#it was genuine fear and curiosity towards someone who could very well kick his ass. and get away with it.

[mildlythreatningduck]

JDFHSDKJ YOU REBLOGGED MY DAMIAN THING AND YOU SAID IT WAS TERRIFYINGLY ON BRAND AND I JUST AKJHSDKJG HI

HI OMG HELLO IT REALLY WAS ON BRAND. Like Damian has been drinking that respecting women juice since he was a bean and he’s lowkey terrified of their mind tbh. Because the thing with men is that you can gauge how good they are and how they fight. Women on the other hand? They’re underestimated and they USE that to their advantage.

It’s hilarious watching Damian fight a woman. He claims it’s because he won’t ever lay a hand on a woman because it’s against his principles (everyone calls his bullshit because he grew up taining with his mother).But really he’s just scared they’ll kick his ass. And they have. Multiple times. On good days, he’s not even ashamed to admit it.

ALSO DID YOU FOLLW ME OH MY FUCKING GOD??? Perhaps I’ll scream into the void thank you very much ANDHAJSBSHSHBS

[lesbianlotties]

Journeys end in lovers meeting - Sam/Deena - Fear Street x Bly Manor AU

Chapters: 3/10 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Sarah Fier/Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Christine "Ziggy" Berman/Nick Goode, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson, Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Constance (Fear Street Part 3: 1666), Christine "Ziggy" Berman, Nick Goode (Fear Street), Alice (Fear Street Part 2: 1978), Sarah Fier (Fear Street), Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Solomon Goode (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, The Haunting of Bly Manor AU, Not Canon Compliant, Haunted Houses, Ghosts, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Canon Lesbian Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Au Pair Sam, Gardener Deena, Housekeeper Kate, Cook Simon, Josh and Constance as troubled kids, Ziggy and Nick in an unhealthy relationship, minor Cindy/Alice, Martin cameos, special appearances of all the Shadyside killers as ghosts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Rest Is Confetti Summary:The year is 1994. Samantha Fraser recently moved to Shadyside, and she desperately needs a job that will help her leave her troubled past behind. She starts working as au pair at Shadyside Manor, where she is not the only one tortured by ghosts. Grief, regrets, guilt, innocent victims, and an ancient curse. At the center of all of it... love.

Chapter 3:

“We have to call the police.”

“No.”

“Why not?!” Sam exclaimed, throwing her arms up. She couldn’t believe Kate and Deena would refuse to call the police when a potentially dangerous stranger was wandering around the house. The three women were standing in the foyer of the house, but she took one look at Josh and Constance in the living room, sitting by the fire. Josh had a towel wrapped around him and he was still shivering. Sam was aware she barely knew them, but she felt so protective of them already. What Sam heard next, startled her out of her thoughts.

“Because the police would take his side,” Deena explained.

“Wait… you know him?”

“His name is Nick Goode,” Kate explained. Her shoulders deflated and Sam suddenly understood why they had looked so disturbed by her description of the man she saw outside the window. “He used to work here at the manor. He is a Sunnyvaler with a fucked up interest in this property and… in Christine Berman. We don’t know what he did to her or what he stole or what of shit he got himself into but one day he just… disappeared. The police, of course, blamed us. Blamed her. And… well… Christine killed herself waiting for him to return.”

“I’m going to call Simon,” Deena blurted out. She turned her back on Sam and Kate and moved to the phone. Sam couldn’t help noticing her hands were shaking. “It’s best if we all stay here tonight.”

“It’s pouring rain outside,” Kate pointed out.

“He can hold a fucking umbrella!”

While Deena made the call, Sam was lost in thought. Her hands were still tightened into fists and she made the conscious move to lose them. “Is he dangerous?” she asked Kate.

“No,” the housekeeper shook her head softly, but her distaste was clear as day on her face. “He’s just an entitled asshole.”

“Then I’m going out.”

“Sam, don’t,” Deena said, putting down the phone.

“It’s not raining that much,” Sam insisted, putting on her denim jacket and grabbing the fire poker again. “I don’t even need an umbrella.”

Sam walked out of the house, throwing a smile over her shoulder, which froze Deena in the spot. At least, until Kate slapped her arm.

“Deena, you go too.”

“It’s raining!”

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Kate rolled her eyes, she wasn’t fooled by Deena’s protests. She was just helping her friend, making her feel she was blindly following the new au pair out in the middle of a storm because she was instructed to and not because her heart told her to. “I’ll take care of the little shits. Go!”

Deena took a deep breath and glanced back at her younger brother. Somedays, it felt like they couldn’t recognize each other, but she would die for him, she would do absolutely anything for his safety. So, the gardener grabbed her jacket, her keys, and left the house. Kate stood in the doorway for a moment, until she couldn’t see Sam’s blonde head anymore. She had a bad feeling about all of this. She had been having a bad feeling deep inside her that she couldn’t shake for anything in the world, but she tried her best to ignore it. She shook her head a little, passed her hand over the back of her neck, and stood straighter. Then she walked toward the kids, determined to get them to bed before any more trouble could find them. 

In the foyer, the only person left was Ruby Lane. She was hiding among the shadows, but even if she took one step forward nobody would see her, nobody ever saw her. She still wore that familiar skirt, and her blouse, and she couldn’t get rid of the razor blade in her hand. The sharp edge glinted menacingly, but it wasn’t half as frightening as her face. She used to be so beautiful, and now her features were dimmed, they had softened, lost some of their definition, but her angry, disgusted frown was still firmly in place.

--

Once outside and under the rain, which thankfully had slowed down considerably, Sam felt her determination waver slightly. But her bravado was renewed when she heard someone, not an attacker, catch up with her.

“Hey, Sunnyvale! Wait up,” Deena called out, and jogged the rest of the way to Sam’s side.

They exchanged a long look, studying each other. Apparently, Deena took a detour to go pick a shotgun from her truck, and she was currently carrying it as if it were an everyday occurrence for her. But, she was also frowning at Sam.

“So, what was your plan here, huh? Go out in the middle of a storm, chase a creep, and tell him that if he doesn’t leave you’ll give him extra homework?”

Sam scoffed, turned around, and started walking away, assuming Deena would follow her, or not. She understood that a large part of her bravado upon seeing Deena was just her desire to prove people wrong about the assumptions they might make about her. She didn’t stop to dwell on it for long, afraid of what else she might realize, but Sam did notice that with one look at Deena, her posture, her expression, she could tell the gardener wasn’t in one of her sweet moods and, instead, she was going to be, well, a little bit of an asshole.

“This is hardly a storm, it’s just drizzling,” Sam eventually said, raising her voice to be heard through the roaring of the wind around them.

“Really? That’s the part you’re going to respond to?” Deena chuckled, and hurried up so she was walking beside Sam. “I didn’t take you for the confrontational type, Sunnyvale. That’s all.”

Sam stayed silent for a moment. She was suddenly reminded of the last time, or the first time maybe, that she stood up to someone. The time that she faced her fears and fought back against a force that had been terrorizing her for years. Then she thought about how badly that had turned out, and how she was still dealing with the consequences.

“Well,” Sam cleared her throat, “I’m trying something new, I guess.”

“Oh yeah? I’d say-”

“What?!” Sam snapped. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with Deena’s smug tone, and maddening smirk, and only mildly accurate remarks about Sam’s entire personality. Perhaps she should have considered the sharp-edged weapon in her hand when she turned around hastily to face the gardener.

Deena jerked her head back when she was met with the fire poker, but she was still smirking, much to Sam’s irritation. Deena slowly raised her hand and gently pushed the poker’s sharp end again from its previous aim at her face. “I’d say,” she repeated, “it looks good on you.”

For a second, all they did was stare at each other. Deena’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, whereas Sam’s frown only deepened, but she wasn’t as angry as she was perplexed. She tried parting her lips to say something, but nothing came. Eventually, it was Deena who broke the silence.

“Let’s go check the chapel,” Deena nodded her head toward the small building, and the two of them were on their way. 

--

The two women arrived at the chapel just in time, because the rain was worsening again. Deena stood by one of the windows and grimaced. “It’s raining too much now, maybe we should wait it out here for a moment,” she suggested. Not that she seemed very happy about it. It was like every attempt she made to distance herself from the intriguing au pair completely backfired.

Sam was casually wandering around the place, taking in the details. It was a spot that had been skipped over during her tour of the house. “What are those candles for?” she asked.

“That’s all Kate,” Deena replied. “Shouldn’t leave them burning though. But she never listens.”

“Oh,” Sam mumbled and walked closer. She observed, a little mystified, the way Deena blew over the four candles, killing each of them.

“They’re for the dead,” Deena explained upon noticing Sam’s curiosity. “At least that’s what Kate says.”

“You don’t agree?” Sam wondered. She took a seat in one of the pews, and Deena followed her lead, sitting in the one in front of her, and turning her body so she could look Sam in the eye.

“They’re for the Bermans, I think,” Deena shrugged. “If we were to really light up candles for everyone we’ve lost, we’d run out of space in here.”

Sam hummed in understanding, and for a while, they were silent. Each of them was lost in their own memories about lost ones. Neither of them was aware of an additional presence in the chapel with them. Tommy Slater didn’t mind going unnoticed. He could barely see them anyway. He could only tighten his grip on the axe, rest his back against the wall, spend one more day, or month, or year, in the quiet corners of Shadyside manor.

Eventually, Sam broke the silence. “So,” she cleared her throat, “do you just casually carry a shotgun with you everywhere?”

Deena chuckled, and Sam couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. “It’s for rats,” Deena explained, “which includes Nick fucking Goode.” She made a pause, and because she liked the way Sam listened and smiled at her, Deena felt compelled to do something against it. “You don’t have to risk your life for… the kids, or the job, you know?” For us, Deena stopped herself from saying that.

“Don’t belittle me, Deena, please,” Sam said with a small frown.

“I’m not. I’m just trying,” to protect you? “to warn you, Sam.”

Sam pursed her lips and considered Deena’s words. The gardener was content seeing that Sam didn’t just immediately disregard what she was trying to say. “I dealt with enough shit in Sunnyvale,” Sam admitted quietly, but later added a smile. “Your haunted house doesn’t scare me, Deena.”

Her words ignited a bright smile to take over Deena’s face. The gardener, of course, immediately looked away, trying to get her expression in control. When she looked back at Sam, her smile was much smaller, but her eyes said it all. “What scares you then?” Deena asked.

“What scares you?” Sam said and squinted at her.

“Hey, I asked first!”

“Well, will you answer if I answer?”

Deena shook her head, but she was having trouble holding back her smile. Where did this adorably awkward school teacher come from? More accurately, how the hell did she end up in Shadyside manor out of all places, in Deena’s path, more precisely?

“Alright,” Deena relented, and leaned her head on her hand, ready to listen.

Sam smiled, and then took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I suppose I’m scared of… hopelessness,” she said slowly. “I’m scared of giving up. Scared of having nothing worth fighting for anymore. Uh… does that make sense?”

The gardener blinked twice, trying to clear her mind. She hadn’t expected that answer. But it would have been foolish to expect an answer along the lines of heights or spiders. It was obvious that Sam Fraser was infinitely more complicated than she seemed at first sight. Deena had to use all her strength to keep herself from wishing to know more about the au pair.

“I don’t know if that’s more Sunnyvale or Shadyside of you, but yes, it makes sense,” Deena finally replied.

Sam beamed at her, and asked, “What about you?”

Deena had known her answer for many years, but she still put on a show about thinking about it. She really was thinking about it or, at least, about the right way to say it after what Sam just said. “I’m scared of hope,” she replied.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“I would never,” Deena shook her head. “I’m genuinely not very fond of everything that comes along with having too much hope. Broken promises, crushed expectations, being let down… letting people down. It’s best to save yourself from it all.”

Sam had been listening very seriously. When Deena met her eyes both of them had a little trouble breathing normally. The small chapel suddenly felt too crowded. Sam was beyond thankful that Deena had trusted her with her words, but she could tell in those sweet brown eyes that the gardener was growing uncomfortable. Before Deena could grow desperate enough to take back her words and her moment of vulnerability, Sam tried something. A tiny smile crept into her lips. “That sounds boring,” she said softly.

Deena raised a playful eyebrow at her. “It’s safe,” she said. She was relieved for the gently offered exit out of the heavy emotional place they had wandered into. “Don’t go making fun of me now. I still have a shotgun here, you know?”

Sam laughed wholeheartedly, and Deena easily joined her. The silence afterward was different, comfortable, and easy. Deena was leaning over the back of the seat, and Sam was leaning forward. That left them a little closer than they had expected. It became a little too easy to get lost in each other’s eyes. Those two pairs of eyes that were full of secrets and trying their hardest not to let anyone else see.

Then, very suddenly, the windows of the chapel were lit in bright light. Those were a car’s headlights. “Must be Simon,” Deena cleared her throat and jumped out of her seat. “We should go back.”

Sam nodded in silent agreement, and started following Deena out of the chapel. But halfway through she let out a quiet gasp. “Do you think I shouldn’t have left the kids in the first place?”

Deena fondly chuckled and gently pushed the anxious au pair out of the chapel. The two of them walked outside and closed the door behind them. The chapel was left completely empty.

--

The storm got worse, and this time it definitely didn’t show any signs of stopping soon. Luckily, everyone had made it back to the house. Constance and Josh had finally fallen asleep, not without a fight though. The adults were gathered in one of the rooms of the big house, seated close by the fire, drinking hot chocolate, and with blankets on their laps. Sam was finally warming up. She had put up her damp hair in a ponytail, and she was listening intently to her coworkers. The three of them were finally unveiling the tragic story behind Christine Berman’s death. Kate was the one to lead the story.

“After Cindy and her husband died, Christine had the reins of the entire property. Alice owned a chunk of it, but she’s never wanted to get personally involved with this place, I guess. The house can be scary but it’s still a big property with a lot of value. Christine and Alice decided to get someone to protect the place, you know, keep an eye on the property and the few of us living and working here. That’s when Nick Goode came into the picture. Supposedly, he was tired of the police department of Sunnyvale, and moved here in search of something different.”

“And there’s nothing more different to Sunnyvale than this shithole, isn’t it?” Deena joined in. Her jaw was tense and her eyes displayed a wave of anger in them that almost frightened Sam. “Nick and Christine started dating almost immediately and it wasn’t cute, let me tell you. They were obsessed with each other. It was a picture-perfect toxic relationship. He was so… controlling. It was almost scary. He decided everything they did, when, and how they did it. He had a say in everything she said, and wore, and did. It was fucking suffocating just to watch them from afar. She made him her everything, and when he was gone, well… she had nothing left.”

That’s when it clicked for Sam that the anger in Deena’s eyes was much more complicated than that. It was grief. It was regret. In some way, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if Deena blamed herself for not intervening in some way to help the other woman. The next one to speak up was Simon. The poor man tried his best to keep up his usual spark, but it was pretty much impossible. He was fidgeting on his seat, running his hand through his hair repeatedly, and moving his eyes across the room to avoid letting anyone see the way they watered at the mention of Christine.

“He went missing, one day. Nick was a weird dude, if we’re being completely honest. He always acted weird with the rest of us, he was shifty and shit. He was weirdly obsessed with this house. There’s no way he wasn’t hiding some dark shit. And whatever that was, it came back to bite him in the ass. He had to run away. He just disappeared, like the cowardly rat he is. But… you know. Christine lost herself after that. The police didn’t help either. They were convinced she had killed him or something. They harassed her half the time, and she tortured herself waiting for that piece of shit the other half of the time. But she… she was our friend, you know?”

In the end, Simon was biting his nails, his eyes were distant, and he was shaking a little, not from the cold. Sam nodded slowly, she felt like she couldn’t really breathe easily, and she couldn’t imagine how the others were dealing with it all. Kate took her turn once more to finish the story.

“Constance found her. One damn foggy morning. Floating on the stupid lake. Then Deena found Constance.” There was a pause, and none of them could avoid glancing at Deena, but the gardener didn’t meet anybody’s eyes. When Kate continued talking, her voice wavered, and soon enough her eyes were tearing up beyond any attempt to hide it. “That kid really loved her aunt, you know? I mean, Constance adored Christine. Even more after her parents… And then motherfucking Nick Goode even stood in between them as much as he could. Some days I look at Constance and it’s like watching a younger version of Christine. She’s so much like her. It hurts. Because, in the end, Christine wasn’t a happy person anymore. We don’t want that for Constance, you know? She hasn’t been herself for a whole year. But since you arrived… she’s fighting with you all day long, running, protesting, yelling, and I just think… that’s our girl, she’s not gone. She’s still a little shit though.”

When she was done, Kate was wiping away tears, and trying to take deep breaths. But at the end of her story, she had laughed tearfully, talking about Constance. Deena and Simon had joined in. Soon enough they were sharing all kinds of stories about the young Berman girl. Kate had known her almost her entire life, when she started babysitting for her. Deena and Josh arrived just a couple of years later. Simon joined in last. He was hired after the Bermans died, but before Nick Goode showed up. Sam listened intently to their stories. Somehow, they managed to make her feel welcome, and like a part of that mismatched family they had formed in that objectively unlucky place. She appreciated it. And she also realized that she had stepped into a story that was infinitely more complicated than she could have ever expected. 

--

Maybe it was the drinks that Kate and Simon brought out at one point during the night. but Sam was getting a little dizzy trying to understand the tangle of limbs that were the housekeeper and the cook. They fell asleep pretty much on top of each other and it didn’t look very comfortable, but it made Sam smile.

“Are they… a couple?” Sam asked Deena in a hushed tone.

The gardener chuckled and moved from her previous chair to sit beside Sam on the sofa. They were the only two people alive awake in that house. “God no,” she shook her head. “That embarrassing sight is completely platonic.” She made a pause, enjoyed Sam’s small laugh, and then decided to take a risk. “Why you ask?”

“Just, uh, curiosity,” Sam replied.

“I hope you weren’t too interested, Sunnyvale. I’d hate to break your heart letting you know Simon’s gay.”

Sam smiled and shook her head. “I wasn’t… I’m not… it’s not like that,” she stuttered.

“Okay,” Deena nodded. She kept her smirk controlled, and tried to convince herself she was only doing this to tease the other girl, with no ulterior move or secret interest in her answer. “If it helps… so is Kate.”

Sam was staring into Deena’s eyes when the meaning of her words registered. The panic in the au pair was instant, and it worsened when she took notice of how close Deena was, how intently they were looking at each other, and how heavy were the additional questions hanging in the air between them. “Oh,” Sam croaked out, and attempted to clear her throat. “So… um… you, uh… why do you think Nick Goode would come back now? After abandoning Christine before.”

At first, Deena was quiet. She bit her lip, doing what she could to hide how confused she was about the contradicting feelings of relief and disappointment at the change of subject. Then she relaxed, leaned back on the couch, and searched for an answer. “He probably doesn’t even know she’s dead. People like Nick Goode aren’t happy losing. They want to have it all. No exceptions. He isn’t content just walking away,” Deena said. She was surprised by the clear as day understanding she saw in Sam’s eyes.

“He can’t just let her go. He has to feel like he still owns her,” Sam added. She looked a little dazed for a moment, but she was brought back to the conversation at hand when she noticed Deena agreeing with a nod. “But… that feeling doesn’t come from a place of love, does it? It’s the opposite, really.”

Deena shifted uncomfortably on her seat. “Yeah,” she agreed softly. She couldn’t stop staring at Sam though, and she had a strong suspicion that she was in serious trouble when it came to the things the peculiar au pair could make her feel.

--

Not too long later, Sam and Deena parted ways and walked to their respective bedrooms, not without a significant amount of awkwardness hanging between them. Especially when Sam nearly crashed against Deena when the brunette stopped in front of her bedroom, because then Sam was a little too aware of standing right outside of Deena’s room. She failed to save the situation by walking away in a flurry of apologies and “goodnight”s, waving so enthusiastically and looking back so nervously that she did crash into a wall and had to dismiss Deena’s soft “Are you okay there, Sunnyvale?”

Finally, Sam made it to her bedroom, locked the door behind her, and shortly later collapsed in her bed. She was restless though, tossing and turning in bed while her mind ran wild. She couldn’t help but flash back to several moments throughout the day she had shared with Deena. She thought about Deena’s smile, and Deena’s frown. About Deena’s obvious defense mechanisms, and Deena begrudgingly letting down her guard in front of her. Deena walking with the shotgun gripped firmly in her hand, Deena draped comfortably over the couch, stealing glances at Sam and boldly refusing to look away when Sam caught her. 

Eventually, even though she fought her hardest to restrain herself, Sam’s imagination got the best of her. There was that one moment with the two of them seated close together on the couch. So close that Sam could still remember the warmth of Deena’s arm next to hers. So close that Sam couldn’t stop herself from imagining what would have happened if she had leaned in just a little closer, and then just a little more…

Before picturing exactly what would have happened, Sam made the terrible mistake of rolling to her side again, just to find out she wasn’t alone in bed. She came face to face with a sight that wasn’t that unfamiliar to her, yet it was the most horrible thing she could have imagined. She screamed and scrambled backward in bed until she fell to the ground. She stayed there, eyes closed tightly and tears streaming down her cheeks. She had just seen him. He was right there. He wasn’t in the mirror, he was in her bed, in Shadyside, and it wasn’t fair. She had turned around in bed to see him there more than enough times before. She ran away to avoid precisely this and it didn’t even work. He was there, blinding eyes, a disgusted snarl of his lips, a furious frown, strong arms covered in blood, and the watch on his wrist broken beyond repair. Why was her mind doing this to her?

Sam rocked back and forth on the floor of the bedroom until her breathing calmed down enough. She tentatively raised her head to take a look at the bed, and then the rest of the room. She was alone, completely alone, permanently alone.

--

Life at Shadyside Manor was complicated enough. But, tragedy and threats aside, Sam’s job was the kid’s education. The next day, there was still a soft rain falling down over the property. They didn’t have another option but to spend the morning cooped up in the classroom, and apparently, it was taking its toll on the teenagers. Well, at least on one of them. Josh was quiet as usual. But Ziggy was in a particularly sour mood. Sam could understand kids trying to act way older than they were. She had worked with eight years old Sunnyvalers who were already looking forward to being CEOs of their parents’ companies. But Ziggy… she was a peculiar case.

“Sam, you’re giving me a headache. Just fucking call me Ziggy, okay?” the teenager complained.

“The headache is mutual, Ziggy,” Sam replied, leaning against the desk in front of the room. “Now, could you please just answer the question?”

“What’s the point?” Ziggy scoffed. “Look, it’s not the first time some emotionally fragile girl tries to teach me arithmetic.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter! This shit is useless in the real world.”

“You need an education, Ziggy, if you ever want to have a life.”

Ziggy chuckled darkly, with bitterness beyond her fifteen years. She slammed a hand on the table in front of her and jumped off her chair. “Fucking maths won’t give me my life back!”

“Ziggy!”

Sam was startled. It was Josh who had called out the girl’s name, and he sounded really angry and not like himself at all. He stood up from his seat and walked slowly toward Constance, who immediately sat down and was suddenly very quiet and still. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she pretty much shuddered at the contact. Sam thought that was really odd, considering she was usually the extroverted and lead troublemaker in their dynamic.

“I apologize for Ziggy’s behavior,” Josh addressed Sam with an odd and unfamiliar formal tone. “I think she needs a moment. We’re just tired of spending the entire day in the classroom. You know, with the storm last night and everything, we’re restless. You get it, don’t you, Samantha?”

Sam tried hard not to visibly frown at the way Josh talked to her. It rubbed her the wrong way. She glanced at the clock and noticed there would have been only about twenty minutes left of the class planned for the morning. 

“If you don’t call me that again, we can call it a day for now,” She said.

“Thank you very much,” Josh replied with a grin she had never seen on him before. Well, except for the day when he gave her those roses that made Deena so furious.

As the two teenagers walked to the door of the classroom, Sam addressed the young girl once more. “I expect a better attitude tomorrow, Constance.” It was like the girl didn’t even hear her. “Constance?” 

Constance was already on the other side of the door, but when Sam repeated her name she stopped in her tracks. She turned around hastily. “Huh?”

“Did you listen to me?”

“What? Oh. Um… Yeah…” Constance mumbled, looking more than a little confused, and then she walked away in the opposite direction from Josh.

--

That night, things were much better. The rain had finally stopped not too long ago. During dinner, Ziggy had suggested watching a scary movie with such childish excitement that nobody could have said no to her. Even Simon, not without some hesitation, agreed to stay at the manor one more night, trusting that his neighbor, Mr. McQueeny, was taking good care of his mother.

All of them were having a good time. Ziggy was having the time of her life making fun of the character’s poor decisions. Josh reacted badly to the jump scares, but he proudly announced himself as smartest in the room for predicting almost every single plot twist. Kate and Simon were in a constant argument, because she playfully insisted that her microwaved popcorn was much better than the creative array of snacks he had prepared for their evening.

Sam and Deena were on a different couch, fondly watching the others enjoy themselves. Deena was about to make fun of Sam, who looked almost as scared as the main character of the movie, running for her life. The gardener looked at the woman sitting beside her and she was pleasantly surprised to find Sam meeting her eyes. Sam didn’t look away from Deena, even as her hand moved swiftly to find Deena’s hand, which had been resting on the space between them. The movie and their friend’s fuss continued in the background, but for a moment, Sam and Deena felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Deena couldn’t keep up Sam’s stare. She had to look down at their intertwined hands, to make sure it was real. She gulped nervously and looked back up at Sam. “Are you okay?” she had to ask, dreading that maybe the au pair was just scared of the movie.

Sam smiled a little, and nodded. She squeezed Deena’s hand a little, softly rubbed her thumb over the gardener’s knuckles, and then she let go. She returned her hand to her lap, but she looked happy in a way that Deena hadn’t seen her before. “I actually love these movies,” Sam confessed.

Deena chuckled. Although her hand ached to reach out for Sam again, she understood. “You’re full of surprises, Sunnyvale.”

The two women relaxed, but it was short-lived. A moment later, a loud thunder rattled the entire property, and the lights went out. Apparently, the storm wasn’t done with them. All of them gasped, some of them screamed. The lights came back on, flickered menacingly, and went out again. Everyone scrambled off their seats, Ziggy tried to scare Kate, Simon went off looking for a flashlight, the phone started ringing and everything was a mess. Lightning bolts illuminated the room, only briefly. But, in the commotion, nobody paid any mind to Ryan Torres. He watched everything unfold from a corner of the room. He couldn’t understand everything that happened, he couldn’t make himself be a part of any of it. He glanced at the knife on his hand, and another strike of lightning reflected on it. Still, nobody else noticed.

The ringing of the phone was driving them crazy while trying to deal with the power outage. Deena couldn’t stand it anymore. She marched to the other room and yanked the phone from the wall. “What the fuck you want?” she snapped at the innocent person on the other line. Everyone had followed her lead and Simon was shining a flashlight in her direction when everyone noticed the way the gardener’s face completely changed from annoyance to shock and devastation. “It was your neighbor, Mr. McQueeny,” she was clearly addressing Simon. Her face said it all. “I’m so sorry, Simon.”

[opes-magnas]

『 as lonely as time can get. 』

It’s finally here!! I’m a terribly slow writer, and am really thankful to all those who waited for this! Hopefully you enjoy. Thank you so much to @hamjjy, @kaavijournals and Lady L for beta reading this, you guys are the best!

Listen to this playlist here for the best experience!

tw: cursing, body sensitivity, very subtle idea of anxiety and toxic relationships are portrayed.

~calypso <3

I. the moon can't shine on her own.

She looks serene tonight - high up in the night sky, not a single star to accompany her. Does the moon feel lonely like that? Does she ever need a warm hug? Perhaps she gets one from the sun, and he accompanies her all time. Does the sun shine for her? So that the world can see her beauty? Perhaps so. When she can't see him, she turns bloody red; she seems disturbed. Hurt. Lost. Her fury always frightened the humans. It made them shiver inside their homes, praying to see the familiar ball of light rise from the east to calm her down. Perhaps it is better if they could only see her beauty. But does that mean the sun shines, not to show her beauty, but to protect the humans from her true self? Perhaps so.

The sun and the moon are a pair. And they will continue to be.

As long as the moon can't shine on her own.

Let's stop thinking, Luna.

The moon seems lonely.

