stark reminder of what she had been forced to endure and what she sought to protect. 

The Bowery King glanced around the room, his eyes falling on the scattered toys. "What’s with the toys in her office?" he asked, his tone curious yet cautious.

Amalia sighed, her eyes softening as she glanced at the toys. "Some of them belong to my children," she explained. "Even though [Name] hates my husband, she's always been kind to my kids. They adore her."

The King raised an eyebrow. "If she hates him, why does she keep toys for your kids here?"

Amalia's lips curved into a bittersweet smile. "Because despite her feelings towards Aaron, she's still family. She loves my children as if they were her own." She walked over to a shelf, plucking a picture frame from it and handing it to John and the King.

The photo depicted [Name] in a church, taking vows, with two small children standing beside her. The image captured a rare moment of softness and grace, a gentle smile on her face as she knelt before the altar.

Amalia chuckled softly, a hint of irony in her voice. "It’s funny, really. She hates Aaron but was the one who married us. She stood as our officiant and performed the ceremony herself."

John studied the photograph, his eyes lingering on [Name]'s serene expression and the tender way she held the children. It was a side of her he hadn’t expected to see, the Bowery King leaned closer, inspecting the picture with a critical eye.

"She does look genuinely happy here," he remarked, almost to himself.

Amalia nodded, her expression distant as she recalled the day. "She hides her pain well, but it’s there, just beneath the surface. She did it all for the family, even when it tore her apart."

John’s mind raced, the weight of Amalia's words settling heavily on him. He glanced at the toys again, then back at the picture, a new layer of determination forming within him. He had to find her, not just for the mission, but for the person she truly was beneath the layers of duty and sacrifice.

John studied the photograph in his hands, a soft, reflective expression crossing his face. He looked up at Amalia, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "You feel for her, don't you?"

Amalia's gaze drifted past him, landing on the various pictures decorating the office. Each one seemed to tell a story, snapshots of moments frozen in time. The pictures were clearly taken by [Name], as they rarely featured her but captured the world through her eyes.

One photo showed Amalia's children playing in a sunlit park, their laughter almost audible through the image. Another depicted a serene beach at sunset, the colors vibrant and warm, evoking a sense of peace and longing. A third photo captured an intimate family gathering, everyone smiling, with [Name]'s presence felt more than seen, the angle suggesting she was just out of frame, watching over them all.

As Amalia's gaze traveled through the photos, she took a deep breath. "My duties as a mother come first," she said quietly, her hand gently resting on her growing belly.

"Everything I do is for my children. [Name] understands that, even if it means making sacrifices."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of Amalia's words settling heavily in the air. John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, both sensing the depth of emotion and history that lay beneath the surface of this family's intricate dynamics.

John's eyes wandered to more photos. There were pictures of Nick and [Name], their bond evident in the way he looked after her with a protective gaze. There were pictures of David being goofy and pranking Nick, capturing the lighter moments. Another series of photos showed Joselyn and her husband from high school until their wedding day, her husband looked to be of middle eastern decent.

Pictures of Amalia were abundant, spanning from her youth to the present day. There was a photograph of her debutante ball, and another of her wedding, noticeably absent of Aaron. Images of her pregnancies were also displayed, as well as breathtaking shots of the sky during sunrise and sunset, capturing the fleeting beauty of those moments.

A picture of the family at Christmas, dancing in their home country with your face obscured by your country’s flag, added a sense of tradition and unity. There were also photos of Nick and Michelle together, and some of Michelle at a café and in a casino bar, her expression pensive yet serene.

John’s gaze lingered on Michele at the casino bar. "Can I take this one?" he asked, his voice low but firm.

Amalia glanced at the picture and then at John, nodding slowly. "Yes, take it. It might help you find her."

John carefully pocketed the photograph, feeling the weight of the mission settle more heavily on his shoulders. He turned back to Amalia. "She’s given up a lot for the family, hasn’t she?"

Amalia nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "More than anyone knows. She’s carried burdens that weren’t hers to bear, all for the sake of duty and love."

