#and he will be both agent of chaos and the most responsible in the room

[lots-of-little-pink-clouds]

Late night thoughts about my son Beauregard Sawyer

[artyandink]

amoralism | sixteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, gunfire, angst

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: I Love You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams

symbolism

Gunfire echoed down the narrow alleyway as you ducked behind a dumpster, your heart pounding in time with the chaos around you. The tang of gunpowder filled the air, sharp and bitter, while shouts and the whir of bullets slicing through the air surrounded you.

Dean Winchester. You hadn’t seen him in months—maybe even a year—but there he was. The same cocky grin, the same dangerous gleam in his eyes as he fired off rounds at you and your team. It should’ve been impossible. This was the man you once knew like the back of your hand, the one you trusted with your life. Your partner, your lover, the man who could light your soul on fire with a glance.

But now? Now, he was a ghost—a rogue agent for a crime syndicate that called itself "Hell." And you weren’t just chasing a man who’d betrayed the FBI. You were chasing a Knight of Hell, a force to be reckoned with. Dean Winchester had fallen, but the pull between you both had never quite broken.

"Clear!" came the shout from one of your fellow agents. You broke from cover, your legs moving on instinct as you sprinted after him. You knew where he was going; you could feel it, as if some invisible tether still tied the two of you together. The beat of your shoes against the cracked pavement mirrored the frantic pace of your thoughts. You shouldn’t care. He was a traitor, dangerous. But damn it, you needed answers.

The alley split, and you turned down a narrower path, barely able to keep Dean in your sights. His broad frame vanished behind an old, weathered warehouse door. You hesitated for half a second, heart pounding in your throat. This wasn’t protocol. Going in alone? Chasing a Knight of Hell with nothing but a gun and a grudge? But the FBI had never prepared you for this kind of battle—not when it was personal.

You slammed through the door, gun raised, but the room you stepped into was quiet—eerily so. The smell of rust and old wood filled your nose. You spun around, searching every corner, every shadow.

“Dean!” His name left your lips like an accusation, sharp and cutting. The room echoed in response. “Stop running! You owe me an explanation.”

Silence answered.

You turned again, and suddenly, there he was. He emerged from the shadows like a predator stalking its prey, his green eyes dark, unreadable, but that smirk—God, that same smug smirk—played on his lips.

“An explanation? That’s what you want?” His voice was low, gravelly, laced with something darker, more dangerous than the Dean you used to know.

“Damn right I do,” you shot back, your pulse quickening, but not from fear. Anger, frustration—something else entirely. “Why are you doing this? Why did you leave? And why the hell did you—" You stopped yourself, but the words hung between you like a loaded gun. Why did you kiss me?

Dean’s jaw tightened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “You shouldn’t be here. Go back to your team, pretend you didn’t see me.”

Your finger twitched on the trigger, but you knew you weren’t going to shoot. He knew it too. “You think I can just walk away? You think this is something I can ignore? You kissed me, Dean. Then you disappeared into Hell’s little army. Now you’re working for the same people we used to hunt down. What happened to you?”

He stepped closer, and you felt the space between you shrink, the air thickening with a tension you hadn’t felt in months, maybe years. "I told you," he growled, his voice like gravel, "I don’t owe you anything."

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” you snapped, refusing to back down. “If you didn’t owe me anything, why’d you come back the last time? Why’d you—” You caught your breath, your heart hammering in your chest. “Why’d you kiss me?”

Dean’s eyes darkened, his jaw flexing as he took another step toward you. “You really want to do this now?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was the storm beneath it that made you shiver.

“Yeah, I do.” Your voice trembled with equal parts anger and desperation. He was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that you could see the war raging behind his eyes.

Without warning, Dean surged forward, pushing you back against the cold, rough wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, but before you could react, his lips crashed into yours, hard and unyielding. The kiss was angry, desperate, full of everything unsaid between you. It was fire and fury, passion and regret, all colliding at once.

You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his jacket as you kissed him back with equal force. It was too much, too fast, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. This was what you had been chasing, what you had been missing.

Dean’s hands roamed your body, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed you, craved you, in a way words couldn’t explain. His touch was rough, desperate, as though he were trying to erase the space that had grown between you. You felt the cold metal of his gun brush against your side as his fingers slid under your shirt, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

You should stop. This wasn’t the time, the place. But the logic in your mind was drowned out by the heat building between your bodies. His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that you knew would be visible later, but you didn’t care.

“Dean…” you breathed out, your fingers tightening in his hair as his hands traveled lower, pushing past the waistband of your pants. “This—this doesn’t answer anything.”

But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, craving more. He groaned against your skin, his breath hot and uneven.

“You want answers?” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. “This is your answer.” His hand gripped the back of your neck, tilting your head up so his eyes bore into yours. “This is all there is left.”

You shook your head, even as you clung to him, even as your body screamed for him. “That’s not true. I know you, Dean. I know there’s more than this.” Your voice cracked, and his expression flickered with something—regret, pain—before it hardened again.

He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else too—something raw, vulnerable. His hands slowed, tracing the contours of your body like he was memorizing you, like this was the last time.

Your back hit the wall again, and you felt the cool metal of his gun holster pressing into your hip, a sharp reminder of who he was now—what he had become. But in this moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands pulled you closer, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt since the last time you were together.

It was messy, frantic. Clothes were pushed aside, discarded haphazardly as the heat between you both became unbearable. Dean’s hands were everywhere, roaming over your skin, his lips never leaving yours for long. The desperation was palpable, both of you clinging to something neither of you could name, something you both feared losing.

Your breath hitched as he lifted you, pinning you against the wall, his body pressing into yours in all the right ways. It was fast, rough, the way you both needed it to be. You bit back a cry as he pushed inside you, the sensation overwhelming. Your fingers clawed at his back, holding him closer, pulling him deeper. His mouth was on your neck again, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered your name like a curse, like a prayer.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the shootout, the lies, the betrayal. It was just you and Dean, tangled together in the heat of the moment, desperate for something you couldn’t quite define. It was messy and chaotic, but it was real.

As the tension in your body built to an unbearable height, you felt his hand cup the back of your head, pulling you into another kiss—this one softer, slower, as if he was trying to savor the moment. Your body trembled as you came undone beneath him, and Dean followed soon after, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, uneven.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room was silent again, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Slowly, reality crept back in—the sound of distant sirens, the cold air against your sweat-dampened skin, the feel of Dean still pressed against you, his arms caging you in.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and for a second, you saw the man you used to know. The one who made you laugh, who made you feel safe. But it was fleeting, and soon the mask slipped back into place.

“You’re still not answering me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, shaky. “Why?”

Dean’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes hardening once more. “Because it’s too late for answers.”

The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. You sat by the window, the glow of warm light spilling out onto the street, painting everything in soft shades of gold. Inside, laughter echoed through the walls. The clink of cutlery and the muffled sound of conversation drifted into the night air. It was the kind of evening that felt like home—safe, comforting, everything you deserved.

But you couldn’t see him.

Across the street, hidden in the shadows beneath the towering oaks, Dean Winchester stood still, watching. His breath misted in the cool air, his heart a heavy weight in his chest. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. Every instinct screamed for him to leave, to turn away before the sight of you, so close but so impossibly far, tore him apart. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Beside him, Sam shifted, the quiet gurgles of his newborn cradled in his arms cutting through the silence. Little Dean—his nephew, named after him—slept in the back seat of the Impala, his soft snores barely audible over the gentle hum of the engine. Sam cast a glance at his older brother, his brow furrowing with concern.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile stillness between them.

Dean didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on you, on the way you smiled at something one of your family members said, your laughter so genuine, so light. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in too long. A sound he hadn’t been the cause of in far too long.

You looked happy. You looked… content.

And Dean felt like he was dying inside.

“She’s better off,” he said finally, his voice rough, raw with emotion he couldn’t quite choke down. “She doesn’t need me messing things up.”

Sam frowned, shifting the baby in his arms. The newborn stirred slightly but settled when Sam gently rocked him. “You don’t know that. You haven’t even talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but Dean didn’t need him to. He knew exactly what Sam meant.

Since he’d left. Since he’d decided that the only way to keep you safe was to cut you out of his life completely. Since he’d broken his own heart—and yours—in the process.

Dean swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing heavier with every passing second. “She’s moved on, Sam. Look at her.” He gestured to the window, where you were pouring a glass of wine for your sister, laughing again at something her husband said. “She’s happy.”

Sam followed his gaze, watching the scene unfold. It was the picture of domestic bliss—the kind of life Dean had always told himself he didn’t deserve. And maybe he didn’t. Not with the blood on his hands. Not with the weight of his sins pressing down on his shoulders every single day.

But it didn’t stop the ache in his chest, the one that pulsed with every beat of his heart, telling him how wrong this felt.

“You think she’s better off without you?” Sam asked quietly, his tone gentle but firm. “Do you really believe that?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on you, on the way you seemed to glow in the warmth of the room, surrounded by people who loved you. It was everything he wanted for you, everything he’d fought so hard to protect you from losing.

But damn, it hurt. God, it hurt so much to see you like this, to know you were living a life he could never be a part of.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered after a long pause, his voice thick with emotion. “I do.”

Sam sighed, shifting his weight as he glanced down at the baby in his arms. “Dean, I know you think you’re doing the right thing. I know you think you’re protecting her. But… are you sure this is what she wants? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she’d rather have you in her life, even with all the danger? Even with everything?”

Dean clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. Of course, he’d thought about it. It was all he ever thought about. Every night, when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, your face was the first thing he saw. Every morning, when he woke up to the empty space beside him, the space you used to fill, it was your absence that weighed him down like a stone.

But every time he thought about picking up the phone, about calling you, about telling you how much he missed you, how much he needed you, something stopped him.

He was too dangerous. His life was too dangerous. And the last thing he wanted was for you to get caught up in it. He’d already lost too many people he cared about. He couldn’t lose you too.

“She’s safer without me,” Dean whispered, his voice breaking. “That’s all that matters.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at his brother. “Is it, though? Is that really all that matters?”

Dean didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his chest too heavy with the weight of everything he was trying to hold back.

Sam shifted again, glancing back at the house. The soft glow of the lights illuminated the scene inside, casting you in a warm, golden light that made you seem almost ethereal. You were smiling, laughing, surrounded by the people you loved.

But Dean couldn’t stop the thought that crept into his mind, unbidden and unwanted.

Was this happiness real? Or was it just a mask, something you wore to hide the pain he’d caused when he walked out of your life?

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how far to push. “You’re not failing her by wanting to be in her life. You’re failing her by staying away.”

Those words cut deeper than any blade. Dean flinched, his breath catching in his throat as the truth of Sam’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d been telling himself for so long that he was protecting you, that staying away was the right thing to do. But what if Sam was right? What if, by pushing you away, he was hurting you even more?

What if, all this time, he’d been lying to himself?

Dean blinked, his vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, refusing to let them fall, but it was no use. The emotion he’d been bottling up for so long was finally breaking free, spilling over like a dam that had been holding back a flood.

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming. He tried to swallow down the sob that threatened to break free, but his chest was tight, his throat raw with the weight of it all.

“I’m failing her,” Dean whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing. “I’m failing her, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said everything. He understood. He always understood.

Dean pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. The sob he’d been holding back finally broke free, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He hadn’t cried like this in years—hadn’t let himself feel this much in years.

But now, standing across the street from the woman he loved, watching her live a life without him, the dam had finally broken.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Dean choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was protecting her. But all I’ve done is… all I’ve done is hurt her.”

Sam reached out, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not too late, Dean. You can still fix this. You can still—”

Dean shook his head, cutting him off. “No. I can’t.” His voice was firm, but it was laced with a deep, aching sorrow that felt like it was ripping him apart from the inside. “It’s too late. She’s… she’s happy now. After I fuckin’ ruined her She doesn’t need me anymore.”

But even as he said the words, they felt like a lie.

Dean didn’t know what was worse—the idea that you had moved on, that you were living a life without him, or the fear that maybe you hadn’t. Maybe you were just as broken as he was. Maybe you were putting on a brave face, pretending to be okay when inside, you were just as lost, just as hollow as he felt.

And the worst part? He would never know. Because he was too much of a coward to find out.

Sam watched his brother, his heart aching for him. He knew how much Dean had sacrificed, how much he’d given up to try and protect the people he loved. But sometimes, the cost of that sacrifice was too high. Sometimes, the people you were trying to protect didn’t want to be saved. They just wanted to be with you.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, his voice cracking. He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to—Sam, you, himself. Maybe all of you.

Sam squeezed his shoulder, his eyes full of understanding. “You’re not alone in this, Dean. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Dean nodded, but the tears still fell. He didn’t feel strong. He didn’t feel like the hero he was supposed to be. All he felt was tired—so damn tired of fighting, of running, of pretending like he could outrun the weight of his own heart.

Across the street, you laughed again, and Dean’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

He wanted to believe that you were happy, that you had moved on, that you were living the life you deserved. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He wasn’t protecting you. He was failing you.

And the worst part?

He didn’t know how to fix it.

You sat at the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. The house was quiet, the soft hum of life outside the only reminder that the world kept turning. But in here—in this room—it felt like time had stopped, like every second stretched into an eternity of silence, and your thoughts were the only thing filling the space.

Dean.

The name lingered in your mind, a familiar ache that never quite faded, no matter how much time passed. It had been months, maybe even longer now, since you’d last seen him—since he’d walked out of your life with that devastating finality. Since he’d left you standing there, heartbroken and confused, trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

The truth was, you had never stopped thinking about him. About the way he used to make you laugh, how his smile could light up a room. How, despite everything, there was always this fire between you both—a pull so strong it felt like gravity. It had always been more than just a relationship. It had been a force of nature.

But now, all that was left was the empty space beside you and the echo of his name in your head.

You shifted on the bed, curling your knees up to your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. But it didn’t work. Nothing did.

The guilt was always there too, creeping in whenever you let your guard down. It whispered to you in the quiet moments, telling you that you hadn’t tried hard enough, that you hadn’t fought for him the way you should have. If you had—if you had—maybe things would be different. Maybe he would still be here.

A single tear slid down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, but it didn’t stop the flood that followed. Your chest tightened, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a vice.

You’d been so stupid, so naïve to think that Dean would always be there. You’d thought that the connection you shared was unbreakable, that no matter what, he wouldn’t walk away. But he had, and the worst part was that you couldn’t even blame him. Not entirely.

Maybe you hadn’t done enough. Maybe he had been slipping away for a long time, and you just hadn’t noticed. Maybe you’d been too focused on your own life, on trying to keep your family together, that you hadn’t seen the cracks forming in the foundation of your relationship.

You could still remember the last time you saw him—the way he’d kissed you like it was goodbye, like he already knew he wasn’t coming back. You’d asked him what was wrong, why he seemed so distant, but he hadn’t answered. He’d just kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted.

And then he was gone.

You hadn’t heard from him since. No phone calls, no texts, nothing. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air, leaving you to pick up the pieces of whatever it was you thought you had.

Your breath hitched as another sob escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands, trying to muffle the sound. You didn’t want anyone to hear you crying. You didn’t want anyone to know how much it still hurt, how raw the wound still felt.

But the truth was, you missed him. God, you missed him so much it felt like a physical ache, a hollow emptiness that nothing else could fill.

A soft knock on the door broke through the haze of your thoughts, startling you.

You quickly wiped your face, trying to compose yourself, though you knew it was a losing battle. Your eyes were already red and swollen, your breath still uneven from the tears.

“Yeah?” you called out, your voice thick with emotion.

The door creaked open, and there, standing in the dim light of the hallway, was Sam. He looked… tired. Worn out, like the weight of the world was pressing down on his broad shoulders. But there was a softness in his expression, a quiet understanding that made your chest tighten even more.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping into the room. “Just wanted to check in before bed. Thought you might need someone to talk to.”

You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… thinking.”

Sam nodded, his eyes scanning your face, reading the emotion you couldn’t quite hide. He wasn’t fooled. He never was.

He walked over to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying a word. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air between you.

You could feel his presence beside you, solid and comforting, but it only made the ache in your chest worse. Because Sam was here, and Dean wasn’t. And no matter how much you cared for Sam—no matter how much he cared for you—it wasn’t the same.

“It’s okay to miss him, you know,” Sam said softly, his voice breaking through the silence.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling again, but it was no use. The dam broke, and before you knew it, you were sobbing—deep, heart-wrenching sobs that shook your whole body.

“I didn’t try hard enough, Sam,” you choked out between sobs, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I should have… I should have fought for him. I should have done something.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, his expression pained as he listened to you. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have changed what happened. But the words stuck in his throat, weighed down by the truth he wasn’t sure he could tell you.

Because the truth was, Dean hadn’t left because of anything you’d done. He hadn’t left because you didn’t fight hard enough. He left because he thought he was protecting you—because he believed that staying away was the only way to keep you safe.

But Sam couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

Instead, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms, letting you cry against his chest. His heart ached for you, for Dean, for the mess that his brother had made in his attempt to do what he thought was right.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you tighter. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if holding onto him could somehow stop the pain, could somehow bring Dean back. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. Nothing could.

“I just… I just don’t understand,” you whispered after a while, your voice hoarse from crying. “How could he just leave? How could he just… walk away like I meant nothing?”

Sam closed his eyes, the guilt clawing at his insides. He wanted to tell you that you did mean something—that you meant everything to Dean. But he couldn’t. Dean had made him promise not to say anything, not to drag you back into the dangerous world they lived in.

“He didn’t walk away because you meant nothing,” Sam said softly, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. “I promise you, that’s not why.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Then why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why did he leave?”

Sam hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words—the words that would ease your pain without betraying his brother’s trust.

“He… he thought it was for the best,” Sam said quietly, hating how hollow the words sounded, knowing they wouldn’t be enough.

You stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching with the need for answers, for something—anything—that could explain why Dean had left you like this.

But Sam didn’t offer any more explanations. He just looked at you with those sad, understanding eyes, and you knew that whatever the reason was, he wasn’t going to tell you.

You swallowed hard, wiping at your face again, though the tears kept coming.

“I just want to know what I did wrong,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I want to know why I wasn’t enough.”

Sam’s chest tightened at your words, the guilt gnawing at him even more. You had been more than enough for Dean. You had been everything. But Dean had made his choice, and now you were left to pick up the pieces of a life that had been shattered by someone else’s decision.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sam said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “None of this is your fault.”

But you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t. Because if it wasn’t your fault, then why did it feel like it was? Why did it feel like you could have stopped him if you had just been a little stronger, a little more… something?

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears kept falling, the pain still so fresh, so raw.

“I miss him,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “I miss him so much, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes, his heart breaking for you, for his brother, for the mess that love had left behind. He wished he could make it better. He wished he could tell you the truth, that Dean missed you too, that Dean was just as broken as you were. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

So instead, he just held you, his arms wrapped around you in a

silent promise that he would be here for you, that you wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

And in that quiet moment, as you cried against his chest, Sam made a decision.

He couldn’t tell you everything. But he could promise you this—he wouldn’t let you go through this without knowing the truth. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but someday, you would know why Dean had left. And when that day came, Sam hoped you would find some kind of peace in it.

For now, though, he just held you, letting you cry, letting you feel the pain that came with loving someone who wasn’t there anymore.

And maybe, in time, the ache would fade.

Maybe.

The quiet of the house felt heavy as Sam made his way down the stairs, each step creaking slightly under his weight. He moved slowly, careful not to make any noise, not to disturb the peace that had settled upstairs. You were finally asleep, your tears having given way to exhaustion. Sam had stayed by your side until your breathing evened out, until the tension in your body softened, and the weight of everything you were feeling momentarily lifted.

But now, as he descended into the dimly lit living room, Sam felt the full weight of the conversation waiting for him. He could see Rick, your dad, sitting at the dining table, his large hands folded in front of him, his eyes distant and troubled. The overhead light cast deep shadows across his face, making him look older than Sam remembered.

Sam paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking a breath before stepping into the room.

"Sir," Sam said quietly, nodding in acknowledgment as he approached. He'd always addressed Rick that way—respectful, deferential, even though Rick had insisted more than once that Sam didn’t need to be so formal. But tonight, the word seemed to fit the mood of the house, the unspoken tension hanging between them.

Rick looked up, his eyes heavy with the kind of worry only a father could carry. He didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge Sam with anything more than a nod. The lines on his face deepened as he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his tired features.

"Sam," Rick said, his voice gravelly and low. “She asleep?”

Sam nodded as he pulled out a chair across from Rick and sat down, his long legs stretching out underneath the table. He glanced toward the staircase, as if making sure you weren’t going to wake up and hear them talking. “Yeah, finally,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “She was pretty upset. She… She misses him.”

Rick’s lips tightened, a muscle in his jaw jumping slightly as he clenched his teeth. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze fixed on the wood grain of the table as though the words he wanted to say were etched somewhere in the surface.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Sam,” Rick finally said, his voice low but firm. “She’s my daughter. Every day, I watch her break a little more, and I can’t tell her why. I can’t help her. All I can do is sit here and lie to her face.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, his heart heavy with the weight of Rick’s words. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. Rick had been struggling with the situation from the beginning—from the moment Dean had disappeared from your life without so much as an explanation. Rick knew more than you did, enough to understand why Dean had left, but that didn’t make it any easier.

And it certainly didn’t make it easier for Rick to watch his daughter suffer.

“I know,” Sam said, his voice soft but steady. “I know it’s hard, sir. But it’s the best thing for her right now. Dean—he’s… he’s doing what he thinks is right. He’s trying to protect her.”

Rick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked up at Sam, his eyes filled with frustration. “Protect her? From what, exactly? From him? Because it sure as hell looks like he’s the one hurting her the most right now.”

Sam flinched at Rick’s words, the truth of them cutting deep. He couldn’t deny that Dean’s decision to leave had hurt you—had shattered you in ways Sam didn’t know how to fix. But he also knew Dean, knew the guilt and fear that drove every one of his brother’s actions, especially when it came to you.