I look up at the clock. A red, metallic light tells me its 3:48 am, 3rd April. Great, now I can have four shots of espresso for breakfast. Thank you, oh great mind, for deciding that we needed to have that conversation earlier. I sit up on the bed and rub my eyes. The curtain flutters from the soft wind blowing in through the window. Cicadas fill up the silence as I look at the full moon illuminating my room another time. Oh, how I hate the moon. What a hypocrite. I look away, and my eyes find the pile of open textbooks and spark notes I abandoned. A small smile creeps up my face. At least I'll ace that History test tomorrow. I could imagine the Boba Tea reward from Leo in my hands already. Leo. The annoying kid next door who's been stuck with me since I was five. Don't worry, though. I don't like him. Not anymore. He made it extremely clear that I was 'a size too big' for him. Then why do I still hang out with him? Short answer - I beat him up, he apologized. I shall offer no elaboration. Still, a lump forms in my throat. And maybe because he wasn't completely wrong.

I get up to go grab a glass of water. Mochi is lying in her bed in the hallway. This is the first time she didn't stir awake when I thumped across the room. The poor fluffball of a cat is probably very tired from the bath I forced her into in the evening.

You need to lose a few pounds anyways, Luna. Get rid of those love handles. Maybe some fat on your back too. That'll make people find you more approachable.

It isn't toxic if it's true, right?

That night, I decide that my glass is half-empty rather than full, and go back to bed. Suddenly, Mochi wakes up and runs into my room. She snuggles in and throws her paws on my hair like it's her property. I choose to oblige the demon for today.

The last thing I see before sleep lures me is the clock gleaming '3:59 am'.

/////-----

It's too warm in my blanket. I almost want to peel my skin off. I need to get sleep, I have a test soo- I jolt awake. Mochi is no longer next to me. I assume she's back in the comfort of her bed, considering the temperature in the room. I let out a groan as my hand outstretches to the switchboard. After a few terrible attempts, I finally turn on the ceiling fan. As sleep threatens to take me again, I see that it's still dark out and the moon looks just as annoying as it did earlier, its ever luminant light breaking down the walls of my privacy. My eyes turn to the direction of the clock- 3:48 am, 3rd April. Huh, weird. I realize I must have had one of those five-minute, extra strength-giving, amazing nap- Wait why does the clock say it's 3:48 am?

I grab my phone. The sudden light blinds me for a second, and through squinted eyes I see 3:49 am on the screen. Huh, really weird. Wasn't I awake just now  - err, earlier? Wait what? I realize I make no sense, maybe I just read the time wrong the first time. My brain is repeating the features of the Hammurabi Code, my drowsy eyes are drooping, and I meet slumber once more.

I barely feel Mochi slipping back into my blanket.

/////-----

I wake up in wonder why my alarm hasn't rung yet. The room is still dark, the moon stares at me curiously. Give me some privacy, moon. My eyes turn towards the clock for the third time this night- 3:46 am, 3rd April. Bullshit. I've been asleep for hours now; I won't need those four espresso shots for breakfast anymore. My tongue clicks involuntarily. Is this some sort of a stupid prank? Leo is definitely behind this, I'm going to hunt that dipshit down.

Come to your senses, Luna. The universe cannot prank you. That's impossible. And stupid.

I grab my phone again. An attempt in vain, I realize, when I see the screen displaying the same time. I text Leo.

| loser |

you (3:46 am, 03.04.2021): you awake?  (read) 

loser (3:48 am, 03.04.2021): no

A chill goes down my spine. Did the just relive 3:38 am? I decide to call Leo. Two rings in, I hear a familiar voice, 'I said I wasn't awake.' He sounds tired, voice raspy and strained. You'd think he'd just woken up from the but he's the sort of person who thinks sleep is for the weak. 'Yeah no shit, Sherlock. I'm speaking to your alter ego, Thomas.', I reply.

He decides to ignore my bad retaliation, and saves me from the embarrassment. 'Why is my star pupil awake at 3 in the morning? Has she forgotten about the test she will help me cheat tomorrow?', he asks. Ah, this freeloader. I'm gonna kick his ass. My hands move frantically in the air out of annoyance, 'I am not helping you with anything!', I scream-shout into the phone, afraid I'll wake Mochi up in the hallway. She's a bigger annoyance than Leo; no one in the universe has energy to deal with a grumpy Mochi.

'Honey, you love me.'

'You're being delusional.', I deadpan.

'Is my chubby baby irritated?', he says in a fake cooing voice. And that got me.

'Leo, I did not call you at 3 in the fucking morning for you to put me down.'

The other side of the line immediately goes silent. Silence that reminded me of the last time this happened. Silence between the two of us on a Boba Tea study session in the park after an argument, the only sound being the pages of my sociology textbook being turned, and of the sound of baby birds in a nest nearby. Though I know that Leo meant it as a term of endearment, I couldn't believe he wouldn't ever, well, consider me more than just a friend because of it. A few seconds (sometimes minutes) pass before -

'I'm sorry, Lunie, you know I don't mean it,'

Another apology.

I sigh. I'm tired of this conversation again. I'm tired of having to deal with the same problem again. I'm tired of people putting me down. I'm tired of blaming myself. I'm tired of trying to look pretty. I'm tired of Leo. I'm tired of me. I'm tired of another heartbreak. I know his apology is genuine. I know he doesn't mean it. I know he's just being the Leo he always is. But somehow his words still continue to haunt me. Maybe it's because it's coming from someone who means to me the most, coming from someone who brightens me up, like the sun does to the moon.  Then why am I the only one taking it seriously? Why am I trying to fit into someone else's standards? Why am I so painfully aware of everything but still choosing to be blind?

Why am I not able to love myself even though I want to?

'Luna? You there?', his voice breaks me from my train of thought. Weirdly, he sounds quite scared. 'I didn't realize how much it bothers you, I swear I won-'

Mochi jumps onto the bed and snuggles into my head again, paws in a similar place in my hair. A weird sense of Deja vu washes over me again. And then-

『 pop! the world has reset.』

My eyes opened in fear as a gasp escapes my mouth. I'm sitting on my bed, trying to comprehend what just happened. The curtains flutter with the wind blowing by. The moon stares in curiosity. My phone's on the bedside table. The clock gleams with a bright '3:01 am' displayed on it. And the problem is that I wasn't dreaming, and I wasn't mistaking the time either.

I'm in a time loop.

II. a tub fills with water only to spill it.

I fucking hate whoever wrote Groundhog Day.

Like who decided that? Who decided to say 'Hey, let's make a movie based on time loops!'? 'Let's make a dude live the same day all over again till he gets it right! Let's make him really happy, then really sad!'

Son, I'm this close to pulling an Ides of March on you.

I seem to be looping every hour, more specifically from three in the morning to four. Five hours have passed by, but my clock tells me it's precisely 3:18 am. Great. My dearly detested friend, the moon, is my only companion in this war with time (sorry Mochi). In the five hours that should have gone by, I have accomplished the following:

Two and a half hours of sleep - though I wake up when the clock resets.

Half an hour of revision for that History test I need to write after I get out of this shit.

Thirty minutes of planning a workout, Fifteen minutes of Yoga.

Five minutes of trash talking the moon, Ten minutes of dealing with grumpy Mochi who woke up as I exercised.

Thirty minutes of wondering if Leo's looping with me, and

Half an hour of figuring out what went wrong, and how to make the night perfect.

I don't know how much longer I'll be able to remember anymore. I've tried everything - making notes, scribbling on the wall, writing on myself, engraving things on desk - but none of them seem to make it through when the loop resets. I'm too tired to talk to Leo, knowing very well that he would definitely not believe me. And partly because I'm afraid I'll lose my temper and get hurt again. I'm afraid I'll end up being the insecure bad guy, and he doesn't deserve that. He deserves someone better. Someone who's prettier, kinder and happier. Not telling him for the time being also meant that I'll never find out if he was looping with me. But that probably isn't the case, the universe is cruel for a reason. This is perhaps its punishment for me. I must go through this alone.  No one's ever been by my side anyways.

I'm as lonely as the moon.

/////-----

Another few hours pass. The pop between every reset scares me lesser and lesser. But my desperation to return back to normal is growing. I've been trying to figure out what went wrong for the past hour in the neighbourhood park. The cold air  perfectly paired up with the mint chocolate chip ice cream in my hands. Was it me staying awake this long? Should I have just gone to sleep?  There must have been something I did wrong that hour. My heart wishes to call Leo and confide in him. And the more time goes by, the more my mind wishes to oblige to that crazy request.

I pull out my phone, which gleams a bright '3:58 am'. It's almost time for the reset. In two minutes, I'll be magically transported back to my bed. I sigh. I can't take living the same hour again. The hour grips my sanity like it is a play toy. I waste another countless moment wondering where I went wrong.

『 pop! the world has reset.』

Well, I guess there's no place like home. I wonder if Mochi was worried the previous hour when she didn't find me in the bed. Do cats feel worry for their owners? Does Mochi care for me? What kind of a disgusting ship is this? Cringe, cringe, cringe. Shut up, Luna. I bury my nonsensical idea of my cat showing me love for once in the deep pits of my mind, and pretend I never thought of such blasphemy. I shift under my blankets, and decide to sleep through this hour, foolishly hoping that the reset would never take place if I was never awake, though I woke up when the clock reset each time earlier. My eyes look at the clock - 3:05 am.

That's when doorbell suddenly rang. I launch up in surprise. This didn't happen before. My heart begins to pound extremely hard, my head hazed in confusion. I run towards the door as quickly as possible stirring Mochi awake in the process, and fling it open.

It's Leo. And he's in tears.

His eyes are filled with fear, breath unsteady. Beads of sweat line his neck as he tries to get words out. Leo grips my hands tightly, as though he wants me to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. This hasn't happened in a very long time. He's gotten a much better hold on his anxiety in the past few years. I pull him into a hug and mutter words of comfort. His head is leaning on mine, and his breath slows. I tell him we'd be alright, and hum a calming tune. And we stay like that for the next five minutes.  

'Luna,', Leo whispers into the night. 'Would you believe me if I told you something crazy?'

'Like what?'

'Like a war against the clock.'

And that's when I knew. Tears start brimming in my eyes as I give out a sigh of relief. 'Like a time loop?', I say as I hug Leo a little tighter. This time I needed one to remind me I wasn't alone. He seems to catch on as well, a sob escapes from him as he melts in. We stay in each other's arms, in each other's comfort - a place where walls were deaf to all the shared secrets, a sanctuary with no limits.

Oh, what I'd do to protect it.

Leo pulls away, his eyes disappear and his lips form into a sheepish grin. His face is puffy from all the crying, but it glows in the soft moonlight. My eyes widen in surprise as he grabs my hand and drags me out the door. I manage to see the clock on the kitchen counter gleaming with a bright '3:15 am.' before blood rushed to my face upon meeting the cold air.

'Where are we going? Are yo- ah it's fucking cold out here!', I complain.

'Ice Cream.' Classic hungry Leo. This boy is a demon.

iii. the twilight hour.

'What's wrong with you?!', I huff as I bend down to catch my breath and hide myself under a tree. Leo, on the other hand, is breathing quite easy, a stupid grin plastered on his face (oh, how I want to punch him). His hands hold up a bag with three tubs of mint chocolate Ice Cream like they're the greatest creation of God. 'Did you really have to steal Ice Cream?! Are you five?', I say as I recall the incident that just took place, how Leo basically ran out the convenience store with the sweet goodies without paying and left me, his dear, penniless (and only) friend as the bait to a potential flat-earther of a cashier (long story, don't ask).

And now we're here, the park I was in the previous hour. There's not a single soul around. The only companion being the moon once again. His smile shines through like the sun, however.

'I'm rweally sowwy, delulu,', he retorts.

'My name is Luna, and no one can ever be as delusional as you, you dill hole.', I say, my ears red.

'Good now, I shalt promoteth thee to 'Deluna'. Thee has't been felicitat'd.'

I click my lips in annoyance. I know quite well that when the clock resets, all the stolen Ice Cream would be back in the freezer. But I try my best to maintain a straight face to show my discontent. That's right Luna, assert your fucking dominance. I notice that his hazel eyes shining with the mischief I'm used to once again. He's back to the loud, obnoxious and teasing Leo he's always been. Leo who's carefree, Leo who's horribly reckless, Leo who finds happiness in uncertainty. My Leo. My lips slowly curl into a smile, and I give in. He's happy, and that makes me happy too. Leo suddenly pulls out his phone.

'Look here, Partner in time.', he says cheekily.  I hear a click. My brows wring into discomfort and confusion.

'What? You look pretty in the moonlight.', he states without skipping a beat. There's a million tugs in my stomach, and blood rushes to my bronze skin. Butterflies soon turn into more sinister as I remember our conversation on the phone earlier. My face falls, if only this boy knew what he puts me through. First I'm not good enough, and now I'm pretty? Does he really throw around stuff like that without giving it a second thought? Does he not realize all that he's putting me through?

This is pointless. My feelings for him are pointless. The amount of time I waste on this is pointless. 'Our friendship is pointless.', I say. Regret follows immediately. Leo's face turns grim too; an unreadable expression plastered on his face. I suddenly remember something I jotted down my sociology textbook.

words left unspoken, my hearts screams, my head's in pain, we are in conflict.

Tears well up in my eyes again. This is a conflict, the most peaceful one at that. Terrifying. One that makes you curl into a ball and wish you never existed. One fueled by guilt, by insecurity, by ignorance. I remember the rest of the poem.

one of us was meant to get hurt, almost as though the heavens proclaimed it, on the day of creation. the celestial sky cried tears of gold, for it knew fate was cruel, but humans are crueler.

My hands are getting colder. My breath is hitching as my sobs get louder. Leo rushes towards me and tries to pull me into another hug. As much as I try to resist, he pulls me into his embrace. Fear devours my heart as I realize how I didn't feel at home anymore. I knew this sanctuary was going to break sooner or later. My heart is sick. It pains far too much as it beats in his embrace. Will it stop if I pull away? I try.

It does.

'Luna, what's wrong?!', Leo asks, truly afraid of what was happening.

'Us, Leo. Us.', I reply, voice barely a notch away from a whisper.

'What's wrong with us? We're Leo and Luna! You're the other half of thi-'

'Stop. Please.', I say firmly. My head feels too heavy, my heart too light. The moon shines down on me in its disgusting glory. I can't take it anymore. 'You're the reason I hate the moon, Leo. Because you are the sun. You only shine on me to mock me. To make me feel inferior.'  

'What're you talking abou-'

My tongue clicks loudly. 'You're so hypocritical!  You're an asshole who makes me feel like I'm the only one in the world, before throwing me out yourself. You make me feel insecure, Leo. I don't feel like I'm myself with you anymore.', I say, vitriol burning my throat. 'You disregard what I feel for you, because I'm the moon. You outcast me, because I'm the moon. You tie me down.

'You remind me of why I'll never shine on my own.'

I look at Leo. His hazel eyes turned dark, head down in shock. There's not a single drop of water in his eyes. He stands under the moonlight in silence. I can hear my heart palpitating.

'Why do you think the Sun shines, Luna?', he whispers. 'Is it to light the day, or to light the night?', he asks, a little louder this time. I open my mouth to answer.

'It's to light the night, Luna.', he interrupts. He knew I'd say neither. The sun shines for himself. He is selfish.

'The sun sheds it's light, because if it didn't, the moon would never-'

'That's exactly the prob-'

'get to see the world.' I stop midway in confusion. What is he saying?

'The sun shines because he wants the moon to see the world, Luna. He shines because if he didn't, the moon would be lonely. He makes sure to shed the perfect amount of light on her, so that she guides the traveler without scalding them, without making them blind.

'If he never shone, he'd have never have found his other half. The sun would have been just as lonely as the moon would have, Luna. The sun and moon are a pair, not because the moon can't shine on her own, but because they are lonely without each other.', Leo says.

And epiphany struck down like lightning. Leo needs me as much as I need him. He'd be just as lonely as I'd been without him. The moon's identity without the sun hadn't ever been her own. It was due to the sun's light she was herself. The sun made her the moon, and the moon made him the sun. They were inseparable, as destiny willed them to be, for they needed each other. For the sun to shine the brightest, and the moon to give comfort. But all that didn't answer why-

'Why did you say I wasn't enough for you?', I say, reminiscing that day in the park.   I remember picking out a bouquet of purple lilacs after studying a book about plant symbolism in the library. I spent hours trying to make myself look pretty. I spent a lot of time trying to make up my mind. And everything came crashing down.

'Because you deserve more!', Leo says in defeat, fingers brushing into his hair. 'Do you know how much of a loser I am? You deserve a hunk-a-ilicous person, are you really going to settle for a noodle?!', Leo says, gesturing to his lean figure. As sarcastic as his response seemed, he meant every word of what he said. That's just how Leo is.

'Leo, that's exactly how I've been feeling this whole time.' I pull Leo into a hug.  

Leo is no different than I've been my whole life. He's just as insecure and broken as I am, as I've always been. All my life, I'd seen him as a completely different person. We have different hobbies, we have different personalities. But we're still similar in ways that make us, well, us. It's just that our sanctuary needed to break to have it's walls built back stronger. I feel at home again.

'You're more of a sausage though. Alri-ALRIGHT lemme clear up, you're MY sausage okay? The best one in fact, I will use you in all my dishes.', Leo says as I pull out of his embrace and find a stone on the road to attack the disrespectful brat. Leo runs away and makes his way behind the usual Banyan tree at the edge of the park. 'That's literally the worst nickname ever!', I yell as I chase him.

'Mine own dearest sausage I begeth thee to reconsid'r!'

'TRY ME BITCH.'

'Hey, hey wait.', Leo holds down my hands and blocks my attack, and I'm left with no weapon except for the daggers in my eyes I choose to use against him. 'So, what are we now?', he asks.

'We're still Leo and Luna, dumb head.', I say after giving it a thought. Leo opens his mouth to refute, but soon decides against it. I assume he's content with the answer. We were friends, nothing could ever break that. Would we ever be something more? Who knows, maybe we would in the future when we love ourselves a little more, when we're comfortable with who we are, rather than who we're with.

Until then, we are Leo and Luna.

///////------

My eyes flutter open. I am leaning on the trunk of the Banyan tree next to Leo. I find myself in sleepy laughter as I look at his head lodged in between the roots of the tree. And suddenly, I see light in the distance. I immediately wake up from my position near the tree and walk to the edge of its canopy, heart beating in my stomach and look at the sky outside. The dark navy night melts into a light lilac, small streaks of tangerine bordering the the horizon. The birds are beginning to chirp in the trees, though the street lights are still on.

The time loop has stopped.

Meanwhile, Leo had stirred awake. He runs with his eyebrows up in surprise and squeezes the life out of me before his eyes turned dark in fear.

'WE HAVE SCHOOL.', he exclaims. I ignore him, and choose to stare into the sky. I look at the twilight hour. The sun and the moon were side by side, in harmony, like Leo told me. Tears escape my eyes in a sense of accomplishment. I could rest now. I give myself a small hug, and tell myself I'd worked hard. ('LUNA DO YOU REMEMBER THE HAMMURABI CODE.' 'That is not important right now!') The sun rises up, and salvages the few moments he has with the moon. I turn my head to the side and see that the moon looks serene, her light glow slowly fading as she decides to rest too.

But above all, I see that the moon is no longer lonely.

a/n: ahhhh yes if you’ve made it this far, i truly truly appreciate you for reading this, it means a lot to me. the past few days have been a little weird for me, and it took more than just motivation for me to get through writing this. again, thank you to all my beta readers, i really treasure all of you! i’d really love to get an ask about the short story, so if you enjoyed, make sure to send me one! i hope everyone’s staying safe! stay tuned with us because we have another surprise coming soon!

alatcg taglist:  @blue-hairbrush, @kaavijournals, @artbyeloquent, @47crayons, @writing-is-a-martial-art

general writing taglist: @shinesundark, @the-writing-avocado, @raenawrites​

@original-writing​

[tmntxreader-fics]

TMNT Leo x Reader: Warming Up To You

Summary: You had long dismissed the idea of becoming friends with the icy leader in blue as it seemed to be an impossible mission. Finally, both of your frustrations lead to an explosive encounter; providing you both the opportunity to warm up to each other.

Find Raph’s Version HERE!

A/N: I HAVEN’T WRITTEN IN A WHILE I’M SUPER RUSTY.  Yeehaw we got a LEO version of this fic!!! We stan a tsundere king. He’s almost got a predatory vibe to him and I’m not exactly sure where it came from but I think it’s kinda hot so here we go. 

WARNINGS: Cursing, Leo scaring the reader half to death during a sparring match, AND TYPOS!

You’d think that Raphael would be the unapproachable one. 

In fact, even Donatello had the potential to be unreachable when any one of his projects were involved. 

But the leader of the group? You’d have figured that at least he would be someone who had qualities relating to friendliness. The success of his role depends on being communicative; surely he would carry that trait off the battlefield?

You were so wrong. 

When you had first arrived you’d assumed his indifference to you was simply because of your unfamiliarity. You were, of course, a stranger. He had a duty to protect his family and you were obviously a threat to that; there was no way he’d give you the opportunity to ruin the life they had set up for themselves. 

However, as the months rolled by, he never came around. 

Each attempt to conversate was blown off with a polite exit or an awkwardly executed excuse to avoid talking. You were literally only asking about the weather, not attempting to uncover his family secrets. 

You watched the way he interacted with April and Casey, maybe he was simply a quiet person. Lo and behold, he had absolutely no issue speaking to them. He spoke, he joked, asked them to join him when eating and hung around them fairly often when not attending to his duties or training. 

Something in your chest stung with each rejection and you couldn’t help but become slightly bitter with the attitude he held towards you- simply because you knew it was you that he was avoiding. After a few days of digesting this new revelation, you decided that if you genuinely made him uncomfortable with your attempts of friendliness then you would step back completely and remain professional. 

Each time he asked you a question when mapping out a mission, you’d begun to clip your tone just as he had been. Each word was stiff and your sentences were minimal. While the others were a little confused by the change, Leo refused to pay you any attention. He probably appreciated the intangible distance you had put between you and him. 

The third time you’d done this, it was clear that he, in fact, was not appreciative. At the strange silence that stretched across the table, you looked up from the sheet beneath you to catch eye contact with Leo. His gaze was narrowed, the piercing blue was almost suffocating. Your heart leaped into your throat and you stood frozen in place when his bottom lip curled a little; a clear implication of frustration. He leaned back and opened his mouth as if he were preparing to say something or question you. 

Then he closed it. 

There was absolutely no logical reason for him to be irritated with you. You weren’t withholding information from him and you were effectively communicating your points. 

Raising an eyebrow, you rested a hand on your hips; daring him to make a comment. Instead, the leader grit his teeth, exhaling slowly before returning his gaze to the strategy splayed across the table. There’s a long silence before he continued to talk- but at that point, your heart was beating too loud for you to focus on his words. 

Raphael glanced between his brother and yourself, a picture of bewilderment. You ignored him. 

Just as you had ignored Leo for the entirety of the following week. 

Well, perhaps ignore is the incorrect term; rather, you were indifferent to his presence. 

Each time you were alone in the kitchen together, you made no effort to spark a conversation with him. Instead, you’d nod your acknowledgment before making a swift exit- just as he had done to you countless times. 

What had piqued your curiosity was the fact that all of a sudden, the number of times you’d been caught in a situation alone with Leo has risen significantly. He had begun to appear in places that you’d otherwise never see him, at times that were completely off from his usual schedule. 

The most drastic example would be today’s training session. You had swaggered into the room, ready to provoke Raph until he snapped and kicked your ass. It had become a sort of unorthodox tradition, one that left you sore but you’d look forward to it nonetheless. It was the only time for you to really test your skills without him worrying too much about being careful with you. 

However, this particular session made you halt your steps, suspended in motion within the doorway. 

Leonardo was there. 

You blinked. 

He’s still there. Brandishing his katanas with lethal grace and performing his kata’s flawlessly. Raphael was nowhere to be seen and you’re just about to turn tail and escape before you make eye contact with the turtle in the center of the room. His gaze was intense and the air felt different, as if it were alight with a thick tension. 

Leonardo didn’t avert his stare like he usually did; instead, he lowered his arms to his side and straightened his stance. You gulped and your brain worked to churn out an excuse to leave, the last thing you wanted was to have the leader judge your training routine. 

“I’ll just come back later then,” you blurted, shattering the silence with a small wince. To your surprise, he had shaken his head almost immediately. 

“No,” he began, eyeing you carefully. “I’ll stay to my side of the room while you train.” 

Your breath hitched and it felt as though someone had stuffed cotton into your mouth. “Uh,” you desperately searched for another excuse, “I usually spar with Raph. I’ll just come back another time.” 

You thought you had him, there’s no way he could come up with a rebuttal unless he planned to bring in Raphael. However, when his reply was almost instantaneous, your heart thrashed in your chest. 

“Spar with me.” 

You blinked at him. “What?”

He spun a sword in his hand before moving to rest his weapons against the wall. Leonardo turned back to you with a raised eyebrow ridge. “Spar. With. Me.” 

“I can’t,” you heard yourself say, your voice almost a whisper as you took an involuntary step back. Your heart pounded beneath your rib cage at the mere thought of training with the blue-clad turtle. 

“Sure you can,” he said with a slight shrug, slowly advancing towards you. Each step he took made you want to flinch away. 

Raphael was an intensely brutish opponent but his techniques were very straight forward. Everything about him was bared for you to see, unashamed in his temperamental disposition and foul language. Leonardo was a completely different story, the idea of being put against him in a sparring session genuinely terrified you. 

Especially with the new demeanor he had obtained, one that was almost predatory in nature. He was frustrated and you could clearly sense it. 

“It’s fine I’ll just wait for Raph,” your voice was a breathy whisper as he came to a stop only a couple feet before you. That was the closest he had ever been to you voluntarily, usually opting to steer clear of you as if you were the plague. 

His eyes flashed an electric blue, crackling with an energy that you had never seen from him previously. He reached for the bag in your hand, maintaining eye contact as he gripped it tightly, skin brushing against yours. “I insist.” 

You swallowed heavily when you realized he was no longer asking you.

After nodding quickly, you're finally able to catch your breath when he leaned back with your gym bag in his hold. 

Following him further into the room, he placed down your things and met you in the center. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, simply taking to observing you. 

“How do you want to do this?” You questioned, nervousness rattling around your stomach as he rolls his shoulders lightly. 

“Win by submission.”

The simple statement had you grimacing.  

"I really don't think this is a good idea," you muttered, casting your gaze to the floor.

"Then stop thinking," he said, supplying a solution you would never enact. You rolled your eyes, glancing at him with a bemused expression.

"For someone who's meant to be wise, you're not exactly adept at giving good advice," you snarked, fuelled by the growing stress and pressure of your current situation. You were in uncharted waters with your new opponent; someone you had spent so long playing against with an unrecognized advantage on your side. Now that he had finally given you what you wanted, you realized that maybe gaining his attention wasn't as satisfying as you'd originally thought. More like terrifying.

His eyes hardened at your words and you immediately knew you had made a mistake by jabbing at his position. "Get into your stance," he ordered with a narrowed gaze, "now."

"I really don't-" you began, heart thrashing with panic when he cut you off.

"Now," he repeated.

Hesitantly, you shifted your feet into the correct position, raising your shaking hands to guard your face. You felt as though you were going to be sick when he bowed, a sign that the sparring session had begun.

He returned his gaze to meet yours as he straightened up and you could hear the blood rushing through your ears. Yes, you thought, puking could definitely be an option here. Your bottom lip quivered on par with your trembling hands guarding your face.

This was not right. 

You had sparred with Raphael, of all people, multiple times. You never feared an ass whooping from the temperamental turtle; so, why are you afraid of the leader? Someone who has constantly exercised restraint where his brothers would usually indulge? Out of all of them, he would be the least likely to hurt you. Hell, Raphael had fractured bones every now and then.  

The leader launched forward, breaking you from your chain of thought as you sloppily dodged a reaching fist. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You stumbled backward, forced to be on the defense. There was no time to even attempt an offense with the speed that Leonardo was operating at. He was a flurry of kicks and well-placed punches and you knew that you were immediately being overwhelmed. 

“Leonardo,” you rasped desperately, squeaking when he answered only with a sweeping leg in which you barely escaped. The intensity of this fight was way too high for a spar that had only begun 20 seconds ago. 

“Just hold on!” You cried out after a failed attempt to throw your own punch. Another right jab on your behalf had only resulted in you almost being snatched up by the blue-clad whirlwind. 

Each attack that he executed had built in the force behind it, forcing you back with each blow. You were quickly realizing that physically blocking his moves was not going to work out well for you and you opted to jump out of the way instead. 

All of a sudden you felt like this was less of a sparring match and more of a slaughter-to-be. 

“Press pause!” Your screech was reinforced by sheer panic when he feigned right and you fell right into his trap as you twisted your body away from him. Leo moved with you and you squeaked when he finally caught a tight grip on your arm. 