The Bowery King looked at the picture of the children again, then at Amalia. "And yet, despite everything, she’s still kind to your children."

Amalia’s smile was bittersweet. "Because that's who she is. No matter how much she’s hurting, she always finds it in herself to care for others. That’s why I owe her everything. And that’s why we have to find her."

John’s resolve hardened. The mission was no longer just about finding a missing person; it was about bringing back someone who had given so much of herself for the sake of others. And he knew, deep down, that he wouldn't rest until she was safe.

John's eyes drifted to the other shelves in Amalia's office, noticing a collection of academic accolades. Certificates and plaques attested to [Name]'s intelligence and dedication, showcasing her achievements in various fields. He took a moment to absorb the extent of her talents, feeling a pang of admiration mixed with sorrow for what she had become.

The Bowery King broke the silence with a pointed question. "If the family wants to marry her off, why bother finding her?"

Amalia's gaze sharpened, her expression fierce. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth'?"

She paused, looking around the room as if searching for the right words. Slowly, she walked to the bookshelf. "We were always taught to honor those that came before us, but no one remembers the saying, 'Do not provoke your children to anger.'" Her fingers traced the spines of the books before she pulled out a green one. As she did, a section of the wall shifted, revealing a hidden room.

"Don’t get me wrong," Amalia continued. "She really is a sweetheart when you get to know her. But she changed after I got married. She always had a bubble around her and she's picky about who gets inside. She never gives out markers because she hates the idea of owing anyone anything."

The hidden room was a stark contrast to the main office, its coldness sharply contrasting with the warmth just outside the concealed door. John scrutinized the space, feeling as if he had stepped through a portal into another world. Though small, the office was meticulously organized.

A wall on his left was covered in photos and leads of your targets, with notes scribbled next to each photo detailing information about them, their families, and whether they had children. Strings connected some of the photos, forming a complex web of connections and motives.

Your monitor and desk were tucked away in the corner just before he walked in. The desk was devoid of personal touches, looking meticulously clean and functional, with only essential items—pens, a notepad, a closed laptop—neatly arranged. John ran a hand over the smooth surface, noting the absence of fingerprints and the almost clinical precision.

Across from the wall of target photos was a glass-fronted weapons case, showcasing a variety of deadly instruments. Swords, daggers, and firearms were displayed in an orderly fashion, each item meticulously maintained. The glass glinted under the dim lighting, revealing the sheen of polished metal.

However, John noticed that a few weapons were missing, leaving empty slots that hinted at recent use. He bent down slightly, examining the labels below each empty slot, trying to deduce what had been taken. 

The Bowery King nodded, his gaze shifting back to the empty slots in the weapons case. "Looks like someone's been busy.”.

As he continued to take in the room, John noticed a faint scent of gun oil and leather, a reminder of the deadly purpose behind the immaculate setup. He straightened up and turned his attention back to the wall of photos, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the detailed notes and connections. 

Behind him, the Bowery King entered the hidden office, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He paused just inside the doorway, taking in the scene with a discerning eye.

"Quite the setup you've got here," he remarked, his voice low and appreciative. He walked over to the weapons case, his fingers tracing the edge of the glass. Amalia let out a hum of acknowledgement having not moved from her place between both worlds. 

"Does she have a boyfriend? Any friends outside the family?" John inquired, his voice slicing through the tense silence as he turned to face Amalia.

Amalia, standing in the door frame, shook her head slowly, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the polished wood. "She never dates. As for friends, she keeps quiet about them. She doesn't delve deeply into relationships, fearing they might die or she might have to eliminate them."

John's gaze continued to roam the room, finally landing on an unexpected sight: a photograph of himself, discreetly tucked into a corner of the wall behind a stack of books. His brows knitted in surprise, but he chose to remain silent about it. Meanwhile, the Bowery King, who had been pacing near the weapons case, stopped and leaned in to scrutinize its contents again. 

"Why aren't these weapons readily accessible?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and confusion.