“Dean’s not doing this because he wants to hurt her,” Sam said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm, measured. “He’s doing this because he thinks it’s the only way to keep her safe. You know that.”

Rick’s hands clenched into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I know what Dean thinks, Sam,” he said, his voice rough. “But that doesn’t make this any easier to swallow. That doesn’t make it easier to watch her cry herself to sleep every night, wondering why she wasn’t enough to make him stay.”

Sam felt a sharp pang of guilt twist in his chest. He’d seen the way you tried to hide your pain, the way you put on a brave face for your family, for the people who loved you. But when you were alone—or when you thought no one was looking—the cracks in your armor showed. And Sam hated it. He hated that he had to watch you suffer, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this from her,” Rick said, his voice quieter now, the anger giving way to something softer, something more vulnerable. “She’s my little girl, Sam. I’m supposed to protect her. And I can’t even do that.”

Sam’s heart ached for Rick, for the father who wanted nothing more than to shield his daughter from the pain that had been thrust into her life. It was the same way he felt about Dean, the same helplessness that came from watching someone you loved fall apart and knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“I get it, sir,” Sam said after a long pause. “Believe me, I get it. But the truth—it’s not going to make this any easier for her. If anything, it’s going to make things worse.”

Rick looked up at Sam, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Worse? How could it possibly be worse than this?”

Sam swallowed hard, the weight of the secret he carried pressing down on him. He knew that telling you the truth about Dean—about why he had really left—would only open up more questions, more pain. Dean wasn’t just out there living a normal life, trying to move on from you. He was caught up in something dark, something dangerous. Something that Sam wasn’t even sure Dean would survive.

“If she knew why Dean left… if she knew what he’s dealing with, she’d never stop trying to find him,” Sam explained, his voice low but steady. “And that’s exactly what Dean doesn’t want. He left because he thought it was the only way to protect her. If she knew the truth, if she went looking for him, she’d be in danger. Real danger.”

Rick’s expression softened slightly, his anger giving way to concern. He was quiet for a moment, the words sinking in.

Sam leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he tried to make Rick understand. “Dean isn’t doing this because he doesn’t love her. He’s doing it because he does love her. And he’s willing to hurt himself—and her—if it means keeping her safe.”

Rick let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the situation settled over him. “I just don’t know how much longer she can take this, Sam,” he said quietly. “She’s strong, but… she’s breaking. And I don’t know how to help her.”

Sam felt his chest tighten at Rick’s words. He’d seen it too, the way you were slowly unraveling, bit by bit. It was like watching someone try to keep their head above water, only to see the waves pulling them down further with every passing day.

“I know,” Sam said softly, his voice filled with empathy. “But right now, the best thing we can do is give her time. Dean’s not going to be gone forever. He’ll come back when it’s safe. He’ll come back when he can.”

Rick looked at Sam, his eyes searching for something—hope, maybe. But Sam wasn’t sure if he had any to offer. He wanted to believe that Dean would come back, that they’d all come out of this mess on the other side. But the truth was, he didn’t know. Not for certain.

All Sam knew was that his brother had made a choice, and now they all had to live with the consequences.

“I’m asking you to hold on a little longer, sir,” Sam said quietly. “I know it’s hard. But if we tell her now, if we bring her into this, it’s only going to make things worse. For her, for Dean… for all of us.”

Rick stared at Sam for a long moment, his expression conflicted. He wanted to help his daughter, to ease her pain, but he also knew that Sam was right. Bringing you into the dangerous world Dean lived in wouldn’t fix anything. It would only put you at risk.

Finally, Rick nodded, though the movement was slow, hesitant. “Alright,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll hold out a little longer. But Sam…” He looked up, his eyes filled with a father’s fear. “If something happens to her because of this—because of Dean—I won’t forgive him. Or you.”

Sam’s heart clenched at Rick’s words, the weight of the promise hanging heavy between them. He understood. Rick was trusting him—trusting Dean—to keep you safe, even if that meant keeping you in the dark.

“I promise,” Sam said quietly, his voice filled with conviction. “I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

Rick didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. He would hold out, for now. But he wouldn’t wait forever.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.

After a few moments, Rick let out a tired sigh, running a hand over his face as he stood up from the table. “I’m heading to bed,” he said quietly, his voice thick with exhaustion. “You should get some rest too, Sam.”

Sam nodded, though he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. There was too much weighing on his mind—too many what-ifs, too many worries about what the future held.

“Goodnight, sir,” Sam said, watching as Rick made his way toward the stairs.

Rick paused at the base of the staircase, glancing back at Sam one last time. “Take care of her, Sam,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She’s all I’ve got.”

And with that, Rick disappeared upstairs, leaving Sam alone in the quiet, dimly lit room.

Sam sat there for a long while, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Dean, of the dangerous path they were all walking. He wanted to believe that everything would turn out alright—that Dean would come back, that you’d find some kind of peace.

But the truth was, Sam didn’t know what the future held. All he could do was wait. Wait for Dean to come back. Wait for the moment when the truth would finally come out.

And hope that, when that time came, it wouldn’t tear everything apart.

Cassie sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers absently twisting the hem of the blanket as she stared at the closed bedroom door. The room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound breaking the stillness. Her husband, David, was sitting beside her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. They had been quiet for a while, the kind of silence that often felt heavy with unspoken words.

Cassie’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, emotions colliding in a chaotic dance that left her feeling both drained and unsettled. She had seen you—her older sister, her guide and protector—broken in ways she had never imagined. It had always been easy to take your strength for granted, to see you as the one who was always there to pick up the pieces, to offer support, to be the anchor in the storm. But now, seeing you like this, vulnerable and hurting, had turned her world upside down.

She turned to David, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and he looked at her with a mixture of concern and understanding. “I never realized how much she meant to me,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I mean, I knew she was important—she’s my sister. But I never really understood… until now.”

David nodded, his hand gently rubbing her back in a soothing motion. He had always been a calm presence, a steady anchor in her own turbulent seas. Now, he was trying to offer that same stability to her, as she grappled with the weight of her sister’s suffering.

“I see her now, breaking,” Cassie continued, her voice trembling. “And it’s like… like a part of me is breaking too. I never realized how much of myself was tied up in her strength, in her being the one who always had it together.”

David shifted slightly, his gaze tender as he looked at her. “It’s hard to see someone you love in pain,” he said softly. “Especially when they’ve always been the one who seemed unshakable. It’s like suddenly, the world’s not what you thought it was.”

Cassie nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I always thought she’d be okay. I thought she was strong enough to handle anything. But now… seeing her like this, it’s like everything I thought I knew about her has been turned upside down.”

David pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said gently. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed. It’s okay to feel like you’re breaking too.”

Cassie leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a small comfort in the midst of her turmoil. “I just don’t know how to help her,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t know what to do, how to fix it.”

David sighed, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. “You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “Sometimes, just being there, just letting her know that you’re with her, is enough. You don’t have to fix everything. Sometimes, the most important thing is just showing up.”

Cassie’s grip tightened around him, the tears flowing freely now. “But I hate seeing her like this. I hate that she’s hurting, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

David’s voice was soft but steady. “You can’t take away her pain. But you can be there for her. You can listen, you can hold her, you can offer her love and support. That’s what she needs right now. And that’s what you can give her.”

Cassie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I just feel so helpless,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to be strong for her when I’m falling apart myself.”

David cupped her face gently, tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes. “It’s okay to feel vulnerable,” he said softly. “It’s okay to be scared and unsure. What matters is that you’re there for her, that you care. You don’t have to have all the answers. Just being present, showing her that she’s not alone—that’s what really counts.”

Cassie closed her eyes, taking in his words. The reassurance in his voice was a small balm to her aching heart. She knew he was right, but the pain of seeing you suffer was overwhelming, and she struggled to see a way forward.

“She’s always been my rock,” Cassie said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “And now she’s the one who needs support, and I feel like I don’t know how to be the sister she needs me to be.”

David gently stroked her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re doing more than you realize. Just by being here, by caring, by feeling this deeply—you’re showing her that she’s loved. That’s the most important thing you can do right now.”

Cassie nodded, her tears beginning to subside as she drew strength from David’s words and his presence. She knew she couldn’t fix everything, that she couldn’t erase the pain you were feeling. But she could be there for you, could offer the love and support that you so desperately needed.

As the minutes passed, the silence in the room felt less oppressive. Cassie’s thoughts began to clear, and she focused on the steps she could take to be a better support for you. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that there would be days of struggle and heartache. But with David’s unwavering support and love, she felt a glimmer of hope that she could find a way through it.

“I’ll be there for her,” Cassie said softly, her voice more determined now. “I’ll be the support she needs. I’ll show her that she’s not alone, that she’s still loved.”

David nodded, his smile gentle and encouraging. “That’s all she needs to know right now. And you’re more than capable of giving her that.”

Dean Winchester leaned against the hood of his old, battered car, the cool night air mixing with the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional passing vehicle. He had parked a few houses down from yours, hidden in the shadow of a large oak tree that offered just enough cover for him to remain unseen. From his vantage point, he could see your kitchen window, the soft glow of light spilling out into the darkness.

He had been here for hours, a silent observer of a life he felt he had no right to be a part of anymore. His heart ached with every glance through the window, seeing you move about the kitchen, your movements subdued, like you were carrying a weight that he could barely imagine. The sight of you—so domestic, so normal, so unbroken—made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that gnawed at him relentlessly.

You had been cleaning up after dinner, a simple, mundane task that somehow felt monumental in the way it highlighted just how different your life was now compared to when he had been a part of it. Dean knew he shouldn’t be here. He knew that just by being in the vicinity, he was risking everything—risking your safety, your peace, your very life. But the pull to see you, to make sure you were okay, was too strong to resist.

He watched you with a painful mixture of longing and guilt as you scrubbed at a pot, your movements robotic and weary. The way your shoulders slumped, the way your hands seemed to move without purpose—it was clear that the weight of everything had taken its toll on you. He wanted to be the one to lift that weight, to take it off your shoulders, but he knew he was too dangerous, too lost in his own darkness to be of any help.

Dean’s eyes were fixed on the window when, suddenly, he saw you stop. You stood there for a moment, your back to him, and he saw the subtle tremble in your form. His heart raced, a sense of foreboding creeping up his spine. You placed the dish you were washing back into the sink with a clatter that echoed through the quiet kitchen. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he saw you sink to your knees, the sobs that racked your body muffled but unmistakable.

He wanted to move, to go inside and hold you, to comfort you the way he once had, but he was paralyzed. The thought of being so close to you—of seeing you like this—was almost more than he could bear. He could only watch, helpless, as you curled up on the cold kitchen floor, your hands clenching at the fabric of your shirt, your face buried in your knees.

Dean’s own breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Tears blurred his vision, and he wiped angrily at his eyes, the frustration and pain of seeing you like this overwhelming him. His heart ached with every sound of your sobs, each one a reminder of the hurt he had caused and the lives he had irrevocably changed.

“God damn it,” Dean muttered under his breath, his voice cracking as he struggled to keep his composure. “Don’t do this. Please…”

He felt a surge of anger toward himself, toward everything that had brought him to this point. How had it come to this? How had he ended up as the specter of your happiness, only able to watch as you fell apart? He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but all he could do was stand there, a silent witness to your suffering.

Through the window, he saw you push yourself into a sitting position, your head falling back against the cabinets as your cries gradually subsided into soft, ragged breaths. The sight of you so vulnerable, so broken, tore at him in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Every sob, every shudder, was a dagger to his heart, each one a reminder of how deeply he had failed you.

“Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart,” Dean whispered to himself, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t you dare.”

He paced restlessly beside the car, his hands balled into fists, the pain of being so close and yet so far from you eating away at him. His anger, his frustration, his guilt—they all swirled together in a tumultuous storm within him, threatening to drown him in their intensity. But beneath it all, there was a deep, aching love that refused to be silenced.

He could still remember the way your eyes had shone with hope and trust, the way you’d looked at him as if he were the answer to everything. And now, here he was, a ghost of that hope, a shadow of the man he used to be, unable to offer you anything but his silent grief.

The minutes stretched on, and as the night deepened, Dean’s thoughts grew darker. He hated that he was causing you this pain. He hated that his absence had left a void so deep that it had brought you to tears on your kitchen floor. His whole being was consumed by regret and sorrow, the realization that he had pushed you into this place where you felt so utterly alone.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice breaking as he fought to hold back his own tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He wanted to be the one to comfort you, to hold you through the pain, to promise you that everything would be alright. But he knew he couldn’t. Not like this. Not while he was still a threat, while his presence could endanger you.

He could see you slowly starting to pull yourself together, your movements slow and shaky. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, a defeated gesture that spoke volumes. It was clear that the pain wasn’t just in your heart—it was in every part of you. It was in the way you moved, the way you tried to regain your composure, the way you looked around the empty kitchen as if hoping for some sort of answer.

Dean’s heart ached with the desperate need to reach out, to somehow make things right. But he stayed where he was, his hands trembling as he fought to keep himself together. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this, to know just how deeply your suffering was affecting him.

The longer he watched, the more he realized that he couldn’t stay here much longer. The weight of his own emotions, the guilt of seeing you in so much pain, was becoming unbearable. He needed to leave—to put some distance between himself and the sight of you struggling, even if it meant breaking his own heart further.

As you finally pushed yourself to your feet, shakily turning off the kitchen light, Dean took one last, lingering look. He watched as you slowly made your way out of the room, your steps heavy and slow. The sight of you so subdued, so broken, was almost too much for him to bear.

“Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart,” Dean said again, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the night. “Don’t you dare.”

He turned away from the window, the sight of your pain etched into his mind. Each step away from the house felt like a weight lifting off his shoulders, but it was replaced with a heavy burden of regret and sorrow. He got into his car, his movements automatic, as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

As he drove down the darkened streets, the tears he had fought to keep hidden finally broke free. They streamed down his face, hot and unbidden, a stark reminder of the pain he had caused and the love he still felt. The road ahead was uncertain, a dark path that mirrored the turmoil inside him.

Dean knew he couldn’t go back—not yet. Not while his presence was a danger to you. But he also knew that he couldn’t stay away forever. There would come a time when he would have to face you again, when the truth would come out, when he would have to answer for the hurt he had caused.

But for now, he drove on, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of what he had lost and what he still hoped to regain. He drove through the night, through the darkness, hoping that somewhere in the vast expanse of the world, there was a way to make things right, a way to heal the wounds he had created.

And as the miles passed beneath the wheels of his car, Dean whispered one last plea into the night, hoping that somehow, somewhere, you could hear him.

“Don’t give up on me. Please.”

The road ahead was long, and the night was dark, but Dean drove on, carrying with him the hope that someday, somehow, things would be different. That someday, he’d be able to make things right.

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[demifiendrsa]

Season 2 of Netflix's The Sandman will adapt "Seasons of the Mist" and "Brief Lives" storylines from Neil Gaiman's graphic novel. Additionally, more season 2 cast members have been announced:

Ruairi O’Connor (The Morning Show, The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It) is Orpheus, a poet, musician, oracle, and the only child of Dream and the muse, Calliope (last seen in The Sandman, Episode 11). Orpheus is an idealistic, romantic, young man — and very much his father’s son — until tragedy strikes and reveals to him the true nature of love.

Freddie Fox (The Great, Slow Horses, The Gentlemen) is Loki, the god of chaos. Loki is a charming, seductive shape-shifter. The smartest and most dangerous person in any room, Loki is utterly irresistible and never to be trusted.

Clive Russell (The Cursed, Sherlock Holmes, Game of Thrones) plays Odin, the father of Thor, and blood-brother of Loki. He is a longtime ally of Dream’s, but finds himself driven to desperate extremes in his efforts to stave off Ragnarök. 

Laurence O’Fuarain (The Witcher: Blood Origin, The Gentlemen) is Thor, the storm god. With his hammer Mjollnir, Thor is brusque, rude, and driven entirely by his appetites for food and drink, battle, and sex.

Ann Skelly (The Nevers, Death and Nightingales, Red Rock) is Nuala, and Douglas Booth (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, The Dirt) is Cluracan, royal emissaries from the court of Faerie. Nuala and Cluracan are siblings who are opposites in every way. Nuala is responsible, empathetic, and principled. Cluracan is an impulsive rogue who lives for pleasure. They disagree about everything, except their devotion to each other.

Jack Gleeson (Game of Thrones, Sex Education) plays Puck, a malevolent hobgoblin who serves as the royal jester to King Auberon of Faerie. Puck is fascinated by mortals and enjoys nothing more than making sport of them for his own amusement. He’s also the inspiration for Shakespeare’s Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Indya Moore (Queen & Slim, Pose, Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom) plays Wanda, a professional driver and security agent for an exclusive travel firm. Wanda proves herself to be an indispensable guide on an Endless road trip to the waking world.

Steve Coogan (Alan Partridge, The Trip) is the voice of Barnabas, the canine companion of the Endless’s Prodigal brother. Barnabas is loyal and loving, but an outspoken cynic. Meaning, he’s both man’s best friend and man’s sharpest critic.

[v-era-18]

Red Licorice

Chapter Four: Apparition

‘Billy never held me like that before, and he most definitely never looked at me the way he looked at her in that very moment,’ - Sidney Prescott

It was like that night before, only this time two more victims emerged, alive but their spirits crushed. The Prescott home was flooded with FBI agents whereas the police station was in chaos, mass reporters at every corner trying to get a glimpse of the new victims-the two girls that survived. It was funny, seeing the flashing lights outside with the shouts of questions and reporters spreading false information.

(Y/n) sat in the chair, slacked and unresponsive across from the two officers in the room, officers David Montana and Casandra Williams. The brown skinned woman pushed a cup of hot chocolate her way with a soft smile, she was being patient with the girl seeing as though it was a traumatizing situation. She stayed next to her side and escorted her personally to the police station making sure she was comfortable. The girl had lost both of her parents, her best friend and now was attacked by a possible serial killer, she needed a break.

Willams took in a deep breath before speaking, “(Y/n)- sweetheart- we need you to tell us what happened,” she crouched down beside her giving her hand a soft squeeze. It felt motherly and for a moment the girl's shoulders relaxed.

Silence.

“Did he-did the killer say something about Casey?”

No response.

“Come on (Y/n), we can't help you if you don't say anything,” It was officer Montana this time, an impatient expression on his face. The officer was the second one to read Casey’s diary, he had every right to believe that the girl was a suspect in this case. There were moments of doubt though, (Y/n) was a good girl- he could see it. Was being outed the tip of the iceberg or jealousy?

The afro haired girl looked through the window to Sidney who was currently talking to Tatum. They watched her eyes water slightly before sniffling once more, “It's all my fault..,”

Cassandra paused, “What? What's your fault sweetheart?”

“I split off from Sidney thinking I could outsmart him- I was wrong,” Fat tears rolled down her eyes as she tried to bring the blanket over her soldiers further, not wanting to see an ounce of her skin. “His-his hands…..the knife-”

The woman held the teens hands, noticing her breathing staring to labor, “Take your time. I know this must be hard for you,” Cassandra whispered, she scanned over the girls face and her shaking form before asking, “Did- did he possibly sexually-”

“No. That's the thing-he only injured my leg before leaving me on the sink- I- I don't understand why he didn't kill me.” It was a partial lie, the male did inappropriately touch her, but now that she thought about it the only threatening part about it was him cutting her leg and taking her underwear. She did stab him in the back-literally, it makes sense with him wanting payback.

A deep chuckle cut through the room shocking Willams, “David-are you fucking serious - ?”

“Cut the crap,” The male's voice was stern, walking over before slamming a stack of files on the desk, “No killer would just leave a witness alive. Meaning you must've known them or worked with them.”

(Y/n) shook in her seat, utter disbelief taking over her features, “What? No! He literally-”

“Casey would be rolling around in her grave if she heard the lies you were speaking,” A glare was thrown her way, “If she had one, we’re still examining her body. And the embalming process nearly seems impossible to do.”

The afro haired girl shook her head in disbelief , thinking she should've kept quiet after all, “I know it doesn't make sense! But I'm telling you, he honestly cut me before leaving the bathroom!”

Williams cocked her head in confusion, “What? The killer was with you in the bathroom? Billy Loomis came through Sidney's bedroom window, sweetheart, that doesn't make sense.”

“That's because it couldn't have been Billy-,”

“What's your relationship with Loomis,” Montana cut in.

The girl paused for a moment thinking carefully before speaking, “We’ve been friends since middle school, we don't hang out as often due to our own lives, but he's a good boyfriend to Sid I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well,” She looked back through the window at Sidney, “Casey did tell me about him possibly cheating on Sid with another girl-didn't tell me who though. I thought it was a rumor.” It was true, although while analyzing Sidney and Billy’s relationship it did seem like it was missing something not to mention they haven't been dating for too long either. Billy started dating Sidney late July and took her out on small dates and even brought her with (Y/n) Stu and Casey. The only downside was that she was a fifth wheel noticing the couples holding each other's hands and whispering with one another. She left early much to the boy's dismay.

David sat down at the desk, placing an arm down with his cheek resting on his fist, “What about a romantic relationship?”

“Ro-romantic?” (Y/n) puzzled, “Me and Billy never dated.”

“Don't have to. You see men-especially boys- have a certain way of operating to get a woman's attention. They can even go to extreme messures-such as dating a friend or fucking a few girls in order to get it. To get you jealous-to get in your head.”

Her breath caught in her throat at what he was trying to get at, “Your wrong-Billy doesn't see me that way. I'm not special, Sidneys a whole package-just like Casey and Tatum-'' The afro heard stopped, a choked out sob, cutting through, “I’m not what he's looking for-”

“But you want him to-”

“No! I know what you're doing! But I honestly don't think Billy would kill Casey! I mean what reason would he have? My best friend barley hung out with him,”

The officers looked at eachother, a silent conversation going on. (Y/n) didn't like it, not one bit. Casey never hung out with Billy, as she always said he was weird-after his mother his attitude turned sour and the only ones who had patience to tolerate it was Stu and (Y/n). He wasn't a bad guy, just had a lot of baggage to deal with.