In that split-moment, your eyes met his, an electric blue that made your wildly racing heart just stop. His hooded gaze was steely and the pent up frustration was thinly veiled, boiling beneath his skin and communicated through his movements. 

You suddenly realized that this fight was about to end very, very quickly. 

With a flash of his teeth, Leonardo wrenched you towards him. 

You can’t breathe as your splayed palms connect with his chest, your body pressed against his. His hands moved down to your waist and you want to puke when you instantly realize he’s about to launch a very painful maneuver on you. 

It felt as though everything was suddenly in slow motion as his fingers tightened above your hips, bringing you off the ground. You had no idea how to stop him, how to save yourself from what was about to occur. Racking your brain, you screamed the only words that came to mind and prayed that they would work. 

“I submit!” 

Leo’s entire body froze as if someone had pressed the pause button on his remote controller. You could hear the blood rushing through your ears, mingled with his unusually labored breathing. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Your words were nothing but a breathless whimper and you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to stop your body from trembling. “I submit.” 

There’s a pregnant pause, in which neither of you moved. You were vaguely aware of your face buried in his chest, latching onto his shell as if that would’ve stopped the further attacks. The feel of his body rhythmically rising and falling beneath you with each breath felt strange, you would have almost described it as intimate if it weren’t for the current situation. You only noticed that you were suspended a few inches off the ground when Leo, ever so gently, lowered you back down. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated quietly, heart pounding in your chest. “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

And it was out. 

Leo’s fingers tightened fractionally on your waist and you heard him take a sharp breath. 

Then he sighed. 

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he murmured, his voice rumbling in his chest against your ear. 

You don’t know why but for some reason you weren’t actually expecting a response from him. You’d almost expected him to disappear in a puff of smoke, something he had done many times in your presence when you confronted him with conversations. 

“I tried to keep a respectful distance,” Leo began, faltering slightly in his words. You held your breath. “I didn’t mean for it to become like this.” 

You assumed that “this” meant growing bitter and resentful towards each other for absolutely no logical reason with no visible end. 

“Respectful?” You couldn’t help but scoff softly, pulling your face away from his shell. You turned your gaze upwards to meet his, startled by the close proximity. “You gave me the complete cold shoulder. Ostracized me.” 

Leo’s gaze narrowed slightly, electric blue gaze searching your own for an answer to a question only he knew. “You certainly weren’t innocent, either.” 

You felt the heat rush to your face, indignation building in your chest as you hissed, “don’t make me say “you started it”. Don’t make me do it.” 

He sighed through his nose and glanced away for a brief moment before turning back to you, “I know, I’m sorry. I was avoiding distraction by avoiding you and it was the wrong choice to make.” 

You frowned lightly, “distraction?” You scoffed as you glared up at him with guarded eyes, “You’re fine with April O’Neil but I’m the distraction?” 

You watched as his jaw moved while he grit his teeth. That electric gaze flickered away from you, suddenly seeming insecure. “You’re different,” he muttered finally, voice softer than you had ever heard it. 

Suddenly you’re very aware of his gentle but firm grip on your waist, his thumb subconsciously rubbing lightly against your skin. His hands were hot, setting alight every place that they touched. 

It seemed you were not the only one suddenly aware of your compromising position. 

Leo was observing you intently, lips parting when his gaze traveled to where your hands rested against his shell. You couldn’t bring yourself to correct your position even when under his study. 

“Let’s start over,” you whispered, watching him snap his attention back to you at the words. 

There’s silence between you both until Leo swallowed thickly, exhaling a shaky breath. Extending an olive branch would be your final attempt, your last hurrah. The air was charged with energy you couldn’t decipher as you leaned into him, meeting his bewildered stare imploringly. He doesn’t budge other than the grip on your body tightening a fraction. 

You’re almost prepared for rejection until you catch the corner of his mouth shifting upward ever so slightly. 

“I’m Leonardo,” he said, and your hearth thrashed in your chest as a charming smile stretched against his full lips. “It’s really nice to meet you.” 

[tuwam]

@urianius

it’s almost full circle. it could be something of a sign, but daniel tries not to think about it. he’s finally back in town, they have a show to do, one that’s coincidentally not that far from their university and coincidentally around the same time he’s getting a text message from ahyeon’s little business major friend that she’s back in town. he’d received such a massive level of support over their tag along tour, thanks to connections daniel’s starting making while busking and winning small city festivals. they’d managed to be the opening band for a bigger, more established band’s tour and now they’re completing the leg in their neck of the woods.

he doesn’t feel different, not immediately. 

he hasn’t been on campus in ages, and between sharing the smallest of tour buses with his band members and learning and growing, he's almost surprised to be returning here. all the tour did was solidify what he wants to do and help him work harder so that his parents can trust in him. that meant - longer nights after a gig studying and finishing assignments while he was away. it meant, getting approval to do his classes away and giving his teachers a reason to endorse the special case rather than dropping out altogether. 

to put it short daniel hauled ass during the tour with a few reminders in the small cramped bunk of the tour bus to keep him going. pictures of him and hanna right before he took off for the tour, with her and the band and her first clearance to leave the hospital bed in a while. her appearance is perhaps what triggered the change between him and his bandmates, with a few remarks about how they either had never met his sister or didn’t know he had one. maybe it’s the idea that this tour could very set their careers off and they wanted to make sure they were all solid with each other, or maybe it was just the close quarters that did it, but he became closer to them along the way. 

daniel knows he’s very much a face for the band, though he didn’t start it he doesn’t pretend to not notice his contribution to their sound and their growth. he notices it in an easy way, like more and more fans, people yelling his name or searching for him after a stage but that’s all. he doesn’t speak of it, or bring it up during their many meetings and practices, the only thing he covets is his ability to carry a guitar solo and the way he can carry a note. the way he saw it, being cocky was one way to kick him off and make him start over, and being to himself was just an easy way to get along without getting along.

he became more aware of his status in the band during the tour. 

there’s their leader and the keyboardist, responsible for a lot of the melodies that can actually accompany daniel’s playing. taehoon, a fresh graduate and finally taking his career to the next level with full support from his parents. a nice guy and an even more understanding leader. he’s the one responsible for pushing daniel’s place in the band after watching him at the audition. where they’d started as casual band mates, taehoon checking in on him and sending reminders, became lots of jokes and taehoon wrangling daniel under his armpit the way an older brother would when he would get in his moods. 

there’s - yeonjun, who daniel always gives a side eye though he doesn’t mean to. he’s much younger, as in his sister’s age and the very reason he’d seen his sister at one of their gigs without his permission. he’s a good kid, a bit of a spitfire on the drums but it’s the right energy for them, with a mix of older souls to mellow him and though daniel always tells him to stop trying to hang out with hanna, yeonjun’s energy is the perfect mix for the energy he falls into when he’s really feeling a song. what started as simple glances and understanding during a song, turned to daniel playing right next to the drum set, the two of them banging out until headaches accompanied them after shows. it turned into daniel damn near chasing him after a show finding out he was facetiming his sister - his sister! 

then there’s minhyuk, daniel’s acquaintance turned partner in crime. the main reason he’d established an interest in the band and an old classmate finally turned friend. the one who would always invite them out, the one who’d seen daniel’s show and first asked to come try out for the band and convinced the others to give him a shot. minhyuk who is the same age as him and made an effort to stay up late writing and feeling out beats or rhythms that wouldn’t get out daniel’s head. minhyuk who became both a pain in his side and a closer friend than he could imagine during the tour. minhyuk who would pick up his guitar cues from across the stage without a word and would just as fast pick up a melody line on his goddamn bass guitar so daniel could catch his breath.

slowly but surely, these men have made  away into his life from this one tour faster than the time daniel’s been playing for the band. now he’s sure he’s playing with them. it’s that friendship that’s helped him get through the length and the grit of their first tour. 

then there’s ahyeon.

and ahyeon - is damn sure a reason he’s pushing through the tour. it’s a reason for him opening up as well. despite all the messages from his sister, despite all the urges from minhyuk in the beginning. it’s ahyeon’s brief messages, her worry, her curiosity, her investment in things that he doesn’t really think about despite how short their time talking is. it’s maybe a message or two a day, or every few days, but it’s enough.

‘how are you and the guys?’ ‘did you sleep?’ ‘did you eat?’ ‘is everything going well?’

he’s graduated from snide comments and fitted her curiosity into something that carries care and genuine interest. it’s helped him grow, and it’s helped him write, and it’s made him want something to show for when he sees her back. no he didn’t think it’d be as fast as it was, the first show in their city in so long and their last show of the tour but here they are. 

here he is, not even knowing for sure if she’ll show up. here he is, not having a word for what they are and still finding himself going through outfits for the first time in months. there’s minhyuk teasing him that he’s getting dolled up, there’s taehoon smiling like a dad and there’s yeonjun getting a water bottle thrown to his head for every smart comment he makes about finally meeting his ‘muse’. they’re annoying but - they’re not wrong.

he’s thought about this, what he might say, what he could say after all the time and all it’s made him think about. he’d be lying if he didn’t say a good bit of their newer, gentler songs were inspired by her. they’ve still got the usual, the gut wrenching feelings for growing up, growing old or growing in general. they’ve got plenty reasons to sing about sleepless nights and uncertain dreams but somewhere in between them are peeks of light that ahyeon’s spread through his notebooks. the boys have been more than happy to indulge him in that aspect by accepting the new songs or the change in lyrics. briefly, for cities that might make him miss her more than usual, and especially for today.

as always, daniel’s never good at saying - just good at writing and letting it speak for itself on stage. and that’s what taehoon reminds him when he’s pacing backstage and he doesn’t even know it. there are nerves, because he’s peeked out and damn he’s never allowed himself to really just sit and think about how pretty she is. but she is, she’s pretty and of course she is, she’s someone to make songs of, and he has. and he’s going to sing one of them today. for her. in front of her. 

it feels more raw than he’s used to. there’s a fear in that. but there’s more fear in never getting to do this. fear in not knowing where they might go after this, what her plans are or what their future brings the band and where it takes them. there’s his sister too, there’s ahyeon’s thorn in his side friend, someone he’s also spent more time conversing with during her absence.

and it’d been a long absence.

and he’d felt it even more when he’d seen her out there, looking, waiting. he’s sure if it weren’t for the growth during the tour he wouldn’t have the confidence to do this. he’s also sure he never thought he’d be so cliche, dedicating a song to a girl that’s had his heart in twists and longing since she’d left. but here he is.

and there she is.

and there’s no time as the present.

getting it out isn’t hard. once daniel steps on a stage it’s always easy - so easy to let the rest go and focus on the task. delivering and making people feel, understand, hear and listen, really listen. it’s easier when he knows now he’s not alone in doing so. the stage feels lighter, and he doesn’t feel burdened even with the nature of some of the lyrics they sing. singing the song he’d written about her, he didn’t know his eyes had been closed, hand wrapped around the microphone until minhyuk had left the guitar line empty and he’d looked over upon hearing the change.

he got a smile and cant of his friend’s head towards the audience. so daniel sang this time, eyes open, eyes on her and loud and clear hoping to convey something - anything.

as always that’s the easy part. letting go on stage is easy, confronting everything you say, or feel when you’re off, when the adrenaline’s died - is the hard part.

he supposes that’s why he has friends now. because ahyeon’s already meeting them, and he doesn’t have time to yank his sister away from yeonjun because he’s face to face with her, throat dry suddenly despite all the water they’ve had from their set. there are still bands playing, the festival isn’t over and yet he can’t hear anything. he can’t really see her though he does catch the shit-eating grin kihyun is giving him from the side.

“you’re here.”

damn his throat is really dry. 

‘of course she’s here she wouldn’t shut up about this show - next time invite her the night before so I can get some peace of mind. kihyun what do i wear, kihyun what do i say, kihyun what do i do?’ daniel doesn’t miss the glare ahyeon sends him but the younger is grinning, unbothered and he suddenly know the feeling they share very well. especially because from the corner pipes minhyuk, an arm thrown around daniel to avoid any fist thrown his way as he says:

‘danny boy was the same. what do i wear, what do i say to her, do you think she’ll like the song, is the song too much, do you think she’ll know it was about her? should i say it’s about her?’ daniel damn near puts him in a chokehold with the bottle under his neck. amidst the chaos of the two of them, his sister laughing as yeonjun talks to her, taehoon takes the opportunity to step towards ahyeon, full confidence and hand out. 

‘he kept going on and on about some girl that was important coming so i’m guessing you’re her. nice to meet you.’ and says shit like that.

daniel slowly wishes the stage would’ve eaten him alive. minhyuk’s escaping his grip, ahyeon shaking taehoon’s hands with a look he can’t quite read on her face. 

‘great let’s leave them just like this, ahyeon if you don’t say what you need to i’ll make sure your roommate locks you out the room unless daniel is walking you home holding hands like ugly college couples.’ kihyun is stepping away and out of the range of ahyeon’s smack with those final words and on his way towards yeonjun who is asking if he’s brought drinks for them to celebrate their return to which daniel is screaming that he make sure hanna gets home first. that leads to hanna turning at the speed of light to scream at him ( with yeonjun’s arm around her mind you ):

‘i’m fine! talk to your girlfriend!’ even his own sister is against him.

they finally give the two space.

the music is loud and unrecognizable, the sound of his heart is too loud to comprehend if it’s still in his chest. or if he’d thrown it all out on that stage. or if he damn near handed it to her personally. ahyeon’s face is red to her ears, and daniel wants to look away, feels like he’s seeing too many emotions in her eyes, things that aren’t for him, things he’s not used to. but he can’t, he doesn’t want to.

“sorry - about them....they’re alot.” ‘kihyun’s a lot - it’s fine - they’re nice.’ “yeah. did you - enjoy the show?” ‘yeah - the last song you wrote it?’

he clears his throat. 

“yeah....did you like it?” ‘it was about me?’

there are many now or never moments, and despite the empty threats and the teasing it’s still up to him at the end of the day. it’s up to him to decide to follow through with all the thoughts and the longing so deep it could only bleed on paper for months. she’s right in front of him and he’s tripping over words like an idiot. but - maybe that’s the point. maybe that’s good. maybe it’s because she’s making him trip over words despite writing them so easily and performing them so confidently.

“yeah, it was about you. i missed you.” ‘so you wrote songs about me?’ “how else was I getting you out my head?” ‘you - you were thinking about me?’

daniel almost laughs.

“every other damn day.” and that - that’s pretty raw. that’s almost as raw as it can get. he feels it too, like a bandaid ripped off, like the air on him is still stinging, waiting for pain or relief in a sigh. he’s not sure what’s coming but he looks at her, asks almost nervously, almost as if he’s afraid and he’s dreamt up whatever has been between them for months. 

“did - did you?”

ahyeon’s smile is something shy, something new.

‘yeah, a lot.’

and it’s so so worth it. 

[connorspiracy]

Seance In The Library || Connor & Leah

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Public Library PARTIES: @connorspiracy & @phoenixleah  SUMMARY: With the time for the second exorcism of Nadia/Cordelia looming closer, Connor goes looking for knowledge. Leah is happy to assist. 

Blanche had been fucking stabbed and Cordelia was still out there, and that knowledge filled Connor with even more extreme sense of urgency. Nadia had been practicing her possessions, so it was almost time to put things into practice. He knew he’d have another exorcist for help, but he still wanted to do his research. There had been so much going on recently; Bloody Mary, Adam’s full moon mania, Jasmine’s Larry Bob problem, that it was tough to keep up. It was his fault for not getting it right the first time. Blanche could have died, all because he’d messed up. Nadia was still floating around in ghost form somewhere, and that spiteful little poltergeist was taunting them on Nadia’s social media. They’d dug through every fucking book in Rio’s library and he still hadn’t found anything that would help with Cordelia. It was time to branch out. That was what brought Connor to the definitely-regular library, wandering around the occult section, probably looking like a right weirdo. It had probably been a good few minutes before he caught the eye of someone who looked like an employee. “Oh, hey,” he said, putting on his best charming smile, doing everything he could not to look like an out-of-place dodgy creep. “‘Scuse me, love,” he said, not to be demeaning, but just because it was how posh London boys spoke. “Do you have anything on exorcisms, or possession and stuff?” 

More often than not, when someone was wandering around the so-called ‘fiction’ occult section in White Crest Library, Leah found that they were looking for help with real, and often very urgent problems.  It was easy to tell apart those who had an obsession with all things weird and were looking for a good read,  and those who actually needed information, whether it was by body language, facial expression, or even something more subtle that she couldn’t put her finger on.  She was glad the library was there to help.  The problem was, it was usually hard for the average person to decipher between what was actually fiction in that section, and what was written by real, legitimate authors that could offer invaluable information.  It was for this reason that she usually hung just beyond the section whenever someone made their way there, ready and willing to offer help if ever the situation arose.  She smiled at the patron politely, a bit taken aback but intrigued by his accent.  

She licked her lips at his question, looking at the shelves they were both standing in front of.  “Oh, we have a ton on all of that”, she said, raising her eyebrows.  More than the average library, certainly.  “Some would say we have too much on that subject”, she teased, pulling out one of the books in front of them, scoffing at the pictures on the cover.  “These here are all pretty poorly written”, she commented, handing him the book in question.  “But if any of that stuff were real, and well, of course it’s not… But if it were, you’d probably find the more legitimate works over this way”, she said, leading him toward the shelves a bit to their right.  “Are you planning on possessing someone?  Or just getting into the nitty-gritty of our weird town and looking to read about the occult?”

Connor had a pretty good instinct for people, and he could tell upon meeting the young woman (Leah, according to her name tag) that she was keen to help. There was a certain brightness about her, a glimmer in her eye that spoke of curiosity and kindness. He felt himself smiling almost without meaning to. "A ton?" he repeated, chuckling. "Well, a ton is what I'm looking for." He couldn't help but smirk a little at her real-but-not-real description of this particular section, following her to what she called the more legitimate section. "Oh, it's definitely real. You know exactly what I'm looking for. Thank you." There was really no use in holding up pretenses when he was all over the internet. 

"Me? No, no, I'm not the possessor. I'm an exorcist. I'm looking for something a bit different, you see. Something that's probably a bit... weirder? It's less taking the wrong soul out of the body and more putting the right one back in. Does that make sense?" He realised how that sounded, holding up his hands and shaking his head. "Um, not necromancy. Shit. Jesus. No, there are no dead bodies involved, fortunately. Definitely possession. But more... if the exorcism yeeted the wrong person, and you have to put it back." 

This man definitely knew about the realities of White Crest, based on his reaction, but Leah wasn’t one to reveal her knowledge of them as well, especially not to a patron and a stranger.  He didn’t have to play along with her game of ignorance, but Leah fully intended on upholding it as long as realistically possible.  For now, she brushed off his words about her protest of reality.  Her eyes widened, not used to someone being so open about necromancy, of all things.  She was about to ask if he was trying to reanimate a corpse, when his elaboration made it clear that wasn’t exactly what he was talking about.  She laughed, surprised that he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.“Okay, not so simple, then”, she said, letting out a breath and trying to think.  “Is there a wrong soul inhabiting the body right now, though?  Because I think, if this were real, you’d still need a way to get that one out, no?” She worked while she talked, pulling books out of the shelves here and there as she got more ideas of what might help.  “What if you found a way to help the right soul back into their body by… teaching them how to possess?  If they were possessed in the first place, why not do to the wrong soul what was done to them?”

It struck Connor that perhaps he shouldn't have been so honest about Nadia's predicament, but how else was he going to get the help he needed? It wasn't like he was naming names. He made it a habit to almost never be dishonest about the supernatural, whether people wanted to know or not. "Not simple, no." He perused the shelves, flicking through the first book, page by page. "Wrong soul out, wrong one in. I was supposed to expel the other. I'm not sure what happened." The corners of his lips curved into a grin when she mentioned teaching Nadia how to possess. "You're not the first person that's had that thought. We're working on it. Just thought our lost soul could use all the help they can get." 

Leah let out a breath, watching the man carefully.  “I’m with you on that, the more preparedness you can get for a situation like this, the better.”  She placed the books she’d been piling on the table nearby with a thud, her face turning serious. “Are they a friend of yours, then?”  She’d read in the scribe journals about a similar situation many times- souls inhabiting bodies that weren’t their own, loved ones desperate to get the right soul back to where it belonged, but it wasn’t always easy- nor was it always successful.  “I’m sure you’re aware that what you’re trying to do is very dangerous”, she said, dropping the pretense she knew the man didn’t need for only a moment.  “I have some… loose information on the subject in the basement that might offer extra guidance, if you’re willing to wait for me to make some copies.” 

“The floating, bodiless spirit? I dunno if I’d call them a friend. Lots of people I know are friends with them though. I wanted to help.” He was probably sharing far too much information, but Connor rarely ever saw the need to lie. Either people accepted his words or didn’t, but he rarely sugar-coated them. “Dangerous, ha, yeah. You could say that.” The spirit trapped in Nadia’s body was a murderer. She was a poltergeist. Those factors alone were dangerous enough without adding exorcisms to the mix. “Oh, you have a basement?” Where they kept the good stuff, no doubt. He made a mental note of it. “That’d be sound. I can come and help, if you want?” 

“A friend of friends, then”, she said with a smile and a nod.  Leah could understand the sentiment of wanting to help someone, even if she hardly knew them.  She supposed that was why she enjoyed the job she had so much.  “Have you done this sort of double reverse exorcism before?”, she asked, curious.  The dude clearly knew what he was talking about, but something like this was almost unprecedented.  If something similar had happened in White Crest recently, she hadn’t heard about it.    Her expression turned serious when he asked about the basement, and she hoped he didn’t notice the way her body stiffened.  “A small, sparse basement, yes, to hold lose works that wouldn’t fit in any sections up here.  It’s off limits unless you’re a certified employee”, she explained shortly. “I’m sure you understand.  We all have protocols we need to follow.” 

"Yeah, friend of a friend." And those friends (especially that angry Kaden guy) would probably kick Connor’s ass if he didn't fix this. He tried to let his genuine interest in the conversation with the young woman overtake his fear of what would happen if this went wrong again. "I haven't. It's pretty exciting. If you ignore the potentially horrifying consequences of it going wrong," he said with a vague chuckle. "You don't seem to be acting like I'm fucking bonkers, by the way. I appreciate that. It's refreshing. White Crest Lifer?" Not that living here meant you had to believe in the truth about the town. He’d met far too many who would rather bury their head in the sand and not think about what they might get bitten by. Literally. 

Leah leaned against a wall as the man spoke, now fully fascinated at the prospect of what he was trying to do.  If it meant saving someone’s life and letting someone else’s soul pass on, she wanted to be as helpful as she could. “But you can’t not try”, she said, understanding.  “Not trying feels worse, somehow, than trying and failing.”  At his next words, she glanced around them, making sure to confirm that no one was in earshot of their conversation.  As a scribe, it felt like a betrayal to open up to a stranger about her awareness of the supernatural so willingly, but as a phoenix, it felt kind of invigorating. Her expression was soft as she answered.  “Sometimes it’s nice not to have to hold up appearances”, she said.  “I’ve lived here my whole life, and believe it or not, the library is where a lot of people turn to get help with this sort of thing.”  She looked at the book she’d laid out for him, knowing they wouldn’t be enough.  “How about I go get those copies for you, hmm?  I’d like to think they’ll be really useful.”  Without a second glance, she flashed him another smile.  As she quickened her pace toward the basement, she held the key in her hand firmly, ready for the familiar motion of unlocking the door that held so many of White Crests secrets underneath.

“Exactly,” Connor said, a little more serious than he’d been moments before. The happy-go-lucky casual conversation vibe could only stay at the forefront for so long. “I had to try the first time, even though it went wrong and my friend was upset with me for buggering it up. Now I feel even more motivated to make sure I get it right.” Connor returned Leah’s smile, grateful for her help. “I never keep up any appearances, ever,” he chuckled. “I literally have a whole YouTube channel talking about ghosts and exorcisms and stuff, so secrecy isn’t really my strength, but…” He looked at her with a small, sincere nod. “I really appreciate this, okay? I really think we’re gonna get it right this time.” He didn’t have a choice. Not succeeding was unthinkable. He wouldn’t fail Nadia again.

[corpse--diem]

Dirty Outs | Luce & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @divineluce​ & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Erin bumps into Luce at Stacked Deck looking for information. Unfortunately, nobody wins.

Erin found out very quickly there was only so much couch wallowing that could be done at a time like this. It was unproductive. Didn’t soothe her mind or make her arm feel better, either. And from the moment she stepped foot inside, the Stacked Deck seemed exactly like the kind of place Felix would haunt. He was the one that had given her the tip-off, after all. Cigar smoke lingered in the air and an icy chill filled her chest. Her mind flashed back to the fire. To Roy. To the gray smoke curling around his fingers as those black eyes found hers. She shoved the fear down, put it somewhere it could be useful for now. She started to move casually through the small seedy bar and ordered a whiskey, neat. Her eyes flickered up from her drink, back down, then up again. The double-take only verified just how familiar that face she’d just landed on was. “Luce?” she blurted out.

Luce glanced over the rim of her glass, staring down the man who sat across the poker table from her. She knew her hand, knew what she’d been dealt. And, she had a decent idea of what he had. His tells were shit. He got twitchy, fiddly. He messed around with the zipper of his shitty hoodie when his cards were bad, rubbed the back of his neck when his cards were good in an attempt to make them seem like they weren’t. He was real fucking shit. As the man threw in a couple of 20 dollar chips, Luce cast him a level gaze before pushing her sizeable stack of chips in. All in. As the dealer signalled to the man, asking if he wanted to continue, he threw his cards away in disgust. With a grin, Luce tossed her cards-- a complete garbage hand-- and cashed out with her winnings in a handful of $100 chips. She’d gotten at least $750 from the table, possibly more. Getting up from the table, she turned to the bar, but froze. Shit. First Morgan, now Erin? Just another person she didn’t want to fucking deal with. Squaring her shoulders, Luce made her way to the bar. “Erin.” She replied before gesturing to the bartender, “Whiskey on the rocks. Put it on his tab.” She said, jerking her thumb over to the bald pit boss who’d spent most of the night hiding from her.

Erin tried to reign in some of the shock in her eyes but she could tell from Luce’s expression that she’d already obliterated that poker face. Great. She worked her jaw, shifting in her seat a bit. “Wouldn’t have pictured you as the gambling type,” she said with a curt smile, remembering how well their last conversation had gone. Not well. Pretty poorly, one could even say. “The Vural sisters are full of surprises though, aren’t you?” A wider smile crossed her lips this time, more genuine than before. She took a sip of the whiskey, a longer one than she’d usually go for, but she had a feeling she’d need it. Her eyes scanned the crowd briefly, not only to look for any familiar faces but to see if any eyes were burning holes into her back just yet. Didn’t seem like anyone recognized her, which was a good start. “So, uh… what’s your game?” she asked, turning back to Luce quickly, then to the pit boss she’d gestured to. “Does that mean you’re kicking ass?”

Rolling her eyes at the woman’s attempt at small talk, Luce accepted the drink from the bartender with a nod and lifted it to her lips. “Shows how little you know about us.” She replied. Both she and Bea had been born in Vegas, the family tradition every holiday had been to play some kind of table game, where their mother and father taught them how to count cards, how to hide their tells, how to turn the odds in their favor. The memory was bitter and she took a long drink from her glass. “I’m decent at any of them.” Not as good as Bea, though, the thought came to her and she grinned wryly to suppress that particular train of thought. “And it means that I’ve got an unwilling friend here. I can clean this place out and he can’t get mad at me for it.” She said before casting a sidelong look at Erin. “Why are you here? You going to try and blow this place up too?”

Erin raised a brow. “You’ve got me there,” she answered. It felt like one by one, the Vurals had barged their way into her life. Nell, especially, and quite literally. They’d blown in and out of each other’s lives since she’d met Nell way back at the beginning of the year. Felt like a lifetime ago at this point. “Good for you,” she smiled coyly at her. If she was good at it and could make some money, what was the harm? But she couldn’t help the eye roll that came when she turned back to Luce. Yep. There it was. “No,” she grumbled, before taking another slow sip of her drink. Straightened her back as she glanced around them, waiting for the bartender to move to the opposite side of the bar. “Trust me, trouble’s the last thing I want right now. I’m just here for information,” she said quietly as she swirled the whiskey around in her glass. “Feel free to just--do your thing and continue to ignore me. Won’t be offended.” It’d probably make her job a little easier at this point, honestly.