Amalia sighed, her gaze softening slightly as she looked at the King. "Because [Name] doesn't want my kids stumbling upon any of this stuff and easily accessing it out of curiosity. We actually appreciate the precaution," she replied, standing up and walking over to join the King. She carefully unlocked the case with the same key and retrieved a small, intricately designed dagger, holding it up for him to inspect.

John, still taking in the details of the room, pressed on with his questions. "What's her daily routine like?" he asked, moving to stand over his own photo, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

Amalia returned on her heel, the dagger still in her hand, and settled back against the wall. "[Name] is primarily focused on school when she's home. She rarely makes calls or texts anyone. She attends family meetings and diligently performs her duties. The only time she engages socially is during or after her missions. She doesn't typically stay out for long," she explained, her voice tinged with melancholy as she placed the dagger on your desk, its blade catching the light.

The Bowery King, still appraising the room, turned his attention back to Amalia. "Do you trust her, Amalia?" he asked, his voice low and probing as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

She paused, her eyes reflecting a turbulent mix of emotions. "I don't know anymore," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the dagger in her hand, the weight of her uncertainty hanging heavy in the air. She gently placed the dagger back before locking the case again. She glared at the glass before turning to face John. 

"The arranged marriage was the straw that broke her back," Amalia sighed, her frustration palpable. "Joselyn and I are married so she’s the only girl left.”

John scanned the room, disturbed by the shift in atmosphere. "I know what she's like out there," Amalia continued. "She's a completely different being. So cold, quick, and effective. If someone couldn't handle a job, she dismissed them and did it herself. No one escapes her. She's made a career out of being unknown."

John frowned, puzzled. "Is that why I have never heard of 'The Fawn' before?"

Amalia's eyes darkened. "She only works for the highest of the elite. You can't just request her services. There are rules for that. Dear God, she hates rules."

John’s gaze returned to the hidden room, a mix of awe and sorrow washing over him. The woman they sought was a paradox—capable of immense kindness yet driven to cold efficiency by circumstances beyond her control. As he studied the evidence of your dual life, he realized the depth of the challenge before them. Finding you would be hard enough; convincing you to come back might be impossible.

Amalia, noticing his troubled expression, sighed. "She always looked like she was a deer caught in headlights, vulnerable yet ready to flee or fight. That's why they called her 'The Fawn.' It's ironic, really. So delicate yet deadly. They underestimated her, thinking they could control her. But she’s smarter and stronger than any of them ever gave her credit for."

Without warning, Amalia grabbed John by the neck and slammed him against the door, her small frame vibrating with rage. The Bowery King instinctively backed up, his eyes wide, but John, sensing her condition, didn't reach for his gun.

"Don't you fucking dare underestimate her," Amalia hissed, her eyes blazing. "I don't care how innocent she looks. If looks could kill, you'd be dead twelve times over before you even knew what happened, Baba Yaga." She spat out his nickname with palpable disgust.

John remained still, the intensity of her anger washing over him. "She's strong, she's smart, and she's anything she wants to be. If you fuck up, she'll get you. I know her fight better than anyone else. I've seen what she can do. You cannot fail at this."

Her grip on his neck tightened momentarily before she released him, stepping back to compose herself. John's hand instinctively moved to his throat, feeling the lingering pressure of her grasp. He could see the raw emotion in her eyes, the desperate need for him to understand.

The Bowery King watched in silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. John straightened, meeting Amalia's gaze with renewed determination. He knew she was right. Failure was not an option. He had to find you and bring you back, not just for the family.

But how could he not feel for the woman who had already sacrificed so much to protect those she loved?

Amalia's breathing slowed, and she placed a protective hand on her belly. "You can’t fail at this, John. Promise me."

John nodded, his voice steady. "I promise."

With a final glance around the room, Amalia led them back out into the office. The storm outside seemed to mirror the turmoil within the mansion. 

Amalia’s grip loosened, and she let go of John gently, straightening his tie and collar with a shaky hand. “She hated this job because she felt like a murderer. I understand why she wants to be a criminal defense attorney. But if her marriage keeps our family safe…” She looked into his eyes, her own filled with tears. “If it means my children never have to grow up in this life, so be it.”