Montana finally looked back at her, “(Y/n) be honest with us. Did you love Casey?”

“More than the whole world. She-,” The girl's lips wobbled while speaking, “She was that beacon of light I needed each day. A big sister-a other half if you could tell.”

There was a pause.

“I don't mean as a friend or sister (Y/n),”

The girl cocked her head to the side, her face read confusion and sorrow. The two officers in the room only felt worse from the information they had collected.

“What-?”

“ARE YOU FUCKERS SERIOUS?!”

The officers heard the eruption of shouts and slams of desks heading in their direction. Williams immediately got in front of (Y/n) as the girl got up to see what's going on. Through the window she could see a red faced Billy struggling against the officers, throwing punches left and right as his father shouted for him to stop immediately.

But the Loomis boy was relentless, throwing another left hook at another officer after a taser was deployed. He screamed in pain, face twinsting in agony-eyes filled with fury at the situation; the male pulled out the protruding strings a trail of blood seeping his shirt. Shoving another officer out the way Billy made way towards the office, screaming his whole soul with the name that plagued his mind each night; (Y/n) (L/n)

“Billy, you stop this instant!” His father was chasing after him as the other officers tried to recover heading towards the room the girl was in.

Sidney and Tatum watched the scuffle with wide eyes. Upon them arriving at the station Billy practically begged his girlfriend to see him-to talk to him, pushing against officers in order to get to her. However, the boy was going the extra mile for someone he wasn’t even dating- someone he barely talked to or acknowledged. Punching, moving desks and screaming manically in order to get to their best friend.

The best friend who seemed to have all his flaming attention at the moment.

Billy stood in the doorway furious, his eyes filled with malice and rage before locking gaze with (Y/n). He scanned her form looking over her tear streaked face, to the way she covered herself completely with the blanket as she tried to make herself unnoticeable. She watched as the boy's face softened, stepping up to her, he reached out only for the female officer to step in between them.

He simply ignored her and focused on (Y/n), “Are you okay? Did he hurt you-?”

“Mr. Loomis, it is highly suggested you get away from the victim at this time.”

Billy cocked his head in annoyance, “She's my best friend, I'm not leaving till I make sure she's okay. Especially since you are here in this room questioning her over and over when she looks like she's about to have a mental breakdown.” He stepped forward once more, this time a plea leaving his lips, “Please let me see her, there's literally eyes everywhere, I wont do anything.”

The woman paused for a moment before responding, “If it's okay with Mrs (L/n), you're allowed to talk to her. But with me in the room-or nothing at all.”

Billy nodded, taking what he could get. He turned to the girl expectantly, awaiting her answer. It was a long shot, afterall the girl was traumatized from the recent events inside the house. She was supposed to emerge unscathed-shit-they didn't even know that she was even at the house. Sideny was supposed to be alone tonight-not drag their final girl into this shit.

The afro haired girl stared at him for a long moment before shuffling her feet, “It's fine. Billy didn't do anything wrong to me.” It was barely audible by the boy and the officer heard just fine.

Loomis was by her side in a flash, grabbing her face in both hands trying to gain his bearings-the taser and scuffle was starting to take a bit of a toll on his body. The way he was looking at her spoke volumes to the many people in the office-David including who had a smug look on his face before heading out to grab his partner some ice for his black eye.

The boy knows how to throw a punch.

“You okay precious? I just now heard you were in the house, I swear if I had known-,” Billy cut off noticing the fat welt of tears starting up again, his heart nearly breaking seeing how scared she was from tonight. Mentally cursing Stu for his error, the boy quickly pulled her into his arms. Sobs racked through the girl's body seconds at a time, it felt so long since (Y/n) had cried against him like this.

The last time Billy could remember a similar moment was when they were in eighth grade. The girl was wearing a sweater with beat up ripped overalls, her knee and chin were bleeding. Stu was walking beside her with a black eye, he knew immediately the culprit had been dealt with. But that didn’t make them any less angry with that fact (Y/n) got hurt, mentally and physically.

“I-I’m I’m sorry-,”

“Don’t apologize to me, precious, take all the time you need,” Yeah. Billy was gonna let Stu have it when he got out of here, “I need you to remember to control your breathing. You can do that for me right?”

She nodded into his chest, trying to even out her breaths from what Stu had taught her when they were younger. Billy's hands rubbed up and down her back affectionately, whispering encouraging words in her ears as she continued to let tears fall. Once her shakes and breaths were steady, she proceeded to look up at her distant friend. The boy's eyes were scanning her face, using his hands to gently wipe away all the rest of the tears from her face. His hands were soft, no calluses or rough patches-much different from the man who rubbed up and down her thigh.

(Y/n) took a gulp of air, “It wasn't you.”

A pause.

“What?” Billy asked.

“It wasn't you,” The girl replied shakily, “H-his hands had calluses. Your hands are smooth with no bumps, just slightly dry. I managed to stab him in the shoulder-b-but you're not bleeding anywhere.”

Officer Williams eyes widened a bit before grabbing a notepad writing the confession down. Billy noticed this a bit unnerved but remained focused on the girl in front of him, gazing down at the bandaged cut on her leg. It was obvious the cut was deep, Stu wasn't forgiving about getting stabbed in the shoulder no matter how much he loved her. It honestly was conflicting with the position they were in, especially since they thought she would be home safe from the mess.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. FUCK!

Billy just pulled the girl back in his arms, his heart beating faster as the guilt started sinking in. Never did he ever want the girl in his mess. it wasn't her fault of what that bitch did to his family-to his life. (Y/n) was the light in his life, even if he didn't show it in the best ways. He never engaged in a normal relationship due to the fact it would mess up the plan with Sidney. The girl wasn't the type to go out with her friends' ex's-so was the afro haired in his arms. Either way, the beginning of the relationship would be a cluster of a mess for what he wanted to accomplish.

“Do you know where you left the knife sweetheart?”

The girl directed her attention to the officer, grabbing Billy’s hand for encouragement, “He took it. He made sure to grab it out of the bathtub before leaving.”

Billy acknowledged that Stu wasn’t a complete dumbass, he knew that the knife was evidence due to the blood from the stab in his shoulder. Slow props to him. Still pissed at the fact (Y/n) got hurt. But this was Stu he was talking about, even though he was the more patient one out of the two of them-he had his limits. The girl pushed him over the edge with her actions.

“Do you remember anything else-“

“Are you trying to cause her to panic more?” Billy snapped.

Officer Williams backed up slightly at the boy's tone, she did realize her error a bit. The girl did just go through a lot tonight, and was a lot more traumatized than Prescott. But it was her job to get as most information out of the victim as she can.

“I apologize, but sometimes it’s best to question the victims while their memory is still fresh with the situation rather than questioning later,”

“She needs support right now-not an interrogation,” Billy tutted simply, “Have you called her aunt?” It was plaguing the back of his mind where her aunt was at his current moment. Gia was protective, she barely let Stu and Billy hang around (Y/n) alone without adult supervision. It wasn’t till they turned seventeen that she was allowed more outside the house.

The prison is home to what (Y/n) called it.

“Miss (L/n) is unfortunately at home waiting for her niece's arrival. We thought it'd be safer if she stayed at home due to the mass crowd of reporters outside.” The officer replied patiently.

“Take her home then!” Billy turned back to (Y/n), searching her face filled with discomfort, “Do you want to go home precious?”

The girl paused for a moment just staring at her friend's face, she pursued her lips together before nodding. She needed the comfort of her room.

Sheriff Burke and Dewy watched the two teens talk through the window, before glancing back towards Sidney and Tatum who seemed stunned and lost for words. The Prescott girl couldn't take her eyes off her boyfriend who fought uniforms in order to get to her best friend. He was still embracing her, whispering things in her ear; things he should've been doing for her - his girlfriend. Not (Y/n).

“Do we have anything else to report?” The Sheriff questioned out of earshot.

Dewey shook his head solemnly, “That ghost mask is sold both at Krogers and Walmart. Neither or keep purchase records.” Which would only make their case harder with finding suspects.

“What about the cellular phone bill?”

“They’re pulling Loomis’ account. But it'll be morning before we see something,” Riley looked back towards the window, Billy was still holding the afro haired girl together. They were standing now and both speaking to officer Williams, but he did catch the frustration and worry written on the boy's face. “You think he did it? (Y/n) said it was impossible due to the killer being with her most of the time he was there. It contradicts Sidney's story with how Loomis entered through the window with murderous intent.”

The Sheriff let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Twenty years ago I would've said not a chance. But kids these days….damn if I know,”

Silence filled the space once the other office door opened leading out (Y/n), Billy, and Officer Willaims in toe. Two uniforms came forward to take the boy away, he simply gave his best friend's hand a reassuring squeeze before allowing them to take him. He didn't bother to look his girlfriend's way either which set her nerves on edge.

Tatum strolled up to Dewey with Sidney not too far behind, “Hey..Dewey. Can we go now?”

“Hold up a sec,” Dewey replied softly. He didn't want to give his sister any special treatment but with the way things are right now, letting up on the teens wouldn’t hurt.

Sheriff Burke sent a questioning look to the Deputy, “She's staying with you?” He gestured to Sidney.

“We haven't located her dad yet,” He replied.

Tatum saw Sidney shuffle her feet in the corner of her eye, “God dammit Dewey!”

Dewey turned to his sister with a red face, “What did mama tell you? When I wear this badge you treat me like a man of the law!”

“I'm sorry, Deputy Dewey-boy but we're ready to leave,” Tatum shot her gaze to (Y/n) who was cowering against the wall, “We all are.” Her brother followed her gaze and immediately understood what she was trying to say.

He let out a sad sigh before turning to the afro haired girl, “(Y/n), ready to go home sweetheart?”

The girl nodded back in response, Officer Willaims gave the girl her card just in case she remembers anything else about tonight. In turn she sent a grateful smile even if it was strained, before following Dewey and the girls to the other exit.

“Are you okay?” Sidney whispers softly.

The girl turned her head to her and shook her head, “No, but I’m trying my best. I just need-I just need some time,”

They finally reached the side door of the police station. Upon opening the door the deputy tried to shield the girls from the impending flashing lights and reporters crowding around the front entrance.

Dewey turned to the three of them, “I'll get the car. You three wait here,” the male took off into the parking lot. It was a good thing the parking lot wasn't too crowded since the reporters and cameraman were mainly focused on the main entrance at the moment. Leaving the girls alone to gain their bearings-or so they thought.

The infamous reporter Gale Weathers and her cameraman made an appearance out of the darkness. The illuminated light caused (Y/n) to squint grabbing onto Sidney's sweater to save face, the sight looked pitiful.

“Hello Sidney,” The woman smiled in greeting, causing the Prescott girl to downturn her lips considerably. She then turned to the afro haired girl, scanning her bloodshot eyes to the exposed bandaged thigh peeking from the slit of the blanket draped over her shoulders, “That looks like a nasty scare you got there (Y/n). Are you alright?”

The two girls said nothing in response, simply staring; one cold, one filled with anxiety. Just like Sid, (Y/n) had her run in with Weathers before, only the interview was when the girl was in her tweens. The hot news around that time was her parents' case being closed due to the lack of evidence from that night of the murder. Aunt Gia had found out the reporter had bought the girl a case of horror movies in exchange for a brief talk about her parents. (Y/n) being a naive girl didn't understand at the time that not all adults had good intentions the hard way; Gia had threatened to sue Gale if she released her book to the public on her parents murder.

Something Sidney's father should have done.

“What happened tonight?” Gale tried once more, pointing the microphone in the girl's direction.

The action caused Tatum to step in between the girls and the reporter, a harsh glare taking on her features. “They're not answering any questions. Just leave us alone okay?”

“It's okay, Tatum,” Sidney stepped forward, a coy smirk on her lips, “She's just doing her job. Right Gale?”

“Yes, that's right,” The woman agreed, her smile faltering a bit not expecting the girl's tone to turn a bit hostile towards her.

Dewey pulls up with the squad car just in time as the mass of reporters start to roll in near the alley seeing the commotion. It would be a bit attention grabbing seeing a police car rolling up on the side of the police station; especially if it meant the killer would be taken away or escorted away from the public eye.

“How's the book?” The girl sneered, she was trying to keep calm, but the way her body shook and her face growing warm it was obvious that she was struggling. (Y/n) had scooted closer to the other two girls as more reporters swarmed in

“It’ll be out later this year,”

“I'll make sure to look for it.”

“And I'll make sure to burn them.” (Y/n) muttered loud enough for them to hear.

Gale turned to (Y/n), “And I'll make sure to send a special copy for your case as well (Y/n). Although it won't be published there are copies that have been printed-”

The reporter didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before Sidney reeled back her arm before smashing it unexpectedly in Gale's face. A shock of gasps and shouts rang out around them from the hit the Prescott girl had landed. The woman fell on the pavement along with Kenny the cameraman, she was clutching her eye breathing deeply-glaring at the group of girls in front of her.

(Y/n) peered over Sidney's shoulder, a faint smile on her lips that matched the girl's satisfied look, “Damn Sid. Nice Hit!”

☿

Sidney sat on the bed staring at the floral wallpaper of the guest room at the Reily home. Tatum was currently in the bathroom finishing up with her face mask, she offered to do hers but it was the least of her worries. Afterall, who could bare to get glammed up after nearly dying from a serial killer.

Her thoughts traveled back to one of her best friends; (Y/n) (L/n). Sideny had met her during their English class in the tenth grade; she could still remember the girl's horrific story she told the class for her project. She earned a one hundred of course whereas Sidney earned a simple eighty-seven for creativity and effort about mermaids.

Prescott had asked the girl for advice to do better for the next project, and the rest was history. Sure there were moments of disagreements ,but they were always light hearted. They never actually held anything against one another like Ttaum and Casey did, sometimes they would have fun on their own and it would be the best time without the other two. It was also the year she met Billy by association; at the time she wasn't interested in the trouble maker. Her dad would've never approved of someone who stayed in detention, and here she was dating him.

If you would even call it that.

After tonight she felt like she was intruding on what was already there between Billy and (Y/n). and she didn't blame her friend on it either, only on Billy since he was the one who pursued her in the first place. Why would he ask her to be his girlfriend if he already had feelings for (Y/n)?

A rebound? Moving on? Rejection? Whatever it was, it left her mind in a tizzy, and her heart aching with rewinding the image of the embrace they both shared in the office.

“God, I loved It!” Tatum emerged from the hallway, jumping and landing back first on the second twin bed with a laugh, “‘I'll send you a copy’ Bam! Bitch went down. ‘Ill send you a copy’ Bam! Sid-SuperBitch!”

Dewey stepped into the doorway with a bag of ice in hand, “Thought you might want some ice for that right hook.” Sidney took the ice in thanks, placing it along her throbbing knuckles, “I'll be right next door. Try and get some sleep.”

As if getting sleep was going to be the easiest thing tonight.

“Any word on my dad?” Sidney asked him.

“Not yet, but we're looking, “The male stepped out of the room, “If you need anything…”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Tatum waved him off, adding the flick of the wrist for emphasis. Her brother only smiled in response, closing the bedroom door to give the girls their privacy.

“Just another sleepover at the Rileys,” Sidney muttered laying down on her back.

Tatum smiled, “Just like old times, aint it?”

Sidney's face turned grim before rolling on her side away from Tatum, “No, nothings like it used to be.” She didn't want to bring the mood down, but her words held their weight. Nothing was going to be the same after tonight. And no amount of face masks gossip or snickering was going to change that.

Sidney and (Y/n) almost died tonight.

And she still couldn't wrap her head around the fact the masked man was in the bathroom with (Y/n) while Billy had entered her bedroom window. She felt horrible for accusing her own boyfriend after her friend's testimony came to light, but the way her gut was screaming something was wrong-the convenience,the timing was just off and alarming. The worst part was he wouldn't even look at her-he gave all his attention to (y/n) and completely did a one eighty in comparison to the way he was begging for his life earlier to talk to her.

A telephone rings off into the distance causing the girl to grip the pillow tighter.

“Do you really think Billy did it?” Tatum said gently, “It contradicts the scar on (Y/n)’s leg and her interaction with that freak of a killer.”

“He was there, Tatum,” Sidney muttered, “Something seemed so off about the convenience of it all! The killer corners (Y/n) in the bathroom just as my boyfriend conveniently comes in through the window trying to rescue me?” The girl sat up in the bed, brows creased together, “Somethings wrong here.”

Tatum hummed thinking things over, “I knew the guy was too perfect when (Y/n) introduced him to us. He was destined to have a flaw,” the blonde locked eyes with her friend hesitantly, “Are we not going to talk about what we saw happening between them?”

Sidney’s stomach lurched as the image swarmed her mind for a second, “About what? About a friend comforting the other?”

The girl thought if she denied what she saw a little longer she would be able to deny the reality of their situation; that her supposed boyfriend who she's been sneaking behind her dads back was truly in love with her best friend instead of her.

‘Billy never held me like that before, and he most definitely never looked at me the way he looked at her in that very moment.’

She was the other woman. (Y/n) was the endgame-the wife-the girl who should've been sitting at the table during dinner. Not her.

It should hurt more than it did, but why didn't it? Why wasn't she crying?

“Sid,” Tatum whispered softly, “You know what Billy did in order to get to her. Hell, he didn't throw left and right hooks in order to get to you-that one step was enough-”

“Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“No,” Her friend shook her head, “But it will have to be discussed eventually. You and (Y/n) are both good girls, talking it out will probably be a breeze if it's just the two of you.”

Tatum obviously learned her lesson from that night when they were thrown out of the (L/n) residence by Casey. She needed to learn not every girl was out to get her or challenge her the way she thought they did, in school it was a survivors instinct. Not to mention her insecurities while tripping over herself to get Stus attention since eighth grade. So when she figured it was (Y/n)’s fault that the male gaze was traveling elsewhere she let her mind get the best of her.

It was one of the nights she still regrets till this day. She doesn't deserve to be called her friend. Not as much as Casey did.

Sideny nodded with a sigh, “You right for once-,”

“For once-?!”

“I need to talk to (Y/n) about Billy, alone,” The girl finished softly, “I can only hope the truth comes out, and if it's true that they both have feelings for eachother then well-”

A knock on the door interrupts the girl's sentence, Mrs Riley opens the door with a smile, her graying hair framed her face nicely while her eyes held warmth gazing at the two girls. “Telephone, dear”

“Who is it?” Asked Tatum.

“It's for Sid,” The mother responded softly.

This caught the girls attention, a glimmer of hope shone in Sidney's eyes. “My dad?”

Mrs Riley paused and shook her head sadly, Tatum frowned in response, “Take a message,”

Sidney shook her head getting up from the bed, “It's alright. I'll get it,” The girl had another strong hope that it was from (Y/n) needing a bit of reassurance from tonight. They barely exchanged words in the car on the way to her home, the girl would shiver and sniff occasionally, breaking her heart. She blamed herself-she was the one who invited her to her home with no adult supervision.

While Sidney takes off down the hall Mrs Riley looks at her daughter jerking her head in the girl's direction, “How is she?” she whispered.

Tatum shrugged a frown playing on her lips. In an event like this all they could do was be observant and offer support, there will never be a guide or possible instruction to help someone who was almost murdered.

Sideny grabbed the phone from the table at the end of the hall, “Hello?”

“Hello Sidney.”

The girl froze the voice over the phone slithering through her-invading her. Her mouth hung open as her entire body weakened, the image of the ghostfaced killer flashed through her mind along with the crippled state of her friend with a large bandage wrapped around her thigh.

“Nooooo..” She cries out gaining the attention of the two other women in the house. Tatum sprinted down the hall to her best friend's side, watching the girl's shoulders bounce up and down in fear with her face contorted in mental anguish.

“Poor Billy-Boyfriend. An innocent guy doesn't stand a chance with you.” The male taunted over the phone, “At least he had my (Y/n) there to testify his innocence.”

“Leave Me Alone!” Sideny shouted her words together, she was in such hysterics she did not process the last part in his statement about her friend.

“Looks like you fingered the wrong guy….again,”

“Who are you? What the fuck do you want?”

“Hang up Sid,” Tatum hissed, she grabbed her friend's shoulder trying to ease the girl off the phone. If it was the killer then she shouldn't be talking to them as long as she was.

“Don’t worry. You'll find out soon enough. I promise,” The killer snickered into the phone, “I do hope (Y/n) won't be around you next time. My precious has already lost someone dear to her, losing you would be the tip of the iceberg.” The way the male spoke over the phone about her friend sent shivers down her spine; it was nauseating thinking about how the girl was left alone in the bathroom with this creep for god knows how long.

The girl let out a sob, “She’s traumatized, you fucker! You killed someone that was practically her sister, now you're claiming she's dear to you?” Sidney looked around at the windows trying to see in the dark of night to see if thers any glimpse of a white mask, “You better leave her the fuck alone, you hear me? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Mrs Riley ran to the bedroom door practically begging for her son's attention-banging against the door, “Dewey! Dewey!”

“This is gonna be fun, Sidney,” The killer growled, “It'll be just like old times.”

The line goes dead, leaving Sidney frozen with the phone in hand. Tatum stood off to the side stunned with the revelation, chills going down her spine from the voice she overheard. This was the voice of the man that attacked her best friends? The one that killed Casey?

The silence was cut through with Dewey barrelling out of his room with a gun in hand, he didn't even have time to put pants on, his pizza print underwear on full display, “What? What? What's happening?”

“Really Dewey?” Momma Riley shook her head, gently grabbing the phone from Sidney’s hands-she had a strong grip but with some gentle encouragement they let go. The girl had her lips parted slightly, tears blooming up to her eyes till they loosely spilled over.

Why? Why was she targeted? Who did she piss off so much to be on someone's hit list?

“Let's get you to bed dear,” The older woman whispered before turning back to her son, “Dewey, get your men on the phone and tell them what just happened! They need to be working faster.”

Dewey nodded, he picked the phone up examining it a bit, almost expecting the killer to call again before placing it back down. It was true they did need to hurry. But how much time did they truly have left?