Luce stared at the ice floating around in her glass, watched it spin in the amber liquid. She poked her finger at the ice cube, stirring it for a moment before taking another sip from the glass. “Yep. Good for me.” She said, the chips in her rubbing together. She’d made a decent chunk of money and she really couldn’t afford to lose at the tables. It was in her best interest to leave while the going was good. But, she couldn’t help her… interest was the wrong word. Curiosity? Yeah, curiosity. Erin had been on a warpath, literally. And like any war, there were innocent civilians caught in the crossfire. Donuts. She’d only talked to the man once, when he’d caught her out in the middle of a thunderstorm, but she hadn’t had a problem with him. Another person gone too soon in this bitch of a town. “Information, huh? And you think you can get that here?” She said, gesturing to the Stacked Deck’s patrons. “I don’t know if you realized this, but the people here don’t just go around running their mouth.”

Erin felt the burn of eyes from her seat when the door to the Stacked Deck opened again. She didn’t look immediately, concentrating instead on Luce’s question. “A friend of mine is a regular here. Most of these guys are harmless but there’s a few to watch out for,” she said with a nod, taking another small sip of her drink. Lowered her voice even more as she turned to face Luce more squarely. “There’s something I need and someone here knows where it is. Hopefully I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” she smiled, lips tight against her teeth. Her eyes drifted to the man walking past them at the bar, settling into a table not far from them at all. There was a smile on his face that could easily have passed for a sneer and it was hard to tell if it was just general male-creepiness or criminal-creepiness oozing from every inch of him. She crinkled her nose, glancing back to Luce. “He a friend of yours?”

“Uh huh.” Luce said with an unimpressed nod. A friend of hers. Who exactly was Erin friends with that spent time here? Then again, she took another drink from her glass, she didn’t really care, did she? Erin had helped her family, she’d blown up a building for her, they were even. And, she’d hurt Adam, Nell, and Remmy in the process. So fucking even. “Well, the sooner the fucking better.” She muttered. Noticing the way that the other woman shifted to face her, Luce followed her gaze. The man was definitely staring at them, a discomforting grin on his face. He wasn’t leering at them, he was just… staring. “Never seen him before in my life.” Luce said, scowling before turning back to the bar. Waving a hand, she moved to flag down the bartender, “Another, please.”

Comforting. Erin tightened her jaw, letting her eyes bounce around the room instead of staring at the set that kept finding their way over to the two of them. It seemed like he eventually got the hint though, and his eyes dipped down to the game of blackjack that was starting in front of him. Whatever his deal was, it didn’t sit right, and she couldn’t shrug the uneasy feeling from her shoulders. “I don’t like the look of him. I’d keep my distance,” she muttered offhandedly. There was no doubt Luce could hold her own, that wasn’t something Erin was afraid of. But she had good reason to be paranoid, especially after the fire. The burn on her arm twinged with a phantom pain and she pulled her sleeve up higher over her wrist. Glanced back again. He was on his cellphone now, sparing glances their way and getting scorned by the dealer for interrupting the game with his call. Whatever his deal was, he was brazen, and not all that concerned if they knew he’d been spotted in turn. Something didn’t feel right. “You should leave,” she almost whispered out as the bartender was pouring Luce’s next glass, real concern filling her eyes as she looked towards Luce.

Tracing shapes on the bartop with her fingertips, Luce scowled at the wood grain. “Got any other nuggets of wisdom rattling around in there?” She asked mockingly. Keep her distance. She was literally just here to make some money, have a drink, and pretend like things were fucking… normal. Whatever that meant. Erin shifted nervously next to her, looking back at him, messing with the sleeve of her shirt. Fidgeting. Accepting the drink with a nod, Luce cast another scornful look. “I don’t think so. I’m fine right here.” She said. Whatever was going on was Erin’s problem. If shit went south, she’d happily watch it go down and let the woman deal with her issues on her own. As Luce was about to take a sip from her cup, she noticed the door to the bar open once more, a tall man pushing the doors open. Even from here, she could see bright, shiny burn scars coiled around his throat. Like snakes. “Oh fuck.”

Fuck. How had this gone downhill so fast? She’d been here--what? Fifteen, twenty minutes? Whatever information Erin thought she was getting tonight was, apparently, going to have to wait. “You sure about that?” Erin asked, following Luce’s stare to the tall guy who just entered the room, walking right towards the smaller burlier one at the blackjack table. Fuck. Fuck. His hand moved to rub his neck, practically making a show of the scars there. This guy sure as hell knew them. Time to go. Another guy entered not long after the last one, joining the other two. Yep. This had been a mistake. The sound of chips and cards and light chatter was still prevalent, like a white noise, but altogether the room seemed to grow… quiet. Unmistakably tense. Erin quickly finished her drink, tossing some cash onto the counter. Slid off the stool and leaned into Luce. “You can stay as long as you’d like, but if you know another way out of here, I’d appreciate the tip,” she asked, the knife hidden against her leg hot and ready to strike if necessary.

Luce could feel the tall man’s eyes scanning the room-- somehow, he hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t recognized her. But, she had a feeling that would change pretty fucking quick. And as the man settled in next to the guy who’d been eyeing Erin… Christ. Muttering a few choice words in Turkish, Luce gripped her glass tightly in her hand. The room was on edge-- it felt like one of those scenes from a shitty western movie. The showdown in the bar, where all the patrons would nervously fidget with their glasses, while the white hat and the black hat would stare each other down. “I do, but it’s not an easy way out. Stay close.” Luce said, pushing away from the bar. As she stood up, she noticed the men rise from the blackjack table, the taller one going for something in his jacket. “Well, fuck that.” Throwing her glass of whiskey on the ground, Luce waved her hand and blue flames leaped onto the liquor. The alcohol soaked into the carpet, sending acrid plumes of smoke into the air as it burned.

Erin tried not to think about what would have happened if Luce hadn’t coincidentally been here to save their asses. Well--there might have been one less angry, charred tall guy coming towards them, that much would be true. But they were coming all the same. “Jesus, really--” Erin flinched as smoke filled the room. Was there anywhere she could go without the place going up in flames and smoke these days? It was like her life was some predictable action flick she usually fell asleep trying to watch. Either way, it was real, and it was happening and the only thing left to do was run. The smoke and singe distracted the goons but gunshots lit up the air. Erin ducked and followed Luce, the veil of the smoke keeping them just hidden enough for the bullets to miss but only barely. Fuck. Her heart pounded in her ears and she grabbed her knife, keeping it at the ready. A commotion rose up in their wake as the bouncer and some of the patrons were trying to calm the chaos, and for a moment, she thought they’d get out of there relatively unscathed. “Watch it!” Erin shouted suddenly, a figure running through the smoke towards Luce. The tall guy with the coiled burns around his throat. Erin reached for the closest thing to her, tossing one of the wooden stools at him just as another bullet shot from his gun.

As Erin swore, Luce rolled her eyes, ducking low to avoid the smoke. Beggars couldn’t be fucking choosers when it came to their escape routes.  A gunshot rang through the room, a bottle of alcohol shattering behind the bar, followed by a barrage of gunshots. Luce flinched, the sound an explosion in her ears. Pressing her hands to her ears, the witch darted across the room as quickly as she could, hoping that Erin was following behind her. At the other woman’s words, Luce was startled to see the man with his gun trained on her. She stared down the barrel of the gun but, before he could pull the trigger, a stool caught him in the stomach. His hand with the gun flew up in the air, the bullet shooting into the roof of the bar. “Thanks.” Luce breathed, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. “Let’s fucking go.” She said and bolted for the back door tucked away down the hallway that led to the bathrooms. Shoving the door open, Luce waited for Erin to run out of the building. Meanwhile, her eyes focused on the growing blue flames that had begun to consume the bar. With a growl of concentration, Luce tamped down the flames, letting them die down to nothing but smoldering embers. Just enough to keep smoking, but not enough to destroy the bar. At least, she hoped not.

Erin didn’t need to be told twice--or even once, for that matter--and ran out after Luce. The guy was already starting to stand back up by the time they spilled out into the alley. Coughing hard, freshly-healed lungs irritated by the smoke. “Luce,” Erin insisted, dragging her feet as she started down the alley. She didn’t give a shit if this place burned down too, not with the commotion behind the door growing louder. It wouldn’t have looked good for her but it was better than a bullet to the head for their efforts. She stood upright, waited another moment for Luce, before she couldn’t wait anymore. Booked it down the alley as the door flew open, smacking against the brick behind it. First the tall man, then the others. There were too many of them to fight. So Erin ran, as hard and as fast as she could, until the sounds of gunshots were far enough away for her to feel comfortable to slow. And when they stopped altogether, so did she. Heaving breaths, she turned, hoping to find Luce behind her still. “Fuck--are you okay?” she asked, crouching down behind a tall stack of crates, trying to figure out where they’d landed themselves.

Once Erin had darted out the door, Luce slammed the exit shut and let the magic flow through her hands. A ball of bright blue flames ignited in her palm and she pressed it against the door knob. She could feel the metal begin to heat under her hand, the steel slowly beginning to become malleable to the touch. On the other side of the door, she could hear feet pounding against the floor of the bar. The men. Gritting her teeth, she poured more magic into the handle until the metal had fused the door shut. She heard a howl of pain and smelled sizzling flesh-- one of them must have tried the door. Backing away, Luce grinned as she looked at her handiwork. For a brief moment, she was triumphant only for the sharp sound of a bullet ricocheting off the door and a sharp slice of pain to send her running. “Shit!” She yelped, hand pressed against her cheek as she ran. She was more aware of the trickle of warmth that ran down her face than she was of the pain-- hopefully that meant it wasn’t that bad. Taking off after Erin, she skidded to a halt next to the woman. “I think I’m okay. They shot the door. Nicked me?” She said, pulling her hand back. It wasn’t that much blood. Just a scratch? Whatever, she could deal with it later.

Erin’s eyes jumped to the blood. Thankfully, it wasn’t much. Looked like it would heal pretty quickly and painlessly, for the most part. But it wasn’t ideal and she was all too aware of how much worse this could have gone down. Nodding, she took a deep breath. “Seems pretty shallow.” Her feet kept moving, not wanting to be anywhere near the Stacked Deck right now, glancing over her shoulder periodically as she did so. “Chicks dig scars, anyway, right?” She tried to smile, but it was brief, and only a half-hearted chuckle wheezed out of her. She coughed again, trying to shake off the terror chilling her bones. Focused just on getting towards the main road. It was just then she realized how quiet it was. No fire engines screaming in the distance. “What did you do back there?” she asked, narrowing her eyes curiously. “Can you turn the fire on and off again? Like a faucet or something?” She felt stupid for asking but the magical realm was something she was still trying to properly wrap her head around. With the adrenaline still coursing through her, talking about anything at all was better than stifling it all back down again.

Luce’s heart was beating wildly in her chest, adrenaline still pumping through her, but she could feel exhaustion starting to creep around the edges. Using that much magic was fucking hard, particularly when she was already tired as hell. When was the last time she’d slept through the night? She couldn’t remember. Following after Erin, Luce rolled her eyes at the comment. “Yeah, because a fucked up face is the sign of a real winner.” She growled, though the words lacked the bite they would have held before. “What did I do? Magic.” Luce said sarcastically, wiggling her fingers. “It’s not a goddamn faucet. I can start fires real easy, but putting them out is harder. Think dominos. It’s easy to get things going, but hard to get it to stop until it’s run its course. It’s fucking tiring.” She explained as they two ducked into an alleyway that would get them further from the Stacked Deck.

It was Erin’s turn to roll her eyes. For a moment she thought that maybe almost getting shot out for a second could keep the peace between them even temporarily. Seemed she was wrong. “I know it was fucking magic,” she grumbled, biting back her own tone, but listened to her explanation with real interest. “Dominoes. Huh,” she mused, furrowing her eyebrows, picturing it for herself. So that meant she had stopped it? That was a relief, at least. Another look at the younger woman emphasized that exhaustion and Erin slowed down. Running a hand down her cheek, she stopped altogether. The alley opened up to a busier road--Main Street, it looked like. They’d gone farther than she realized and only then did Erin let out a long, relieved breath. “Why don’t you sit down?” she asked, gesturing towards a bench not far from them. “Just for a minute. I think the coast is clear, anyway.” For now.

“I’m fucking with you.” Luce said dryly as she glanced over her shoulder. The blood was still dripping down the side of her face, but she was more preoccupied with making sure that fucking dude with the gun wasn’t coming after her. Magic was all well and good, but it couldn’t stop a goddamn bullet. As they made their way out to Main Street, Luce’s shoulder relaxed a bit. At the very least, if the dude came after them, there would be witnesses. As Erin gestured to a nearby bench, Luce let out a deep breath and nodded. Fuck, she was tired. “Yeah.” She said, practically slumping into the bench. “You good?” She asked, realizing she hadn’t actually checked in to see if Erin was okay.

Erin didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t used to someone as sarcastic as Luce or if the bitterness in her tone was more personally directed but it was starting to get under her skin regardless. Took more of her strength to bite her tongue but she couldn’t hold back the side-eye that she gave her. “I’m fine,” she said quickly. At some points, she’d bumped her arm on the way out, causing the healing nerves under the bandage on her arm to scream at her. Otherwise she was fine. Because of Luce, she was fine. Working her jaw, she settled in reluctantly beside Luce, watching the crowd around them for any suspicious faces. “Do you want me to call anyone? Nell? Bea?” She glanced over at her, watching the blood drip from her cheek.

If Erin said she was fine, Luce was going to take her at her word. She was a grown ass adult who’d already been responsible for the deaths of others. Luce settled back into the bench, trying to catch her breath. She really needed to get more fucking sleep if this was how drained that bit of magic had made her. She hadn’t done anything much and yet, exhaustion had hit her like a fucking freight train. Watching the way the woman kept an eye on the crowd, she tilted her head. Erin had the expression of someone who was being hunted. And, given what they’d just been through, she couldn’t blame her. “No, I’m good. I’ll just crash at Ink for the night. There’s a couch in the back.” She said, pausing for a moment before continuing, “What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Erin?”

Erin rested her elbow on her knees, nodding at Luce’s words. She knew the place wasn’t far from here. Luce would be fine. Good. One less thing she had to worry about tonight. But Luce’s next question was a fair one, and despite herself, a dry, hard laugh shook her shoulders. There was nothing funny about what she was doing--not the act of it. But a funeral director trying to take down a small town mob boss? It was the most ludicrous thing she could think of. “Maybe when I figure it out, I’ll let you know. Preferably over a few rounds. I probably owe you that much.” If Luce was willing. If Erin made it that far, even. The thought brought on another small, dark chuckle. It wasn’t funny, she knew that, but the adrenaline from the night was still coursing through her. With her own prolonged state of exhaustion was slowly but surely wearing away at her. “Probably not there, though,” she grinned again, gesturing towards the alley from where they had run from.

Raising an eyebrow at the other woman’s laugh, Luce sat up a bit on her own, some of her energy returning. She’d be able to get to Ink, it might just be a slow walk there. “Well, that’s good enough for me.” She nodded. And you know what? It was. Luce wasn’t sure if she was okay with Erin, not when the woman couldn’t give her a clear picture of what she’d gotten herself into. But, at the very least, she could hear her out over a couple of beers at Soul or Dell’s or wherever the fuck. “Yeah, no. I’m probably banned for life now. Which,” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the uncashed chips she still had on her. “Is a real kick in the dick for me. Whatever.” Luce said, standing up with a tired groan. “Shit seems to go south real quick with you, so… stay safe.”

“Sorry about that,” Erin said with a slight wince, but she meant it. Whatever reason Luce had been here, it was obvious she needed the money. It was probably why anyone would wind up at a place like that. She’d gone there for information herself and nothing came from it. It was hard to tell how Luce felt about her, especially given the tumultuous hour they’d just spent together, but she hadn’t blown up at her over any lingering grudges from what had occurred at the ring. So that was… progress? Sure. That’s what she’d call it for now. She pulled herself up, half a smile pulling up her lips. That was fair. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll do my best. You too, Luce.”

[stevesnailbat]

Can you do a fluffy Hopper imagine. Where the reader is a frequent visitor to the police station because she gets into a lot of trouble. But Hopper has a soft spot for her and treats her like his daughter??

warnings: angry!hopper, cussing, tough love

word count: 1.4K

a/n: I’ve never written for Hop before, but I liked this Hopper x platonic!reader pairing that came out of this. I might have to write some more fics with the Hopper family soon :)

The cool, brisk air of a fall morning was replaced by the dull heat inside the police station as Hopper walked in one Monday morning. It was around 7, which was surprisingly early for him to be there. He usually didn’t make his way to the station until around 8 or 9 most mornings, but he had made a point to come in early for the last couple weeks. There had been a frequent visitor at the station that had caught his eye a few weeks prior, a troubled teen who he hoped was just caught up in the wrong crowd.

Nobody bothered him on his way to his office besides the occasional mumbled ‘good morning’. There was no signs of Y/N in the station, which usually proved to be good. Hoping it would end up being a slow day, he closed his door and flipped through some paperwork before he was interrupted by a knock on the door not even 5 minutes after sitting down.

“What is it?” he snapped before trailing off under his breath again, “I just fucking sat down…”

“It’s that Y/L/N kid again. We found her sleeping in her car by the quarry, there was some beer and shit inside a bag in the backseat of her car so we brought her in.” Callahan said as he propped the door open, revealing a crying teen in the chair behind him.

Hopper looked over at the fearful girl, motioning for her to come into his office. He could see her trembling as she walked in, stifling a sob as she sat down. “I think I can take it from here, Callahan.” he said, motioning for him to close the door behind him.

“I thought you said I wasn’t going to be seeing you in here anymore.” he stated, staring the girl down with disappointment and anger in his tone.

“I…I know, Chief. I promised I would be better and…and I was! I haven’t been in for almost two weeks. That’s improvement, right?” she whimpered, not able to look up at him out of fear of the look he might give her.

“What happened this time? You can’t put the blame on anyone else now, you weren’t with those other crazy fuckers you usually run around with.” he snapped.

At this point, tears were streaming down her face and she couldn’t even see out of her tear-clouded eyes. She shook her head quietly, not knowing what to say to him. He had grown to like the troubled girl, and she could tell; she wanted to be better so that she could show him that she was able to improve, but it was hard. It was especially hard because it seemed like the whole world was working against her now, even him.

“Well?” he asked, his patience clearly running thin as he rubbed his temple in annoyance.

“My mom…She said that one of her friends told her about me getting taken to the station a few weeks ago, she freaked. Told me that I was worthless and that I needed to leave…So I did.” Y/N sniffled, fiddling with her thumbs nervously. “I threw what I could into my backpack and left, I guess I just forgot that I took my friend’s beers in the same one so they wouldn’t get caught by their dad.”

Hop’s expression seemed to soften when she mentioned getting kicked out, a wave of guilt washing over him for being so aggravated. He knew she was technically an adult and that he couldn’t give the mother any repercussions for kicking the poor girl out, but he was still angry. Y/N was fresh out of high school with no money to her name; she gave every dollar she earned at Melvald’s to her mother because she always told Y/N that she deserved it more than her. He never brought up her mom when Callahan would bring her in, she always seemed to get too quiet when he would bring her up. She seemed hopeless, like she had nothing left to lose at this point.

“You’re always the one that’s in this damn place, it's never any of your friends. You always take the blame for them. You didn’t think they would cover for you one time? Or let you stay with them for a night?” he implored.

“They all said they couldn’t last night, or they didn’t pick up. I had nowhere to go so I just went somewhere I thought nobody would find me.” she said quietly, her sniffles and tears finally calming down a bit, her heart still racing.

“Listen, kid. I know that you aren’t doing too well right now. But you can’t just run around doing stupid shit like this and expect it to be okay.” he said, she nodded quickly in reply as she blinked tears away. “I can’t just set you loose though, you know.”

She looked at him with a furrowed brow, not really knowing what he meant as she waited for him to explain himself. He was trying to keep his hard-ass demeanor in place as he spoke to her, but her crying was not helping the situation at all. He seemed genuinely concerned for her, unlike anyone else she ever talked to about her situation.

“You have nowhere to go right now. So if I let you leave the station without any punishment or anything, you’ll end up back on the streets with your dumbass friends doing stupid shit, am I right?” he continued, raising an eyebrow as he waited for a response.

“Yes…you’re right, chief.” she said timidly.

“Exactly. So I was thinking, I cut you a deal.” he stated, “I’m in need of a babysitter right now, you’re in need of a place to stay. If you don’t ask any questions and agree to stay on your best behavior, I’ll let you stay with me until you can find somewhere to go. I can talk to Melvald and tell him you’ll be changing your shifts around because you’ll be helping me.”

“Babysitter? You don’t have a kid, though.” she said in a questioning tone, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“I said no questions, okay? You’ll understand later.” he said harshly, standing up from his desk while putting his coat back on. “I’ll take you there now, you can start your babysitting today, alright?”

She obliged by following him out of the office and to his truck, but it wasn’t like he was leaving her much choice, anyways. He didn’t tell anybody in the station he was leaving, but nobody ever dared to question him when he left. All she hoped was that it would all be okay in the end. But the only thing on her mind as they made their way towards a cabin in the middle of the woods was, who was the kid?

Y/N was as confused as ever when they made it to the front door of the cabin after a walk through the woods. She heard the Chief knock on the front door with a special knock and listened with a furrowed brow as the door unlocked quickly. When he opened the door, nobody was on the other side, but a small preteen sat on the couch watching whatever was on the TV. She had short, curly hair and bright eyes; she was wearing Hopper’s flannel on top of her own shirt and was curled up with a pillow.

“You’re early.” she states simply, her attention never breaking from the screen as she spoke.

“I wanted to introduce you to someone.” Hopper said, seeming somewhat uncomfortable. “I found someone who can keep you company for when I’m gone. This is Y/N, El.”

“It’s...it’s nice to meet you, El.” Y/N said timidly, holding her hand out for El to shake it.

The girl turned to Y/N with narrowed eyes, as if she was trying to determine if she liked her or not from first glance. She didn’t shake her hand, just looked at it. “I know I said nobody would know you were here, but she needs my help and you need hers. So we compromised.” Hop interjected before either girl could talk. “No questions from either of you. I don’t want to hear shit, and this place better still be here when I get back tonight.”

And with that, he was gone. Y/N looked at El to see her with the same confused expression on her face. Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, keeping a distance from El so she didn’t make her too upset. El rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the TV, obviously very used to Hop’s demeanor. He meant well, but wasn’t good at showing his emotions or intentions. Little did Y/N know, she was in for a wild ride living with the two of them.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

13. A Shot in the Dark Part 1

Part One of the "Prologue" chapter.

This could have all been prevented. Had they just not brought it here. This could have gone smoothly. This could have succeeded, but instead of being on one accord and being on the same page, they had all taken various pages out of Simon Laurent’s book. 

“Do you think she’s dead?” Jalicia asked. “I heard at least 6 shots… you think he put them all into her?”

“Shut up, 227,” Sunny said.

“Oh, I’m 227 right now? We’re still on Date Night? Grace just got shot…” Sunny grabbed Jalicia by the collar and the younger one laughed a little bit. “You still tryin’ to be Grace when Grace isn’t here? Because, that’ll be a long ride, considering that she’s dead now.”

“I said shut up. Xan. Pull over.”

“That’s not protocol,” he said. 

“No, it isn’t. But, we were outside, and it wasn’t his home, so one of two things have happened, either he left her there to die, or someone has called for help. Either way, this is a different circumstance.”

“She wouldn’t want us to risk the operation for her.”

“NOW, you care about that? You didn’t care about that when you tried to make Simon an X, BEHIND her back!”

“That was the ONLY thing I cared about!” He hissed at Sunny. “And did I work alone? Was it ME that made her stop trusting her fucking team?”

Now, she grabbed his collar and he swerved the van. “Pull the motherfucking van over!” She growled. He obeyed. They switched seats and she circled back to where Grace had been shot. As suspected, there were police lights, an ambulance, the firetruck. The usual. She tried to pass by slowly and try to see. She couldn’t see Grace, but she did see a covering over an obviously dead body. Xander and Jalicia must have seen it when she did, because he yelped and Jalicia burst into tears. The workers were waving the van along, so she sped up only slightly, to not draw too much attention. Then, she saw him, standing with the police, talking… Simon.

Her breath hitched and she blinked away tears as she continued driving. Neither Xander nor Jalicia mentioned him, so she presumed that they hadn’t seen him. But she had. Now, it was time to regroup.

.

“Yoga and Meditation for Seasonal Depression with Sunny!” the community center board read when Simon stepped into the building with his mat and bag. She had been there for a while. He knew that, because he had too, only from the outside. She had a head full of faux locs that he hadn’t seen her sporting prior to whenever she made him think that she was Grace a few nights before. She saw him the moment he walked into the gym, but her expression was unreadable. He enjoyed that, to a certain degree. He did like that he didn’t have to feel as tense around her as Jalicia or Xander, but he had a feeling that he couldn’t be as relaxed around her as he was around Alexandria, and her little warning that night made him even more weary about the casual smile that she had on now. She was maybe like him… and he knew that he was nothing to toy around with, and would pay her the same reverence, until he understood her better. 

“Hi. I’ve never seen you in the community center before,” She said. She extended her hand, “Sunny.”

“Yeah, the sign says so,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it. They both held tight and shook firm, staring each other down, either trying to outshake or outsmile the other. And in a moment, they made the simultaneous decision to end both. “Is it okay that I’m not a regular? The post and fliers didn’t mention that it was a closed class.”

“It’s open. But, if it gets full and I see regulars…”

“I know my place,” he said. They both smiled again. 

“Well then, find yourself a spot on the floor. Looks like you’ve come prepared. Have you done this before?”

“No. But, I once tried capoeira at a country club.” She frowned. “I’m going to presume that look is because it’s an art form created by enslaved Africans. Trust me, I’ve gotten that speech already.” 

She rolled her eyes and pointed towards the door. “I’ve got other guests to greet. See you later, Monison?”

“What? Simon.”

“Right. If I forget again, I can always go with Surveillance Soccer Mom.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t?”

“Your preference is… noted.” She cheerily went to greet the people coming in, who she seemed to know, because she hugged them and talked animatedly with them. It was different than how she’d handled him and reminded him again of Grace, and the way that she had a certain obligatory politeness that seemed to be taught and structured and perfected… Sunny had that too, only she was using what he’d called Grace’s “customer service manners” with  him, and the more natural pleasantries with the other people there. He wondered if she had made that choice on purpose, or if it was just a side effect of her not trusting him? At any rate, he noted that she didn’t immediately reach for her phone to alert Xander, the way that Jalicia had whenever she’d seen him enter her space. In fact, she hadn’t done so, even by the end of the class.

She wished several of them well, gave some info on upcoming things, and other warm and gentle dealings, until it was only she and Simon left in the room. Still, he noted, she didn’t get onto her phone. In fact, she seemed to be waiting for him after she packed up all of her things. He knew that she didn’t have to lock up, so he wondered why. She offered no insight. Just stared at him, with all of her things packed away and her bags on her shoulders. Still, no phone. 

Simon collected his things and went up to her, hoping that he could gain something from whatever their exchange was about to be. “I… you know who I am, right?” he asked. She threw her head back and cackled to the skies, echoing off of the gym walls until they were out in the cold of the air and her lungs felt the repercussions. “I now regret asking that.”

“I know who you are. That lackluster writer that has risen to popularity only because you’re in a package that can be rewarded for mediocrity. Timonthy Something.”

“Did you say Timonthy? TiMONthy?”

“I’d call you “Tim,” for short, but that’s one of my favorite characters from The Magnus Archives, and I don’t wanna blend that world with the one you’re a part of. Maybe I’ll say “Mon.”

He chuckled and put on ear muffs. “You seem really chill about me being here, is all. I thought that maybe you didn’t realize. The others are a little bit different about me.”

“Meh. Maybe if I was there, I’d feel differently. It isn’t like I’m not empathetic. I really am, and if the others feel threatened or anxious, I would never discount that for them, but I also have no firsthand experience with you that has given me any reason to personally hate or fear you and I don’t like to say it out loud too much, as it makes space for my loved ones to get really offended and upset, but the people who were there for whatever it is you supposedly did - I’m hesitant to take what they say at face value, because they can be very close minded. Grace isn’t trippin,’ so maybe they are.”

“Then, why did you threaten me?”

“If you read it as a threat, I can’t change that, but it does help to mold my opinion of you and what you’ve been doing to my good sis…”

He frowned and looked at the ground. “Well… when you put it that way, I guess it wasn’t threatening. I’m not a harm to her. I never have been. I don’t think that I could hurt her if I tried. She grew up on the streets. I was in one fist fight when I was 13, and it was mostly me just getting the shit kicked out of me and trying to shield myself.”

She laughed again, “I’ve been told you have that effect on people. What’d you do to get your ass kicked?” 

“I told people that I had a crush on a boy.” She immediately stopped laughing and felt bad. He shrugged his shoulders, “It got me sympathy points and my first boyfriend, so I can’t be too mad.”