Tears began to spill down her cheeks as she stepped back, turning away quickly to hide her emotions. The weight of her words hung heavily in the room. Overwhelmed, she excused herself, rushing to the office trashcan and spitting up. The Bowery King, his face a mix of concern and respect, offered her some tissues, which she took gingerly to wipe her mouth.

John's mind raced, running through the information he'd gathered from each family member. There were inconsistencies and gaps, pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. He replayed the details: Nick’s exclusion of Michele and his focus on the marriage. David’s guilty expression and lack of knowledge about your whereabouts despite having trackers on you. Joselyn’s warm yet firm demeanor, her openness to share. The anger and protectiveness in Amalia’s voice, the deep-rooted family loyalties, and the sacrifices made.

Amalia, now composed but visibly drained, leaned against the desk. “She’s not just a tool, John. She’s my sister. We grew up together, suffered together. She deserves more than this. But I have a family of my own now.”

John nodded, his thoughts aligning. He needed to understand why [Name] had been forced into this role, why the family insisted on her marriage, and what it all meant for her future. He couldn’t afford to overlook any detail, any potential lead. The stakes were too high, not just for [Name], but for the entire family.

The Bowery King broke the silence, his voice gentle yet firm. “John, we need to get started. We can’t miss anything. Every detail matters.”

John agreed, his resolve strengthening. He turned to Amalia. “We’ll find her. And we’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Amalia nodded, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you, John. Please… bring her home.”

With a final, solemn nod, John and the Bowery King left the office, as they were escorted out of the estate by the butler, Nick emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. John and the Bowery King exchanged nods with him, acknowledging the unspoken agreement between them. Nick watched them until they disappeared from view, his mind undoubtedly swirling.

Back in the car, the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of their conversation. The engine hummed softly as John navigated the winding roads, the only sound the occasional patter of rain against the windshield. After a few minutes of silent driving, John broke the silence.

“Alright,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Let’s go over everything.”

As John drove away from the estate, his mind buzzed with thoughts and suspicions. The Bowery King sat beside him, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he recounted their discussions with each family member. They dissected every statement, every subtle nuance, searching for inconsistencies and hidden truths, trying to piece together the puzzle of your disappearance.

“I don’t trust Nick,” John said, his brow furrowing in thought. “He’s hiding something, I can feel it.”

The Bowery King chuckled, shaking his head. “You never trust anyone.”

John nodded in agreement, his gaze distant as he replayed their conversations in his mind. “And what about David? He seemed sincere, but there’s something he’s not telling us.”

As they delved deeper into their analysis, John and the Bowery King couldn’t shake the lingering questions that gnawed at them. The road stretched out before them, winding through the darkness as their conversation veered into speculation.

“What’s with the contrast between Joselyn’s husband and Amalia’s?” John mused, his voice tinged with skepticism. “Joselyn’s husband seems to have passed her test, but Amalia’s… I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

"She also didn't mention Michelle and Nick's marriage during the interview."

The Bowery King nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed in thought. “And what about Amalia? She seems genuinely sad about everything happening. But she’ll let her ‘sister’ take the fall before she does. It’s… unsettling.”

Their conversation turned to the possibility of David’s involvement in your disappearance. “Do you think David helped her escape?” John asked, his tone grave.

“Something about his demeanor… it’s off.”

The Bowery King considered this, his mind racing with possibilities. “And Michelle… is she really hiding out, or is there more to her story?” he pondered aloud. “She’s been missing for too long, and Nick’s desperation… it’s barely palpable.”

John furrowed his brow in thought, a realization dawning on him. “I didn’t know Sofia had a brother…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he mulled over this new information.

The Bowery King chuckled lightly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe they aren’t close,” he quipped, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Despite the levity of the moment, John couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over him. There were still too many unanswered questions, too many pieces of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. But he was determined to uncover the truth, no matter where it led.

How hard would it be for the Big Bad Wolf to find a little Fawn?

______________________________________________________________

This was long as shit, also posted on my ao3. If you see any mistakes just let me know. I don't have an editor yet.