☿

Stu winched as he reached the outside window of the (L/n) residence, inside he could hear the faint cries of the afro haired girl causing his stomach to do flips. He thought back to his actions in the Prescott house and Billy’s harsh tone over the phone; the Loomis boy had practically hissed at him to fix his mistake. Don’t get him wrong, a part of himself feels as though the cut on the thigh was an even edge to the stab to his shoulder. It was hard explaining to the nurses in the hospital on how it happened, not the smartest idea but he couldn't afford to bleed out. Especially since Billy was arrested he couldn't help patch him up.

He could still see the absolute terror on her face along with black nightie loose on her figure. When he and Billy had watched the girl from the trees and side of the house it was practically difficult to sneak around with their boners practically wanting to jump out of their pants. Hence why he took the initiative of seduction a bit in the bathroom, the way (Y/n) looked back up at him-helpless-tears pooling her brown eyes begging for mercy.

Stu wanted to see that expression again on her face.

It was twisted, he knew-to get aroused at the sight-but damn did she look so good. It felt as though they were in a horror porno of some kind. The helpless final girl reaches her limit, unable to run from her doom, the killer giving the ultimatum of sex in exchange for her life. It was a hopeless dream, but he wanted it to be a reality. Billy would hopefully entertain the idea one day once they were all on the same page.

Snapping off the girls window lock was easy, it was a good thing he and Billy practiced for their kills earlier or else it was going to be loud. He made sure to open the window slowly, paying attention to the bed on the other side of the room in the far left corner. From what the male noticed it hasn't changed that much in comparison to when they were kids. The pictures were the same-some added still in the proper place on the mirror, her shoes lined up near her closet mostly consisting of sneakers, and lonely Mr. Creep was on the floor. His left foot was still missing but was sewed together to prevent further ‘stuffing blood’ to spill out.

Stu still had the bunny’s foot in his room in a box of memories underneath his bed. It was an accident that happened, he simply went too far with his teasing and it resulted in a tug of war ripping the fragile stuffed animal apart. He visionised the girl's anguished face from that day; Her mother had gifted her that bear when she was four, and Stu had ripped off its lucky left foot.

Gia had deescalated the situation quickly and said that it might be a stroke of luck instead. ‘All rabbits have a lucky left foot,’ This caused his best friend to think things over; after a bunch of apologies and a long hug she asked him to keep it, saying that she wanted her ‘Stu Stu’ to have the best luck he could ever have throughout High School.

But how much luck did that foot give him really? Luck of blood on his hands? Obsession? A dark desire for all things twisted and morally gray?

Either way, it wasn't like God could talk to him personally and give him an ultimatum to stop. If a voice did speak to him he might listen-maybe his sins would be forgiven. But would the people who made him this way get punished?

He should have never gone to that stupid party.

The boy eased over to the bed, his footsteps were light, no cracks or groans gave way underneath the old carpets floor. Upon getting closer to the girl he took notice of how she was curled up all the way underneath the blankets- a self defense mechanism. ‘If I can't see the monster, they can't see me,”. She was too easy to read, and Stu missed reading her like this.

It only made him want to protect her from the world himself.

Stu started to pull the covers gently only for the girl to shoot up arm reeling back to land a hit. The male was much faster-he grabbed the incoming fist along with her other arm, “Easy, Final girl,” His voice hushed, “It's only me. It's me, Stu Stu. I'm here, he's not going to hurt you. I’m Here.”

It took a long moment before the girl's face went from fear and dejection-to relaxed and tearful. He loosened the grip on her arms and brought her to a gentle embrace instead, rubbing up and down the girl's back as sobs racked through her body. Stu continued to rock her back and forth settling her down, her words of panic and grief were muffled and watery. It only made his heart contort more. This wasn't part of the plan. Shit, this isn't even his plan originally to begin with; it was Billy’s.

When did this all start? Why and when did everything get so fucked up?

[aliciameade]

Darkness at Dawn - Ch. 2

Title: Darkness at Dawn Author: aliciameade Rating: M/E Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary: Even Bonnie & Clyde met their fate eventually.

Set five years after "Baby."

Also on AO3

Stephanie has been to the Santorini police station in the past of her own volition to call upon their services for a minor inconvenience that Emily had, at that time, insisted she could handle herself. Stephanie won the debate, arguing that Emily punching the man who sideswiped Stephanie’s parked Vespa, breaking one of its mirrors, would bring unwanted attention from law enforcement.

She recognizes the female officer at the desk where she’s being booked. She’s handcuffed, hands behind her, Detective Summerville’s hand on her left arm as if she might flee, and one of the INTERPOL agents is waiting to her right. The officer speaks to her in Greek, a curious and judgmental eyebrow raised. Alyson and Dillon Reid are about to be the talk of the town.  

“Mrs. Reid, this is a surprise. Dillon was brought in yesterday. What in the world have you two gotten into?”

Stephanie knows Summerville can’t understand the language. She has no idea if the INTERPOL agent can. He had an accent when he spoke English in her home, one she can’t recall now to identify it.

She opts for a sheepish smile in response and answers the basic questions asked of her:  to confirm her height, weight, birthdate, name. Her answers are half true, half false. In this country, she is Alyson Reid. Stephanie Smothers is a missing woman. She hears Summerville grunt when she gives her false name, but it’s who she is here.

She’s fingerprinted and now remembers when she took Miles to the police station in Warfield when he was two, after the car accident, for them both to be fingerprinted so that in the event of a tragedy, their fingerprints would be in the system.

Stephanie Smothers will be found as soon as the computer finishes searching AFIS. She was always so prepared. 

She’s made to strip and is thoroughly searched and left to put on an orange jumpsuit two sizes too big with flip-flops that she’s expected to wear with socks. They take her watch, necklace, and earrings. They take her wedding ring.

A dozen other women are waiting in a line in a hallway when she’s deposited by a local police officer at the end of it. None of them are Emily, but Emily didn’t spend the night in the hospital. Emily has a head start.

They’re shuffled down one hallway and into another and she’s surprised by the destination. She had envisioned sharing a singular barred cell with another woman.

Instead, it’s a huge room divided into four Plexiglas holding cells, at least ten women in each. Nothing more than a built-in bench that wraps around the cell, a toilet-sink combination, and a single bed that she can immediately tell is always owned by whomever the most powerful person is.

Emily is not in her holding cell—she knew she wouldn’t be—and as soon as she’s uncuffed and pushed into it, she rushes to the far end of the pod to peer across the expanses. Emily shouldn’t be difficult to spot here; she never has been. Tall, blonde. 

She finally spots her in the cell directly across from her own. She’s sitting on its bed reading a book. Her hair’s been split into two braids sitting over her shoulders. Where did she get a book?

Stephanie smiles. It shouldn’t be attractive. She shouldn’t be thinking about such things right now, in jail for murder and a litany of other crimes. But her wife has been in jail for one day and she’s already the boss of her group and it is incredibly sexy.

She doesn’t bother knocking on the glass. It’s nothing but a cacophony of loud talking and yelling in her cell and she can see just as much chaos in Emily’s. She opts to wait. She’s in Emily’s line of sight if only she would look up from her book.

It doesn’t take long. Emily’s cell receives newcomers as well and she looks up, first at the door and the detainees, immediately saying something that Stephanie wishes she could hear. She’s about to return to her book when her eyes cross the room and find Stephanie.

Stephanie’s hand presses against the glass reflexively as if she can somehow reach Emily through it. Tears hit her cheeks and she opens her mouth to speak but doesn’t. She sees Emily rush to the glass; she’s saying something but Stephanie knows it’s not for her. It’s pointed, and she can imagine what she’s saying.

“Don’t fucking think about it,” in Greek. She’s heard Emily say it a hundred times, usually to men on the street, drunk American tourists.

Emily’s cot remains untouched as she presses her hand to the glass in her own pod. “I’m sorry,” she mouths. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Stephanie mouths in response.

She watches Emily tap her finger against her temple. Think. Be smart. She moves her finger in front of her lips. Shh. She taps her nonexistent wristwatch. Be patient.

Stephanie nods, wishing she knew what Emily possibly knew that she didn’t, to feel that all they need to do is be patient. She watches Emily retreat to her throne and returns to her own little piece of hell, searching for a place on the floor that is both away from the women who look like they’re considering strangling her and somewhat clean to wait until they decide to let her out to call her lawyer.

It’s a long week.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Stephanie finally gets in touch with her attorney, she learns that he is already at JFK Airport waiting to board his flight to Athens.

Emily’s attorney had contacted him already, so she was spared explaining the situation. She’s encouraged to be patient, that he will do everything he could to get her released on bond, and that she and Emily are scheduled to be transferred to the prison on the mainland, but getting a bond hearing will take time. That their case is complicated. That he’ll visit her in prison as soon as he can get through the excess bureaucracy that comes with her particular case compounded by the disorganization and corruption within the prison system there.

She already knows what the argument against releasing Emily and her on bond will be. They’ve changed their identities and fled internationally once; they have the know-how to do it again. She’s not hopeful.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thiva Prison is a serious adjustment from the local jail in Santorini. The sights, sounds, and worst of all, smells overwhelm Stephanie’s senses. She has five cellmates, all of whom make clear they do not appreciate her presence and appreciate less her affinity for keeping her bunk tidy. For some reason, they find it irritating despite their bunks being relatively neat. They have no uniforms, and she sorts through the assortment of random clothing she’s been given; she assumes it’s been donated or salvaged. Most of it is too big.

She hasn’t seen her wife since their lengthy transport from their island home, separated at intake when they arrived at the prison. She assumes Emily’s been assigned to another section of the facility and spends her time observing the other inmates when they’re allowed out of their cells, but she never wanders farther than she’s required to go. She’s also watched a lot of prison reality shows and knows to take note of their cliques, their habits, who’s the alpha, and who the troublemakers are. She’s no fool; she’s an easy target in a place like this. Petite, pretty. Not a hardened criminal as many of the other women appear to be.

If only they knew she was there under suspicion of killing a woman by strangling her with a rope cinched around her neck in a meticulously premeditated murder before becoming an international fugitive.

She’s stir-crazy after a month and follows the line of her fellow inmates out of the prison and outside to the rec yard. She hasn’t had fresh air or sunlight since she set foot on the mainland and as soon as they’re in the yard, she heads for a makeshift walking track. There is no actual walking track; it’s just a dirt path worn into the field of weeds that circles much of the yard. There’s a fence at least 15 feet high surrounding the yard topped with razor wire, and beyond that, an even taller wall. There are watchtowers in every corner and a large one in the very center of the space. She can see the prison guards pacing them, sizable weapons in hand.

She works hard to keep her head down and not make eye contact with anyone. She has no friends here, no one to protect her, no one to help her, and she doesn’t yet know how an obvious American, even if she’s fluent in Greek, is going to escape becoming a target. The only thing that saves her from panicking is knowing that her boys are safe, even if Sean is likely doing everything he can to undo her adoption of Nicky and the guardianship she and Emily assigned to their neighbor Helen as a part of their emergency contingency plan. She wishes she could at least talk to him, to try to explain some of what was happening. He had adjusted so well to their new life and he and his brother had become close after a few rocky months of adolescent angst. 

And Miles, her darling Smooch... If Sean, or Detective Summerville, decide to rip apart everything she and Emily built in their new lives, if they manage to have the guardianship overturned…tears prick her eyes at the thought of Miles becoming a ward of the state.

“Yo!”

She manages to turn just in time for a basketball to miss her head and smack her shoulder. It falls to her feet and rolls a few meters to settle in a clump of weeds.

“Hey, throw it back before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.”

Stephanie’s heart is racing as she picks up the ball, first out of fear that she’s managed to disturb a group’s game, and then because it’s Emily’s smooth voice threatening her in Greek from across the yard.

She doesn’t react as she retrieves the ball and tosses it back to the basketball court, which is little more than a slab of cracked concrete and a single hoop. She meets Emily’s eyes and struggles to keep it together. She wants to run to her, to kiss her, or to cry, or both or all, but Emily’s cool stance, arms crossed, is enough of a message. They don’t know each other here.

“What block you in?”

“Uh, C-block.”

“If you come near our court again, I’ll find you there.” She mimics slicing her own throat, and while it’s barely noticeable, Stephanie catches it. She winks.

Stephanie puts her head down and hurries away, publicly threatened by a prison yard bully, privately elated that they finally found each other.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[billskaarsgard]

"Worth all this" - Bucky Barnes x f! Reader (Angel Salvadore) / requested by anonymous

This takes place after Cap: Winter Soldier and before Civil War, I know her character doesn't live but she's still alive in this.

Word count: 2.1k

You arrived at the SHIELD base in the midst of chaos, as you saw countless agents running in different paths, in addition to the high security that inspected the place. Of course Bucky Barnes would be responsible for installing his own Armageddon on HYDRA's biggest rival company. When you got the call from Steve Rogers, you didn't expect to hear about the Winter Soldier again, or at least, not in that way.

Captain America was waiting near the entrance next to Sam Wilson, who kept an unfriendly expression, considering that what he had in mind was not exactly trying to save Barnes, but killing him to avoid another massacre.

When you got closer, Rogers handed you a comm to keep in touch, and Wilson introduced himself as you have never met them before. Until then, you only knew about the Avengers from the TV and from all the conversations you heard. You greeted them both as the base crumbled around the three of you.

“So, what's the plan?”, you asked, your wings were ready for the battle that would begin in search of Bucky, who was out there nowhere to be found. Steve sighed, a shadow of regret flitting through his eyes as he spoke about the man who used to be his best friend during the 2940s, and before the super serum.

"Bucky wants to destroy SHIELD, he's in contact with HYDRA", he replied with disgust. You already knew about the feud between the two, you knew that during the last decades, the soldier has been in charge of working in the organization's operations. Especially because, not much more than three years ago, you faced him during an assassination attempt before definitively joining Magneto.

“Do you have a plan?” When you questioned the two men, they were getting themselves ready. Wilson explained he planned to keep the agents busy and away from Barnes, who was on one of SHIELD's ten floors.

“To capture him and maybe keep him in cryo. The only way to stop him, for now, is to freeze him," Rogers sounded bitter. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to do with his former friend, but his brainwashing made it impossible for anyone to get that close. And you knew that.

As you walked through the aisles, you started focusing on a plan that wouldn't involve killing him or even getting yourself killed, which was most likely to happen. You spent almost over fifteen minutes looking for Barnes, when Wilson warned you and Steve that the soldier was in one of the rooms, getting some drive and documents for HYDRA.

Watching all around yourself as you had the impression of seeing his shadow through a door and lowered your pace, you decide to slowly walk as you reached a door on the other side of the aisle. You got a pocket knife out of your combat boot and traced his metal arm.

If you could hit one of the engines, it would slow him down a little. Your tattoo from your back turned into wings, giving you more time to figure out how you could stab his arm in silence. The Winter Soldier, on the other hand, would notice any noise from a certain distance, so that would make him become way more alert than the usual, but you didn't know until you aimed the knife and shot it against him.

The robotic arm calmly reached the object and, in a sharply sudden movement, he threw the knife back. You looked to your left side, the sharp device taped to the wall still quivering. Barnes kept you a machiavellian glare, and ran when he saw the elevator open.

"Shit", you thought, wings nimble in an attempt not to let him get away. Inside the cubicle, you grabbed him around the neck with your legs and pinned him hard against the wall, throwing punches at his face and, unsuccessfully, at his shoulders. He was rock hard, and his left arm kept an almost crushing pressure on your leg. He didn't want to kill you, you could tell, at least from the way he held you.

Until that moment, that was what you tried to rely on, but he threw you against the elevator's wall and pressed his metallic hand against your neck. Bucky still had the same murderous look, the blue eyes sporting a paler, less vivid color. As you panted trying to get all the air you could into your lungs, you tried to hold it together on him, both hands wrapped on his collar to keep it from being choked. You had, you know, a greater weapon than any other object. Acid saliva would be a great ally, but you didn't want to use it to solve the problem.

"Bucky, it's me. Angel, remember?", you asked in a sincere tone of voice, keeping your eyes on him. For a second, his eyes flickered, his pupils dilated and on the back of his mind he could tell he saw you before. The soldier didn't show any emotion when you explained who you were.

"I don't know who you are", he replied in a thin voice, his left arm removing the space in your glottis, making you feel suffocated.

"Oh, but you'll remember", you used the moment to your advantage and dispersed him hitting your knee into his stomach, pressing the button for the elevator door to open. Barnes hesitated for a few seconds, but he pulled himself together as soon as he saw you, while you were running to take him to where Sam would be waiting for him.

"Angel, do not engage," Steve snapped into his earpiece, but you were too busy getting out to avoid being forced to death by the Winter Soldier.

"Too late, Captain. Do any of you know the code with the letters? I'll speak in different words with a letter between them. He's got a ultrasonic ear", you asked. The way you had of communicating with the two of them without Bucky knowing what it was about was strange, but it might work.

"What?" Cap didn't seem to understand, but Wilson got the message.

“Oh, she's going somewhere,” he said. "What's the plan?".

"I'm trying to get you to the helicenter," you explained, as you took a deep breath. "He's very difficult to engage, but I'll try to do it my way".

"If it's necessary, use that acidic saliva on his face at least once", the Falcon said it in a playful way and you laughed. Rogers was worried about his friend's attitude, but he found out it was only a joke to try to break the tension.

"Okay, I'll use myself as bait. Try to track me down."

Sam managed to use one of his mini drones to reach you, since you were five floors above them and the helicenter was two floors away from you.

You used your wings to keep yourself in the air as you were throwing several kicks and punches, while he tried to get rid of the attacks. Barnes was never able to control the brainwashing, and as much as he was trapped inside himself with no way to get rid of the Winter Soldier, he had no other option. What he could do, though, was hold himself out and control his mind to not kill you.

While shooting kicks and punches at him, you brought him to the nearest floor, guiding Steve and Sam, who have already followed the way to find you. Bucky used all his strength and the suspension down with the metal arm, knocking you to the ground.

"For God's sake, Bucky, it's me! It's me, Salvadore," you mentioned when you noticed him keeping the pressure around your neck tighter. The man's grimace frightened you, and you thought about giving up and abandoning him to run away. But if he ran away, countless people could die and you would be the one to blame. He stood millimeters away from your face, one hand still around your neck, while the other one he used to search in his holster for his own weapon.

"I. Don't. Know. Who. You. Are", he repeated the words, as he slammed your body against the ground.

"So I'll help you", you were thinking for a few seconds, but used his distraction to your advantage, while you tangled your legs around his robust body, forcefully taking the gun from his hand. Already loaded, you fired the gun beside Barnes' ear, who recoiled just enough for you to collide with the man's head, shoving the gun on him. You got rid of his weight as he fell beside you unconscious, and you saw Rogers and Sam running towards you.

"We heard a gunshot, is everything ok?", Cap asked as soon as he crouched down, in a protective tone, checking on you. Sam studied the unconscious Barnes and celebrated.

"It was either that, or my acidic saliva," you playfully explained.

Bucky woke up feeling a huge weight on his head, his ear was ringing, and one of his arms was trapped in a vibranium cuff. He looked around, the room quite distinctive compared to a standard hospital room. SHIELD had their eyes on him, but at that moment, the three of you were alone with him with the help of Sharon Carter. The soldier let out a grunt in response to the throbbing pain in his head. He looked to the left side and saw you sitting in an uncomfortable chair, while looking at the full moon through the window.

He sighed, he was tired and he knew he remembered her from the first moment she appeared. On the other side of the room, Steve and Sam approached him, both with their arms crossed.

"Bucky?", the blonde asked, he nodded with his head down. Steve stared at Sam, both looking at each other, and Salvadore got to her feet, getting closer to the bed.

"You wore newspapers in your shoes," he replied, amused but still bitter. Rogers knew that no one would know as much about him as his former friend.

"Good to see you again, Bucky", you looked at him and received a pleading look. Your faces spoke to each other. "Do you remember me now?"

"I remember everyone," the tone that came out of his mouth couldn't almost be heard. His face was still staring at the floor. "All the ones I killed and the ones I almost killed."

He glanced at Steve and Sam, the last time they saw each other was at the assassination attempt with the Hellicarriers in Washington. At the time, Barnes brought Cap back from the water, where they both nearly drowned.

Both Steve and Wilson noticed you would like to talk to the soldier in front of you and left the two of you alone in the room. You dragged a chair next to him and sat down.

"Next time you don't cooperate, I'll do as Sam said", your hand reached the shoulder of his bionic arm, where you deposited a suggestive slap, he laughed softly.

Barnes looked up and stared at you, blue eyes sparkling, flickering. You noticed how different he is when he's brainwashed. His pupils, hiding the ocean behind all of that darkness he had. When he's James Bucky Barnes, you're able to see through them, as clear as water.

"Thanks for saving me. I don't know if I'm worth all this," he said. You understand that living inside a head like his leads to endless questions about life, getting second chances, receiving your redemption.

You bit your inner lower lip and placed your hand on the man's chin, lifting his neck in a demonstration that he cannot lower his head and bow down for HYDRA to control him.

"That's not you, Bucky. You're here and now we're going to help you get out of this whole thing."

"All they have to do is say the damn words, I have no control over that", the taste in his mouth was bitter, and so was the tone in his voice.

"You'll be fine," you assured. With his free hand, he took yours. "I'll let you rest".

On an impulse, as you made your way to place a kiss on his forehead, he pulled your neck up and laced your lips with his in a lingering, wet kiss.

The air in the room seemed to have dissipated and it seemed increasingly difficult to breathe during those few seconds. With his forehead against yours and his hand tangled in your hair, Barnes let out between his lips on yours: "I can't thank you enough."

You knew you did the right thing when you decided to agree to help Steve and Sam capture Barnes. You knew that there was an exchange of energy before that had been there for a long time, bound to happen at any moment.

The first time around, things didn't work out the way they should have, but you knew the man behind the Winter Soldier, you knew that behind that stout body, that metallic arm with the imprint of his long past, he was worth all that.