“You can, if you choose to, but if you choose not to, I support that. It’s up to you.”

He looked at her and she seemed genuine. She seemed nice, despite him knowing that she was definitely on a murder team. “Okay, so if you’re not threatened or whatever the others are, why’d you come after me?”

“I didn’t come after you. If I had come after you, you’d be in the Field of Nulls. I gave you a chance to be free from that kind of destiny. It is never pretty. Never painless. Never without every bit of suffering that can be provided, and the death is slow and potentially terrifying. It’s death sentences that only the worst kind of scum gets to endure… You seem like high level scum. Just because you have poor impulse control, bad judgment in romance and a passionate death wish doesn’t mean you deserve what we do to people. And Grace shouldn’t have to worry about you, either.”

“The Field of Nulls,” Simon repeated.

“I think you know what that is.” She wasn’t smiling. In fact, she was staring at him with a threatening expression. “Personally, I’d have called it the Wormfood Wonderland. So far, only the Apex and the nulls know what it is. And you know what we do with the nulls.”

“Is that another name for your Xs?” This man’s curiosity blew her mind. She couldn’t tell whether he really was so curious about learning more secrets or if it was a defense mechanism to avoid fear of danger.

“Yes,” She said.  

He started to ask something else, but she waved a finger and said, “Aht aht aht. Have a good day, Salmonella.” 

“I refuse to answer to that one!” He said and huffed a little bit as she got into her car, which looked like a ladybug… like it was one of those red bugs, and she’d added spots, headlight eyelashes, a sunflower on the head, and various bumper stickers of witchy stuff and pro vagina sentiments… He furrowed his eyebrows at the I Heart My Vagina one and really wondered who the hell this woman was. Maybe he didn’t understand her at all… and if he couldn’t understand her, that would certainly make it harder for him to win her over or overthrow her. Either way… when her car started, some loud female rap music began, she tossed something out, and she took a few moments getting settled before she actually drove away. Simon watched her pull away and then looked down at her litter… It wasn’t litter. That was why she left it. He picked it up. It was a flier from his mom’s bistro and in curly q handwriting a message: “I SAID stop,” with a smiley face sticker.

He glared at the direction the car had gone in. She wouldn’t. They couldn’t. What would she do to his mom? Nothing. He didn’t believe her. His mom was an upstanding citizen in two countries, a local feminist icon, in a way - single mother and business owner who frequently allowed gatherings for rallies and stuff in her place of business, and a good, wholesome person. They didn’t even hurt that killer’s wife. There was no way that they would hurt his mother… But… He couldn’t risk it. He backed down. He wasn’t going to press Sunny. She was too mysterious… He… was afraid of her. Unlike the others, even Xander, whose weaknesses he saw, understood and could exploit in the face of danger.. He just couldn’t figure that out with Sunny.

From everything he took note of, she had… he didn’t know how to word it… nothing of value to her. Of course, she seemed like she loved her family and her friends, and the kids, but… she just read like an empty vessel, mimicking a loving daughter, friend, mentor. Even when she was around the yoga students that she seemed to genuinely like, he just felt like her energy wasn’t decipherable enough to throw caution to the wind. THIS. Was definitely a threat. 

He was frustrated after that. He went to the gun range. He spent a few days on a “detox” of sorts. He stayed away from Grace’s friends. He went to practice shooting, visited his mother, got chewed out by his literary agent, and went back to the bookstore coffee shop to try to focus on his book again. All he had at this point was a title: Beauty, Like the Knight… and the tentative synopsis that he bullshitted to Chloe, “She’s an avenging angel who slays child predators and stuff.”

“HOW is that urban?” She had demanded.

“They’re in a fucking city, Chloe,” he’d said, with a low coldness in his voice that she wasn’t used to and he certainly had never used that type of language with her before. The silence between them tipped him off that she was shocked and potentially upset, so he chuckled awkwardly and said, “I haven’t had coffee today, but I’m in the coffee shop. She’s on a quest to end a trafficking ring in an urban setting and… I don’t know, Chloe… I’ve got a lot of notes. I’ll produce an outline today.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay… Simon, are you okay?”

“I went through a recent breakup… Should fuel my soul for creativity.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize that you were involved with anyone. Well… I look forward to seeing what type of urban magic you create.”

He nodded and hung up. Urban Magic… He tilted his head at the screen. Maybe he  should add magic to the story. He shook his head. They didn’t WANT magic from him. Magic wasn’t selling recently. Maybe if he lollygagged long enough, he’d miss this wave of everybody trying to pretend to care about diversity by lazily including POC here and there or telling a tone deaf story, but dipping the language and/or characters in a little bit of color/culture that the writers didn’t understand or know… He sighed… And why did he even care to stay relevant in writing if he was going to be writing crap that he didn’t even care about?

But… he did care about her. He cared about her life. He cared about her story. He missed her and he missed the rush of having her there. But, he knew that he had to make the choice and currently, that choice was that he loved his mom and Grace refused to be around him. Her friends were keeping them apart, but if even one of them would hurt his mother in the process, he had to let go of this remarkable fantasy where this beautiful deadly knight falls in love with a sensible prince, no matter how much he was willing to give to her in the process. Besides, he’d never done this before - let himself be so taken up with someone that he shirked all reason and rationale to know them and to love them… So, Simon decided to move on.

It “worked” for a little while. For a few weeks, he stopped following them, stopped watching, and even got back into the habit of focusing on work and stuff. He was sending Tulip massive therapy checks and whenever his 26th birthday rolled around, he tried to enjoy himself. He and his mom went to Minnesota to visit Tulip and her mom for both his birthday, Christmas and New Year, since those were all three so close and the Olsens were like their family. He opened his social media back up and was regarded with a lot more online love than he had for the weeks he had been set to private, hoping to weed her out. She was gone. He had to just accept it.

Except… he couldn’t deny himself one indulgent little search. It was his birthday, and he had resisted for weeks! That was very big of him, considering that most of his year had been spent focused on her and her alone and this was ONE day where he should have been able to just try to peek and see if anybody saw what she was doing on today… And… she was back…

He saw an account come up in her name on one of the social media platforms “Grace St. Catherine Artwork” and… he was now scrolling through her photos while everyone was having cake… She had artwork she was posting. The Saint and The Shadow… They seemed to be foils, but no… no, no… He understood it better than most of the people giving the works likes. That static figure in the background of the heroine in these images wasn’t an enemy, lurking around her… it was an extension of who she was in the light… and some of them even had a face… His face. She was really good, even though she “dabbled,” according to her. But, she “dabbled” in a lot of things that she wound up being pretty good at. He wanted to go through and like them all, but he was so afraid she might vanish again… and even though he was supposed to just be checking, a small indulgence for his birthday… he knew the moment that he saw a video of her drawing vigorously while Hazel walked around on the desk and read the caption, “Thinking about my ex on his birthday and making what I would have given him. Not gonna show you all, but that’s what I’m doing. 😝” and he noticed that it had been posted today… he felt like he was falling down a dark chute that led him directly back into his deepest feelings. 

“Oh, he’s on Grace’s page,” he heard his mother say and it snapped him back into the room. He looked up and Tulip was staring at him in concern, Mikayla, in confusion and Aunt Meg gave him a sympathetic look. His mother kissed him on his hair and squeezed his shoulder, “We can do gifts later.”

“No. No… I’m good.” He smiled and Tulip noted that it was a different one than the one that he had earlier. She couldn’t tell which one was more painful to look at, that empty one from when they arrived, or this one laced in emotion that she just… worried about.

Whenever she found him later, she reminded him, “You said that you two were over.”

He nodded, “We are,” he said and Tulip knew that he never lied on purpose, but he sometimes… lied to himself and fully believed it. It was fine before Grace, but all she could do now was be afraid for him and his… delusions of grandeur.

“I thought she gave up social media.”

“I guess she felt comfortable enough to return. It’s just a business page, though. Well.. An art page. But, it looks like she sells her work. That’s cool. Good for… good for her.”

“Simon, please promise me that you won’t get yourself entangled in this woman again…”

He frowned and turned to look at her, “No.”

“Simon.”

“I’m not going to promise you anything about her. I can’t. I don’t like to lie, and… I just don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do when it comes to her. I never meant to become obsessed. I’ve never stalked anybody. I never… was the person that my emotions for her turns me into. I can’t make any promises anymore, Tools. Not about her.” She sighed and wanted to cry, but also didn’t want to in front of him. He patted her on the back, absentmindedly and went back inside. 

After the holidays, whenever he got back into town, he’d successfully been ONLY watching Grace’s one art social media page (not officially following it, either) and had been “off” of watching her friends or engaging in their business for almost two months! He was proud of himself. He wondered if that was why when he got home, there was a jumbo envelope outside of his door with no postmark and HAPPY BIRTHDAY in big letters and familiar script. He picked it up and opened it before even unlocking his door, neglecting his luggage bag now to see this artwork, drawn onto cloth, of him curiously reaching out for a rose, meanwhile its thorns were wrapping around him and even cutting into his flesh. His face is enamored and the rose is wilting. He looks like if he can just touch it, he believes that at least one of them, or perhaps both might be saved… Or… maybe he looked like if he could just touch it that one of them or both might perish… So, he didn’t really know what message she wanted him to comprehend from it. He guessed that would depend on perspective, and in either… he still needed to touch her. 

.

Simon messaged the art account, “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to me? I stopped. I left you alone. I let you go… Why are you torturing me? Is this what it felt like to you? Are you punishing me for wanting you too much? For giving up on you and moving on? Please… just… tell me what you need me to do…”

Sunny sighed and held her forehead, then looked at Xander, “What is it that you need him to do?”

Xander rubbed his hands together, thinking to himself, then said, “Arrange a meeting for him, in the Field, since he fucking knows about it now. Make him come alone and… I’ll handle it from there.” Sunny bit her lip and stared at the screen. “Come on, Sunny. You’re the only one that might be able to fool him. He’s too skilled in Grace for any way that I might type it up to actually sound like her. You capture her perfectly. He obviously believes that this is her page.”

“That’s mostly on the strength of Xandria copping her art style. This just… This is going further than what you initially said we were doing, which was figuring out if he really had moved on or if he was just waiting for an opening to come for her again… It feels like we CREATED an opening that he wasn’t waiting for. If you would have told me about the birthday present, I never would have agreed to this.”

“Sunny…” Xander kneeled in front of her and cupped her face, “I would never ask you to do anything that you don’t believe in and I won’t ask you to do anything else for me, ever. But, I  have to protect her and I have to protect all of us. He’s dangerous.”

“I don’t think that he is, Xan…”

“He IS!” He rolled the chair aside and began to type, hoping that maybe Simon was too shaken up to note any differences. “I think we need to face each other and finally settle things, good or bad… I’m not going to live in fear. I’ve done that already.”

Simon wiped away tears, “There’s nothing to fear. I just… Okay. Let’s meet, then. Remember our last date night?”

Xander blinked and looked at Sunny, “Do you know what that means? Is this code? Did she have CODE with him???”

Sunny shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, “He was her official alibi for a few months, just in case, so maybe it’s something to do with that. She’d definitely remember though, and he’ll definitely know that she wouldn’t have forgotten a detail like that.” She folded her arms and watched Xander type.

“I do. But, that’s not what I want. I want it on MY terms. You’ve controlled enough without my permission. Meet me in the place that you weren’t supposed to be.”

Simon suspiciously looked at the message. That could mean anything and while Grace was very vague at times, he usually knew exactly what she was vaguing about... “Your apartment?” he asked. “The storage unit? Where is this place that you’re talking about?”

Xander frowned, “I think he’s made me. Sunny… You have to help.”

“I literally don’t.”

“If he figures out that this is a set up, he’ll react and it’ll be bad.”

“Then just say “Sorry, I can’t do this. I’ve gotta go,” and leave him the fuck alone.”

“NO! I can’t do THAT.”

Sunny rolled the chair back in front of the computer and typed out, “Huh. I was told that you and my Left Hand discussed this place whenever you last saw each other. She was… compelled to give you some advice on the subject.”

“Oh…” He frowned. If she wanted him to come to the Field of Nulls, maybe he understood this drawing, after all… She didn’t think that she could come home unless he was gone. She intended to kill him. He let tears fall down his face. She betrayed him. He knew that she was upset and that she wanted distance, but he never would have thought she would take it this far. He responded, “I don’t like this Grace. It feels like I’ll be harmed. I’m going to have to set up some insurance. If something happens to me, I’ll have to have someone… release things. Are you okay with agreeing to this?”

Xander hissed, “Shit!” Sunny stared at him. At any moment, he could just admit defeat, confess to Grace and work on fixing her anger about it. “Reply something, please?”

She sighed and typed, “Do whatever makes you feel safe. You should know that I wouldn’t hurt you, but I understand why you’re leery.”

This was… oddly trusting, but suspiciously selfish. Grace would begrudgingly agree to do their last Date Night alibi and take upon the potential danger to her group all on herself. As much as it hurt him to know it, she would NEVER allow even the idea of putting them in danger, not for anything, not even him. And… to just contact him and then do so, out of nowhere, when he hadn’t been bothering any of them or her in months? He looked at the artwork again. He began to look through artwork that he had salvaged of hers and he found one that he remembered, of him. He checked it against this one and wow, this was elaborate as hell of a plan and ALMOST got him, but… that wasn’t Grace’s work. It was beautiful, and he loved the whatever the message was or the warning… but, somebody else had made this. He wondered if they had forged the “Happy Birthday,” or if Grace had actually written it, and if she had, had it been for this? That didn’t seem likely. “If you don’t meet me at our last Date Night in 30 minutes, I’m going to set the wheels in motion.”

Sunny tossed her hands in the air. “He made us. You’d better come clean to him and to Grace.”

“It’ll take me less than 30 minutes to get to his house and kill his ass,” Xander said, grabbing a bat with nails hammered into it.

“You can’t be serious. Grace is gonna…”

“Forgive me! Grace is gonna forgive me for fucking up and fixing my mistake!” Xander fussed. Sunny tried to stop him and he snapped at her, “You’re wasting my time! He’s gonna rat on us to the police!” She moved aside, hurt and scared, but when he pulled off, she called Grace. This was going too far and even if he DID successfully kill Simon, he was going to definitely be fucking arrested and thrown into prison for the rest of his life. 

“Grace, this is an emergency. Xander is going after Simon.”

Grace KNEW it was true, because even though Sunny was playful, she wouldn’t play like this and this was the first time that she had ever said his name right. “Warn him,” Grace said first. Sunny typed it into the messages, as Grace added, “And explain it to me.”

After the 15 minutes it took Sunny to explain everything, from the warning Simon to stop, Xander being paranoid that he was still out there, watching and waiting, the fake art page, the gift, the ruse and tonight’s messaging, Grace was already heading for the airport. Xander was going to lose his shit, but Grace was losing hers and Sunny could tell that there was gonna be hell to pay whenever she got back. 

It was hours later that Xander came back home, and Sunny wasn’t there. Jalicia was asleep, but he woke her up and went over it with her. He had gotten a call from Grace. She found out about him spearheading his first executive decision to take Simon out while she was in Canada and she was on her way… She pulled rank on him, and she was probably going to kill him… to… to actually choose this null over him… “She’s unfit to lead, right? She’s… she’s fucking lost it, right? RIGHT?”

Jalicia pulled him into a hug and let him cry on her, “Grace would never hurt you, Xander. Your paranoia is just messing with your mind. Grace would never, ever hurt you.”

“She’s choosing him over us. He threatened us. He said he would turn us over and she’s going to give him what he wants? She’s going to just LET him use her like a puppet? She’s let him void out every part of her that has made her the champion we put all of our trust into!”

Jalicia knew Sunny’s routine enough to remember which tea to make, which grass to smoke, which songs to play and Xander eventually fell to sleep in her bed, crying over it all.

.

Grace called Simon and he picked up, while at her old apartment. “It's me,” she said.

“Hey… Was it you? Before?”

“No, but I’ve been caught up to speed. Where are you now?” He said the address and she froze, “My old apartment?”

“Yeah. I figured that 808 would be less likely to set my headquarters on fire if they were here. The damage that might be done to uninsured neighboring apartments and all that. The thing is that I was trying so hard to get over you and to give you space and they just… didn’t let me. This shouldn’t be allowed. They shouldn’t be allowed to do this to me…”

“Well… Let’s call it even for your previous violations.” They were silent. “Please, Simon. If you ever cared about me, don’t hurt them…”

“Why does..?” he groaned so loudly it scared her. “Why does EVERYONE act like I’M the dangerous person? I’m THE ONLY person in this entire situation who ISN’T fucking dangerous!” He took a deep breath and shook his head, “Sorry, that was unfair, and I’m sorry.”

“You said that you were going to turn them in if I didn’t come to see you.”

“I knew that wasn’t you. They… still don’t know you as well as they think that they do and if they do know, they certainly can’t translate it properly. I wouldn’t hurt them or you, I was just testing to see if they would tell me the truth.” He heard a knock on the door and he froze. 

“Are you gonna let me in?” she wondered. He thought about grabbing his gun, just in case she didn’t believe him and in case that wasn’t her and she had actually sent Xander, after all… but… why go through all of this for that? He looked through the peephole and she was there. He wanted to open it and throw his arms around her, but what if she wasn’t alone? What if she had a syringe and the van was right around the corner? Oh God… He was doubting her. He was afraid now. Xander had won, in a way. He didn’t want to open the door. “Simon, are you in the apartment, or not?”

“How do I know that you aren’t coming here just to finally get rid of your stalker problem?”

“I guess you don’t know that anymore than I know if tomorrow morning, I’ll have a bigger stalker problem than I had yesterday. It's up to you whether you trust that I’m here to try to fix things or whether you break my trust and hurt my friends.” He opened the door and glanced up both hallways before stepping out, but she pushed passed him and went inside of the apartment. It was similar to the storage, but somehow more haunting in a home setting. Her face everywhere and all of the information and surveillance reorganized. She sat on the couch with the Grace mannequin/doll.. Which was now more detailed than before and also now wearing clothes she’d left behind. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head.

“I was never going to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said. 

“I… don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I did this. Why I took it so far.”

“I do.” 

He sat down between her and the mannequin, “Because I let you and I encouraged you. I wasn’t sure, but I surely had my thoughts and I liked them. I liked my thoughts of you being so into me that you would follow me around or watch me for a long time, even obsess over my photos and hang on my every word. I don’t know what the fuck love is supposed to look like, in a normal setting. I thought maybe that was one of those things… that this was how it was supposed to be if he was really into you and then, I indulged in the thought of somebody loving me and wanting to serve me, not because we had endured shit together, or because I pledged revenge in their name or I saved them, but just because I’m me. I wanted to be special. I’ve always wanted to be the love of somebody’s life. Even when I was little, before I… before the Apex…. The FIRST Apex, I never had the love that I craved and thirsted for. I suppose those years didn’t teach me much. Because I still managed to get inside of a pretty carriage with a nice man and head directly into disaster.”

“It's not your fault. You didn't ask for anything, and even if you wanted me to... I made a choice and you never knew for sure how far I took it all. But... Please tell me you don’t think that I’m so bad? As that man? That this disaster is like that one...” He looked like he might cry and she reflexively took his hand. They smiled at each other. He exhaled and squeezed her hand, “I found him,” he said.

“What?” she asked, laughing a little and confused about the random turn in the conversation. 

His face turned serious, and hers followed, matching the expression. “I  found  him.” She was still confused, but suddenly apprehended by stress as Simon moved to grab an envelope much like the ones that she got from the flower shop, like the one that he gave Jalicia. He was saying words that didn’t make sense. Stuff like, “Outside of their territories, city limits, neighboring towns news,” and so on and as she pulled out a mugshot of a man who obviously had seen better days, a flood of emotions came rushing over her. This man in the photo, years older, and a lot of stress later, but it was undeniable. She had forgotten certain details, but her body had definitely remembered them in the trauma it stored. If she took off some years, added some money, and a big bright pinky ring, it was him. This was the man that took her. 

This was the man that stole her life and gave her this awful destiny that made it so hard for her to love… She looked at Simon, and he helped her flip through the pages, because she couldn’t. 

This man was arrested not too long after she disappeared, and whenever he got out, he went to a half way house and reentered society… all in a span of time before she ever got back home… He had moved on and lived past it while she had still been in it. The sound that erupted from her was terrifying, but Simon refused to react to it.  Instead, he set the information aside and took her hands into his. 

“I was going to give it to them and try to lure you back to me, but whenever they threatened my mom, I,” he sounded ashamed to even admit it. “I chose her…” 

“They threatened your mom?” Grace asked. “God, Xander spiraled…”

“No, not him, the girlfriend.”

“Alexandria? She’s been out of the…” She stopped, seeing something regretful in his face. Her heart broke. “Sunny?”

“I didn’t know if she meant it, but I couldn’t take the chance. It wasn’t like she knew that I had this, but I wanted to avoid something happening to Mom. I love my mom.”

Grace shook her head, “She wouldn’t have, but, she might have let Xander, if he went for it. She’s… she wouldn’t have, but she didn’t tell me… She told me everything, I thought, but she left that part out. Would she have?”

“Xander making murder attempts, Sunny making immoral threats, do they even… still acknowledge you as their leader, or has the mission changed?” He asked. He wasn’t being manipulative, this time. He was actually very concerned. Because, if the Apex thought that Grace was turning on them… If they thought she was a threat to everything they’d built, or unfit to lead… if they thought that she was a danger to them all…

“I have to go…” She said, collecting the information and leaving the apartment. “Don’t follow me,” she said. “I mean it.”

“I’ve learned my lesson,” he said, choking down the anger of rejection and the disgust of her rushing into potentially dangerous arms with what he thought might be the most important thing she had ever been given in her life! 

Her eyes were soft upon him as she hugged the information to her chest. “Thank you, Simon.”

His anger was gone. He came over and gave her a hug. “You… remember our last Date Night, don’t you?”

She scoffed and laughed, “Duh. That romantic ass shit. Why?” 

“I just… hoped you had.” He smiled at his feet, “You didn’t tell them.”

“I mean, I didn’t tell them any of them. It would be easier to just tell them if the need arose, than to give them several to potentially stumble over. To be honest, it was a shame it was fake. That’s the kind of thing…” She bit her lip and now she looked at their shoes. “That was around the time that I knew how I felt about you.” She turned and left quickly, not offering how she felt. She… knew that he probably knew. He knew everything else about her.

.

Grace felt like an outsider here. Maybe it was the time she spent in the safe house, maybe it was the fact that two of these three people had kept secrets from her and tried to lie to her, whether in her personal interest, or theirs… she hated it, but she also would forgive them. They were held together by interweaving threads. Even if she didn’t fully trust them right now, what could she do? Do this shit without them? Unlikely. And there was the whole matter of Simon. She hadn’t seen him since she had been back. Sometimes, she thought that she felt him watching, but she was always too afraid to turn around to check. More afraid that he might not be there than the thought that he might. 

The X was taking the trash out in the alley, the way he tended to do around this time at the place that he worked as a custodian. Sunny felt conflicted about it, since he hadn’t been a criminal in years. Jalicia felt like the group needed to heal before trying to do a job like this. Xander was willing to do anything to get into Grace’s… well… her good graces. Grace was out for blood and feeling betrayed that only Xander seemed as bloodthirsty about this as she did, and that even this seemed fabricated for her pleasure! 

They had gone over Jalicia’s tactical plan, and it should have been a breeze to pick him up, but whenever Grace got out of the van and to wait and the van was still, in the darkness, the man was cautious. There were no businesses doing anything in the alley at this time of night and he knew that a van meant criminal activity. He didn’t want to get involved and tried to rush back in. Grace knew that the door would lock, so she rushed upon him and when she did, he was prepared and shot her right in the abdomen. 

Should she have known to not rush him like that? Of course. Could she rationalize in the moment that she did? Not really. And whenever Xander started the van, Sunny opened the door to try to grab Grace, but the X was pointing the gun at the van now and Xander swerved out of panic and Sunny couldn’t catch hold of her. The other shots fired and Sunny screamed, unable to see behind the van, but presuming of course, that he finished Grace off, unless he had been firing at the van and simply missed every shot. She didn’t know what the hell had just happened, but Xander was still driving and crying, and not seeming to turn around and mow that motherfucker with this thing. 

.

Simon was out of his car by the time she was shot, his own gun drawn and his heart racing as everything happened much too fast for him to save her from what happened. The first gunshot rang through the night and he watched Grace fall and the van start. They were going to leave her. OF COURSE they were. That’s what they DID. But, he wasn’t going to. He could hardly see the shadow moving and shot him first in the back of the neck, but once the body fell he advanced on him, continuing to fire into him until he emptied the gun and reached Grace. She was unresponsive. It was too dark. He could see a little bit, but the security lights on the outside of most of these buildings hadn’t been changed in a while and the nearest one only gave him a little, so he made sure that she knew it was him. He turned on the flashlight of his phone and found the wound to try to stop the bleeding. He was on the phone and writing something on her hand, and trying to hold it together, but he couldn’t. He was crying and confessing on the phone to having shot someone. They were thinking he meant that he shot the woman he was calling about, but he managed, “No. No… Not her… I love her. I shot him. I’m sure I killed him.” 

He wasn’t crying because he killed someone, though maybe later, that would hit him harder. He was crying because all he had ever wanted to do was help her, save her, protect her, and it was his fault that she was dying in his arms. It was his fault… and she had just gone unconscious...

14. A Shot in the Dark Pt.2

[gone4neow]

Bookworm ❒ ldh

- donghyuck x reader, college!au

- warnings : swearing, light bullying, and cheesy fluff

-word count : 3,655

masterlist

❒❒❒❒❒

Her eyes had always been focused on the books. Whether it be the textbooks she was instructed to read daily or the books she found herself staying up late into the night to read to escape from the rest of the world, she couldn't afford to do anything but focus on the books. As a result, she found herself in the school library far too often.

No one knew her name, but they could recognize her face. She was the school's biggest bookworm. She was the loser who would rather read than to party, soak in the words on a page rather than drown the shots lined up on the pingpong tables down at the fraternities. It was something she was okay with, though she wished she could be oblivious to it all. All she wanted was to be taken seriously for once, to not have people stare at her with their lips curled up in amusement when they realized the rumors were true.

She found that one day. It had been standing right in front of her. Well, technically it had been standing on the other side of the bookcase and it wasn't an 'it' at all. Discovering him had been an accident. She had been scanning the cover of a book before she decided it was no good. When she went to place it back in it's spot, the book fell over, leaving enough room for her eyes to fall upon him.

He was taller than most of the boys she had seen on campus. His skin was glowing under the unforgiving florescent lights of the library, giving the appearance of fresh honey. The sight was so inviting and, for the first time, she found herself focusing on something other than the books in front of her. He was unaware of her admiring gaze, his attention on the book he held in his hands. She used this to her advantage, letting her eyes soak in the view of his plump lips and perfectly shaped cheekbones.

When the boy felt her eyes burning on his skin, he glanced up from the book in his hand. The girl drew in a sharp breath of air as she ducked down quickly. Her back pressed against the bookcase while her chest began to rise and fall quickly. She listened as he closed the book in his hand, then listened as his footsteps started off towards the librarian. Her eyes focused on the elderly woman that had spent more time than even her in this large room of books, envious of the smile the woman received from the boy she had just been admiring.

He handed the woman the book while saying something to her with a small nod of his head. The librarian took the book from him gently and scanned it for him without another word. His eyes averted away from the woman and towards the shelves he had just come from. He had sworn he had felt eyes on him while he was there, but now there was not a single person near the area. The small frown on his face vanished as the librarian handed him his book back. He smiled at her politely before he left the library altogether. She sighed in relief as she peered around the shelf and watched his the back of his leather jacket disappear into the hallway.

The feeling of her sweaty palms and racing heartbeat was enough to confuse her. She had never reacted this way to anyone before, yet here she was hiding behind a shelf so that he could not see her in such a frantic state. She let her eyes close while her hand came to rest against her chest. If she tried hard enough, she could feel her heartbeat racing against the tips of her fingers. Slowly, a small smile formed on her face. She decided that she liked this feeling, despite the fear it sparked within her.

The excitement from her newfound feeling was ruined just as it began. She heard the sound of laughter coming from somewhere across the room. Curiosity got the better of her, as it always did, and she let her eyes flutter open. They were pointing at her as they laughed amongst each other. She felt her face flush with embarrassment and quickly pushed herself up from the floor, so that she stood at her full height. Just as she went to turn, she ran into someone's chest. She glanced up at the man very briefly as she mumbled an apology. The laughter from the group only grew in volume after this.