Part 2 is here.

Please check out my other works posted in the master list.

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a fic for almost everyone here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

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I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[queenofthebeast]

Hear me out guys. Soundwave and Shockwave are probably either. The best friends ever, enemies or dating. I also feel like no matter what they would start out as enemies no matter what.

Soundwave, Megatron's most loyal subject, eyes and ears of the Decepticons.

Shockwave, the mad scientist who only helps Megaton for his betterment and would kill Megatron if he wanted to or if he simply found no use for him.

Now if the war never happened, best friends. But because of their views and who they're loyal to or lack of loyalty. It would totally change their perception on each other.

Like Shockwave wouldn't give two flying fucks about Soundwave. But still keeps on eye on him just as much as he does for Megatron if not more. And knows that if he kills Megatron he has to kill Soundwave to and has plans just incase.

Soundwave if fully aware of Shockwave and his agendas, same as anyone in the Decepticons. But let's say Soundwave haa more intel on Shockwave then even Shockwave himself knows. He is the 'Eyes and Ears' of the Decepticons after all. Which means he's already 5 steps ahead; he has a counterplan for Shockwave's, and not only that but multiple back up plans.

Their ordeal mainly consist of overly complex insults that are hard to pick up on, and passive aggressiveness at every waking moment.

Eventually the two realize how illogical it is for them to be so spiteful towards each other. And at some point start to get along. Eventually they start getting really close and share intel while sitting closely. Face Timing each other while they work when they can't accompany the other. Subtle yet complex flirting. (Yeah, they'd be a great bundle. Whether they'd be friends or lovers.)

[billiesbabygirl]

From first kiss to first time.

[everygayhere]

may the fun commence

Here is the second part so i decided to finish and just post it today hopefully you guy enjoy it its a little bit longer then the last one. Also sorry for the long wait. gif not mine.

summary: Y/N a college student who is traveling to Malibu beach and have a fun vacation and maybe get to know her crush Marlow a bit more, while also avoiding Tara the most annoying person. Little does she know that maybe more interesting paths await her at this beach house. Tara carpenter a free spirted women who likes to have her fun drinking and hanging out with friends and avoiding the one person she knows won't be here Y/N.

warnings: drugs, swearing.

could this mean something new maybe?

part 1, part 2

As Y/n enters the house she can feel the vibrations of the music through the floorboards. A force pulls her towards what she assumes is the kitchen. “Okay so what would you like to drink?” Alva turns to Y/N holding a cup in her hand. “Uh nothing?” y/n questions well looking at Alva who is looking at her with a ‘really look’. “Okay well i'm just gonna mix something up for you then”. 

“Don’t Alva I really don't want to drink tonight especially if I want to smoke something good tonight”  Y/N respondes looking dead serious. “Okay then well there's some weed up in my bedroom last door on the right up stairs” “thank you Alva”  Y/n responds smirking, well walking away, as she’s walking through the crowded room she bumps into someone almost knocking them down but before they could fall she grabs them by the waist and pulls them up. “I’m so sorry are you-” oh hell nah why god why me, it could have been anyone but her please for the loving hell. “Oh Tara, you seem fine, well i’m gonna go now”  as Y/n goes to leave Tara carpenter makes a snarky comment “yeah no i'm perfectly fine thanks for ruining my mood, i mean who the hell invited you.” 

Instead of commenting back Y/n just shakes her head and walks away heading up to Alva’s room looking for weed. As Y/n makes it to Alva’s room she starts looking around in her bag and her room until she finds her tin. “Yess fucking finally” Y/n shouts well shacking her fist in the air well she opens the tin she checks her pocket for her lucky lighter, when she finally feels the shape of it in her pocket she pulls it out well also pulling out a pre rolled blunt. Before she lights the blunt she looks around the room and sees the doors to the balcony. Turning around and heading towards the doors she gets out onto the balcony, when outside she notices the beautiful view of it facing the front of the house and that the balcony also wraps around to the left and right of the house. She heads to the left of the balcony since it's more secluded and she’s able to see the beach and what people are doing at the back without being seen. 