[finiffy]

When it comes to A Major, I always find Agent Ukulele really interesting. He weirdly has the fullest picture of their life as a mediator. Like he know vague what Francis went through, he obviously remembers the Goc work, and he vaguely see what Clef does day to day.

He butts in Francis's life to keep him safe, he butts into Clef's work when it came to SCP 239 mess and other incidences. However each time he did, he usually doesn't do it for a make chaos and/or be an asshole, he legit believe its needed to keep people safe, mainly Francis and Clef, to hell with himself. Francis and Clef seem to actually listen to Ukulele if he suggests something; agree no, listen yes; so they hold him in some kind of high regard.

He's this mix of a protector and parent despite being well Ukulele embodiment of edgy and Goc propaganda renowned serial harasser and mass murder. I just think that oddly sweet how he technically has good intentions for most of his action and majorly cares for everyone else in the system in his strange ways and morals. If any of this made sense.

He shows up the least but A Major would fall a part if he wasn't around.

~ Mold Anon

You are so right. Ukulele really has the biggest grasp on Francis's and Clef's lives, seeing he was around basically in both "eras". It is really interesting that you pointed out that Ukulele doesn't do the things he does just for fun or whatever, like the man genuinely believe in his actions and reasoning and if his conclusions is that it is dangerous he will try and push to the front to deal with it with some varying degrees of success (*cough* incident 239). The guy is quite a character tho, he is infuriating, edgy with teenage angst all put together with GOC mindset which does earn him a reputation of maybe not the most responsible person in the room but when credit it due he is good at what he does

[lexxlikes]

Prepare for Trouble!

In Team Rocket's underground main base, the time of day lost all meaning. The artificial light and the constant comings and goings of various people made the time of day only an illusion and of pleasant insignificance. The windowless base stretched far below Celadon City's arcade and housed not only conference rooms and dormitories, but also a canteen, swimming pool and gym. That's exactly where Blake was headed. The twenty-year-old was brand new to the organization and currently had to deal with simple errands and master the operation of the coffee machine. So now he was making his way down the gray, branching hallways, and though he'd already spent a little time here, he kept threatening to get lost. Only small, abstract icons on the walls indicated where something was, and the image of the gym didn't appear until Blake had already given up hope. A glance at his watch revealed that it was approaching midnight, and even if time didn't matter here, he wondered who wanted to get physical now. Or had to.

When he stepped through the door, he was greeted by the typical smell of a gym. The smell of sweat was predominant and they tried to cover it up with disinfectant. Small spray bottles were distributed all over the studio and both mixed to form an unpleasant olfactory combination. The ventilation was running at full speed, but with the frequent use by so many people, even it eventually reached its limits. Acoustically, all that could be heard was the metallic clacking of weights coming from the room's sole user. On the weight bench was a tall man in a tank top and shorts, his face hidden from view. Behind the bench as a spotter stood a Machamp whose entire attention was on his trainer, who was currently pressing 165lbs away from his chest in smooth movements and slowly lowering the barbell again only to perform the movement again. Two of the Pokemon's total of four muscular arms took over the weight at the end of the movement and placed it back into its designated, secure holder as the man stood up. The wet glistening skin and heavy breathing indicated that the person had probably been training here at the studio for a long time. He was about mid-twenties, heavily trained and probably the most unusual thing was his blue hair. Normally Team Rocket agents tried to fly below the radar and not stand out - blue hair was the exact opposite. The initial screening confirmed the suspicion that the man named Lexx was a member of Cliff's team.

After there was an incident with a minor, which probably by accident caused chaos and a lot of damage, the internal structures were rearranged. There was still Giovanni. The one and only. The leader and founder of Team Rockets. But the competences were broadened. Sierra, one of the boss's closest confidants, had a focus on espionage and information gathering. No matter what a Silph Corp. was developing or who was the favorite in the Arena Challenge in Galar, Sierra knew about it. She coordinated the individual actions together with Giovanni. Arlo was responsible for technical development and had introduced the Crypto program some time ago. His focus was on internal digital security and cyber warfare. The last of the three leaders was Cliff. Muscular and intimidating, he was, like everyone on his team, confrontational. Trained thugs, he had his head through the wall. Often not with their own. All members of his departments were battle-hardened and responsible for the rough jobs. Thefts, assaults, or clearing precincts when another team felt they had to go overboard. It was all a job for the muscle-bound.

"What?" the blue-haired man asked the courier, who stood calmly in front of him. Blake handed him a piece of paper and Lexx let his blue eyes dart over the written lines. "Time to go," he declared, addressing his Pokemon, and only then did the newcomer notice. The Machamp was not shrouded in a purple mist, and its eyes were not dull or glowing red. Apparently, the powerhouse Pokemon was with him entirely of its own free will. „Thanks“, Lexx was replying as he rose from the bench, grabbed his towel and headed towards the showers. Blake's gaze still followed this man briefly, and in his mind he asked himself so many questions. No crypto smoke. A thank you. Who was this Lexx?

A short time later, Lexx, dressed in a similar suit to Cliff, entered the small office and his supervisor looked up. Team Rocket had become more bureaucratic over time, so he got his briefing on a Rotom pad. Sierra's agents had been able to learn that a private research vessel was arriving in Vermilion City harbor from Armor Islands the next evening, carrying dyna-mushrooms as cargo. These are to be brought to Pallet Town to Professor Oak for examination. The question of whether dynamaxation is genetically inherited and can be used in breeding was too theoretical and frankly too complicated for Lexx to continue reading this paragraph. He briefly studied the key data and then nodded. A short conversation with the supervisor clarified the last questions and so Lexx had time until the next evening at 9p.m.

Preparations were made quickly, as all members of Team Rocket had to be ready to go immediately. His Team Rocket outfit was in an inconspicuous sports bag, as was his equipment and his three Pokeballs. A larger suitcase he also carried should be able to hold enough Dyna Mushrooms. Dressed in a short sports jacket, he then left the catacombs and entered the Celadon City arcade. As on the lower floors, time was of no consequence. It was unclear whether people were sitting here "again" or "still" trying their luck. Of course, all the machines were rigged. Somehow Team Rocket had to finance itself. Nevertheless, you could hear the one-armed bandits rattling from time to time as a few coins were put back into circulation. When Lexx finally stepped outside the door, it was well past midnight. Much of the city was already asleep and only near the arcade was there still activity. Determined, he walked toward a black van in the parking lot. The drive to Vermilion City shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. He could drive past Saffron City, avoid the downtown traffic, and should be on site by early morning. That would be enough time to check out the location and get ready. After that, he could sleep a little more and should be sufficiently prepared.

With a coffee in hand, the blue-haired man strolled along the Vermilion City pier. The fishing boats from the morning had already been unloaded and Remoraids, Tentacool and Qwilfish were being shifted and further cooled at the dock. There was a bustle of activity and everyone was going about their day's work, so the stranger didn't stand out much. At some point, Lexx carelessly tossed the coffee aside, because with all the smell of fish, it was hard to drink it. The harbor itself was huge, and in addition to the merchant ships from Johto, Unova and Galar, there were also all sorts of private sailing ships. According to the information from Sierra's team, the ship with the Dyna Mushrooms was supposed to arrive at one of the southern piers, and after a few questions to locals, Lexx found said pier. It was quick and easy to get to, easy to see, and there were a few smaller covered areas nearby. These were intended for trading parties in bad weather and could be used by merchants and fishermen alike. From the roofs there was certainly a good view over the area and LightDive could take his observation post there unseen. There were three escape routes for a quick getaway. One led more or less directly into the city, the right one led back to the other piers and way No. 3 led into the forest. Of course, there were a few barriers to overcome. The chances were good and after another hour of observation, the blue-haired man found himself in his small hotel room. It was functional, without much luxury, but a comfortable bed. After making all the necessary preparations, he went to sleep for a few more hours. His advantage over overtired captains.

It was dawn when Lexx got out of his van in his black full-body armor suit and the significant "R" on his chest. He had parked the car in the woods, hoping to escape relatively unnoticed. The other options had too many, potential witnesses and the route through the city held too many unknowns. The blue-haired man once again checked the hold of his equipment. The two belt pouches on the back contained things like a knife, a small breathing apparatus, and a flashlight. His three Pokeballs were secured to his right thigh, and with a simple flick of his wrist, he removed the classic red and white ball and spoke softly to no one in particular, "Your turn, LightDive." A bright light from inside the mirrored ball manifested into a Magneton in no time, and the shrill, metallic sound of the Pokemon announced its joy at being free. The six magnets spun slowly and synchronously on their own axis, and while the three eyes gazed at Lexx, the Steel-Electric Pokemon floated toward its trainer. The Rocket bully, in turn, looked at his Pokemon and then gave clear instructions, "You take up position above the streetlight. Fire a warning shot directly on my signal. After that, fire at your own discretion. Once we have the goods, you secure us and then follow as quickly as possible. Got it?", again that shrill sound followed and LightDive did as he was ordered. The blue eyes briefly followed the trajectory of the steel Pokemon before it disappeared into the darkness of the night. Other bullies were working with Arlo's Crypto program. A mind-altering device that instantly made wild Pokemon docile, regardless of their level. Lexx was against it from the beginning, since the disadvantage of this tool was that a large part of the prisoners only knew the attack Frustration. Natural and understandable, but completely useless in combat. Steelix, Machamp and Magneton accompanied Lexx for a very long time and he was one of the few, successful bullies of Team Rocket. Not least because of his team. Next, he released BulkBrawl from his ball. The Machamp nicknamed BB was just 5'6", but was in no way inferior to his trainer in terms of muscle mass. Its four biceps were covered in thick veins and its broad shoulders made the Pokemon look just as menacing as Lexx. An implied grin accompanied the fist-bump the two exchanged. "As always. Big. Evil. Menacing." A double-biceps pose and a "Macho!" followed, after which the four-armed man took up position behind his trainer. Then there was a wait.

It was late evening, around 10 p.m., when the ship arrived from Galar. It was not a large transport cruiser, it seemed almost like a fishing boat paired with a research vessel. Disembarking after all the ropes were fastened were three people in white coats and the apparent captain. All appeared overtired and were packed with bags, and while the two port employees were still discussing berthing rights, fees and other formalities with the captain, the white coats headed toward the exit that led into the city. The day-bright flash of light that twitched through the night and hit the ground just ahead of the three people immediately made everyone stop moving. "We'll take it from here..." declared Lexx in a threatening, bassy voice as he stepped out of the shadows and was joined by a muscular Machamp who immediately cracked the bones of four fists. "The suitcase with the mushrooms, please, gentlemen," the bully declared curtly, sticking out his hand, "Then we can get this all over with quickly and start the end of the day. A good suggestion, isn't it?" From the reaction of the three people, Lexx could tell a few things. First, that they were scared but not ready for immediate cooperation and second, who owned the mushrooms. The man was estimated to be in his mid-thirties, had a half bald head, was slightly stocky and, according to the blue-haired, pressed his bag conspicuously close to him. "No way!" someone actually dared to say, and the next moment the two dockworkers were on the scene. Brave - Lexx had to admit that to them. A Pelipper and a Poliwrath appeared next to each of the two sailors. Secretly, the bully had hoped for a fight - because he loved it. BulkBrawl intuitively knew what to do and immediately ran at the Poliwrath. The melee attack might be at a disadvantage against an opposing fighting Pokemon, but the muscles and four arms elegantly compensated for that disadvantage. BB's punches were so fast that it seemed as if his arms completely blurred with the darkness around him. The Poliwrath still tried valiantly to fight back, but eventually the storm of fists was too much and after landing a hit, the defense completely collapsed. Lexx's blue eyes fixed on Poliwrath for a moment too long for him to notice the approaching Pelipper in time. After the initial power-boosting Agility, the wings began to glow and the attack Air Slash was imminent. Lexx still tried to dodge it with a jump, but at that moment the water bird Pokemon crashed into a crackling obstacle and fell to the ground unconscious. Magneton's Flame Burst not only defensively caught the impact, but also instantly knocked out the opponent with the electricity it built up. The Steel Pokemon barely noticed the collision itself, and when Lexx was back on his feet, both of his Pokemon positioned themselves next to him. Neither seemed to be really strained by this fight.

"I hate to repeat myself. But I am now taking over the mushrooms. Give them to me and you could move unmolested." Indeed, this brief show of force did not seem to have been enough, for the three explorers still looked frightened, but at the same time defiant. The two sailors attended to their Pokemon, and the captain remained standing quietly with his hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket. Too calm for Lexx's taste.

There was a moment of absolute silence and no one seemed to move. For the bully, this all took too long and he had to leave. He walked threateningly towards the group of three for this reason. "Give it to me," he commanded again, and with his accompaniment of BulkBrawl, it seemed that this threat was finally having an effect. The faces turned pale and the bearer of the goods began to tremble slightly. He started to extend his hand with the bag towards Lexx when the captain's voice rang out. "You don't do that, Eugene!" he thundered authoritatively. "The port police have already been notified and you're outnumbered, Rocket scum. What do you want with the mushrooms anyway?" the old man asked, clearly trying to stall for time.

"Get them," he commanded off his Machamp as he looked at the boatman. „Dynamic Punch," he ordered without really looking, and only the appearance of three bodies signaled to him that BB had taken care of the three people. Lexx had no idea - nor did he care much - if the attack had killed the individuals. He hadn't risen this far within Team Rocket if he had a conscience. The captain's wide eyes, however, allowed conclusions to be drawn.

"I'm not a simple bully who takes kids' pocket money by the wayside, old man," Lexx finished this argument for himself and turned around to the victims. All three were lying on the ground and the wet shiny surface did not allow any conclusions whether it was blood or water. He walked up to the researcher named Eugene and picked up his bag. After a quick look at the contents and confirming that it was the mushrooms, he turned back to the captain.

"Get out of here," he ordered and waited to see how he would react. Of course, he could identify him as a potential witness, but Lexx didn't care. He lived for and with Team Rocket. It wasn't like he could have been arrested while shopping. Speaking of arrests…

Even as the bully's blue eyes glared at the old man, he heard sirens in the distance. The harbor police were there sooner than he thought. The old man had to have a rotom phone. Annoying little beasts. Since escape was too dangerous at this point, he had to somehow take out the lawmen. Then he could make his escape in peace. Maybe it was all very risky, and Lexx was playing the poker too high - but the adrenaline of the fight was still coursing through his blood and probably diminishing objectivity. And who on Cliff's team shied away from a good fight? The boatman took to his heels and disappeared, as did LightDive, retreating back into the shelter of the shadows. BulkBrawl stopped at Lexx and he took his last Pokeball out of its holder.

A short time later, three vehicles turned the corner with squealing tires and the light of the headlights dazzled unpleasantly in the eyes of the bully. Protectively, he put his hand in front of his eyes and he heard rather than saw the police officers get out. "Hands over your head and don't move. Your Pokemon is to return to its ball," came the officers' routine orders.

"Yes... yes... please... it... all... a misunderstanding...", Lexx tried to stammer as intimidated as possible as he raised his arms above his head and with an unnoticeable movement dropped the Pokeball into BB's hand. The Pokemon reacted instantly, catching the ball, whirling around and throwing it far behind its opponents. "Please!!! Don't shoot. He doesn't like... his ball..." It seemed to work and the announcer from a moment ago said, "All right. Two police officers will now come to you and handcuff you. Behave calmly and no tricks." The scraping and squeaking sound of metal on metal in the distance was probably background noise not to be noticed by the policemen at a port with containers, but to Lexx it was the clear sign that his escape plan was in place. As the two cops approached him, guns pointed at him and secured to the car by two other officers, he took a deep breath and tried to harness the adrenaline in his blood. To Lexx, it seemed like everything was happening in slow motion, and while the law enforcement officers were still aiming at him, he shouted loudly, "Protect!" Instantly, in the darkness, Magneton's three eyes glowed and before the bully, hexagons manifested themselves, growing larger, their edges meeting and joining to form an impenetrable shield. At least for a short time - from the beginning of his call, to the annihilation of the police - this should protect him from bullets. As might be expected, the officers fired immediately, but the shield held. "Iron Tail!" roared Lexx again as he took cover behind the shield.

The roar that then filled the port area even made the ground shake slightly. All at once the officers seemed frightened and when they heard the renewed sound of moving metal and in the darkness a black silhouette rising to almost 30 feet high, it was too late. Seconds later, the back of Lexx's Steelix began to glow and the metal-coated skin glowed. The bulky head with the red eyes fixed the policemen calmly until the huge body whirled around its own axis with force and the glowing tail hit the car. The force of the impact coupled with the metallic energy of the attack dealt such a blow to the emergency vehicles that they flew with incomprehensible ease to the wall of the nearest port building. The two officers standing next to the vehicles lay lifeless on the ground, next to the piles of scrap metal from the former cars.

"Get us out of here!", Lexx immediately ordered and Chrome, his Steelix, obeyed. With sinuous movement and an ease one would not have expected from the 30-feet-long and nearly half-ton steel boa, he came at the bully. The two remaining officers could only jump out of the way, looking for help. Without slowing down, the Pokemon continued to move toward the blue-haired man. With a skillful movement, he clung to one of the elongated outgrowths on one side - and BulkBrawl on the other. Barely feeling the weight of the two muscle-bound, Chrome moved on unchanged.

"Flash Cannon as our glorious finale, LightDive!", Lexx gave his last order for the evening. While the other three made a run for it, the Magneton followed briefly, but then paused and the six magnets began to spin on their own axis, accelerating. Through the buildup of momentum and electrical energy, a glaring white sphere formed. The magnets stopped spinning and all at once the concentrated light energy was released in a destructive beam. This hit the boat irreparably and one the leaked tanks of the former police vehicles ignited. Enough distraction for Lexx, Chrome, Bulkbrawl and LightDive.

The fortified wire fence that separated the harbor from the adjacent forest was not really a serious opponent for Steelix. With an unsightly sound, it simply snapped as the broad head made its way through it with all its might. The Pokemon then came to a stop near the car and immediately curled up a bit to regain its balance. Machamp and Lexx now let off and landed back on their feet. LightDive joined the group, hovering for a short time.

"Well done!", Lexx praised his Pokemon and grinned over both cheeks. A successful evening. He got everyone back into their Pokeballs - there was a brand new one for Steelix - and then went into the van. He stowed the mushrooms in the designated box and, after another moment, started the engine. The adrenaline slowly subsided, but the euphoria remained. He had accomplished the mission, clearly demonstrated Team Rocket's point of view, and had a few good fights. A thoroughly satisfying night.

[moonlitfirefly]

July 14, 1862 today is the birthday of the famous Austrian artist Gustav Klimt🎉🎨 Klimt's love for cats is legendary. 😻 One of the most beautiful portraits of Klimt shows the painter with a cat in his arms. A large number of cats were left to roam freely around the rooms of both his studios. Klimt was well aware that the cats caused chaos with his many sketches, and sometimes damaged them. This did not bother him in the slightest. 🐾 🖼

Arthur Roessler, an influential art writer and critic, gives a striking account of the cats' feral activity in Klimt's studio. He also talks about Klimt's relaxed response to this behavior: "Once, as I sat with Klimt and rummaged around in a heap of papers, surrounded by eight or ten meowing, purring cats, play fighting with each other, so much so that the rustling study sheets just went flying, I asked him, puzzled, why he tolerated such antics spoiling hundreds of the most beautiful drawings. With a smile, Klimt replied: 'No, my friend, even if they crumple and tear one or the other pieces of paper, it doesn't matter; they only pee on the others, and, you know, it makes the best fixing agent!'"😹

Photo by Moriz Nähr, c. 1910, recently colorized by painters-in-color on Tumblr

[january31st]

...Who have you become? (Pt2)

Cruella (2021) x reader

A/N: Angst, it’s all angst, and I would love to leave this on a bitter terrible ending because i’m an agent of chaos, but i won’t be doing that to you yet <3 as for the request…. I may or may not have gone completely off the tracks, the story just brought me here.

i haven't really had the patience to proofread this (it would take even longer to post, so there's that) forgive me for repeating some stuff or just inconsistencies.

In my head the inside of Hell Hall has mixed together with the rooms from The Favourite, it’s giving royaltycore yall.

On a more personal note, I did test positive for Covid, that is also why I was able to upload at all. My symptoms aren’t bad at all, I’ve had worse colds, thank goodness, guess I just have a couple of days to clear my mind a bit, since I can’t really study with this sick brain.

Warnings: Homophobia! Sexism. Alcohol and drug abuse.

|| Masterlist || In coming and going (Part 1) || Wattpad Link || AO3 Link ||

~5800 words

Someone else. That was who you’d become. Both of you. Though you didn’t really know her part of things until the day you met, yet again. And it was another one of those days, impossible to forget. But this wasn’t like the first reencounter, it had a bitter taste to it.

You knew who she was, there was no mistaking it, you knew her hair colour from childhood and no one else would dare to make a brand quite the way she did. You had read a couple magazines while you were away, sitting in your apartment in Paris, your cup of tea cold and forgotten as your mascara ran down your face. She made it, she had her brand and you knew this was only the beginning.

Cruella. You wondered why she went for that name her mum used to say to her, the one part of her she had to avoid. It was just impossible to imagine that she could have changed who she was, though it didn’t surprise you to imagine that life had its ways of damaging even the kindest of people. That’s why it was so shocking to come face to face with her, to have her treat you this way at first.

And it was fair that she didn’t recognize you, but it didn’t hurt any less. Almost a decade had passed. Your hair was now dyed too, the stark opposite of its natural colour. Your clothes were that of a grown up for the times, a high-society lady, just like the ones you’d talk shit about. You were forced to change who you were completely, even the way you walked and the way you talked, all of your liveliness was gone, replaced by a cold demeanour, a lack of response to show you didn’t care. That was who you had to become to survive.

Christian Dior. A name that made people think about fashion, about perfumes, about high society and expensive things. To you that name had meant so much more. He was not only your boss, but he saved you.