She had felt humiliated several times in her life, but today it felt different. Something about the way the group had not even tried to hide the fact that they were laughing at her made her skin crawl with discomfort. She wanted to run, hide away in her dorm, and to erase her existence from the world entirely. Her breathing came in the form of quick, panicked puffs as she rushed across the library and towards the exit.

The next day, she found herself running late for class. It was the first for her. It was because of this that her professor simply frowned at her and gave her warning before ordering her to take a seat. She decided against taking her usual seat in the front of the room, not wanting the class's eyes to be on her any longer. Her cheeks were a bright red as she sat down, getting her classroom materials out in a rush.

"You missed some notes from the beginning of class," a low voice came from beside her. She glanced over her shoulder at it's owner. The air in her chest depleted at the sight of him. It was the boy she had been staring at in the library yesterday. She sat up straighter, turning her head to look at him fully. Her mouth opened and shut repeatedly, causing the boy to chuckle slightly.

"Is it that surprising that I pay attention in class?" He asked her playfully. Immediately, she shook her head. Her eyes drifted to his hand as he slid a piece of paper in her direction in a secretive manner. She found the action childlike and couldn't help but giggle quietly.

"Thank you," she whispered to him as she took the paper from him gently. She took a picture of the paper before she slid it back in his direction in the same manner that he had. From the corner of her eye, she could see a small smile form on his face. She couldn't understand how she had missed him all this time now that his presence in the room was almost suffocating her.

By the end of the week, she wanted to do nothing but rip her hair out of her head. Her mind was driving her insane. She needed to study for her psychology class but her eyes were simply scanning a page and taking in zero information. Her crush on the boy from the library had been exciting in the beginning, but now it was just a distraction. She threw the pen she had been chewing on against the surface of her desk, not even caring when it bounced off and landed somewhere in the floor. A frustrated huff escaped her as she crossed her arms and slouched in her seat. It took her only a few seconds to decide she would run to her safe haven for comfort. So, she stood, grabbed her coat, placed it on her shoulders, and rushed out of the room only to remember she had forgotten her shoes entirely. With a groan, she turned and pushed her way back into her dorm.

The library was busy throughout the day, for the most part, but as soon as the evening rolled around the building was deserted. That's why she hadn't worried about hiding from anyone when she raced inside. Her hair was sort of wild looking after the run from her dorms. The librarian greeted her politely, calling out her name sweetly and offering her a piece of her favorite candy. A fond smile formed on her face as she stepped over to the counter and took the candy gently from the woman.

"How are you?" She asked the elderly woman with genuine interest. They knew each other pretty well after all her time spent in the library. The woman was nearing her sixties, had three dogs, two children, and five grandchildren. She had went to school at the very college she now works for. The woman was extremely sweet. She had always been there to listen to the girl when she needed her the most. Her favorite thing about the woman was the fact that she wasn't judge mental. While most laughed and taunted her for her love of books, the librarian understood. That's what had connected them.

"Forget me! I've seen you run in here before and it's only when something's bothering you. So, let's hear it. I need to know immediately," the librarian replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"It's nothing," the girl sighed, her hand reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear as she spoke. The librarian scoffed at her, shoving another piece of candy into her hand although she hadn't even unwrapped the first piece.

"It must be bad. Are those one kids still teasing you?-" the librarian paused as she spoke, leaning forward to get closer to the girl. She looked both left and right, as if to make sure no one else was listening, before she finished speaking, "because if they are I'll kick their asses. You know I will."

The girl couldn't help but laugh. Her cheeks flushed at the woman's words. It was nice to have someone be so willing to defend her. She could remember the numerous times the old woman had swooped in when a group of students had been harassing her. The image of the books 'accidentally' colliding with the back of their heads was one she would never erase from her memory.

"No, no. Things are... as usual in that area of my life," she assured the woman in a quiet voice. She glanced down at the candies in her hand and then over her shoulder at the same spot she had discovered the boy who had haunted her thoughts. She gave another sigh before she turned around and met the librarian's eyes.

"It's just," she paused, not knowing what to say, before she continued, "I recently met this boy - well, I didn't exactly meet him. I don't even know his name, even thought we have a class together, but I can't get him out of my head. It's like every time I try to focus on something important, he's there, and when I'm not focusing on anything at all, he's there."

"Have you tried talking to him?" The librarian asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course not. Everyone on this campus thinks I'm some kind of joke," she replied bitterly.

"I don't. You're too scared, child. What you need to do is get over it and talk to him. How are you supposed to get in his pants if you don't even talk to him?" The old woman asked her as if scolding her child. The girl gasped in disbelief before she began to laugh. They laughed together, until the sound of a phone ringing filled the air. It was the library's phone. She watched as her old friend held up a finger and picked up the phone. It was when the woman greeted her wife that she decided to roam the countless isles of books to give her some privacy.

She glanced at the area where she had encountered the boy first and decided she wanted to stay away from there. If she was going to get him off her mind, she needed to avoid all reminders of him. Her fingers wrapped around the candies in her hand before she stuffed her hand in her coat pocket. She turned to the comics, which were located just a few feet away from the front desk, and began to scan through the Marvel section. Her fingertips had just skimmed over the cover of a Spiderman comic when someone cleared their throat from behind her. She immediately lowered her hand as she turned in the direction.

Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw his eyes staring back at her from the shelf behind her. He had pushed a few comics out of the way to look at her through his makeshift window. There was a small smile on his face as he let his eyes rake over her surprised features.

"Hi," he greeted her. It was only one word, but it was enough to make her heart start running a marathon.

"Hi," she breathed out. She was surprised she had managed to speak at all.

"I, um, heard your conversation with Tara earlier," he confessed with rosy cheeks. The girl's eyebrows shot up. He knew Tara by her name? How much time did he spend in the library?

"Oh... sorry about that. I didn't-"

"Oh no, it's fine, really. I just wanted to let you know that I don't think you're a joke," he assured her. She took a step forward, coming closer to his little window.

"Thanks," she told him with a smile. His small smile blossomed at the sight.

"You know, if you end up making a move on that guy and he thinks you're a joke - I'll kick his ass for you," the boy told her with full confidence in his voice. She laughed, her heartbeat fluttering.

That was how the two became friends. The girl learned the boy's name was Haechan. He was the same age as her, majoring in accounting at his father's request, and he spent as much time in the library as she did. He revealed that he had seen her in the library a hundred times, but she had never looked up from a book long enough to see him. The revelation had made her flush with embarrassment.

Her plan to avoid the boy had went straight out of the window. She had moved seats in class to sit next to him. He distracted her from her schoolwork and she allowed him to. She wondered if he had noticed the strange looks he had received when the pair walked around campus together. If he did, he hadn't let it bother him a bit.

A month passed and the feeling she had met the day she discovered Haechan had only amplified. The very thought of him had goosebumps crawling across her skin and her heartbeat would quicken. She lost sleep many nights, trying to convince herself to tell him. All she wanted was for him to know. She was too scared to tell him, afraid he would leave her behind in the dust once he realized the infamous bookworm felt anything but friendly feelings towards him.

"If you don't want to major in accounting, what do you want to major in?" She asked him one day when they sat together in the library. They were hidden away in a dark corner of the room, watching a show on Netflix instead of studying like they had agreed to do. The boy looked up and met her eyes. She could see the frustration he felt from the conflict swimming in his dark orbs.

"You'll laugh," he told her. She frowned.

"Of course I won't," she argued. There was a brief moment of silence before he revealed that he wanted to major in music.

"Music?" She had repeated in surprise. She could see many things for Haechan wanting to major in, but music had never crossed her mind.

"Yes, music. I know it's kind of lame-"

"It's not lame. That's awesome. I didn't know you were into making music," she interrupted him. He stared at her quietly after this, a small smile forming on his face slowly. Suddenly, he sat up straighter and lowered his phone from their view.

"What happened to that boy you couldn't get off of your mind? You never told me," he asked her softly. She felt her shoulders tense up at the question. Every part of her mind was screaming 'run', but she couldn't move. His stare had her locked in her seat.

"Y-you don't want to know," she stuttered out. He raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Oh yeah? If I didn't I wouldn't have asked," He sassed.

"You'll laugh," she echoed his words from earlier. This time, he frowned.

"When have I ever laughed at you?" He questioned her. She scoffed playfully at this.

"Well, there was the time I fell in class and you laughed - with everyone else. Then there was that one time I spilled that milkshake all over me and you didn't stop laughing. Oh! What about that one time that I accidentally sent a book through the washer and cried? You made fun of me for a week," She rambled nervously. Haechan laughed this time.

"Okay, okay. But those were funny things! This is a serious topic," he argued. She sighed, glancing away for a moment at the stairs leading down and towards the exit. If she ran now, she was sure he wouldn't be able to catch her. She let her eyes flicker back over to Haechan, who watched her with soft eyes. She let her eyes scan over his features, starting with those perfect eyebrows of his and descending down to his plump, pink lips.

Suddenly, it was like she was no longer in control of her body. She stood from her seat, ignoring the way the book in her lap crashed against the floor. She had first thought she was going to actually run, and so did Haechan from his startled expression. He was just about to tell her to sit back down, that she didn't have to tell her if she wasn't ready to, but she had leaned over and pushed him back in his seat. He could usually talk for days, but here he sat silent and unable to form a word. He watched as the girl straddled his lap. His heartbeat was beating so fast that he was worried he'd have a heart attack right there in the library. His eyes were focused on the girl's lips. They came closer and closer until his lips were met with the soft skin of her own lips.

She didn't know where her confidence had come from. It was as if a demon had possessed her body and finally gave her everything she wanted. Her hands ran along the skin of Haechan's neck until she was met with his soft hair. She let her hands tangle in it, tugging at it gently as she continued to kiss him passionately. Haechan, to her surprise, was responding. His hands had sat in the air for a few seconds before he found himself holding onto her hips for stability. He was surprised by her sudden rush of confidence, too. For months he had thought about kissing her, but he could never find it in him to actually comply with his own wishes. Now he had her in his lap with his lips pressed against hers and he regretted every second that he let pass by without acting upon his urges.

They parted after a moment, their breathing heavy and their hearts going wild. Their eyes were locked - neither of them wavering, until the girl realized what she had just done. A small gasp left her parted lips as she quickly brought her hands away from Haechan's hair to cover her mouth in shock. She couldn't believe what she had just done.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't think I would do that. Oh god, I'm still sitting in your lap. Please just forget this happened. I don't want to lose you," she spoke in a hushed, frantic tone as her hands came to sit on her flushed cheeks. Haechan's hands moved from her hips, reminding her momentarily that they had been there, and then his fingers wrapped around her wrists gently.

"Hey, I don't want to forget. You're not that bad at kissing, you know?" He attempted to joke, but when he seen that this had only caused her more stress he found himself sighing softly.

"I have feelings for you," he blurted out when he realized he wasn't going to be able to joke around. He watched as the girl's eyes widened in surprise. She stared down at him in disbelief before a small laugh slipped from between her lips. Haechan frowned. Was she laughing at him?

"That's the best news I've ever received. Haechan, the boy was you," she confessed as her hands fell from her face, taking Haechan's with them, and rested in her lap.

"I'm the boy you couldn't get out of your head?" He asked in surprise.

"Yes! I saw you in the library one day and then you wouldn't get out of my head. It might have been easier if you hadn't been wearing this stupid jacket of yours," she told him lightly as she nodded down to the leather jacket he wore. He furrowed his eyebrows as he glanced down at it.

"What's wrong with the jacket?" He asked her.

"It makes you look too pretty," she explained. Then, there was a smug smile on the boy's face.

"You think I'm pretty?" He teased her. She grew pinker in the face and Haechan couldn't resist any longer. He leaned up and pressed a short, sweet kiss to her lips.

"I think you're pretty, too," he revealed when he pulled away. The smile that formed on her face made his heart swell with joy. The school's bookworm had finally found her favorite story.

a/n : hi!! i felt bad about updating The New King so late and i’ve really been in my feels over haechan lately, so here’s a little something for you all! i probably won’t add another part for this unless someone asks me to, but i hope you enjoy it! thanks for reading ☺︎

[kaoru-takaida]

Shadowbringers Chapter:

COMING TO LIGHT

*Contains Shadowbringers spoilers*

Hope stretches and opens her eyes. She looks over to her left. Alphinaud is in the bed next to her, his nightgown poking out from under the blankets, his left hand on the pillow inches from his face, his hair down and sprawled out in every direction over the fluffy pillows. She smiled, sitting up. She shakes her head, her short white hair falling in its proper place in a few shakes, despite the slight curls that had set in from sleep. She stands up to walk over to the wash room when a couple of gentle knocks are heard at the door.

Hope fixes her nightgown and opens the door. Alisaie stands there, already dressed, and looking ready for business. She looks at Hope. "Have you got a moment?" Hope steps out of the room, closing the door behind her. Alisaie crosses her arms. "Alphinaud told you about Kaoru hiding something, I take it?" Hope sighs, fussing with her hair a second.

"Yeeeeah... But, Alisaie..." She shrugs. "I don't understand why you're insisting on pressing her for the details. Everyone has their secrets and everyone goes through their ordeals." Hope crosses her arms now too. "She wants to take care of it herself. And she'll just get mad if we interfere with that."

Alisaie scowls, dropping her hands to her sides, fists clenched. "Normally, I'd agree... but something is definitely happening over there that I fear she might not be able to handle..." Alisaie sighs. "I've got something I need to tell you." Hope cocks an eyebrow. "But promise me you won't disregard it."

Hope chuckles once. "Of course! You know I wouldn't." Alisaie gives a small smile. "What's up?"

Alisaie's smile fades. "When each of us were called here, our souls were still connected to our bodies still left on the Source." Alisaie puts a hand on her hip. "Which is to be expected, but the barrier between worlds keeping us here usually made the connection very thin. However, since we are still connected to our bodies, we've each had instances where we could feel our bodies back on the Source."

Hope tilts her head showing her surprise. "Wow, that's actually pretty crazy." Alisaie nods.

"It's nothing notorious. And since all of our bodies are confined to a single room, none of us have had any feeling that seemed of import..." Alisaie sighs. "Till last night..." Alisaie clenches her fists again. "I heard a gunshot. Loud and clear. Followed by a blood curdling scream." Hope's jaw drops in alarm. "And then nothing." Alisaie scowls.

Hope does now too. "What do you think it means?"

Alisaie shakes her head. "I haven't the foggiest idea..." She puts a hand to her chin, thinking. "However, when I had contacted Urianger about it, he told me that I should talk to Tius in that overly worded way of his." Alisaie shrugs. "But Tius is no where to be seen." Hope takes a second to consider this.

"Time on the Source has been sped up compared to the First. And Kaoru had been gone a day here." Hope thinks aloud.

"That would be about a week on the Source." Alisaie tells her. "If Urianger availed Tius the reasoning of Kaoru's infatuation with remaining on the Source, then mayhap we just missed Tius leaving for Eorzea." Hope tsks.

"Shit..." Hope says under her breathe. "Then the next best thing to do is ask G'raha if he knows anything about this and if he sent Tius back." Alisaie gives Hope an affirmative nod. Hope sighs, heart sinking. "Let me go get ready."

Arenvald grabs onto Kaoru's hands as she stands from her cot in a corner of Master Matoya's cave. "Easy now, girl. Lest you want a repeat of last time."

Kaoru gives her a reassuring look. "Aye, Master. I've spent a week in bed, I think I'm ready to walk." Arenvald shrugs.

"Mayhap Master Matoya is right. You've only just gotten feeling back in your legs." He reasons. "You shouldn't push yourself." Kaoru shakes her head.

"I haven't the time to be sitting around. I need to be back to full strength now more than ever." Kaoru looks down at her slippers. "I am walking today, regardless." Master Matoya sighs.

"Stubborn child." Matoya utters. Kaoru gives a sad smile to her and the looks down at her slippers again.

She looks at the table a few fulms away. She takes a step and Arenvald let's her hands go. She takes another shaky step forward, her body swaying a second before she corrected it. She's concentrating very hard. She reaches her hands forward for balance. She takes another step forward, but as she does her right knee gives out and she falls forward.

She latches onto the table, only to have it tip over and crash to the floor next to her. A few cups containing drinks crack to the stone floor and the table cloth slides off. She falls with a dry thud and winces in pain, groaning. "Kaoru!" Matoya and Arenvald turn to see Tius standing there, in a new outfit, and looking worried. He rushes over to Kaoru, dropping his bag while he did. Kaoru's eyes are wide. Almost in fear, but Matoya could tell there was a semblance of embarrassment and panic.

"Tius!" Arenvald says.

Tius takes Kaoru's hand, kneeling next to her. His ears pull back and he clenches his teeth, his fangs showing a bit. "What in the Hells is happening here?" Arenvald shakes his head, waving his hands in denial.

"It's not-."

Master Matoya drops her staff onto Tius's head, not too hard, but rough for him to shout an "Ow!"

"Calm yourself, tomcat!" Matoya yells. Tius rubs his head. "Let the girl explain herself!" Tius looks over at Kaoru who looks a bit paniced.

Hope steps into the Ocular. G'raha turns from his spot in front of his magic Crystal mirror. His ears perk up at the sight of Hope. "Hope! What a pleasure it is to see you." He tilts his head. "Though, judging by the look on your face, something is amiss?"

"Did Tius ask you to send him back to the Source?" Hope asks.

G'raha closes his red eyes, sighing a bit. "Yes. He did. And I was happy to oblige him, of course." Hope points at the portal.

"Send me too. Right now." Hope tells him. But G'raha does not move. Simply gives her a look of uncertainty and regret almost. "G'raha..."

"Alas... I can not." He answers. Hope scowls.

"Excuse me?"

G'raha's ears drop forward and down, showing he knew he was in trouble. "Look... Kaoru had asked not to let both you and Tius through unless it was an emergency."

Hope clenches her fists. "You let Tius through though! Why won't you send me?"

G'raha scowls a little, diving a determined look. "Aye, I sent Tius through. But only because I owed him a favor for healing me before Emet-Selch had his way with me."

Hope walks forward. "G'raha, I'm not discussing this. Let me through." He steps to the side, barring her way. Hope scoffs. "I'm not afraid of kicking your ass. Send me back right now!"

"Not without good reason!" He intercepts.

Hope grabs onto his robe. "The Scions are in danger!!" She snaps, jeering him closer. He gasps slightly, jaw dropping, his ear flinching in alert. "Someone is after their bodies on the Source and Kaoru is dealing with it by herself and killing herself in the process!" Hope hisses. G'raha looks down towards the floor, now considering this.

"Of course..." Hope releases him. He puts a hand to his chin. "If one were to kill them on the Source, their souls would cease to be here... They would perish before they return to Eorzea." He scowls. "Why was I not made aware?"

Hope crosses her arms. "Urianger is the only one of them who knows. He refused to tell Alisaie when she and I confronted him about it. Kaoru got a letter from Master Matoya, Krile, and Tataru about it from a tipster of the Empire the night she decided to leave the First." Hope scoffs. "She's been facing it by herself this entire time..."

G'raha puts a hand of reasoning out. "Urianger must not want the others to know lest he wish for them to panic or become distracted from their duties..." Hope nods. "But is that why Kaoru refused to tell anyone as well, I wonder?" G'raha asks. "Do you know how many attempts theirs been on their lives so far?"

Hope nods. "Urianger said twice now. With more suspected to happen." Hope answers. "Feo Ul has been Kaoru and Urianger's messenger between the Source and the First." G'raha looks away, deep in thought. Hope sighs. "Let me go through. Please..."

G'raha sighs, before nodding. "But mayhap you should let Master Alphinaud know first that you'll be leaving..." Hope looks at him. He puts his hands up surrenderingly. "Tis no trick or distraction, just genuine concern for your love." Hope nods.

"Okay." She says. "I'll go get ready to travel to Eulmore..." She crosses her arms. "Answer me this..."

G'raha's ears perk up in curiosity. "Hm?"

Hope nods at him. "Did you ever tell her? About what you told me?" G'raha looks away. Hope sighs. "You know... She needs to know." G'raha doesn't say anything. "She needs to know what you told me before you went back into the Tower."

He laughs half heartedly. "Nay, she does not." He gives Hope a small smile. "I only care for her happiness. Tis clear Tius gives her that and more." Hope scowls. "Who would I be to jeopardize that, if not, a traitor?"

Hope clenches her fists. "But-."

"Tis better this way." G'raha tells her. "For her sake."

Hope doesn't say anything. "And yours?"

He smiles, tilting his head and closing his eyes. "Of no consequence." Hope purses her eyebrows. She scoffs before turning and leaving.

G'raha sighs to himself. He looks up at the portal. G'raha reaches forward and touches it. With a harsh zap, he chokes in surprise and jerks his hand back. He tsks before scowling at the portal. "Dammit all..." He exhales slowly, clenching his teeth.

Alphinaud gives some documents to the Mystel to his left. "Master Kan-Loo, can you please deliver these reports to Master Chai-Nuzz? He'll be expecting them." Hope walks forward. "Ah, Hope, my love." He says noticing her as the blond male Mystel walks away. "I thought you'd be out hunting or training. To what do I owe you your visit?" Hope hesitates. Alphinaud notices. A Hume walks up with another stack of papers. But Alphinaud stops him in his tracks, raising a hand. Hope purses her eyebrows. "Hope, you're concerning me."

Hope nods sadly. "Can we talk?"

Moments later, Alphinaud puts a hand to his chin. "Are you for certain she's actually endangering herself over on the Source?"

Hope nods. "Yeah." She says, crossing her arms.

Alphinaud looks down at the floor. "And you've also elected not telling me as well?"

Hope scowls. "Not just you, okay? Y'Shtola, Thancred, Alisaie, Ryne, they all can't know..." Hope shakes her head. "Trust me. I'd tell you if I could. But I agree with Kaoru on not telling." Alphinaud closes his eyes, a slight scowl on his brows. "Please... understand..."

Alphinaud opens his eyes. "Alright..." Hope's jaw drops a bit. He smiles at her. "If you feel so strongly about this, then who am I to question your decision?"

Hope gives him a half hearted smile and a shrug. "The only who CAN..." She tells him. She purses her eyebrows, frowning again. "Alphinaud I-."

Alphinaud puts a hand up, shaking his head and stopping her. "Don't." He's still smiling. "Go help her. And hurry back." He says. Hope smiles. "Just make sure you give Kaoru a piece of your mind on behalf of Alisaie and yours truly." He says, balling a fist and slapping it into his other hand.

Hope sighs before stepping forward and hugging Alphinaud tightly, wrapping her arms around his lower waist and resting her head on his right shoulder. "Thank you..."

He leans forward and locks his soft lips to her, much to her surprise. When he steps away, he sees Hope's red face and inhales sharply. He releases her, rubbing the back of his neck. "M-My apologies. I mean, tis a bit strange on timing, I concede. And I know my circumstances makes it ever stranger. But we had yet to do... that -since before the First and-."

Hope laughs, smiling. She leans over and pecks him on the lips. "Don't apologize." She says to him, a smug look on her face. She pats his shoulder, his face redder than hers was, and his jaw dropped like the love struck fool he was. "Please, take care while I'm gone." And with that, Hope turned and left. Alphinaud puts a hand to his lips, watching her leave. He smiles a soft smile, looking away and blushing. He had to admit:

He had enjoyed that...

=======

Hope Gallant played by @louderthanthedj

[michael-and-bots]

FNAF character headcanons for my AU!

This is for my personal AU for what I think happens in the FNAF timeline+more! Click under the cut to see everyone!

Humans

Michael Afton: Mostly just Done and Tired. He’s easy to anger and upset(who wouldn’t be in his state?), but he really is a good dude. It’s just kinda hard being a walking corpse man with trauma so intense that no therapist would believe you. He also has no one except for Jeremy and Scott(phone guy), who both have their own shit to deal with. He COULD consider the animatronics his friends, but that’s kinda hard when they try to kill him every night. Has the life goal of ending what his father began.

William Afton: GROSS BOY!! He’s not a stereotypical maniac killer, he’s a genius, and isn’t afraid to to flaunt that, but his utter lack of empathy is what makes him not feel any remorse for what he does, and his lack of care for anything but himself and genuine curiosity of what happens when you die is what drove him to murder. He’s awful. (See more: Springtrap)

Elizabeth Afton: Cheerful, curious, and adventurous. She’s much like her father in these ways, however she has more empathy and wishes to help people, however she’s not afraid to place herself before others. Around eight years old before death. (See more: Baby)

Cassidy Afton: Shy, hesitant, and introverted. He very quiet when around strangers, and still quiet when around family. He has a lot going on in his head- a giant imagination, something he gets from his father. He often gets dragged along by his twin sister on adventures. Around eight years old before death. (See more: Golden Freddy)

Mrs. Afton: Quiet and kinda a doormat. She loves singing and often sings to her children or to herself. She is kinda scared of William, but genuinely cares about him and tries everything she can to make him happy. Committed suicide after her first child died and her husband refused to give her comfort. (See more: Ballora)

Jeremy: This Boy Has No Fear And Someone Must Stop Him. He obviously can’t get a job in his condition of, Yknow, lacking a frontal lobe? Luckily, Scott took him in and they’ve been living together for the most part!! Jeremy would get into a lot of trouble while Scott was at work until Michael eventually moved in as well. Making sure Jeremy didn’t follow any dumb fucking impulse was like a day shift, but he didn’t mind it too much. Jeremy does care about people and things and does have a will to live, he just completely forgets that stuff when he gets distracted and interested by something that would usually make someone take off running.

Scott(Phone Guy): Nervous twink. Has been working in the establishment for a LONG ASS TIME! He’s pretty sketchy and kinda a compulsive liar, mostly out of fear of William, even after the guys dead. He is literally constantly trying to get Michael and Jeremy to Not Do The Thing.

Henry: Big ol happy bear guy! For awhile, at least. After Charlie died and all the things happened with William, he lost his will to live. Design and engineering was no longer fun to him after someone he grew up with and cared about shattered everything about them in his face with a trail of bloody child murders. Rather sketchy and vague. Deeply cares about his mission to end this as much as Michael does. Charlie: A kind-hearted little girl adopted by Henry. She’s the mom friend- someone who tries to make sure everyone’s happy and tries her best to make sure everything’s okay. She was best friends with Elizabeth before she was killed. Around eight years old before death. (See more: Marionette)

Animatronics

Freddy: Stoic, leader-like, quiet, very reclusive and tries to hide just about anything emotional.

Bonnie: nervous and twitchy, but kinda clever in a way? He'll like drop his guitar or something while muttering "shit. Fuck. Fuck. Dammit. This shits slipping like my guts did through That Bitch Williams hands.." and then get whacked in the back of the head by the others. Hates his body and doesn’t like to be stared at.

Chica: Very soft gal! She doesn’t really take many things seriously? She screams a lot and cusses like a sailor even when being nice. She's very motherly though and adores the kids.

Foxy: little shit garbage boy. Very unstable and emotional and emo. He hides in his cove and when he's not hiding he's being a little shit by making fun of everyone. Twitches a lot. Bonds with Bonnie well cause they joke about their trauma. "This here pizzas worse than that fuckin' kids skull, Chica. Did ya even cook the shit? I'll go Gordon Ramsay on yar ass, I swear it." (Even tho he didn’t cause the bite- though tbh I feel like he pretends to have some psychic twin connection with Mangle for some dumb reason)

Toy Freddy: "listen, man. I'm not possessed by any fucking kids. I'm just here to do my job. And eat pizza."

Toy Bonnie: "> : 3 c"

Toy Chica: Very flirty and chipper, far sweeter than normal chica. While og chica will fight someone if they insult her, Toy Chica will just cry or smth imo.

Mangle: "!!!!!!!!!BARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!BALL????????????????H????????!!!!$!$&&;&;!:7374:${£}£|\+!!!!!!!!!!!!"(literally haunted by a dog. no one can really understand them except for Chica or sometimes Foxy. However, they use sign language to communicate to everyone else.)

Golden Freddy/Fredbear: Goes by Goldie. Far more childish than someone would expect. Hates his reflection. Very rarely shows up because of his fear of the other animatronics, even though he's aware they're also kids possessing them. Don’t ask how he functions in an empty suit, he doesn’t know either. (See more: Cassidy Afton).

Marionette: Goes by “Em”. An Absolute Mom. She takes care of everyone in the restaurant and looks after them. She was overprotective at first, but when the re-opened building closed after The Bite she lost that bloodlust and was fine with hiding away with Goldie, especially since he’s very lonely and doesn’t panic looking at her. She also feels rather bad for Michael, and would never kill anyone EXCEPT for William. Very close with Baby. (See more: Charlie)

Springtrap: Absolute sweetheart!!!! Baby boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wouldn't harm a fly!!!!!!! Most the time. His connection with Williams soul is different than everyone else? While they kinda fused(??) with their animatronics cause the puppet gave em life, Springtrap is still his own bot but very often possessed by William, who is of course fucking awful. mostly a mute due to his broken down voice box and his fear of talking in general due to so many years alone with just Williams soul(see more: William Afton).