As she sits down and gets comfy on the chair that's there she pulls the blunt up to her lips and pulls her lighter to the end of it and lights the blunt. Taking a nice long puff and staring out at the ocean. After a few moments she starts to relax, pulling out her headphones to listen to music before she takes another puff. Well she has her headphones placed on her head and over her ears, she hears the sweet melody of Alienated, by Zyan. Closing her eyes and taking another puff. Y/n starts bobbing her head to the song and singing along. 

“Try to think away the pain,

 made that age - old mistake, 

tried to disconnect my body, 

from my soul, from my soul” 

Little does she know someone is walking out the balcony through their  doors, well walking to find the perfect spot she neglected to notice that it’s a joint balcony where other rooms up stairs are also connected to it. So well she's singing to herself she doesn’t notice the person standing near them and looking at her with a shocked facial expression. 

See i feel alright already on my own, 

Can you let me be 

Intoxicated on my own 

Do I need to answer? 

Or right my wrongs? 

Am i home if i don’t know this place 

And i’ve been feeling alienated 

On my spaceship alone 

The person gets over the shock of Y/n being there as well as having such a beautiful voice. She walks up to her and nudges her shoulder. Y/n takes her headphones off her head not really caring, believing that it’s just her friend Alva as well as the fact that she is too high to care right now. As she turns around to speak to who she believes is Alva “Alva you know- TARA what the hell are- how long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough to hear your ear piercing singing and to see you having a little depressive moment. Who do you think you are, the main character?”  Tara asks well, standing and crossing her arms in front of her chest looking down at her with an arch eyebrow. 

“Just cause the song is a little sad doesn’t mean i'm depressed, ever thought about the fact that maybe i just like songs like this to listen too” “I mean not everyone likes to listen to happy songs all the time, when they're happy there's tons of different genres you know?” Y/n respondes with a scoff and turns back to face the oceana and places her headphones back on. 

Tara being more annoyed with Y/n ignoring her she nudges her again, Y/n takes her headphones off and turns back to her with an arch eyebrow. “I wasn’t done talking to you, I was also going to say that this is my spot, it's right outside my bedroom and I would like to have my seat back thank you. So if you could kindly get the fuck off my seat i would really appreciate it.” Tara gives a show of putting on an over exaggerated smile. 

Y/n just turns back and places her headphones back on her head and leans back in the chair. Tara scoffs and looks around to see another chair and drags it to when she wants to sit down. She turns back to see what Y/n is looking at, all she sees is the ocean waves crashing and scoffs. Then she turns to look at Y/n to see what she's doing and notices the blunt in her hand. Tara thinks that since she's on her side of the balcony as well as the fact the party is getting too much and wanting to just have a relaxing time she pokes Y/n. 

“Yes Tara what would you like now, you know i'm not going to move at any point right.”  

“Well if you don’t move or leave you better give me some of that” 

“What? The blunt? I don’t- I really don’t share with short people or people i don’t like”

“Ha ha real funny, but i’m not joking.” 

“What are you going to do if i don’t do any of that” 

“Scream”

“.....Scream?” 

“Yes”

“You wouldn’t do that, plus what could you possibly scream” 

“Fine. HELP OH MY GOD HELP THERE’S A-!” 

Y/n covers her mouth. “OKAY! Jesus, fine you can have some. You psychopath, what the hell is wrong with you.” 

“Mmmh mmmh hmm” 

“What?” 

Tara looks at her like she's an idiot, looking at her hand that is still covering her mouth. 

“Oh.. right sorry” 

“I said i’m not a psychopath i can just charm my way of getting things” 

Y/n looks at her annoyed “i’m not a psychopath i can just charm my way of getting things” she mimics Tara like a child and scoffs shoving the blunt towards Tara. “Just take it and shut up, puff, puff pass okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah i’m not an idiot” 

“Okay could have fooled me” 

“Oh shut up” 

Y/n turns back facing the ocean with only one ear listening to her music well the other is listening to tara so she knows when she's done with the blunt. As she's facing the ocean and listening to her music she can also hear Tara take an inhale. After a while she puts her hand out to get the blunt so she can have another hit. 