You took it very seriously when you had to leave, you couldn’t bear to put them in danger, they were the people you would always love the most. So you ran away, pretty far away for a kid. You found yourself crossing the way to Europe, not even knowing when you were in what country, just roaming around clueless, lost and afraid. The perfect recipe for disaster.

In Germany there was a bar that made you think of your Estella, the black and white decorations, the red details and the general punk aesthetic. In your state, that was the only place where you felt remotely safe.

Not that a bar is a particularly safe place at all, let alone for a teenager. But you begged to work there, barely even knowing how to speak the language, and they took pity on you.

At first it was just that, a job, a place to stay. But eventually all the alcohol around you made you cave in, and since you didn’t know any better, and no one cared to help you, it became your companion. That was when things started getting blurry. Drunk nights, drunk days, and eventually they fired you. You couldn’t stand being sober. It made you think about her, about the way you left, about the way she felt.

And with it being the transition between 60s and 70s, the drugs on the streets were all but normal, the easiest thing to find and use, no one would bat an eye, and no one cared that you were always angry and that all you felt was guilt. You stayed on the move, travelling from high to high, trying everything and anything, just as long as she was out of your mind. The Netherlands, Luxemburg, Belgium, Switzerland, you’d been as far as Hungary.

An overdose was never a worry for you. You didn’t really care anymore. And with the tolerance you’d built you started believing that it was just something that would never happen to you.

Until you found yourself in northern France, in some exclusive bar that you somehow got yourself into, having a fashion argument with some pompous asshole about how the A line conveyed an objective message, as did any fashion choice. You had gotten so mad that you had to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and take an excessive dose of something that you couldn’t even recall the name of. That, along with the fact that you were already high off your mind before, resulted in that big overdose you had to know was coming. To your luck, there was someone in that bar that had kept his eye on you, his attention caught by your loud arguing. That was your soon to be boss.

He went into the men’s washroom just as you were coming out, his attention landing on you again as you hit the floor, unconscious already.

And from then on he took care of you, he was moved by the air of tragedy that clung around you, he became determined to “fix” you. A year or so had passed and you were completely clean, working for him. At first it was hard, you didn’t agree with any of what he thought, his mindset felt all backwards, but soon you learned to pretend to agree with him, you learned to keep your mouth shut, because your opinions only mattered when it came to fabrics and colours.

You owed him your life, it was all you could do to shut the fuck up and be grateful, he kept telling you. He had put up with your outbursts, making you believe they were childish, telling you that when you grew up you’d learn to behave. And you sure did. Not because it was true, but because that was how he manipulated you to act. To be the face of what he believed in, to be the example of his brand, a perfectly beautiful and composed lady, the image of true femininity according to him. You had to comply, because that was the only way you’d survive, that was what you believed.

And you did put up with it, until he struck you on your last nerve. From the second you saw her in that magazine you wanted to fly back and congratulate her, run away from him and stay close to her, tell her everything you had to say, and then, only then would everything be alright. But when he made that supid comment, you just waited until the end of the day to pack your things and buy the tickets.

“Lesbians are the very thing corrupting our society. If it weren’t for those brutes then our women would remember that they belong at home, serving their husbands gracefully. But now that the lesbians are out there, they keep convincing girls that being masculine and working men’s jobs is an appropriate goal.” Was what he said, the words flowing from him with that coolness of someone who just thinks they’re right all the time. This along with the comments on Cruella’s brand, it infuriated you. You knew he was scared of her, you knew she would continue to overshadow him, because that was who she was, that was your girl. Along with the magazines saying that was her plan, to run Dior out of business. And in knowing him, you also knew he was planning something to sabotage her instead, make a scandal. You’d overheard him more than once, but though he had no idea that you knew her, he knew her style was your favourite, he knew that was who you were when he “saved” you, so he didn’t trust you to know his plans.

And so at last you left, you flew back to her. Drunk on the idea that not even time could change what you had.

It was so dumb of you, proving yet again how naive you could be, that you didn’t expect her to welcome you with anything but open arms. So when you asked to see her, and when she treated you with nothing but disdain, your soul was ripped to pieces yet again.

“You must be mistaken, this is no longer the Baroness's kingdom. This is no place for you, precious. If you think you’re getting a job with me you should return to wherever you’re from.”

It was too late to prepare, but you should have expected it. You looked different, you dressed in the staple Dior style, hell, even your accent had changed, sounded like you weren’t from one country in specific, just a vague foreignness. It took you a little too long to react to her, you froze for a second too long, looking at the sketches she had up on a wall. Her perfume was making you dizzy, it was still her, but now instead of the fruit notes, it was just intoxicatingly sweet. You could smell her before you got in the room and long after you left.

“Darling.” she said, a fake niceness wrapping around her words, and you turned to her again, to those eyes you had missed more than you could have imagined to be possible.

“Please leave, I’m sure you remember the wa-”

“It’s me.” You meant to exclaim, but instead of confident, the statement came out sounding something like disappointment. Because yes, it was you, but right then it wasn’t her you.

She looked at you with a face you’d never seen on her, she looked confused but also annoyed at you, silently asking for you to be quick with your explanation.

“I’m… “ Your chest tightened, remembering your actual name, you had to change it, to leave the past behind, it was coming to you all at once. But yet again, she misread your uneasiness.

“Well Darling if you can’t even remember your name what do you suppose I must do with you?” she said, with that fake tone again, and that was enough to make the feelings spill out of you.

“Estella! What the fuck, it’s me, Y/N! I literally just got out of a goddamn plane and ran here to talk to you and you treat me like this?” you almost screamed, and her acting all went away, her expression changing completely, but you were already too angry to shut up. “I’ve been working for fucking Dior, he’s been making me nuts for years, and- and now that you have a brand! And you’re- well, of course you’re doing great- he’s plotting against you, I just know it. I had to come and warn you.” The fight came all out of you along with the last sentence, your face was stained with tears and you felt so, so tired. You leaned against a table and covered your face with your hands.

For a while that was all there was, your faint sniffles echoing around the tall room. She didn’t seem to move or say anything.

“You’re clearly very tired from your flight.” she said at last, almost mechanically “I’ll get someone to take you home. We’ll catch up later, I have loads of work”

Home? Did she say? What was home? You’d wanted nothing but to step on that warehouse again, feel that familiar smell and trace your fingers along the sketches she had up on the walls. But you knew better, you’d been paying close attention to any magazine that mentioned her name, and you knew that the building, your home, had burned to the ground.

Home. You clung to that word like it was the last bit of oxygen left in the universe. Where could that be? Did it even matter? Not really, you just knew home would be wherever she was, whether it was sweet and tender or just bitter and cold.

You didn’t even bother to check into a hotel, because all you cared about was seeing her. There was no second plan, nothing else you could do in case she had shut you off, but luckily she didn’t, not entirely at least.

After a while of her staring at her corkboard, there was a knock on the door and Cruella, with her back toward you and the source of the noise, answered “That’s your ride, Darling”

You grabbed the small travel handbag you’d brought, and impulsively lingered your gaze on her, waiting for her to turn around, tell you goodbye, but there was nothing. She was probably too caught up in your sudden appearance, but this harshness was new to you. So there you stood, rooted to the ground, petrified until a familiar voice broke your trance.

“Oi lady, I don’t got all day” he said when Wink started barking happily at your feet.

“Horace!” you exclaimed, and the shock of seeing him was too much to contain, your smile grew along with his hesitation.

But before he could guess that it was you, or you introduced yourself, Cruella, still supposedly focused on her work, said “Well our precious Y/N must be so tired from her flight, we should get her home right away.”

“Blimey!” he said when he understood what she said “Ah dear! I would have never thought it was you” he croaked as he met your hug halfway.

“I know, can you believe this? It’s because I lost the angle. But you haven’t changed a thing, just as charming as always” you answered before the both of you said your “see ya” to Cruella and left.

“I can’t wait to see the face on old Jasper! He’ll never see it coming” he said, grabbing your suitcase for you.

☽◯☾

You hadn’t even been paying attention to the road, with all the questions the both of you had, but soon enough you realised that the wheels were on gravel now, and you looked up to see the gateway and it’s big letters.

It all hit you at once, the things you’d read about the baroness, and the night of the charity ball. It all seemed confusing to you in the papers, a girl was pushed off a cliff, and in some papers her name was listed as Estella, the baroness's daughter. You thought maybe they’d confused Cruella’s real name, since she did her big entrance and claimed to have been trusted with the inheritance, because you didn’t know that Estella was a name she was hiding from people.

But as quick as your thoughts came in, they were washed away when you saw Jasper at the door, waiting for Horace.

“Okay don’t tell him a thing, let’s see if he notices” he told you before the car stopped. He went to the back to grab your things as you walked toward Jasper. You didn’t miss the way he studied you, probably intrigued that Cruella would have even agreed to talk to someone who dressed the way you did now.

“We don’t usually have guests stay over here, the boss must really-” you tripped on your feet and grabbed his already extended hand, cutting him off.

“Oh I’m sorry, it has been a lot of travelling.” you said, hiding your smirk as best as you could.

“No worries, of course, you must be tired Mrs…?”

“Ah Jasper, grab these while I put the car away” Horace interrupted as he shoved your bags into his hands, giving you the perfect opportunity to avoid telling him your name yet.

“Oh yes, so tired, I would just ask you to show me the corners of the house, just in case.” you said with an imposing manner.

“Well, of course.”

And following your request, he made a quick tour of the place, the main rooms that you could need to get into, all of them with high ceilings and windows that covered the walls, filling them with the gleam of golden-hour, which bounced off the metal decorations and rich woods.

At last he opened a door and gave you the key “This will be your room” he said, eyeing you curiously.

You looked around: the room was just perfect for you. On one side there was an enormous four poster bed and two open doors: one to a walk-in closet, and another to a spacious bathroom. On the other was a sort of “working space”, with a large table surrounded by walls that were covered in books, a small library just for you. In the middle was a living space, with a comfortable looking set of armchairs and sofa around a glass coffee table, each of them topped with cushions and a blanket in each. On the table was a tea tray ready to be consumed. Jasper left your things on the sofa.

As you took the room in awe he seemed just as impressed as you “Yeah, this room hasn't had anyone in it since Cruella’s gotten the place and changed things her way. I mean, I didn’t even think she would ever let anyone stay here, it’s very... “

“Personal” you said, still looking at the room.

“...Yeah. And her room is next door, there’s a passageway in between the books, I should just tell you.”

Before you knew what to answer, Horace came up behind the both of you. “Ah, M’lady, hope this old shoebox of a place suits ya needs!”

“It sure does my fair Gentleman” You answered, barely containing your laughter.

Jasper furrowed his brows further, the engines clearly turning hard in his head as he stared in between you. After a moment he started to turn around and said “I’ll leave you to rest, dinner should be around eight.” But before he could leave you asked him “Haven’t you forgotten anything?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around very slowly. When he saw that you were holding his wrist watch in your hand, and had a mischievous smile on your face, a light seemed to turn on in his head.

“Is… is it really you?” he asked, and your only answer was a tight hug.

“I hadn’t done that in a long, long while, glad it still works, even on the person who taught me how to do it.” you said, and when both of you let go, he said “I must admit, it was very smooth, I didn’t notice it was gone at all.”

He put his hands on your shoulders, as if studying you, while a thousand questions stumbled from him. As summarised as you could, you told him why and how you got away, letting the details of the past years to be told over dinner, the three of you talking well into the night and well after the food was gone.

You wanted to wait for her to come back so all of you could talk, but they told you that she didn’t usually dine at home, was always too busy at work, putting fashion ahead of her basic needs, just like she always had.

However late or early it was, you were at last in your room, sitting on an armchair you’d pulled next to the window, letting yourself be bathed in moonlight while reading a random book, hoping it would make you fall asleep. You’d forgotten to bring pyjamas, so Jasper lended you one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts, and at last, you did indeed feel at home, the lace and silk nightgowns forgotten in Paris, and your old self showing it’s colours for the first time in too long.

After a while the lines started blurring together, as you pulled the blanket taught around you, when there was a low squeak. The big, heavy door to the room had opened just a fraction, letting a white bit of curls peek in, and you squinted at them.

“Oh, you’re still up.” she half whispered.

“I suppose, not technically up, up” you answered, your voice scratchy from disuse. You tossed the blanket aside and stretched a bit.

When you opened your eyes you noticed that she was staring. “What?”

“Maybe you haven’t changed that much after all.” to which you answered with a giggle.

She stepped closer and paused again, looking at you as if trying to write down the differences, a warm silence settled around you.

Then in a swift motion, her hands grabbed your neck and her lips encapsulated yours, and all you could do was kiss her back. She let go to look at you, evaluate your expression, but you grabbed her lapels and pulled her back in, making her stumble and grab for the armchair, sitting on one of the arms, still above you.

“Oh I’ve missed yo-” you tried to say, but she just told you to shut up and went back to what she was doing, effectively silencing you.

Without breaking apart, you took off her jacket and started undoing her shirt when she stopped you.

“Let’s get somewhere comfier” she rasped, guiding you with your hands laced together. When you got to the edge of the bed, she pushed you into it, not skipping a beat before getting on top of you.

☽◯☾

A week and a half passed like this, Cruella staying at work for most of the day, your time consisting of wandering around Hell Hall or the occasional visit to House of De Vil, where you looked at people’s work or just sat in silence in Cruella’s office. She didn’t have much time to talk to you, always busy it seemed, but you had a feeling that that wasn’t all of it. The only thing she would say was something along the lines of how great destiny was to have put you in her path again, and whenever you tried to tell her about these years, about why you ran away and why you stayed away, she would cut you off and take the conversation elsewhere, or end it completely.

But there was always something off in her tone, and at night she would hold you so tight you thought you’d melt into her, and she would touch you with such fierceness, writing her own name all over you, just to make it clear how much she wanted you. No one could as much as look at you wrong, she would get jealous, possessive, like you were hers and hers only.

But eventually this got tiring for you, because you never had secrets between you, and now there was a very clear concrete wall, low enough that you could touch her, but not so you could really see much of her.

Now it was the two of you having dinner alone, the boys had eaten already. She looked calm enough, and her plate was nearly empty, so you tried to talk to her.

“Hey” you said, touching your hand to hers, to which she only answered with a look.

“We haven’t really talked much”

“What do you mean? We talk loads, what else would we talk about?” she said, playing dumb so you might drop it.

“Well, the first thing I talked about with the boys was why I left, and you don’t seem very interested in that”

“Why should I be? You’re here now, why dwell on the past?” she said while swirling her blood red wine in her cup.

“Because, you seem mad. I’ve spent all these years thinking how hurt and betrayed the three of you must have felt, how mad you must have been.”

“Oh, well I…” and she took a sip of her wine, looking into the bottom of the cup as if making sure that the notes she tasted were right.

“If you’ll just listen to me then I know you’ll understand that I had to do it”

“Had to? Oh Darling I know you didn’t have to, and I don’t care to know your excuses for running away from me.”

“I didn’t run away from y-” you said while she got up from the table.

“That is enough Y/N. I’m off to sleep now.”

“It’s barely 9 PM!”

“Work awaits.”

“Yeah right, and it didn’t await you for these past days?” you said, crossing your arms.

“Don’t act like this Y/N, it doesn’t suit you.”

You also got up and followed after her, into a corridor that led to the stairs and into your rooms.

“Look I know I hurt you guys and I don’t want you to have the wrong idea of things, can we just talk for a second?”

“About how you ran away from me and came back now that it was convenient for you?” she said, opening the door to her room. You took a step back. Noticing how she’d affected you, she took advantage of it and went on, still walking deeper into her room so that you had to follow her in to still hear her.

“Tell me, does your dear Christian not spoil you enough that you had to run to me? Because you just know that I'm better than him.” with the last sentence she turned to you, her long red nail pointing ahead of her. By now a strong itch was building in your throat, you blinked again and again to try to clear your vision.

“So you came back to leech off me.”

“Estell- “

“It’s not! Estella! You know it!” She screamed, making the tears pour at last.

“You know none of that is true- I haven’t asked a single thing from you.” you said, your voice small.

“Then maybe you’re spying for him! I think I just understood your game, you’re a double agent! You come here and strike right into my heart because you know I love you, you know you’ll be able to manipulate me, and then what, you ruin my brand and run away? Go back home as if nothing ever happened between us? You’re mine Y/N, it doesn't matter what you tell yourself, you can’t run from me again, you can’t betray me!”

“You’re not making any sense.” you said, and she only raised her eyebrows at you.

“I can’t figure out if you want me to leave or if you don’t? But I think that might be exactly what I’ll do. Cruella” you said with a mocking tone ”I’m flying home, I’m done with this.”

“Home?” She laughed, throwing her head back “Where is that? Is it in Paris, is that what you’ve told yourself? That home is the place farthest from me that you could find?”

You huffed heavily “I didn’t want any of this! Do you think I ever, for a second even thought about leaving? You think I wanted to leave? That life was perfect, and I’ve never felt anything that even came close to feeling safe after that, I fucking had to run. But right now I wouldn’t be putting you in danger anymore so I came to you to warn you, and to help you, because lord knows I never wanted to leave.” She only listened to you with her arms crossed, so you went on.

“I wanted nothing more than for things to be the way they were, but that just won’t happen, will it? I might have also changed everything about the way I look, but I haven’t changed who I really am, and I didn’t become the sour angry bitch that you did.” you spat, but she still didn’t snap back.

“I understand that you don’t want to trust me, I get it, but if you don’t even want me to explain things then there’s nothing I can do about us. I’m leaving.” you said, hoping she’d stop you, but you went to your room, grabbed your things and left, in true thief fashion, you knew where the car keys were, and you took one of them. And she didn’t stop you. The whole drive to London was foggy. Either from the cold night outside, or just the tears swimming in your eyes. Why hadn’t she stopped you?

Eventually you got to London, parked the car at the House of De Vil, leaving the keys inside. And if someone stole the damn thing, good for them.

You called a cab, got in, and he dropped you off at the airport. And now here you were, looking up at the next flights, biting your lip as your mind raced nonstop. Where were you even going? Not to Paris, that’s for sure, Dior must have a price on your head. Why the fuck didn’t she stop you!?

And something turned in your stomach as you imagined her face when you walked out of that room. How her lip must have trembled and how hard she must have fought the tears. How she fell to the floor, helpless because you’d left her again, paralysed. And this new façade of hers, you knew how hard she was trying not to break it. But you couldn’t just stand here and let her use you only when she wanted to, her coldness was too much to bear, even though you loved her and you knew she did too. You’d hurt yourself enough for this lifetime.

Knowing her past, of course it pained you to have to leave, just like everyone else did in her life, and unfortunately that included you, all those years ago, twice. And now you sat here contemplating your options, and leaving again was the most likely outcome.

The sun was coming up already, and you’d sloped into a chair, thinking about what to do next, when you heard the clink of a cane coming up to you.

“You’re not leaving me, not again darling.” she said when you looked at her. She was trying to intimidate you, to get you to do what she wanted, but you knew her too well. You were more than happy that she came to stop you, but you couldn’t just let her have her way without fixing things.

“You won’t get me to stay by being a bitch to me. I got the tickets already” you bluffed.

“So you were just going to leave me again? What did I do all those years ago?” she said, her shoulders slumping.

“It was never about you! If you could just listen to what I have to say!”

“Can you please come home with me?”

“I can’t do this if you won’t listen to me. Because you just don’t seem to care about me anymore”

She bit her lip, looking away from you, thinking about what to do.

“I… Of course I care about you” she said, closing her eyes. “You have no idea.”

“But you’ve just been away for so long, and so much has happened, Darling, I’m having a hard time dealing with this. But please don’t leave me again.”

“Then just tell me… all of what’s happened. I saw the news, but I’m sure there’s more to it”

“Let’s go home please” she whispered.

You agreed and followed her out of the airport. Once back at Hell Hall, she took you to a covered patio, with chairs and a table overlooking the cliff. There she told you how things unfolded that year, from working at Liberty to the charity ball when she fell down that very cliff. She told you about her birth certificate and how Katherine wasn’t her real mother. Jasper and Horace had told you parts of it, just not that one last bit, which shocked you beyond belief.

“And that has been me.” she said at last.

“That was a lot. And there would be no one in this world more capable of dealing with it.” you answered, to which she turned her face away to hide the colour in her cheeks.

“Well, you’ve been dying to tell me your part of things. Now’s your time.” she said.

You took a deep breath as you relived that day yet again. Finding yourself feeling the same way you had, looking at the sculptured bushes of her garden but seeing the golden displays of watches instead.

You were supposed to transfer the bag with the goods into the one you held in your other hand, a big one with a closure and that was made of a thick metal on the inside. Whatever was inside it wouldn't trigger any security system.

Except you forgot to do that. Of course. You just walked out, looking very shaken and not at all like someone who didn't just commit a crime. The costumes the four of you had were, as always, exceptional, and made you look far older than you were, but it was also the attitude that was selling your act. Right now you did look your age, given that the one thing on your mind was the way her skin had felt on yours, but not like all the times it did before, because it didn’t make you feel the same.

The alarms went off and instead of keeping a cool, nonchalant air, you decided to run off.

Well, decided isn't really the right word. The case was more of a fight or flight response, where you would choose the latter.

But that also didn’t help you much. You barely turned the street before two policemen caught you and spilled the contents of the bag onto the floor.

They dragged you into the station for an hour and a half of scolding, but, to your surprise they let you go. Not before threatening you of course, of calling your parents, and making a particular remark that chilled you to your bones. If they caught you again with some pesky group, they wouldn’t be so merciful.

They never checked your background, because if they had, you would spend the next months in an institution for troubled children, for running away from the orphanage system. You walked out as shaken as you would ever be in your life, and some part of your brain made the decision that you couldn’t go back to Estella and the boys. You convinced yourself that you did it because you couldn’t risk them getting caught because of you. You sported a target on your back, there was no way you could just walk like that into that warehouse. Bring a ticking bomb right into their lives.

So you ran off. Not to run from your feelings of course. For the following months you couldn’t think about anything else. How confused, how betrayed they must have felt, to not have you come back. Maybe they even thought you just grabbed the riches and left.