Baby: She’s kinda a little shit? She seems quiet and polite but her very soft-spoken voice says some alarming things or just straight up insults. She’s rather clever and can easily outsmart practically everyone. She doesn’t seem to be very bothered by her death unlike everyone else. After getting kicked out by Ennard, her endoskeleton literally hangs out in the back alley way- or even the kitchen of Freddy’s. Often talks to Em. (see more: Elizabeth Afton).

Ballora: Mom friend, or more like literal mom, in a sense. Ballora is possessed by Mrs. Afton, and is rather aggressive in a way that is vague if you catch my drift. She has a love/hate relationship with William, which is a very common symptom of abuse(see more: Mrs. Afton).

Funtime Freddy: ABSOLUTE CHAOTIC DUMBASS. (used to be shocked the most out of everyone else- eventually it damaged his hard drive and made him more chaotic. They had to hook him off of the controlled shock treatment to prevent him from over frying.)

Funtime Foxy: attention whore. Enjoys being a dumb shithead just like Ft Freddy, but takes the fact that he used to be a child and was killed by the person enslaving them more seriously.

Ennard: An amalgamation of Baby, Ballora, and FT Freddy and Foxy. It’s a little chaotic shit, and has this fake crush on Michael, and enjoys making fun of his pain.

Molten Freddy: Ennard, but without Baby. After Baby was kicked out, both Ballora and Ft Foxy were too submissive to take her place as the one in charge, so Ft Freddy took control, which wasn’t a very good idea. Molten Freddy is very chaotic and loud, as well as twitchy and dangerous. Ennard's slight attachment towards Michael was replaced by pure love for seeing him suffer- but more just disinterest in general.

[astarryon]

Hard Feelings Part 2

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warnings: None

A/N: inspiration hit me heavy for this update, and I think I’ve finally decided on the direction I wanna take this series. I hope you like this one! A bit angsty toward the end, but I promise the fluff will be rolling in soon Until then, enjoy!

Part 1

-

Aside from the very specific case of Bucky Barnes, you seemed to be excelling at making friends in the tower. Steve had taken the initiative to call a group meeting among all of the people residing in the tower for the time being in order to introduce you, which pretty much meant that you were now acquainted with all of the Avengers. And to think you’d been star struck when you had met Steve just a little earlier that morning.

“So which one of us are you here to babysit?” Clint, who was reclining against Natasha’s side, lightheartedly questioned you. “It’s not me, is it? I’d hate to be on Fury’s shortlist of ‘misbehaved individuals’.”

“Sorry to say, but I think everyone in this tower is on that list,” Tony Stark quipped, walking over from the counter he’d been standing at for several moments and depositing a glass of water into your hands. You smiled at him in thanks, sipped from it for a moment, and then set it down on the coffee table in front of where you and Steve were sat.

Sam Wilson, who was perched on the arm of the sofa beside you, scoffed. “Speak for yourself, tin man. My behavioral reputation is spotless.”

In an effort to put a stop to the bickering, Steve raised his voice above all of the chatter. You smirked a bit, unable to keep from chuckling at the fact he seemed like a father chastising his misbehaved children. “Y/n isn’t here to babysit anyone, guys, come on. She’s been assigned to Bucky’s, uh, therapy detail.” Conveniently, Bucky happened to be the only person missing from the room; you got the sense that hadn’t been an accident on his part.

At the sound of Steve’s words, a hush had fallen over the large group before you. Wanda, her wide eyes glancing at you in sympathy, sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; the main emotion you were currently getting from her seemed to be one of sympathetic surprise. Bruce Banner’s predominant emotion was one of outright panic, and the rest of the group’s feelings seemed to complement the tone.

Well, everyone’s emotions aside from Tony’s.

“Rest in fucking pieces, you poor soul,” he muttered from under his breath, unable to help the guffaw which escaped him directly after. “Fury seriously didn’t get the memo after the last one?” That earned a couple of snickers from the group around you, and you found your interest piqued in a morbid fashion.

As an agent of SHIELD, you had obviously heard some details about what happened to those who were assigned to Winter Soldier duty; it was why you’d been so hesitant to agree to this so called promotion in the first place. Nobody would say so out in the open, but everyone regarded being given this particular assignment as a form of quiet punishment from Nick Fury. There had been many days when you and your colleagues had sat and laughed together at your lunch time, discussing the small tidbits of gossip and knowledge you had all managed to glean from your superior officers. Lena Vasquez, your closest friend, had been the one who always managed to gain the most information, and somehow always won the bets you and the rest of your group would place on how long the next psychologist who was sent to stay at the tower would last. As hard as you tried, though, you couldn’t seem to place who the last assignment had been, or what had become of them.

“Oh my god,” Natasha laughed. That was a little weird to see; each time you’d pictured Natasha Romanov, you thought of her has someone to be feared. Of course, she was definitely intimidating, even if she was currently casually cuddling Clint. It was just, on the list of things you had expected to witness in your life, seeing Black Widow in blue jeans and a messy ponytail hadn’t been something you’d deigned to pencil on. “Morgan was here for like what, three days?”

“Yeah, and then Farrah Fawcett Hairspray threw the biggest tantrum this side of the country,” Tony muttered. The irritation which must have been tied to the memory bubbled up to the surface, extending out from Tony’s words and seeping into your skin. “Took me three weeks to get that glass replaced. Insurance doesn’t exactly cover somebody getting thrown from a 93rd story picture window; that shit came out of my pocket.”

“Your name is plastered on buildings all over the city, Stark,” Sam quipped. “I’m sure you can afford a damn window.” You might’ve laughed at all of the chuckling and grumbling going on by everyone around you if you weren’t suddenly so concerned for your own survival, and at the casual mention of an attempted murder.

“He… he threw someone out of a window?” What had you done? What had you done to make the universe become this dead set against you? Scratch that, actually; who the hell had outed you to Fury and when was going to be your next available chance to sock them in the jaw?

“It was fine,” Clint offered, the fact that he was attempting to do damage control coming across as mildly insulting, considering the fact that he was still laughing. “The guy only fell one story, okay? The balcony broke his fall; Buck knew it would.”

“Great,” you muttered, blinking and raising your eyebrows. “Glad to know I’m safe, at least.”

“I mean,” Wanda chimed, staring off thoughtfully. “No matter what, it could never be as bad as the time that Bucky blew up—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Steve interjected, his embarrassment rising, punctuated with a spike of stress. The flavor of it left a sour taste in your mouth. “You guys are gonna scare her off, and that’s the exact last thing I need.” Offering you a tentative glance, Steve placed a hand on your shoulder to provide you with some sense of comfort. “I know it sounds bad, but you’re the first agent with a superpower to be assigned. And I promise I’m not gonna let Bucky throw you out of a window, if that helps at all.”

Confusion suddenly took over as the predominant emotion in the room, in addition to wonder and curiosity. You would need to tune out of your gift soon, if the emotions of the others kept swaying back and forth so drastically. That was something you had learned to do at a young age, and it was a skill necessary to maintaining your sanity. Your emotions were something you could easily get into check, but the heightened sympathy your power forced you to hold for others and their feelings possessed the ability to send you over a mental cliff, which was something you weren’t interested in in the slightest.

“Whoa, wait,” Bruce began, “you’re a super?” When you nodded, he looked around at the others in the room, pleasant surprise etched onto his features. “I mean, Bucky hasn’t had anyone with powers try to treat him since Wanda.”

“Because powers that can manipulate mental aspects are hard to come by,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, trust me, I know. That’s why I’m hoping Bucky won’t be so quick to turn y/n away, like he did with all the others.”

You shook your head, a humorless laugh escaping you. When Steve glanced at where you sat beside him, you said, “You remember what he said this morning, right? Said he didn’t care who I was or what my powers were, then called me a mood ring, and pretty much told me to go fuck myself after that. Guy definitely already wants me gone, Steve.”

“That’s kind of just how Bucky is with new people?” Sam tossed out.

“Correction,” Tony quipped, taking a swig from the glass of scotch he’d acquired while pouring your water. “That’s how he is with everybody.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he just… doesn’t like you,” Wanda chuckled.  Maybe it was because Wanda was the closest to you in age, but you liked her. She seemed like someone you’d be able to hang out with, maybe watch stupid movies and stay up entirely too late with.

Tony waved his hand, flippantly dismissing the words. “Semantics, Maximoff. What I wanna know is what this kick ass power is. What do you have, y/n? Mind reading? Super guilt tripping? Or, wait, you said Barnes called you a mood ring? Holy shit, do you change color?”

You laughed, shaking your head in pure amusement. You got the feeling you would at least be able to enjoy your time in Avengers Tower, no matter how long or short a period that was fated to be. “No, I don’t, but I…” You were suddenly very conscious of the many eyes focused on you, and you involuntarily blushed. God, why were you embarrassed? You’d never spoken about your power out loud or so casually before, sure, but this was ridiculous. “I can read emotions, and I can also influence them. It works better if I’m able to touch the person who I’m working with, but it’s not actually necessary. Like, uh…” You allowed yourself to tune into the emotional climate of the room a bit more thoroughly, latching on to the first set that caught your attention.

Tony.

“What’s the project you’re working on right now, Tony?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side. “You’ve got a lot of excitement going on in your head, and it feels like it’s linked to creativity. You feel annoyed about it too, though, so I’m assuming it failed a test of some kind? But, then, it’s like… oh, okay I see. Your prototype failed, so you built a new one. That one failed too, but you’re pretty sure you have a workaround. Is that why you were all annoyed and uppity when you walked in here? Steve called the meeting and it interrupted you fixing the prototype of whatever you’re working on?”

Tony’s jaw dropped, genuinely caught off guard and impressed. “Did you just read my mind? You’re sure you aren’t actually a mind reader? Rogers, am I being punk’d?”

You’d spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining everyone, reading their emotions separately and announcing to the group what was on each individual’s mind. They all seemed to be getting a kick out of it, and for that you were grateful. Part of the reason you’d never been willing to share your power with anyone was because you’d been deathly afraid of judgement, of being called a freak of nature. That was less likely while working in a place like SHIELD, of course, but you found it difficult to let go of your worries.

If anything, you were just happy to know that you had friends in Avengers Tower, even if the one person who was your entire reason for being there seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with you.

Whatever. You would deal with it later.

—

It was about your third night in the tower that you’d begun taking part in some pretty risky business, and you were sure that your well being now depended on your ability to keep said risky business a secret.

Because if Bucky found out what you were getting up to, if he even suspected you in the slightest, you were pretty sure he would do a lot worse than throw you out of the 93rd story window.

It had started that morning, when you’d walked over to Bucky’s door and rapped a decisive knock againt the wood. You knew he was awake, because you had heard him come and go from his room several times while taking your morning shower, and you knew he was in his room now because you could sense his familiar emotions, only becoming more and more potent as he neared the door to open it. Annoyance, irritation, and the tiniest drop of fear which had been present the very first time you had met him. That was, perhaps, the part about Bucky which perplexed you the most. The man could probably bench twice your bodyweight without a second thought; what reason did her have to be frightened of you?

The door was wrenched open before you could ponder about it much further, revealing Bucky’s scowling face. He was clad in sweats and a plain black tee, but the simplicity of the clothing did nothing to disservice his physical attributes, but that wasn’t really surprising. Everyone in the tower seemed to be unfairly blessed in the looks department, though Bucky was especially. Everything about him was sharp angles and muscle, topped off with a voice that would probably make you weak in the knees if it weren’t constantly being used to insult your character.

“What are you staring at?” Bucky demanded, voice breaking you from your reverie. The metal of his left arm gleamed in the light of the hallway, whirring quietly as he shifted to lean his weight against it, and you blinked several times. You couldn’t even defend yourself against him because you had, in fact, been staring.

“Um, s-sorry,” you stuttered. Oh, damn it all. You’d been so confident when you’d strode over to his door, so sure of what you wanted to say. Why were your words failing you now? “Good morning, by the way.”

“Not anymore,” he muttered under his breath.

You let it go, not really having the wherewithal to be witty at the moment. “Listen, I was wondering if maybe we could try, like, an emotion reading today? It won’t take long, and I’m gonna have to start sending Fury updates any day now, so I just figured—”

“No,” Bucky told you plainly.

Not one to give up easily, you tried again. “Look, I know it’s sort of an uncomfortable situation for you, and believe me, I get it, but I really need to—”

He cut you off, and you wondered if Bucky ever let anyone finish a sentence before going completely postal on them, or if this behavior was specifically for you. “You don’t understand shit,” he barked at you, looking for all the world like there was no one he hated more. “You think just because you can tell if someone’s happy or sad that you somehow understand what I’ve been through? Uh uh. No dice, sweetheart. I already told you we weren’t playing this fucking game. Stay in this tower for as long as you like, but you’re wasting your time if you’re hoping to get anything out of me.”

Overwhelmed and unsure of what to do, you dropped your eyes to the floor and tried to ignore the embarrassment in your chest. That was something Bucky was good at, it seemed. Making you feel embarrassed. “I’m just… trying to help you,” you offered lamely. “I’m only here to help you.”

“And I didn’t ask for it,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t want it. So why don’t you do the both of us a favor and stop trying to make yourself useful, okay? Because it’s not working.”

The hostility rolling off of Bucky was so thick and potent that you could’ve choked on it. He meant what he was saying about not wanting help; he was being sincere. This assignment really was just the most impossible one, wasn’t it?

You shook your head, unsure of what to say. You glanced up at Bucky, decided that was a mistake, then began to turn your back to him, content to walk back to your room. “Guess I’ll just go fuck myself then,” you muttered sarcastically, still in shock at the sheer hostility rolling off the man behind you.

“Yeah, why don’t you?” he egged you on. “Least that way one of us gets to be a little less than miserable.” The slamming of his bedroom door let you know that he’d removed himself from the situation.

For Christ’s sake. How were you meant to help someone who clearly didn’t want your help and couldn’t manage to be civil to you for more than five seconds?

“Give it time,” Wanda had advised you later on in the day as the two of you ate lunch together. “Bucky will come around to you eventually. He wasn’t thrilled about me rooting around in his head at first either, for the few weeks that we tried to go that route.”

“Yeah, but you’re his friend,” you’d told her, shrugging a shoulder. “Even if he wasn’t happy about it, he didn’t hate your guts.”

“He doesn’t hate you, y/n,” she repeated. It was sweet of her to say, but she couldn’t feel what you did. She might have a guess at Bucky’s emotions, but you had a concrete handle on them, and they weren’t pleasant.

You’d gone about the rest of your day normally. Or, as normally as you could, having to adjust to living in the tower with a number of new roommates. They were all lovely people, save for one very stubborn super soldier with a disregard for your feelings, but you were beginning to feel disenchanted. Was the field agent position really worth all of this? Fury had basically said you would be staying in this tower as long as it took to correct Bucky’s emotional issues, and it was a testament to how awful you were doing that you weren’t even sure what exactly those issues were. Bucky had declared more than once that you really shouldn’t bother to hold your breath, because he wasn’t going to entertain you.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, it seemed.

You had retired to your room early that night, not very inclined to people please for the time being. Distantly you felt everyone’s individual emotions from the few floors separating you, but eventually you tuned them all out, ignoring reality in favor of reading a few chapters in the book you’d picked up last week. Only, a few chapters had quickly become many, minutes had turned to hours, and suddenly you had read the ending sentence of the last page and all you could see when you looked out the window of your bedroom was the inky blackness of the night sky.

“Hey Jarvis?” you called out, yawning and stretching your arms toward the ceiling. “What time is it?” Had to be late; you could feel the sleep dust forming in your eyes.

“Half past one, ma’am,” Jarvis answered immediately.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Okay, so a little later for you than usual, but it wasn’t like you had any plans tomorrow morning. You stood, stripping off the clothing you’d been wearing and switching them out for pajamas. You’d been just about ready to ask Jarvis to switch the lights off as you crawled into bed when something gave you pause.

Reading your book had been a good way to tune out everyone else in the tower and their emotions, but now that you were no longer distracted you were feeling… agony. Terror. Desperation. And just as you were about to write it off as you simply being tired, as your mind and ability playing tricks on you, you heard it. Plain as day, you heard it.

Someone was screaming.

Without thinking practically or having the sense to grab a weapon in the event that you would need to defend yourself, you raced to your bedroom door and threw it open, the strength of the complete and utter pain growing tenfold as you did so. Listening intently, you concentrated, trying to pinpoint the location of the screams and bristling as your body and mind recognized the direction in which both the noise and the pain extended from.

Bucky’s room. It was all coming from Bucky’s room.

You ran to his door, unsure of what exactly you should expect but completely unwilling to let Bucky fend off whatever was causing him this amount of harm by himself. The quality of emotions, the taste and tang staining your tongue, the essence of what Bucky was projecting? It felt like he was being murdered. It felt like he was dying. Bucky might not have been the nicest to you and you might have had only the most basic form of self defense training, but you’d be damned if you condemned him to suffer through whatever was trying to kill him alone. You could at least assess the situation and have Jarvis call for backup. Ruching to throw the door open without having time to work up the courage to do it, you burst into Bucky’s room with shaking hands and a heart full of anxiety, unsure of what to expect. Only… what you could see made no sense whatsoever.

Bucky was still screaming, still in enough agony to prompt your emotion sensors to believe that he was on the verge of death, but he wasn’t being attacked or physically harmed at all. He was laying in his bed shirtless, entangled in the comforter and thrashing wildly, the dim illumination from the window casting just enough light into the room to allow you to see the pure fright and pain contorting his face. Bucky wasn’t being attacked. Bucky wasn’t dying.

Bucky was dreaming.

Unsure of what to do and unable to help yourself, you walked forward until you stood just a step from the edge of his bed, the volume of his screams growing louder and the intensity of his pain becoming almost unbearable. He was moving, struggling, fighting whatever it was that terrified him so. This wasn’t… no, this wasn’t okay. In all your time as an emotional telepath, you hadn’t ever felt anything this specific or concentrated. It was like each of your nerves was being individually electrocuted at the highest wattage possible, your mouth running dry and your hands beginning to shake. Nobody should have had the capacity to feel this much grief and hurt. It was debilitating; it was life ending.

You weren’t able to stop yourself as you reached forward, pressing a palm to Bucky’s chest as gently as you could. His muscles had tensed at the contact, but you’d subconsciously been prepared for it. You weren’t sure what it was you were doing, but you were sure that he couldn’t be left to feel that way anymore. Not if he wanted to survive. The anger had to be pushed out, the hurt and the shock and the discomforting presence of cold, all of it needed to go. Bucky needed happiness, not pain. He needed compassion, not torture. He needed warmth, not iciness. He needed love, not terror.

And so, you gave him what he needed and took what he didn’t.

It took a few moments, but it had worked nonetheless. His thrashing had been first to cease, and his screaming followed quickly after. That heartbreakingly expressive face had smoothed into content, and the blue tone which had been corrupting all of Bucky’s unconscious emotions had faded out, a bright pinkish red now coloring them. He was still and calm now, and you weren’t sure where he was in his dream now, but you hoped with all your might that it was somewhere sunshine filled and comforting.

Cautiously removing your hand from Bucky and waiting a moment to make sure he wouldn’t need you to influence him again, you marveled at what you had just done. You didn’t believe in making people feel what you wanted them to against their will, not unless it was an emergency of some kind. You figured it had to be some form of immoral. But, what Bucky had just been feeling, the very miniscule amount of what you’d picked up from it? That seemed like a pretty intense emergency.

Fuck, did he always feel those things while he was sleeping?

Once it became clear that Bucky’s dreams would hold nothing but serenity for the rest of the night, you slowly turned, exited his room, and returned to yours, unable to shake the magnitude of what you had just been made to feel. You crawled into bed, asked Jarvis to turn the lights off for you, and laid there, hugging yourself as you continued to play over what you had just felt and done.

“Jarvis?” you whispered after a few moments of laying in the dark.

“Yes, Miss?”

You were beginning to hiccup, and you wondered if Jarvis understood what crying was and what it meant. “Will you… will you let me know if Bucky starts having a  nightmare again, please?”

“Yes, Miss,” came his simple reply.

“Will you let me know every night, if he has a nightmare?” you clarified, eyes burning with the tears brimming in them. “You, um, you can’t let him know.”

A pause.

Then, “Yes, Miss.”

“Thanks,” you choked out.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were sure you’d done it sobbing.

—

Part 3

Tag List: @ayyomizzy @frost-11 @abswritesmarvel @wantingtobekorra @lordemjay @elleatrixlestrange @ly--canthrope @little-bit-of-your-heart

[hrhxainsley]

Trident Task # 5:

Basic Character Questions

First name?: Ainsley 

Surname?: Dùghlas

Middle names?: Freya 

Nicknames?: Ains, engeltje

Date of birth?: October 12th, 1997

Age?: Twenty

Physical / Appearance

Height?: 5′3″

Weight?: 120

Build?: Small, slender

Hair color?: Chestnut

Hair style?: On an average basis, it’s a ponytail or in loose waves

Eye color?: Blue/hazel (more blue)

Eye Shape?: Hooded

Glasses or contact lenses?: Neither

Distinguishing facial features?: A small spatter of freckles on her face that she always covers with makeup.

Which facial feature is most prominent?: Her eyes

Which bodily feature is most prominent?: All in all, it depends on the person. She’d consider it her chest, some would consider her ass.

Other distinguishing features?: None

Skin?: Fair

Hands?: Small, delicate-looking

Make up?: Always. She’s always wearing at least foundation, eyeliner, and mascara

Scars?: Above her right eyebrow from when she was playing and fell through a glass table when she was six. 

Birthmarks?: A freckle on her right wrist..

Tattoos?: None, but she wants one badly.

Physical handicaps?: None

Type of clothes?: She generally wears comfortable, casual clothes in the form of jeans and nice shirts on a day to day basis. If she’s going somewhere nice, she’ll dress up accordingly. Back in Scotland, she generally wore some form of heels with her outfits.

How do they wear their clothes?: She wears her clothes fitted.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc): Pristine, mostly. Her shoes were very well-taken care of.

Race / Ethnicity?: Caucasian

Mannerisms?: Fidgety. She likes to keep busy in some form or else she grows irritated. She often drums her fingers or cracks her knuckles

Are they in good health?: Ainsley does her best to stay in good health by eating right and does yoga every morning

Do they have any disabilities?: None

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse?: Her most overused word is ‘like’ or ‘bitchin’

Do they have a catchphrase?: “Oh, fuck me” is what she says when she’s inconvenienced

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?: As of late, she’s become quite the pessimist

Are they introverted or extroverted?: Before the island, she was rather extroverted, but lately, she’s become more introverted as a defense mechanism

Do they ever put on airs?: Oh, absolutely. Especially at the beginning of her arrival to the island.

What bad habits do they have?: She often cracks her knuckles and her neck, argues with someone even if she agrees with them, and can be quite selfish

What makes them laugh out loud?: A dry sense of humor

How do they display affection?: She generally doesn’t believe in PDA, but in private, it’s often with small, absent touches or with happy looks and smiles

Mental handicaps?: None, really.

How do they want to be seen by others?: Tough and untouchable

How do they see themselves?: She views herself as such. Tough and untouchable. She’s really not.

How are they seen by others?: Probably a gigantic pain in the ass.

Strongest character trait?: The lengths she’d go for the people she genuinely loves and cares about. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for the people she loves. 

Weakest character trait?: How apathetic and selfish she can be towards the people who aren’t people she loves. Generally, if something doesn’t directly affect her, she won’t show any interest. 

How competitive are they?: Extremely for no discernible reason. Someone could tell her she couldn’t beat someone in something and she would say a great big ‘fuck you’ and attempt to beat them, even if there’s literally zero chance of her winning. 

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider?: Snap judgments. She’s impulsive af.

How do they react to praise?: Outwardly, she takes it with grace, but inwardly, she does Amy Santiago’s victory dance.

How do they react to criticism?: One of two ways. She’ll either say ‘fuck you’ or she’ll play it cool, then agonize later.

What is their greatest fear?: Emotionally, it’s that she’ll never get home or that something happens to the people she loves and she can’t do anything to stop it. Otherwise, it’s spiders, snakes, and clowns. And needles.

What are their biggest secrets?: That she deep down wants someone to get her to knock off her shit and see her for who she is and love her. Despite the fact she’s terrified of intimacy and commitment.

What is their philosophy of life?: “It’s only illegal if you get caught.”

When was the last time they cried?: When she saw Fia and realized in happiness that she has her sister and in sadness when she realized she’d been taken as well.

What haunts them?: Her brother’s death. She’s never fully gotten over it and he was her hero and her best friend.

What are their political views?: She’d be considered a Libertarian, in OOC society.

What will they stand up for?: Without a doubt, she stands up for whoever can’t stand up for themselves. Children, animals, she’ll knock someone out over it.

Who do they quote?: She likes to quote TV shows such as Friends, Rules of Engagement, and such.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy?: INDOORSY AF.

What is their sinful little habit?: If she’s fooling around with someone and has a rare moment of spending the night with them, she takes it upon herself to wake them up with oral.

What sense do they most rely on?: Out of her five senses, it’s her sight. Otherwise, she relies solely on instinct.

How do they treat people better than them?: She treats everyone with equal annoyance and disdain.

How do they treat people worse than them?: See above.

What quality do they most value in a friend?: Someone with her same values and would go an equal distance she would. Honesty, sarcasm.

What do they consider an overrated virtue?: Integrity. If no one’s looking, do whatever the fuck you want.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?: Her fear of commitment.

What is their obsession?: Hummus and pita chips. That’s her one vice.

What are their pet peeves?: Obnoxious people, mostly

What are their idiosyncrasies?: Knee bouncing, clicking her tongue when focusing on something or in tune with some sort of song she knows

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of?: Ainsley’s family is BIG. She has her parents and six siblings. Even though her brother is dead, she still counts him.

What is their perception of family?: No one comes before family. Ever.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?: She’s the youngest girl but has a younger brother.

Describe their best friend: She has her sister and Aria. To her, her best friends are her family.

Ideal best friend?: Someone who doesn’t put up with her shit and kicks her ass into doing what she needs to do.

Describe their other friends: She doesn’t really have many friends.

Describe their acquaintances: People she parties with

Do they have any pets?: She has a Westie named Finn and a cat named Sebastian

Who are their natural allies?: None

Who are their surprising allies?: None.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?: Got into everything out of curiosity to know how they work. Had snarky one-liners that had her mother gasping and her father laughing.

Did they grow up rich or poor?: Rich. She’s a Scottish princess, after all.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?: Nurtured as best as they could and did their best to bring her everywhere.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said?: It’s hard to pinpoint exactly which one.

What is their greatest achievement?: She once successfully calmed down tensions between one of her brothers and another royal.

What was their first kiss like?: Messy. Awkward. Gross. She tries not to think about it.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?: Pushing them away when she was in love with someone. 

What are their ambitions?: She aspires to be a liaison for the crown, to help with more charities.

What advice would they give their younger self?: To stop pushing people away and that she’ll be okay.

What smells remind them of their childhood?: Coffee and popcorn.

What was their childhood ambition?: To marry another royal and be a queen.

What is their best childhood memory?: Visiting Italy with her parents and going on a gondola.

What is their worst childhood memory?: Her brother’s death.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend?: Actually, no. Her pets were her friends.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment?: When she realized her sister had been taken as well.

What past act are they most ashamed of?: Disappointing her father when he caught her in bed with a prince from another country. Nothing had actually happened, but the disappointment in his eyes told her everything. 

What past act are they most proud of?: She helped train service dogs and it gave her a sense of accomplishment.

Has anyone ever saved their life?: She nearly drowned when she was four and the gardener pulled her out of the pool.

Strongest childhood memory?: Traveling with her parents on holiday and seeing a sunrise following a thunderstorm with them.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight?: No, but she absolutely believes in lust at first sight.

Are they in a relationship?: No, but she’s fine with being single.

How do they behave in a relationship?: She doesn’t know how to. The second it gets too serious, she bolts out of fear.

When did you character last have sex?: Almost two weeks ago

What sort of sex do they have?: She normally has sex for instant gratification, but she wants to experiment.

Has your character ever been in love?: Once and it terrified her, so she bolted and has regretted it ever since.

Have they ever had their heart broken?: She tries to not put herself in that position, but when she’s genuinely interested in someone and they’re interested in someone else, it hurts.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat?: Normally with a threat of her own.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue?: She’ll never strike first, but she’ll give a verbal beat down first.