Tara places it in her hand as Y/n takes it, Tara watches her as she pulls it to her lips and takes and inhales, holding it for a few seconds and then slowly blowing out then leaning back and handing the blunt back to her. Tara takes it from Y/n's hand and brings it to her lips taking another puff. It goes on like this for a while Tara staring at Y/n’s side profile and checking her out  looking at her well she leans back in the chair. The blunts ends up running out with Tara taking the last hit well Y/n marranites in the high she’s having. When Tara takes the last puff she looks up in the sky staring at the stars. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird that some people believe that there are no aliens. I mean we’re living organisms on a floating rock in the middle of space, not only that but there are other planets and different galaxies out there and yet some believe there are no aliens.” 

“How high are you Tara?” 

“High, but I’m being serious about it. There’s no way we’re the only living things throughout the entire galaxy.” 

“Huh.. I mean you’re right on that point. How about I do you one better.” 

“Oh yeah like what” 

“We as a society have only ever discovered 5 percent of the ocean and the ocean is huge right?”

“Yeah” 

“Well what makes you think us and animals are the only living thing on this planet like the ocean is huge and you don’t think any aliens are in the ocean? And if there are no aliens in the ocean which we couldn’t know is exactly 100 percent correct. What makes us think that other sea animals don’t live in the other 95 percent of the ocean or even further down in the ocean. I mean we don’t have the supplies to enter the deep ocean either, we as humans would be crushed by the amount of pressure down there. As well as our machines. I mean it’s even scarier if you think about the fact that we also have a second ocean underneath our ocean in the earth's crust which is 3 times the size we have above the surface. At this point I really do believe that Meg was right about the fact that the megalodon is in the lower parts of the ocean just unable to break through the minerals that's above them to make it to the surface of where we humans are. Plus the added fact that aliens could be living in the ocean as well. We’ve  also discovered more of Space than the ocean.” 

“How high are you?” 

“High”

“Yeah I can tell. This is probably one of the strangest topics i heard and talked about” 

“Well you started it” 

“Is that why you keep looking at the ocean” 

“A part of it. I also just like watching the waves crash into each other. It's both chaotic and somewhat peaceful like they seem to move all in one smooth motion depending on reflection, refraction, and diffraction. Not only that but they move in sets of seven and each time they start off bigger and grow smaller until they ultimately diminish and break when meeting with the sand. Like if you look out right now you can see them coming in sets of seven and the fifth to the seventh tend to be the bigger ones and that's why I wait till I catch one of those, and other surfers.” 

“Do you always look at things from a scientific perspective?”

“No, that would be boring. Plus I'm only interested in some science. I’m more into movies like how they're made, who made them, who’s in them, shot types, settings, dialogue, lighting etcetera. That's why I'm taking the media communications course majoring in film. To me that’s more fun to actually go to class and learn about compared to science which I can just look up and read in my own time.” 

“You’re weird. I don't think I have ever met someone who’s actually reading science in their own time for fun. I mean I read fictional novels for fun but only sometimes most of the time I'm partying or watching something.” 

“I don’t just read science that would be boring as hell, I also read fictional books, poems, I surf, I watch movies, tv shows go on tiktok instagram and sometimes party.” 

“Okay”

“Plus it’s mostly just the ocean” 

“Why the ocean though?” 

“Cause why should i worry about space if i’m never going to be there in real life, the oceans different I’m at the ocean most of the time and it closer to me then space is and other galaxies, I’m not saying i never read about space im just saying i don’t look into as much cause i’m not in a rocket ship.” 

Tara looks at Y/n thinking about what she said, realizing that in fact she is making sense. “Okay what else do you think about?” 

“Why, so you pick at it more?”