“How long did you sit at the meeting spot? When did you realise that I wouldn’t come back? And the next year was hell, because I couldn’t shake the guilt away. I wish I could have at least warned you.”

“I always knew I’d get you back” she answered with a smirk.

Notes!! I do not claim to know anything about Dior's behaviour, I would have put reader working for any designer, I chose him because his signature style fit with what I had in mind for the plot.

|| Masterlist || In coming and going (Part 1) || Wattpad Link || AO3 Link ||

Taglist: @padmeswife @ilovewinter101@cosmicbrownies7

if want to be added to a taglist for future works please let me know!

don't forget to eat today and drink water :)

[comfortbucky]

I asked for the doctor!bucky andd you don't have to write but I forgot to ask... He is like a really busy doctor and it surprises the female reader that he is going to do her stitches... Wanda is his assistant. He has to give you a pain numbing shot in your cut and he comforts you when you scream and writh in pain... Thanks xxx

𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆｡˚

pairing: doctor!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of bloody injuries, medical settings, stitches, needles

A/N: omg i’ve never written for doctor!bucky before so i’m excited hehe :) thank u for ur request! // i changed around who was administering the numbing agent and doing the stitches btw i hope u don't mind, just made more sense in my head for bucky to be able to comfort her if his hands are free!

hope u enjoy! <3 sorry if this isn't that good asjdfhaldf

Y/L/N = your last name

also let me just indulge myself and sprinkle some of my own experiences in this bc a couple months ago i literally slammed my head into a wall and cut my eyelid😃nothing bad enough to get stitches but i do have a scar💗

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Y/N! Come quick!”

Y/N was digging through her dresser for a sweater when her roommate, Darcy, called out for her. She lifted her head up and spun it without thinking, completely forgetting that her dresser was situated in the corner of her room, slamming her head into the wall.

Her ears started to ring and she bent over in laughter, her natural response to pain, as tears threatened to fall down her face.

“Y/N?” Darcy was met by silence, Y/N struggling to respond, her body overcome with laughter so hard she was inaudible. Concerned that Y/N had knocked herself out cold, Darcy peeked her head around the corner of Y/N’s doorway, to find her hurled over, a hand over her left eye, drops of crimson blood on the ground.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Y/N lifted her head, calming down from her fit of laughter, and nodded.

“Yeah, of course, this would happen to me,” she replied chuckling, taking a tissue from Darcy to put pressure on her cut.

Carefully making her way to a mirror, Y/N grabbed her phone on the way. She stared at her reflection and slowly removed the tissue from her face to examine the extent of her injury. It was steadily bleeding, most likely a bad sign. Y/N placed her tissue back over her cut and reached for her phone and Facetimed her friend Matt, an EMT.

“Hello- What the fuck happened to you?”

“Hi Matt,” she replied, shooting him a grin through the screen. “Slammed my head against the wall, by accident.”

“I would hope so,” he sighed. “Let me guess, you’re wondering whether you should go to the ER or not?”

“You know me so well, Matty.”

“Has it stopped bleeding?” Y/N removed the tissue and felt a warm liquid trail down the side of her face.

“No.”

“Go to the ER, please.” She groaned.

If there was one place in the world she despised, it was a hospital. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to convince either of her friends otherwise, and dragged her feet as she reluctantly followed Darcy to her car.

It was a normal night in the ER, which meant a fury of organized chaos. Bucky found himself needed in 6 places, all at the same time. But this was an environment that he had become accustomed to, almost finding comfort in the madness of it all. Although the ER was bustling with patients, there weren’t any injuries that were very severe, mostly just broken bones and lacerations. Simple enough to the point where Bucky felt like he was operating on autopilot mode. Going through the motions of whatever task he needed to do, but not anything more than that. He felt numb. For the last several years of his life, the hospital was all that he knew. Bucky kept himself busy with work, leaving him with only a small social circle and his cat, Alpine. It was enough for him, but he never really felt complete. Which is why he threw himself into his work, drowning out his inner thoughts about a missing piece he never thought he’d find.

“Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 25.”

Bucky took a quick sip of his coffee and sighed before heading off to see his next patient. Wanda appeared from around the corner and started walking with him.

“This one’s a simple laceration, just might need stitches.” Bucky nodded in response to her, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

She was one of the select few who he considered a friend. Which was a little odd considering he was an attending and she was only a resident. But she was a good student, a fast learner, and one of the only residents he was ever willing to work with. He took her under his wing, fostering a friendship by spending time together in his office, reviewing various medical cases and files.

“Alright, you up to do them?”

Wanda came to a halt, Bucky taking a couple steps before looking back at her, tilting his head, waiting for a response.

“Y-Yeah, yes!” She stammered. “T-thank you, Dr. Barnes.” He nodded his head and turned back around to continue walking, Wanda close behind.

Y/N was sat on the edge of the bed, one hand holding a blood-soaked tissue over her left eye. Her leg was bouncing, a nervous tic she had developed from a young age. The adrenaline had worn off, forcing her to feel a throbbing pain, her eyes brimming with tears. She avoided crying in front of people whenever possible, so as soon as Darcy left to grab some coffee and snacks from the cafeteria, she let the floodgates open. The sound of footsteps approaching made her freeze and she used her sleeves to sloppily wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

A firm, but somehow also gentle, voice called out to her before the curtain was pulled open to reveal a tall man with dark brown hair, a stubbly beard, and stunningly blue eyes standing next to a woman with blazing red hair and contrasting green eyes. Y/N’s gaze was immediately fixated on the man’s eyes, unable to look away for a moment, before she realized she was staring. She quickly looked down and cleared her throat.

“Y/N, you can just call me Y/N.”

The man nodded and set down his clipboard at the end of the bed before speaking.

“I’m Dr. Barnes and this is Dr. Maximoff.” The woman gave a slight wave as she began charting on a computer. “Can I take a look at your eye?”

Y/N nodded, feeling her anxiety rise as the doctor pulled some gloves on and approached her.

He pulled over a stool to sit on and carefully removed the tissue that Y/N had been holding in place to assess the injury. While Bucky looked at her cut, he stole a glance to study the rest of her face. He couldn't help but take note of the pained look on her face, her eyes still watery and her button nose red from crying. It was the first time in a long time that he felt a twinge of pain while looking at someone's injury, that he felt practically anything at all during a shift. She felt his warm breaths on her face for a moment before he pulled away and replaced her bloody tissue with some gauze.

“Do you mind if she takes a look as well?” Y/N nodded again. Bucky got up from the stool, allowing Wanda to take his spot and assess her eye.

“So it looks like you just need 2 or 3 stitches, very simple procedure.”

Y/N felt her entire body tense up at Wanda's conclusion. She could barely stand sitting in a hospital bed alone and now she was about to get poked and prodded with needles. Bucky noticed and attempted to ease her worries.

"We'll administer a numbing agent, so you won't feel any pain, just pressure at the site."

She looked up at Bucky, who had a kind, tired expression on his face. It looked like he was having a long night and she didn't want to make his job any more difficult than it probably already was. Y/N gave him a small nod and Wanda started to gather the necessary supplies.

She laid back in bed with Wanda and Bucky sitting next to each other on her left. Her hands were folded on her stomach, eyes shut.

"You're gonna feel a slight pinch, okay?" She nodded and bit her lip to try and distract herself.

Wanda proceeded to administer the numbing shot and Y/N squeezed her hands tight, whimpering in pain. Bucky observed the pained expression on her face and placed a hand on her forearm, reflexively rubbing his thumb in small circles. When Wanda pulled the needle out, Y/N slowly fluttered her eyes open and was greeted by Bucky's warm smile. A blush crept to her cheeks and she turned her attention to the ceiling. Immediately, Bucky realized how unprofessional his action was and removed his hand. He had no idea what had come over him, but he'd never felt so drawn to someone like this before.

"Now I'm going to do the stitches, okay? You should just feel a slight pressure." Just as before, Y/N shut her eyes after Wanda spoke and gripped her hands tight. She felt the pressure that Wanda was talking about and couldn't help but squirm at the feeling. Another wave of anxiety rushed over her and she felt herself start to hyperventilate.

Wanda removed the needle and quickly turned to Bucky, a panicked look on her face. He gave her a reassuring look before speaking softly.

"Y/N? Do you think you could hold still for just a little longer?" She opened her eyes, brimming with tears.

"Sorry, I just, I hate needles." Y/N fiddled with her hands as she kept her gaze up, trying to avoid the tears from escaping. Bucky felt his heart sink in his chest at the sight.

"What do you think would help you relax?"

Thoughts ran through her head as she tried to find a solution to relieve her anxiety. Y/N thought back to when she was young and chuckled, remembering a stuffed whale that she got at an aquarium, that went everywhere with her.

"This is stupid but, when I was a kid, I would carry around this stuffed animal around and it helped to hold it whenever I had to get shots."

Bucky thought for a moment and ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he was going to regret the words about to leave his mouth.

"You could hold my hand."

Y/N and Wanda both looked at him with surprised expressions, regret instantly hitting him.

"If you're comfortable with it," he quickly clarified. Y/N felt the corner of her mouth curve into a smile as she nodded.

She laid back down and Bucky took her hand in his. The instant transfer of heat soothed Y/N and she shut her eyes to allow Wanda to get to work.

When she felt the pressure on her eye again, her hand automatically gripped Bucky's tighter, and he squeezed it back to help calm her. Y/N focused on the callousness of his hands, how his hand seemed to fit into hers perfectly. Suddenly, she was thinking about his eyes again, those glimmering blue eyes. Blue was always a calming color for her, reminiscent of her trip to the aquarium where she got her beloved stuffed whale. As she felt Bucky's thumb gently rub the top of her hand, she realized that her whale could never provide as much comfort as he did.

Bucky felt a sense of pride as he watched the tension in Y/N's face disappear. Suddenly, he found his eyes wandering, looking at the loose strands of hair on the right side of her face, the rosiness of her cheeks, how she glowed. His heart started to palpate and Bucky realized a flame had kindled inside him. He was feeling again.

"All done!" Wanda chirped, stepping aside to let Bucky check her work. He smiled at her patted her on the back with his free hand.

"You did good." Wanda beamed and thanked him, walking away to complete her charting.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, still feeling the warmth of Bucky's hand in hers. He greeted her with a tender smile and slowly helped her up, placing his other hand on the small of her back.

"See? Wasn't that bad after all," he grinned, releasing her hand. Y/N's smile faltered, missing his touch, and nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Barnes."

"Bucky," he stated. She raised an eyebrow. "Call me Bucky."

The pair stared at each other in silence, enjoying each other's presence before the PA system snapped them both out of their trance.

"Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 16."

Bucky sighed, slowly getting up from his seat.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N."

"You too, Bucky."

He turned around and was about to pull the curtain open when he paused, turning back around to face Y/N, scratching the back of his head. It took one look at her face and Bucky knew he didn't want to let her go just yet.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?" She beamed up at him and Bucky felt his knees go weak.

"I would like that very much." He chuckled in disbelief and smiled.

Bucky had finally found his missing piece.

[lovelybarnes]

saudade- l. laufeyson

pairings: loki laufeyson x reader, mentions of other loki characters warnings: loki tv show spoilers, probably tva inaccuracies, mobius being trusted even though i don’t actually trust him lol, mentions of death, tears, a little sad angst but happy ending, ooc characters?? possible mistakes because i can't read this again skjfj about: requested, DF26 with TVA Loki running into the variant of his dead spouse a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i loved writing the last scene so much

loki has narrowly avoided the tva for years, opportunities much better than this and chaos a lot more chaotic than this have already been caused and passed. so the how and why he has been taken in at this very moment- while he’s eating at one of those fast food places you used to like- is very, very unknown to him. he should know, however; you’ve explained to him the tired concept of time traveling many times before, although the most important things were told to him when he thought you a mere mortal like the rest- something you were not- and could not possibly know something he didn’t- also something very untrue.

but the reasoning for his capturing is not at the front of his mind- although close- his main objective staying on how to get out of this unknown place and go back to looking for you- whether the fragile fabrics of reality and string of the timeline fray and break or don’t. he knows it possible, having seen the avengers do something similar, so why can a god like him not?

he’s ripped many holes, and he supposes the consequences for them are finally catching up to him, a lot sooner than he’d like. in another world, he’d already have you, and, with you by his side, you both would’ve been out long before, or never captured at all. although, he supposes, in a perfect world, you never would have been taken away from him in the first place.

he knows stopping for food he didn’t even necessarily need- or, really, like- was not a smart decision. he’s realizing exactly how not-smart of a decision it was with every passing second that the fools in armor drag him along the halls. the stop wasn’t needed, much less planned, but the memories the greasy food and dirty restaurant brought were too pleasant- a break full of you in the nonstop mission to find you. he could nearly feel your fingers touching his, hear your voice urging him to at least try and your bubbled laugh when he cringes. the fizz of the soda had made him grimace like the first time, except there was no you to giggle at it.

loki nearly thinks it was worth it. nearly.

when the guard shoves him into another room, loki takes a second to examine the exits, barely noticing the man at the desk. the person next to him pushes him further, dropping the tesseract and various stolen pym particles on the desk. loki takes note of where the man puts them so he can steal them back.

the guard stops with him in front of a small elevator, pulling a lever and waiting. loki looks at them, “where am i? get me back right now, i have things i must attend to.” the guard only looks at him, and loki scoffs, “i am loki of asgard, god of mischief and trickery, believe me when i say there will be deadly consequences if you do not do what i ask.”

the guard huffs a small laugh, “i’ve heard that before. we’ll see.”

the doors in front of him part, opening to a room he’s rammed into. he looks back the guard, one foot already out when he’s suddenly back where he was, watching as the entrance closes. he senses the machine before he can have a good look at it, a claw that he’s seen too many variations of beginning to poke at the fabric on his shoulders. he swats it away, standing tall as he glares at the smiling machine. “absolutely not! this is high tech armor, only few of this exists.”

the tech on the machine turns the grin into a frown, pulling back the talons and instead extending another apparatus that scans at his clothing, removing them with a yellow glow until he’s completely bare. he looks down at himself before looking back up at the face, pointing a finger, “now what-”

his words are cut off when he falls through the opening ground, falling onto the bottom room, now dressed in an uncomfortable tan jumpsuit, orange letters reading TVA on the left breast. a bored man in front of him pushes a pile of papers to him, “please sign to verify this is everything you’ve ever said.”

loki ignores his words, pushing it back, “i need to find someone, stop the absurdity.” the man only blinks as a machine whirrs, printing a piece of paper he reaches over to take and place on top of the pile. he hands loki a pen, “sign that too.” loki frowns, “did you not hear me? i have important things to do.” the machine does it again, and the man repeats his motions and shakes the pen in his hand. “that, too.” the god only sighs in frustration and signs, slamming the pen down before he’s dropped again.

another man greets him in a monotone, not even looking at him while he reads off the clipboard in his hands, “please confirm to your knowledge that you are not a fully robotic being, were born an organic creature, and do in fact possess what many cultures would call a soul.” loki’s eyebrows furrow, “i’m not a robot- how many people don’t know?”

“thank you for confirming, move through,” he requests. loki glances at the machine in front of him before stepping through it, a small picture printing after he’s on the other side. loki catches vibrant orange and red with hints of green that overcome any other color. “through the door, please.”

-

he encounters the same guard from before with a frustrated glare, leading him to what looks like a courtroom, a woman sitting in the middle, reading off a file. “variant L4293, aka loki laufeyson-l/n, is charged with sequence violation 7-20-89. how do you plead?” loki tilts his head at her, “madam, a god- i don’t plead.”

the woman sighs tiredly, “are you guilty or not guilty?” loki’s eyes thin as he observes her. “guilty of… trying to find my wife, yes. guilty of being extremely frustrated, yes. guilty of whatever it is you’re accusing me of, no. not guilty.” loki’s hand curls, trying to use his abilities inconspicuously but dismayed to not be able to. he tries again, only to come up empty as he realizes what is happening. “magic powers are no good in the tva, mister laufeyson,” the judge says absentmindedly. “i prefer l/n,” loki diverts simply, unknowingly catching the attention of one of the attendees. the judge barely acknowledges him, about to say something else before a man jumps up, hand raised, “wait, wait- uh, i have something to add to this. before the court makes a decision.”

the judge tilts her head at the man, pursing her lips before sighing and letting him approach the bench. loki leans in to try to understand the whispers that are exchanged, ending in the judge sending one last look his way before letting him go. “the court finds you innocent- and under agent mobius’ responsibility,” she clarifies, looking at the man and watching him nod quickly. she slams her gavel and motions for the man- mobius, he assumes, to take loki. he stands and awkwardly bows, before going over to loki and raising an eyebrow, “don’t betray me,” he says, words too true to be something playful. loki’s head tilts to the side in slight confusion, watching as the man begins to walk, pausing to urge loki to follow him.

loki ignores the activity through the windows of the hall, choosing to concentrate on mobius. “why did you do that?” he wonders aloud, suspicious eyes following him as his head peeks into halls. “let’s just say it’s a favor, although you’ll be on thin ice forever.”

“favor for whom?” mobius doesn’t answer, turning a corner. loki exhales sharply before following him, continuing to pry as he briefly heeds his surroundings. the sight of a woman in a suit much like mobius’ catches his eye, her back to him but he recognizes the shape of her shoulder and the color of her hair. he looks away, pretending to concentrate on the clock thing on the television but actually chasing the overfamiliar features to a face.

the sound of your voice- something he hasn’t heard in an obscenely long time- craved for so much longer it seems like a lifetime, snaps his attention to what surely must be a cruel joke. he can tell it’s you now. you’re standing there, head tilted at the same receptionist man and chuckling exasperatedly, “come on, casey, we’ve been over this. a fish and a lion are not the same thing-”

“but a lionfish-?” casey asks, and loki is pushing away the guards already, because you’re there, you’re solid and laughing like you used to and you can’t not be real. he can distantly hear mobius’ voice telling the guards to let him go as if loki hasn’t already taken care of that, walking over to you with quick and quiet footsteps. his fingers circle around your wrist first as an assurance, and when you turn, hand still in his, eyes widening when you notice who he is, he pulls you into him completely. your arms wrap around him barely seconds later, finally registering the person in front of you as you squeeze him. “loki?” you whisper, inhaling the same familiar scent of him that you haven’t had in what seems like forever.

“i missed you so much,” he says, hands wandering over your back, touching your arms and your shoulders and your hips just to touch you. “me too- i didn’t- i thought i would never see you again.” your tears are falling on the fabric of his jumpsuit, small tearful gasps escaping your lips while you tug him as close as you can, tangling your fingers in his hair and shutting your eyes at the familiar feeling. “oh god, you’re here-”

“i missed you so much,” he repeats, and you finally notice his words, realization like electricity, making you tremble and sigh softly. “what does that mean?” you question, already fearing the answer and already knowing the effects: the mess of his usually kept hair and the red tint of his eyes, like a sheen of sadness that stains the color of the eyes you have missed for so long. loki pulls away from you only to look at your face, trace the shape of the lips he’d spent hours of the morning pressing kisses to, memorize the curve of the nose you’d scrunch in a laugh when thor was a victim to one of his tricks.

“i have been looking for you, darling,” he murmurs, fingers running over your fallen tears while you notice the shine of his eyes, the tears that enhance the love he has for you. “because i’m…” you don’t want to finish your sentence, and you can tell loki doesn’t want you to either; he scans your features, small smile peeking through the shock and grief.

“i didn’t… mobius didn’t show me that, i thought-” your eyes flicker to the man before settling back on loki, the weight of the ring he’d given you feeling lighter now that it had found its pair. the various eyes on you don’t go unnoticed, and neither does the look mobius sends to the rest of the workers, indicating for them to go back to work. the cold of loki’s skin is comforting to the touch of your warmth, and you find yourself back in the summer afternoons where you would settle with your husband to read books, rubbing cool fingers on the hot of your skin when you felt suffocated by the heat of the sun.

another tear slips from your eyes when you realize you don’t have to imagine anymore, there’s no need to search for your memories and shut your eyes for them to run over you. your lips are on his when you can’t help it anymore, eyes squeezed close and salty tears dropping from your chin when it finally settles that he’s here and he’s yours and he’ll never be gone again.

he’ll make sure of that.

[disgruntledspacedad]

Asks are OPEN

TAGLIST FORM

all fic features character x fem!reader (no y/n) unless otherwise specified.

The Better Love Series

He’s a DEA Agent. You work with Centra Spike. You’re an unstoppable force. He’s an immovable object. A collision between you is inevitable. The fallout will be monumental. Slices of life from your adventures with Peña in Colombia. Javier Peña x fem!reader/OC (Ears). Rated M.

| masterlist |

Catfish Blues 

Catfish Blues 

ficlet/imagine. Bringing Frankie back to you through music

| catfish blues |

Fire in the Sky 

Frankie shows you just how much he cares. Follows Catfish Blues, but can be read as a standalone. fluffy smut.

| fire in the sky |

Rx ‘verse

G.O.M.E.R.