What is your character’s kryptonite?: Animals. Kittens, puppies.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be?: Her photo album.

How do they perceive strangers?: She doesn’t do well around strangers until they have something in common.

What do they love to hate?: Romantic comedies and love songs

What are their phobias?: Trypanophobia (fear of needles), pediophobia (fear of dolls), arachnophobia (fear of spiders), acrophobia (fear of heights)

What is their choice of weapon?: She used to have a pocket knife she kept on her person at all times as a form of self-defense, along with her taser.

What living person do they most despise?: Her former bodyguard.

Have they ever been bullied or teased?: Not particularly. Growing up, she was always semi-liked

Where do they go when they’re angry?: Waterfalls. They’re her escape.

Who are their enemies and why?: Too many to count.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job?: Princess

What do they think about their current job?: She hates responsibility at the moment

What are some of their past jobs?: None

What are their hobbies?: Yoga, horseback riding, swimming, reading, listening to music, word searches, trivia

Educational background?: Scottish equivalent of high school, has an undergraduate degree in history

Intelligence level?: She would be considered intelligent

Do they have any specialist training?: Nope.

Do they have a natural talent for something?: She’s naturally talented with animals. She loves them and they love her.

Do they play a sport? Are they any good?: She did dance growing up and she can hold her own but isn’t spectacular

What is their socioeconomic status?: Upper

Favorites

What is their favorite animal?: A horse

Which animal to they dislike the most?: Snakes

What place would they most like to visit?: Bahamas

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?: A sunset following a massive thunderstorm

What is their favorite song?: Samson by Regina Spektor

Music, art, reading preferred?: Music. Absolutely.

What is their favorite color?: Rich purple

What is their password?: Her PIN is 1717 (17 is her lucky number) and her password is usually F1NN1717

Favorite food: Chocolate/caramel gelato

What is their favorite work of art?: Cafe Terrace at Night by Van Gogh

Who is their favorite artist?: Monet

What is their favorite day of the week?: Sunday, the day of rest.

Possessions

What is in their fridge: She tries to not go into the fridge

What is on their bedside table?: Her daily vitamins, her hairbrush, and a water bottle. Back home, her phone charger, her headphones, and a book would be added to that.

What is in their car?: Phone charger, backup headphones, a spare change of clothes, her gym bag, an emergency fund of bills and coins, and a travel makeup bag with mini versions of the makeup in her bathroom

What is in their bin?: In her bathroom, it’s her makeup. Foundation, primer (both face and eye shadow), eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, and many different shades of lipstick, plus finishing spray. She keeps her hair products in another bin.

What is in their purse or wallet?: Her wallet has her cash, cards, and pictures of her pets, plus her gym membership card. Her purse has a pack of gum, a package of Wisps, her wallet, and a hairbrush.

What is in their pockets?: Nothing at the moment.

What is their most treasured possession?: Her necklace her brother gave her for her birthday one year. It’s in her jewelry box in Scotland.

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel?: She believes it’s her brother.

Do they believe in the afterlife?: Absolutely. 

What are their religious views?: She was raised Catholic and she believes she’s more spiritual than religious

What do they think heaven is?: Where her dead family members are, the ones who did good and helped others, along with dead pets.

What do they think hell is?: She believes it’s for people who did their best to hurt others, those who hurt children. 

Are they superstitious?: Absolutely.

What would they like to be reincarnated as?: A parrot

How would they like to die?: When she’s old.

What is your character’s spirit animal?: Lana Del Rey

What is their zodiac sign?: Scorpio

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?: Violating their trust.

What is their view of ‘freedom’?: Being able to say what they want, think how they like, and not have to answer to anyone.

When did they last lie?: She’s often brutally honest.

What’s their view of lying?: She doesn’t do it and hates when others do.

When did they last make a promise?: To keep her sisters safe when she found Fia.

Did they keep or break their last promise?: So far, she’s kept it.

Daily life

What are their eating habits?: She eats fruits and veggies, mostly. And white meat.

Do they have any allergies?: None, but she’s considered a picky eater.

Describe their home: Her home in Scotland is small, one bedroom and one bathroom with a decent-sized kitchen. Her decor is grey and purple, with comfortable furniture.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder?: A sort of in between. She has things she likes and uses, but knows how to throw things away.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning?: Shower, then breakfast, then her makeup/hair routine before heading to her duties.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?: Read, catch up on shows, honestly doesn’t leave her place on a Sunday, so there’s no need to fix her hair or wear makeup.

What do they do on a Friday night?: Depending on who she’s not tired of, she’ll go to a club or a party with them or out to dinner. Possibly a trip.

What is the soft drink of choice?: Pepsi.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice?: Coke and bourbon.

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype?: The Vixen

Who is their hero?: Chloe McGuff on “Don’t Trust the B in Apartment 23″

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween?: Rosie the Riveter

Are they comfortable with technology?: Absolutely. She has all forms of social media in Scotland

If they could save one person, who would it be?: Her brother

If they could call one person for help, who would it be?: Her father

What is their favorite proverb?: “Flowers may bloom again, but a person never has the chance to be young again. So don’t waste your time.”

What is their greatest extravagance?: A hydromassage table. 

What is their greatest regret?: Not listening to her parents and going out the night she’d been kidnapped.

What is their perception of redemption?: Someone who says they’ve changed their ways and actually follows through.

What would they do if they won the lottery?: Find someone who desperately needs money and give it to them anonymously.

What is their favorite fairytale?: Stories of the Fox

What fairytale do they hate?: The Little Mermaid

Do they believe in happy endings?: Yes, she does.

What is their idea of perfect happiness?: Being surrounded by family and the people she loves.

What would they ask a fortune teller?: She does not believe in fortune tellers.

If your character could travel through time, where would they go?: To the past and save her brother.

What sport do they excel at?: Dance

What sport do they suck at?: Volleyball

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose?: The ability to manipulate probability. 

[settle-down-frohike]

Will you please please rewrite the scene where Mulder tells Scully he's happy for her but he's just not sure where he fits in. Honestly your majestic writing abilities are the only thing that can fix it!!!!

Sorry!! Big long preface ahead!!! First, I must apologize to @scully-loves-ruthie upfront. This probably isn’t exactly what you asked for. I have a real inability to write against canon though I wish I could. Fic is a band-aid of sorts for me but I can only write (not read mind you, shove that AU up my ass all day I’ll love it) what could in some realm, be canon. I can’t dangle impossible perfection in front of myself or immerse myself in such a way as to write it, because it only reminds me of what can’t have, and then I get all morose about the way things are.  So this isn’t a rewrite of this scene so much as it is me trying to babble away my confusion and former hatred for it and then exteding it to my liking.  I utterly HATED this scene, and damn you, you made me watch it over and over and over and over. It was misery. But I have to thank you, because it was cathartic in a sense. It forced me to deal with my own feelings of blame toward Mulder for going off on his own and leaving Scully behind and find some empathy down in my cold dead heart. So I hope in light of all of this, I hope you will forgive me, friend.  

Oh! and one more thing, the ever fabulous @kateyes224 wrote a true re-write of this scene a while back called Three Words More. If you want quality work, skip mine and read hers. :)

Sorry for the babbling. Tagging @fictober, @today-in-fic, and @always-angst

Sensory Integration

He hasn’t told her this for fear she’d have kept him incarcerated, but he’s still fighting waves of nausea induced by the sensation of free fall every few minutes. His stomach rolls end over end, as if on the downslope of a rollercoaster. His feet still don’t feel as if they’ve touched ground, which is ironic for a man who was 6 feet under its surface not 36 hours ago. He feels suspended above this world, tethered only by the clinical sound of her voice as she catalogues his condition. It is the only thing that feels like home right now, and God, he wants to be home, he does, but he’s an apparition, a ghost of himself, floating along a tour of his own life like Ebenezer Scrooge.

Only people don’t talk directly to ghosts about their scars and miraculous healing and their perfect health. They’ve been circling each other cautiously since she came to retrieve him this morning. He senses her restlessness and gets the distinct impression that she’s holding back from latching into him and falling apart. He’s grateful for her restraint, because he can’t handle sudden movements right now. If she were to approach too fast in his direction, he’d end up curled in the fetal position somewhere in a corner, protecting his vital organs. He doesn’t know how he knows this, he just does. He’s like one giant Pavlovian experiment.

Stimulus.

Response.

Repeat.

On the silent ride to his apartment, he keeps his gaze on the passing scenery. The feeling of forward motion relaxes him. In his peripheral he catches her cautious, fleeting glances, and wonders if she’s worried about him or expecting him to say something. An apology perhaps, but that’s probably just because he feels like he owes her one. There is at least that much of his former self left. He knows, on some level, that this is at least partly his fault. He left her to protect her, his intentions valiant, the result catastrophic. That too, at least, feels familiar.

The walk out of the elevator down his hallway is akin to a prisoner being led to his cell. He imagines the catcalls from either side. Wonders if they are similar to the whispers she must’ve endured in his absence.

“Hear that? Ol’ Spooky finally got what he always wanted– a ride in a spaceship!!”

“Typical asshole, right? He’d have made a shitty father anyway. Shame he had to knock her up before he took off this time.”

Had he, though? Does she assume he assumes it’s his? He knows her. Knows she’d have never pursued this again so quickly without him. Would she?With someone anonymous?  Is it..he…she.. his? 

The nausea assaults him once again at the door. A reckoning lies beyond, and he isn’t sure footed enough yet to do anything but react. He hopes for something else familiar to grasp on to once they walk in, the scent of burnt coffee or old laundry, dishes in the sink, but the echo of her heels on the hardwood is the only thing that registers. For a place that is full to the brim still of his possessions, the sound only reinforces the impression of emptiness. It seems to him now a shrine, a collection of things in memoriam. He has waited much too long to speak at this point he knows. He doesn’t want to frighten her. His pulse races in his ears.

Say.

Something.

“It looks different.” His voice doesn’t shake like he thought it would.

“It’s clean.” Her humor astounds him; it is without a trace of bitterness. He knows she is not angry, but at this point he would understand if she were exasperated. He’s drawn immediately to the serene glow of the tank and a fleeting bubble of giddy reunion rises in his chest, immediately followed by shame for not feeling the same around her. Again something is off, but in the right way. He recognizes something as missing, and it’s a relief. 

“I’m missing a molly.”

“Yea,” she chuffs, “ she wasn’t as lucky as you.”

Dread floods his senses once more as well as the need to retch, so he sits awkwardly on the desk to steady himself and prevent swaying on his feet. Being under the gun used to be what made him thrive, and now he just wants to hide. But she is being so intolerably patient there fiddling with the key he gave her in an act of good faith, and the pressure of owing her the same.. something.. everything, is weighing on him now.

“Mulder…” there is the faintest trace of impatience in her tone now, for which he cannot blame her, but the numbness he feels only serves to allow the blankest of stares in her direction.  She continues to narrate an abbreviated, watered-down recollection of her experience and he is drifting again, the rope to which he is attached to this world suddenly stretching, fraying and unraveling, because this isn’t her. She’s lying by omission on his behalf. She knows damn well he knows exactly what it was like. But she’s flailing, trying desperately to pull him to her by playing on his propensity for compassion. This particular shade of cheap manipulation isn’t her color, and even she is struggling with it.  She wants so desperately to connect with him right now, even if it is only by the shared recollection of what it is like to be utterly devastated and reborn by the absence and presence of another. Her words muddle and blur until,

“…And now to have to you back, it….” He isn’t so devoid of sensitivity not to catch the slight glimmer of tears as she trails off. But he is in no condition to provide comfort to anyone right now.

“You act like you’re surprised.” His old instincts are kicking in automatically, for which he is grateful, deflection by sarcasm is his default setting. But her response is so genuine that it smothers any relief he felt having had any words to say at all.

“I prayed a lot.”

He has always wondered himself worthy of her prayers, whether she would allow herself to pray to a god she holds in such reverence {the same one that he has punished with indifference for so long} to grant him, a nonbeliever of all things, mercy. But pray she did.

“And my prayers have been answered.”

The incredulity in the way she says it tells him she is just as astounded as he. Had she ever felt him worthy? Or was it sheer desperation that drove her to her knees?

The elephant in the room is in fact no elephant at all, the evidence of her pregnancy only now making its way into his consciousness, her firm rounded belly at such stark contrast to the exhausted slump of her shoulders and rest of her anxious, wired form. She is so beautiful to him still. Incandescent skin, and longer hair all signs that physically, she is flourishing. But her countenance is all wrong. She is like a tree branch in winter,  drained and brittle on the surface, new life burgeoning beneath.

“In more ways than one.” He makes a feeble motion toward her middle. There. He’s acknowledged it. The band-aid is off. She glances down as if she herself is only noticing her condition just now. A slew of unexpected emotions tighten his throat. Fear. Elation. Possessiveness. Resentment. Curiosity. Scully is pregnant. Very. She even waddles. He chuckles inwardly at her maternity slacks’ indention beneath her blouse.

Scully shopping for maternity clothing.

The thought is at once light and unfathomably depressing at the same time.

“Yea.” Now even she sounds like she would be grateful for a quip, but she is capable of nothing but earnestness at the moment.

“I’m happy for you.” He wonders if she caught the catch in his voice just now. Internally he is in free fall, his stomach is swirling and his heart is racing.

His appendages are numb and the entire room is spinning. He nips at the side of his mouth enough to bring pain, enough to center his thoughts to continue,  

“I think I know…how much that means to you.” The phrase feels slimy and bitter on his tongue. When she was sick–and the unexpected recollection of that time pierces his gut like a forgotten splinter—the cancer was always a ‘that.’ The fact that he has just referred to her pregnancy as such feels so utterly wrong. He’s made her granted wish sound like an incurable condition, and he hates himself for it. He knows he’s dissociating. He knows the term, his education coming back to him like pieces of a puzzle, falling into place at random.

“Mulder…” Oh God, that voice. Whispered and rich with the emotion that only those that pray can posses.  It’s a thousand moments before the apology he’s demanding of himself is tumbling from his mouth in an almost juvenile, petulant fashion.

“I’m sorry…” he shakes his head in an effort to regroup, “I don’t mean to be cold or ungrateful I just…I have no idea where I fit in…right now.” He’s purging. Words that have been festering for days now are pouring forth, like pus from a wound, a necessity towards healing but grotesque nonetheless. The look on her face is searing and utter in its despair. She is unquestionably disappointed. Nothing, none of this is going like she thought, as she’d hoped, and it’s evident in a way that is so uncharacteristic of her usual aplomb.

He could blame hormones for rendering her so unusually transparent, But that would be too convenient. The truth is that the strife of the day-to-day without him has worn her threadbare. She has only her naked self to give now, and all that it may entail. Herself and someone else.

Jesus. Someone else.  

Painful enlightenment forces him to soften his earlier declaration of despondency with practiced analysis. She looks as though if she speaks, she will cry. And he won’t do that to her.

“I just uh…I’m having a little trouble processing…everything.” And though basic and uncouth, it feels like the most organic thing he’s expressed yet. This, at least, is unadulterated truth. He beings to speak again, having felt like he’s gained at least some ground but she interrupts him.

“I um…” her gaze is on the floor and her expression is incredulous. It seems she too, is struggling to process, “I…I need a minute I’m sorry..” he rises out of instinct to go to her but she holds up her hand in reproach and escapes towards his bedroom. Like Pavlov’s dog, she elicits an classically conditioned response by her motion and he stays, dutiful, waiting on his next command.

He can’t help but notice the protective way she cradles her unborn as she hurries away.

In his heart of hearts he knows that this child is his. How many times on the couch in this room? One memory in particular comes unbidden. The salt and tang of the succulent flesh between her legs, pummeling into her and the helpless yelp of his given name triggering his instant release. He’d wanted her to get pregnant that night. Many times. Felt he could will it into existence beyond reason. He could make their own miracle, faith be damned, if he fucked her hard enough, came hard enough. He’d wanted to brand her from the inside out. Damned right he’d wanted this.

What is it they say about having everything you ever wanted? If he lost it now, would that feel like freedom? Is that why he wants so desperately to run right now? He wants darkness, and quiet, and constant noise. He wants to be left alone and held and he wants mostly not to feel as though he’s just jumped from a plane with no parachute and no notion of when or if he will land. His stomach pitches again, causing him to salivate.

The flush of the toilet brings him to attention and she returns, slightly flushed and with composure clearly only gained within the last few moments. She hadn’t noticed the last smear of her mascara. He’s made her cry, and he kicks himself internally. She doesn’t resume her place on the other side of the room though. She continues slowly, and purposefully to him, but she does not reach out. His heart thuds against his ribcage and he swallows against the fear of her next words. She fears them herself, its evident in the way she takes a calming breath and speaks to his clavicle.

“I need you know Mulder,”

Oh God. It’s mine isn’t it….. It isn’t mine. She’s about to tell me. This is it…

She swallows her apprehension and continues, “I know what it’s like…to come back…from an experience and feel…out of place.” Her name begins to form on his mouth. Her gaze is still cast carefully downward but ever the empath, she interrupts his sensed rebuttal and continues, forcing him to listen.

“But I need you to know,” and with those words her eyes fix upon his own. He remembers her now. Knows this look. Her eyes are wide enough that he notices the whites of them glisten. They are brimming with integrity and honesty and deep, abiding love.

Their history crashes over him in waves, roaring above the static of his confusion. Like wedded vows, her words ring pure and true and timeless, the look on her face then the same as it is now.

“I’m not a part of any agenda…you’ve got to trust me…”

“Mulder I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody but you..”

“I just knew….”

“Mulder *fight* him…”

“I wouldn’t change a day.”

“Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only to what we know of it…”

“If we quit now, they win…”

“ …personal interest is all that I have. And if you take that away than there is no reason for me to continue.”

“And you are mine…”

A heaviness surrounds him, a soothing, gentle, bone-deep pressure. It pulls him downwards, the centrifugal force of her gaze pitching him into the dark pool of her iris and he feels finally, finally grounded, secure in memory and the totality of gravity, the finality of arrival.

“…when you are ready, I’ll be here,” She pauses, “we’ll be here.”

Tactile sensation has found its way back, and he realizes that his palms have subconsciously come to rest on the ripened crest of her form. He feels the roll and flutter of life beneath; it is as real and tangible as it is supposed to be. It feels like hope.

\

[chikabiddy]

Chapter 5

A/N - Finished the next chapter! I also have it posted on A03 here. Again, no beta so all mistakes are mine. I hope you all are enjoying the story. :)

Veronica sat behind the wheel of the loaner car she had while hers was in the shop. At least my adoring fans won’t know which car to target for a couple days… She drew in a deep breath, trying to mentally preparing herself before starting the school day. She’d taken the previous day off, at her father’s insistence, but knew she needed to get back into routine despite the lingering effects of the concussion. Make-up covered the worst of her injuries, though there wasn’t much she could do about the bruise on her jaw. She hoped avoiding unnecessary interaction and conversation would dampen her other symptoms; she needed a clear head for her work today. Let’s just hope my dear classmates play nice…

Her mind flashed back to her conversation with Logan. Be honest, Veronica, that’s why you’re really hiding out in your car. Talking had been nice, and her lack of panic attack after taking the heavy medication with him there was unexpected. She expected to choke down her fear for Logan’s benefit, just to get him off her back about the medicine. But the panic never came, and she slept without nightmares for the first time in over a year. You’re going soft, Mars. If anyone should cause nightmares, Logan should. It’s not like anything has really changed there, he’s still a jackass and I’m still an outcast. With a final stabilizing breath, Veronica shook off the memories and exited her car.

The school was still fairly empty, she’d come early for a reason after all, and she hurried across the courtyard and into the building. First order of business was to find Weevil. The shit storm that was her life at the current moment was, at least partially, his fault. His suspicions about the two marks she tailed wasn’t unfounded; she had the injuries to prove it. The big question she intended to get the answer to was why those guys knew who she was. Sure, she’d worked on behalf of Weevil, and his crew by association, before. The guys she followed weren’t part of his crew and shouldn’t have had any idea who she was. Weevil was worried some of his guys were taking outside contracts with the marks, she was following them for any sign of Weevil’s crew more than to track the actions and movements of the marks, and the marks knowing her by name indicated someone from Weevil’s crew was passing information at the very least. But who from Weevil’s crew knew she was doing him a favor? Who even knew who she was? Her contact with the rest of the crew was very limited. Though I did tase Felix. I suppose that would be memorable.

Either way, her experience proved what Weevil suspected: someone from his crew wasn’t as loyal as they wanted Weevil to believe. She stopped at her locker, changing the books she had with her to the ones she would need for class, then focused on locating the leader of the PCH biker gang. With any luck he’d be here early, but luck hadn’t exactly been on her side recently. Stalking the halls isn’t going to be very effective. Veronica turned toward the front entrance and her eyes fell on Wallace moving toward her, bright smile flashing.

“Superfly!” he called. “Where were you yesterd…” his voice trailed off as he took in her face. Damn, the bruise must be darker than I thought. She cracked a grin, hoping to distract him.

“Oh, you know me, can’t be too predictable. Gotta keep everyone on their toes.” She waved her hand dismissively. Wallace’s face fell, and his lips pursed.

“Veronica… you know there is no way I am not asking about that bruise.” His eyes were hard, and she knew he wouldn’t drop it, no matter how many times she changed the subject. She sighed and her hand lighted up to the scrape at her hairline. Wallace held her chin, inspecting both her cheek and forehead. “Seriously, V. What the hell?”

“What do you want me to say, Wallace? Sometimes what I do can be dangerous.” She shrugged her shoulders, dislodging her hand from his face as she did so.

“Your dad knows, right?”

“He was my personal escort to the hospital.” Veronica tried to keep her tone light, almost mocking but not to the point of sarcasm. Wallace wouldn’t appreciate sarcasm right now. “I promise I’m fine.” She was serious now. “A little banged up, but I heal fast.” She offered the most genuine smile she could, ignoring the ache in her temples. He looked back at her skeptically; she could see the protest forming on his lips. “Anyway, dear friend of mine, I have to go see a man about a horse.”

“But-”

“I promise we will catch up more later,” she offered as she turned to leave. “My table always has room at lunch!”

**********

Logan was off balance today. He’d left Veronica’s apartment when her dad got back, opting to let the Sheriff take over care of Veronica. Though he had made a point to mention Veronica had taken some of the doctor prescribed medicine. Her dad had looked surprised but made no comment about it, which had frustrated Logan. There was so much about Veronica that Logan no longer understood, and he had been hoping the Sheriff would share something, anything, that would help him understand the reaction Veronica had when he tried to get her to take the medicine. The Sheriff had not been forthcoming, and Logan had many questions left unanswered. He didn’t figure Veronica would be at school today given how bad she had looked the day before, so he was both surprised and a little angry to see her talking with the new kid. What was his name?

When Veronica turned away from her friend, I seriously need to figure out that guy’s name, Logan moved to intercept her. He didn’t expect answers to all his questions at this point, but he thought he may be able to convince her to go home and rest up more. There was no way she was ready to be back at school. He stopped short when Veronica began chatting with Weevil. What the hell does she think she’s doing? Getting mixed up with the leader of the PCH biker gang couldn’t mean anything good. Watching from a distance didn’t do anything to quell his curiosity, but it did keep him from kicking the shit out of Weevil. He wasn’t sure exactly where his animosity toward the biker was coming from, but it took all his self-restraint not to dash across the hallway and pummel the guy.

Veronica pulling Weevil into the girl’s bathroom didn’t help. What the fuck? There is no way Veronica is dating that guy, is there? A tight ball formed in his gut making Logan want to run to the bathroom himself. What the fuck are you doing, Veronica?

“Dude, that chick is weird.” A voice behind him made him jump. He forced his arms to his sides, willing his muscles to relax, and turned toward his friend. “I mean, the baseball team isn’t surprising, but now she’s hooking up with that biker?” Logan’s jaw locked, and he grabbed Dick by the collar. “Woah dude, what the fuck?” Logan relaxed a little, taking in the surprise on Dick’s face. “What’s gotten into you man?”

“Nothing,” Logan sighed and patted Dick’s collar flat. “Just leave Veronica alone.” He looked Dick dead in the eyes, daring him to argue. Dick lifted his hands up, palms toward Logan.

“Okay, dude. Whatever.” Dick stepped back, shaking his head. “Don’t know why you seem to care what anyone says about her all the sudden.”

“You don’t need to, Dick,” he forced through gritted teeth. “You just need to make sure you and everyone else leaves her the fuck alone.” His hands were clenched at his sides, shoulders ridged.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” Of-fucking-course he shows up now. Logan forced himself to relax and turned his most dazzling smile on Duncan who was walking towards them, eyes darting from Logan to Dick.

“DK! Nothing at all-” Logan started when Dick cut in.

“The king has new orders regarding your old lady-love, Duncan.” Duncan’s eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows shot up as he motioned for Dick to continue. “Logan says we’ve all got to lay off Ronnie. Guess seeing her with that biker dude finally made him realize she’s not worth the trouble.”

Logan had never wanted to punch anyone more than he wanted to punch Dick at that moment. He turned on him, eyes blazing, when Duncan started laughing. Logan hadn’t heard Duncan laugh this hard in… well years. All his anger dissipated, and he turned to Duncan, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Dick had the same look. All they could do was stare as Duncan practically cried he was laughing so hard. After a minute Dick cleared his throat.

“Uh, you ok, dude?”

Duncan wiped at his eyes, gasping in breaths to control his laughter. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks man. I haven’t laughed that hard in forever.” Logan and Dick traded a look, waiting for Duncan to continue. Duncan gulped in more air, finally regaining control. When Duncan offered nothing further Dick began again.

“I mean, I know you guys used to know Ronnie, but Logan and I both saw-" Duncan cut him off, hand raised,

“Dude, I don’t care what you saw. No way is Veronica with Weevil,” he snickered out. Logan turned to him.

“I dunno man, Veronica has changed a lot.” Am I trying to piss him off? “There’s no telling what she’d do now.” Duncan’s face turned hard.

“She hasn’t changed that much.” They stared at each other a long minute before Dick broke in again.

“Well either way, Logan changed his tune pretty fast. No more picking on Ronnie, I guess.”

“Lay off it, Dick,” Logan snapped. “I don’t have to explain it. Just leave Veronica alone.” Logan turned away from them at hard Duncan’s stare and stalked off to class.

*********

Veronica kept her arms crossed, a barrier between her and Weevil. “So, you’re saying you suspected someone in your crew was working outside your bounds, but you have no idea who it could possibly be?”

“No, V. I brought you in on this just so you would get your ass kicked.” Weevil rubbed the back of his neck, eyes down. Veronica grunted.

“Amusing.” Weevil studied her face, lingering on her forehead. His Adam’s apple bobbed erratically, and he dropped his gaze again. Veronica rubbed her temples, frustrated. I’m not going to get anywhere if everyone keeps treating me like a delicate fucking flower. “Any-” she began, but Weevil cut her off.

“Those two, they did this to you? You know that for sure?” Veronica recognized the look in his eye. Plenty of paying customers had given her dad that look. That’s the last thing I need. “I don’t know for sure,” she lied easily. “I don’t remember much aside from deciding to watch them that night.” Weevil flinched. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You go all righteous fury on them I’ll never find out which of your boys is passing them info.”

“We don’t know for sure-”

“I do.” Veronica cut him off. “They knew to be on the lookout for a tail.” She decided not to mention they also knew her name. She wasn’t supposed to remember much, after all.

“Maybe your nosy self pissed someone else off and you just don’t remember,” Weevil muttered. Veronica jammed her lips together in a hard line, blood rushing to her cheeks.

“You came to me worried about your ‘boys’,” Veronica snarled. She reminded herself Weevil didn’t know everything she did, by her own choosing. Taking a moment to breath and calm down, she reconsidered telling Weevil. Who knows what he’d do with that information. She decided against it. “So, what I need from you is to know why these guys. You don’t even know who in your crew to suspect, but you knew to have me watching them. How?”

“Eh,” Weevil hedges, “they are really the only other game in town. If my boys are dealing behind my back, they are doing it with the Fitzpatrick’s.”

Veronica turned icy. “You… you sent me after the Fitzpatrick’s?” Weevil shuffled his feet. “You sent me after the Fitzpatrick’s and you didn’t tell me.”

“I thought you knew!” Weevil protested. “I mean, you’re a PI. I gave you their pictures. I thought getting their names would be your first priority.” Veronica scoffed. “Seriously, V. When you didn’t come to me with any issues I figured you didn’t care.”

“I fucking care, Weevil.”

“You out, then?”

Veronica stared at him, then turned and stalked from the bathroom.