“No because it’s kinda interesting when you explain what you think about”

“Well there’s the theory of the multiverse that Marvel talks about with Loki and the Doctor Strange movie with Scarlet Witch. The theory is that when we dream it’s another reality we live in, so for example I could go to bed tonight and dream about me being a famous rockstar and that could be real in a different reality. That I’m just fading into one where another variant of me is awake and living their performance life. Then I could have a completely different dream the next moment which is another variant of me in a completely different reality. Then again there are these theories of if you dream about someone it means that their your soulmate or your in their dream and you’ll be together soon or some shit like that, which could take the whole, when you dream it’s a gateway to another life in a different multiverse to a new level you have to think about. Like is it a message being sent to you that in that multiverse you’re dating that person and they really are just your soul mate or are you just dreaming about them because you can’t stop thinking about them. Which would destroy the whole dream gives insight to your other life in another multiverse thing. I mean that could just mean your brain is taking your deepest thoughts or most recurring thoughts and using them for a dream. There is another point that there are thousands of different multiverses out there that all steam off our reality  or so we think like how can we be so sure that our reality is the real one. Like what if we believe that this reality of ours is the real main one and yet we’re not like what if we’re just an add on to the real reality `growing and making our own timeline because we made a different decision compared to the actual reality. That’s also another theory to the multiverse: we make a new multiverse everyday when we make a new, different choice because we differed from what the original timeline was supposed to make. For example what if you weren’t supposed to stay out here and talk to me but go inside but you didn’t so now we’re in another multiverse we created from our choice. Kinda like those choose your own path books with different outcomes.” 

“Wow okay never thought of that and now i really am tripping i mean what the hell Y/n goes on through your brain?”

Y/n turns to Tara “so you were going to nit pick at my thoughts huh?”

Tara turns to look at her “well i wasn’t expecting that big speech” 

Y/n stares at Tara “sorry” she then turns back to the ocean one last time before looking at her phone for the time “shit it’s 4 in the morning and i need to ask Alva when i’m staying tonight, i’ll uh… see you around. Bye Tara.” 

Tara looks at her getting up “yeah it is pretty late, see you around Y/n i guess and uh bye” 

Y/n leaves to go and find Alva to figure out where she’s sleeping. “Alva hey you awake?” 

“Huh… Y/n omg there you are i thought you left yeah I’m up” 

“Cool, so where am I staying?”

“Oh right, so since you like your own space and don’t really like staying near other people which i still find really weird. I made sure to leave the pool house to you and don’t worry I cleared it all out so it’s all yours since there's enough rooms in the house.” 

“So i get to keep my normal room then in the pool house? And not share?”

“Yes that is what i just said no? What type of best friend would I be if I didn't leave my bestfriends normal spot locked up for her. I mean you are basically family and you did clam that spot for yourself very early on. You have your keys to it right? I don’t think anything in there has moved since the last time we came up to my parents' beach house.” 

“Yeah, I still have my keys. Thanks Alava, I'll see you tomorrow whenever I decide to leave the pool house. Goodnight and I love you.” 

“yeah , yeah goodnight dork and i love you too.” 

Y/n makes her way to her car to grab her stuff and then heads to the pool house through the back. No knowing that Tara is still on the balcony and watching her enter the pool house that was locked when they arrived.  weird she thought isn’t there like other rooms in this big house as Alvas owns for Y/n she continues to watch Y/n as she enters the door and sees the lights turn on at that moment she decides to head to bed for the night. Still thinking about why Y/n is in the pool house by herself. 

Y/n enters the pool house and is instantly hit with the nostalgia of the place where she spent her time by herself at night when hanging with Alva and her family. The walls lined with all the posters of her fazes in her life and the photos of her and Alva through their friendship. She chucks all her bags to the floor, locks the door and heads for a shower, after that she heads to bed.

[bcloudsetior]

"I would like to say that he always hated me, but for a brief, strange time it felt as though we understood each other, maybe even liked each other. Altogether an unlikely alliance, begun with my blade to his throat, it resulted in his trusting me enough to put himself in my power. A trust that I betrayed."

~Jude Duarte ,The Wicked King by Holly black

[themythecho]

CAN SOMEONE TALK TO ME ABT THE SUNBEARER TRIALS PLEASE IM LONELY AND HAVE SO MUCH TO YAP ABT.