Injured, designated driver Frankie brings his drunk friends to your emergency room. Frankie x physician!reader. fluffy meet-cute

| g.o.m.e.r. |

qhs

Frankie discovers versed. You spill your guts. Follow-up to G.O.M.E.R.

| qhs |

Headcanons

frankie when you have a shit day

frankie supporting your career

watching the super bowl with frankie

frankie when you have a tooth pulled

What We Said Before

Javi gives you a little bit of tough love. Javier Peña x f!grad student reader.

| what we said before |

Exit Wounds

Steve Murphy comes to several realizations all at once. Javier x Steve, buddies or pre-slash, it’s up to you. 

| exit wounds |

Headcanons

javier peña when you have a chronic illness

javier peña is a well-disguised dork

dancing with javi

Scrambled

Dad takes Missy to the county fair. They are both missing Mom. Quick little prequel to The Right Thing, Missy POV.

| scrambled |

The Right Thing

Taking Marcus Moreno captive proves to be a little more that you’d bargained for. post-canon fix-it.

| the right thing |

Headcanons

wedding band

Starcrossed

Armed with nothing more than an old Polaroid and a burning desire for answers, Jack Daniels breaks the laws of time to find out why he’s suddenly been declared unfit for duty

| starcrossed |

A Little Slice of Heaven

You bake Ezra a cake. Pure fluff.

| a little slice of heaven |

Needy

Ezra comes home to you.

| needy |

Morning

Ezra wakes you to watch a sunrise.

| morning |

Headcanons

soft ezra 

ezra when you have a chronic illness

Stay

You wonder where he will go, and if you should follow.

| stay |

Dissonance

The Ghost Din Series

“What’s it like, being dead?”

| dissonance masterlist |

Blood and Water

Before

Once, Din Djarin had a sister. Now, he doesn’t even remember her name.

| before |

Blood and Water

Retha Djarin has spent her entire life trying to make up for the family she lost. She is called the mother of shadows, stealing supplies and tech from the terraforming corporation that dominates Veta IV. But when a routine raid goes wrong, and Retha realizes that she’s in over her head. Way over her head. The planet has been thrown into chaos, Retha is on the run for her life, and oh, great, they’ve sent a kriffing Mandalorian after her. COMING SOON.

| sneak peek |

Thots, Meta, and Headcanons

din needs some closure, dammit | why The Rescue hurts so bad

in defense of din djarin | din’s subdued emotional response in The Tragedy makes a lot of sense to me

what if that transmission was a set up? | 2.8 speculation post that aged like cheese

the din djarin biker au that nobody needs | based on a true story

force bond din | au in which Din and Grogu forge a force bond after Corvus.

the boys finding out about a previous abusive relationship 

the boys from least to most musically gifted 

the boys as drinks

the boys as brotp’s 

the boys’ favorite scents

the boys and game night

the boys and mbti

the boys’ hogwarts houses

Coming Soon

Veracruz x reader one-shot, sneak peek here

[avenging-criminal-bones]

After All This Time || Chapter Five

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 2,146

Chapter Summary: Anger. And harshness, maybe feelings. I haven't decided yet so I guess you'll have to just read to find out.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst?, asshat hotch again, sad feels

A/N: Guys, I'm like legitimately so sorry that this chapter took so long. It's not even that I've been all that busy. I definitely did go to California for two weeks, but after that I think I just got lazy? Had writer's block? I don't know. But New chapter is UP.

TAGLIST:

@kingofthetwats @wanniiieeee @uwu-sebastianstan @piggyinthesea @yoshigguk @thatisthemagic @errorcosplay67 @ivebeenthinkingboutu @big-galaxy-chaos @rynfoxsleeps @phoenixsnape1 @mojofun @pachiibatt @enjoymyloves @thenewnormalforensicator @word-scribbless @zezezena @chelseyjoyce @ellyhotchner @lora21 @flipperpenguins @illegal-brains @sunnysaysbookreviews @anti-zippy-snoot @kya-li

You come to eleven hours later, the first thing that you hear being the steady beep of a monitor.

The hospital.

It smells... white, the cleanness of it making you scrunch your nose. Still not having opened your eyes, you sense the brightness, almost making you not want to at all.

However, you knew how hospital visits work. When Reid was injured, the whole team was there waiting for him to wake up. With that push, that you had people waiting for you to wake up, you opened your eyes.

Everything was too bright at first. You felt your lips fall into a grimace and joked aloud, "You guys don't need to be so quiet, she lives."

There was no response, and as your vision cleared up, the wind was knocked out of you like a punch to the gut.

Empty.

The whole room was empty. Aside from you and the TV, there was no talking. There were no people.

For a moment you thought that you were dead. Or maybe dreaming, because who wakes up from a seemingly severe injury with no support system? With no friends.

You hear your heartbeat speed up before you feel it, but boy do you feel it when it hits.

The monitor must send an alert to the nurses' station or something because shortly after, a small, black-haired woman rushes into the room.

"Agent L/N? Are you alright, is there any-,"

"I just- where- did my- wh-where is my team?" The stutter surprised you and you sat up fast, not realizing how prominent the pain in your abdomen was until it was too late. You let out a soft gasp, but looked at the nurse to hear an answer.

"Oh, uh, honey... I asked as they left and the tall, broody one said that there was an emergency." She walked up to you and turned a dial on your IV machine, gently asking you to lay down again.

You complied, not fully paying attention. Your mind was somewhere else; thinking about the harshness of your team, but you had to assume that this was Hotchner's doing.

"You alright, sweetie," the kind nurse asks, her name is Monica.

You nod slowly, your head feeling a lot lighter than it had when you woke up. "Yeah. I'm okay. Um, before you go can you hand me my phone?"

She nods, looking at you for where, and you gesture to the bag that's slightly out of your reach. Monica hands you both the phone and its charger, pointing to an outlet on the wall behind your head.

Nodding in thanks, you plug the charger into the wall and watch the kind nurse leave before unlocking your phone. You see immediately that you have five missed calls from your mother, and after further searching, you notice messages from Emily, JJ, and Penelope. JJ's was the most recent, so you open hers first.

JJ (BAU) 43 minutes ago.

Hey Y/N, In case you wake up before we get back, Hotch called our debrief meeting, so we all went back to the precinct. Sorry, hon.

xoxo JJ and the Girls

You didn't register the tears until they were falling down your cheeks. You sighed a bit and replied to JJ's message with a short, 'got it'.

As soon as you pushed the 'send' button, the door to your room opened again and your entire team rushed in.

Well, most of the team.

Really, everyone except one person.

You were quick to wipe your eyes, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying. JJ walked to the chair beside your bed and sat down, giving you the most gentle hug as she did.

"Did you get my message? Are you feeling okay? Do you need a nurse, any water?"

"JJ, you're momming her," Derek joked as he bent to give you a hug. "For real though, you feelin' alright, lil mama?"

You nodded, sending him a tight-lipped smile as Emily walked over to the other side of your bed, bringing Penelope with her on a video call.

Spencer even came by, but he looked relatively uncomfortable and stayed by the door.

Waving at him a bit, you say, "You can come in you know. I won't bite."

"I know, Y/N. I was just worried. Statistically speaking, you survived on an off-chance. The ratio was close to 83:17, and the bullet entered your abdomen in-"

"I get it Spence. I should be dead," you pause slightly seeing everyone's wide-eyed look at your bluntness, "BUT I didn't die, so everyone can stop looking at my like I'm going to break and just settle." You chuckle a bit and sigh as you see the rest of the team besides Spencer nod their heads or visibly relax their shoulders.

"You're right, kiddo," Rossi says quietly, "You're okay, and we can celebrate that."

"Thanks, Rossi." Smiling, you lean into his hand, which was cradling the side of your face for a moment. "Can someone get Hotchner please? I had some words that I'd like to have him hear."

JJ places her hand on your arm then and says, "Y/N, maybe that's not the best idea right now."

"No," you shake your head and make eye contact with her, "That's exactly what I need right now."

"Y/N..."

"Spencer, can you go get him please? He's just sitting out in the lobby, correct?" You snap a little harsher than you meant to.

The boy stutters a bit, but eventually nods his head and walks out of the room. The rest of the team shares a look before also walking out, giving you space for when your boss comes in.

Sitting up straighter in the bed, you even your mouth into a thin line just as Hotchner walks in the room.

"Am I off the clock right now, sir?" You don't miss the way his eyes flash to your lips but you choose to ignore it.

He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, "Say what you need to say, agent."

"Who the hell do you think you are? Calling the debrief not only at a time where one of the team members can't make it, but when the team member is in the hospital with a GSW wound." Your voice rises steadily as you continue talking, but you have more to say. "Not only that, but you couldn't even be bothered to make sure I was okay when the debrief was over?" Subconsciously, you recognize the switch from a third-person mindset to a personal one, but you pay it no mind.

"Agent L/N, you-"

"No. You will call me Y/N, and I will be calling you Aaron. We aren't on the clock right now and you don't deserve my professionalism," the heart monitor spikes in tempo, and you throw the blanket off of your lap.

He quirks an eyebrow at you as you command him, but nods his head slightly, letting you be in control for the moment. "Go ahead, Y/N. You get whatever irrational anger you have towards me out in the open and we can deal with the consequences later."

"I left EVERYTHING for this job, Aaron. I left my mom, who never stopped grieving a lost son, I left my job there thinking this would be better, and I lost friends and people who actually cared about my well-being. People who wouldn't leave one of their own in an unknown hospital to wake up by themself, not sure if they were even actually alive since there wasn't anyone with them." You saw Aaron flinch with everything that you listed, but you didn't care. He needed to hear it. "So yeah, Aaron. I get to be angry, and you don't get to tell me it's irrational, because this is the most rational I think I've been this entire year."

"Y/N. You put not only yourself, but me, and the rest of the team in danger yesterday. Excuse me if I don't want to see you and be around you while you're in the hospital." Really, if burned Aaron to his core that he couldn't reach over and tuck the stray piece of hair behind your ear, because right now that's what he wanted to do. Except it's inappropriate and he's not sure you'd let him within three feet of you.

"NO! You see, that's not how it works. Are you telling me that if you saw a little boy with a gun trained on them, you wouldn't have done the exact same thing?" Hot tears fill your eyes, but you don't wipe them. You almost hope that him seeing you cry will make him feel bad, if even just a little.

Glancing at the way his jaw was set and how he clenched his fists in his lap, you knew he was struggling to keep his cool, so of course you pushed harder.

"What if it was Jack, Aaron."

"Dammit, L/N, it wasn't Jack. It was just some boy that we couldn't save. We shouldn't have been able to save him. You didn't use the training you had, and you didn't use the rational part of your brain. As terrible as that sounds, and trust me, I never want to lose a victim, if you had used the training from the bureau, we wouldn't have saved him. " Aaron stands up and paces the length of the bed then, feeling your eyes following him the whole time.

You shake your head as you let your gaze fall to your lap. "I wasn't going to let him die again... I wouldn't have been able to live with myself."

Aaron's eyebrows furrow a bit and he looks at you with angry curiosity in his eyes, "Again? What do you mean by that?" That's when Hotch remembered earlier when you mentioned her mother who lost a son. "Y/N, did your brother... No. Actually, I'm sorry, just forget I said anything,"

There was a dark anger in your eyes as you shook your head. "No, Aaron. Ask me. Ask me this one question, and then reassess your profiling of me."

His gaze turned steely as he squared his shoulders again, showing no emotion in his voice as he spoke. He almost felt like the best way to approach you right now was as if you were the unsub.

"Was your brother murdered, Y/N?"

Dropping your head, you feel the tears burning in your eyes again and you nod. "He was only five. He had his whole life ahead of him. You'd think a child would be safe with a group of nuns or a priest, but no. Not even them. He was branded with a cross before he was killed and it's just unfair."

Aaron starts to walk closer to your bed, seeing the devolving pattern of your breathing, "Y/n, I'm so sorry, I-"

"No. Aaron, just, please go. I'll catch a flight home when I'm allowed to fly again, so you guys just go home and I'll figure it out. I mean, that's what I did when I was waking up by myself, right? Go ahead and fire me if you need to, suspend me, I don't care anymore, but I'll come back when the hospital says it's safe." You take a deep breath and watch as he turns away.

He gets all the way to the door before he turns back around and says, "What was his name."

"Joey."

Hotch nods and walks out of the door, remembering that the final victim, the one that you saved, was named Joseph.

After the encounter with Hotch you fell asleep. The heavy medication and the anger in your head knocked you out easily. You were asleep for a few hours, but you woke up when your pain medication wore off.

You noticed that your work phone had a few notifications, so you sat up a bit and looked through them.

There were two that stood out to you. The first one was a notification that read "Hotchner (Asshat) has added you to the group 'BAU Team'". The second was his message in that group chat.

Hotchner (Asshat) 2 hours ago

Hey team, change in plans. We will be staying here until Y/N gets cleared to fly. It should only be a couple of days and I know we were planning on flying out tonight. Sorry, Thanks.

As soon as you liked his message, your texts were blowing up from Emily. She was saying stuff about how "he totally likes you", and about, "you had a rough time on this case".

Also, apparently Derek saved all of his sarcasm for when Hotch got back, and the thought made you smile.

[kj-1130]

Nothing For Me

Part 2

Main Masterlist

Part 1|Part 3

2012

     You were turning 11 this year. Natasha, as you learned she went by, was always a phone call away if you ever wanted to talk--since your sperm donor was obviously no help. You had recently had to call her due to your period starting, which you weren’t expecting to happen for at least another 2 to 3 years. Needless to say, it freaked you out and regardless of your smarts, nothing could have prepared you for that. 

     Nat took you shopping for what she called, ‘lady items’; bras, pads, tampons, anything a girl could possibly need. She also taught you how to shave if you ever wanted to. She specified that you should never feel forced to do it because ‘people need to normalize women having body hair. It grows there for a reason.’ And you totally agreed with her on that by the way. 

     There were a few times when she’d let you in on minor S.H.I.E.L.D secrets even though it was quite unnecessary seeing as you could hack your way through it all no problem. That’s how you found out about the Avengers Initiative. You couldn’t agree more with what was said about Tony. 

     Through your hacking and research of the initiative, you ‘met’ Clint. It was through a video call. He had invaded your girl-talk with Natasha. The three of you were practically best buds now. You’d go to Nat for advice or just when you needed a sister to talk to. You’d go to Clint when you just wanted to let loose and talk about absolute nonsense. 

-

     It was another lovely night in Stark Tower for you--please note the sarcasm. You were bored out of your mind. Natasha had been on an undercover mission and Clint was busy at the base; something about the Tesseract. You thought they should’ve just left the thing alone; let fate take its course. Some bad things were going to come with them messing with something they had no knowledge about. They’re joining a game without knowing any rules and are pretty much destined to lose. But, hey. What did you know?

     Pepper and Tony were probably in the common area, sucking each other's faces off. Despite how much you disliked Tony, based on your experiences, you couldn’t deny the fact that they’re pining was absolutely annoying, disgusting, and cute all at the same time. You were just glad it was over honestly.

     Pepper was an okay person to you. There was nothing you found super nice or mean about her that was prominent to you. She’d greet you on the quite rare occasion the two of you would cross paths and would start the casual small talk (“how are you?” “I’m fine, what about you” “Good, thanks for asking.”). She probably thought you were a live-in intern or something like that. With how much she tries to doctor Tony’s life, you’d think she would try to fix whatever nonexistent relationship between the pair of you, but nope. That just added to your intern theory. 

     You were reading a book on quantum physics, when your personal AI, M.I.A(miraculous intelligence assistant)--that you did in fact create yourself--notified you that someone had overridden Stark’s systems and gotten into the elevator. Just because you didn’t leave the room doesn’t mean you weren’t nosy. 

     “Who is it, M?”

     “Agent Phil Coulson, from S.H.I.E.L.D.,” M.I.A. spoke in her smooth voice. “Would you like to listen in on what they are saying?”

     “Is that even a question?”

     Jumping out of your beanbag, you went to the center of your room, where M.I.A had pulled up footage of what was happening in the common room. 

     “Security breach,” Tony turns to Pepper. “That’s on you.”

     “Mr. Stark.” 

     “Phil! Come in,” Pepper greeted. Since when were she and Agent Coulson on a first-name basis. You’d have to look into that. 

     “Phil? Uh, his first name is Agent.”

     “Come on in, we’re celebrating,” the red head invites. This was getting more interesting to you by the second!

     “I can’t stay.”

     “Which is why he can’t stay.”

     Phil ignores Tony and starts to hand him a file.

     “He doesn’t like being handed things,” you muttered. 

     “I don't like being handed things.” Called it.

     “That’s alright, ‘cause I love being handed things, So, let’s trade,” Pepper says. She hands Coulson her glass of champagne, takes the file, hands Tony the file, in return taking his drink.

     “Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday,” the billionaire said. 

     It was quite obvious Phil was over his jokes and that he was here for a much important matter.

     “Is this about the Avengers? Which I...I know nothing about.”

     Both men ignored Pepper. “The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought. And I didn’t even qualify.” 

    That was a nice day. Finding out what they said about Tony had been nothing less than amusing in your opinion.

     “I didn’t know that either,” the CEO said. She sure does have the best cover-ups, doesn’t she? 

     “Yeah, apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others.”

     “That I did know.”

     This whole thing was odd to you. Why were they trying to put together the Avengers when the whole idea was tossed?

     “M, pull up the most recent S.H.I.E.L.D files on the tesseract and the Avengers Initiative.”

     The AI did as told, and you scrolled through all of them. You saw things on Thor, Clint, Natasha, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, and lastly your sperm donor. Looking at Thor’s file, you found something about his brother Loki. And looking at his name, you saw his connections to the tesseract and everything had clicked. Loki had the thing and was definitely going to do something evil with it. 

-

     Both adults in the house were gone. Such responsible ones they are. Tony left earlier the next day and you honestly couldn’t remember when Pepper left. Now, here you were in your safe haven, trying to figure out what in the world Loki would want with the tesseract. There’s probably no way for you to figure it out since you weren’t where all the info was, actively investigating. But what you didn’t understand is why would they leave you here when such a threat was hanging in the air. 

     You knew Tony didn’t necessarily care for you, but he couldn’t forget about you, right? Natasha wouldn’t forget about you. Clint wouldn’t forget you. Right?

-

     It’s been two days. Two fucking days, and no one had come in or out of this building. 

     You were currently pacing in your room, while your AI--not even a fucking person--was trying to comfort you. 

     “Does no one answer their fucking phone anymore?”

     “I’m pretty sure there is a reasonable explanation as to why no one is answering.”

     Out of nowhere, you heard commotion from outside. Rushing over to the window and moving the curtains, you saw these alien things coming out of the sky. You ran out of your room and made your way to the nearest set of stairs as quickly as you could. 

     “Ah, the little Stark.”

     His voice sent chills up your spine. It was deep and quite terrifying. 

     “Come over, no need to be scared.”

     You followed his orders, having a feeling that if you didn’t things would end up ten times worse for you. He looked at you before basically yeeting you out of the window. It hurt; it felt like every bone in your body screamed for peace and anything in the background just became white noise. 

     You landed on the roof, writhing in pain and groaning. Everything hurt.

     Attempting to get up was hard and painful, but you knew that you had to leave or you’d die. 

     Looking up, you see that doctor. He was mentioned in the files but everything was just so fuzzy, you couldn’t remember properly. Finally being able to get up after numerous attempts, you limp your way down the stairs and out to the streets in the middle of all the chaos. 

     You were so scared. You knew you probably wouldn’t be able to contact Nat or Clint unless you somehow hacked into their coms system. You continued to walk down the streets, hoping to find some type of shelter, but it felt like you were about to collapse at any second. Sitting down in the nearest alley, you looked around. Looking left, there was a face right in front of yours.

     “Fuck! What the hell man?”

     The other person wasn’t fazed. Looking them over, you saw their frizzy, somewhat curly hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Her brown skin was covered in dirt and a little blood. 

     “Hey, you’re (y/n) Stark, right?” She asked a little breathlessly. 

     “I refuse to be acknowledged as such.”

     “I’m Michelle. But don't call me that or I’ll have to hurt you.”

     “Are you really trying to converse with me in the middle of an alien invasion? And acting like we’re both not hurt?”

     Michelle shrugs her shoulders when you both look over due to some yelling that you heard. 

     “MJ! Michelle where are you? Michelle Jones!”

     MJ looks back over and starts to get up but she trips and falls. You decide to help her up and take her over to the people calling her name. You both struggle but eventually get over to the adults with some time. 

     Before you could get away from the Jones family, the mother gripped your shoulder. 

     “C’mon, stay with us. We’ll find somewhere to lay low.“

     You were too tired and in too much pain to argue, so you let Michelle’s mother help you keep your balance while the young girl’s father did the same for her. 

     It was at least a good ten minutes until the four of you found a decent place to take a break. It looked like a gas station, but you really couldn’t tell due to how much damage there was. You and the Jones’ took cover behind a somewhat stable looking wall and tried to stay as quiet as possible. 

     It was quiet besides the distant screams of people and the yells of the aliens. You wondered if Nat and Clint were okay. You wondered if Tony was okay. You wondered if anyone was safe from this. This seemed like something no one could recover from.  

     “What’s your name, sweetheart?” The older woman asked. 

     “(Y/n).”

     “Where are your parents?”

     “My sperm donor is fighting I guess.”

     To say the adults were appalled by your bluntness  was an understatement. You’ve had a potty mouth for quite a while. There was no one to really correct you on what to and not to say--not that you really needed help with that being a genius and all; well a genius with common sense because your father didn’t have any of that. Without anyone to really monitor what you did,  you kind of just roamed free in a sense. 

- 

     The fight had died down eventually. The aliens were still coming, but a substantial amount of them had been killed. How a group of 6 people/gods/supersoldiers/or whatever amazed you. Maybe you could work behind the scenes one day; even though you already do. Just without anyone knowing. 

     Before you knew it, there was a nuke flying across the sky. ‘Leave it to the government to find an excuse to hurt civilians,’ you thought. But before it could hit anything, you saw a red and gold figure carry it to the portal.  

     You knew who it was. He was going to sacrifice himself for the safety of these people. If he didn’t make it, you would miss him even though there wouldn’t be much to miss. When that portal closed, your heart dropped to your stomach. You would never be able to make amends with him. You would never have a single conversation with him. Yeah he was a total douche bag for forgetting all about you, but you had at least expected to be able to see and maybe talk to him. Sort things out. 

     Without thinking, you ran as fast as you could towards where the newly assembled Avengers were; well at least where you last saw them. You ignored the calls of the Jones family, telling you to come back. Their protests telling you not to go so you can stay safe. You ignored the pain. The aching of your ribs. The dull throbbing in your head and on your lips. There was no doubt that your steps were uneven; limping down the street at your speed probably made you look like a crackhead.

     You kept running; not stopping. Not when your breaths got shorter and turned into wheezes. Not when you heard rattling in your chest. Not when you felt like you were going to collapse. Not when your joints popped and begged for rest. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not until you found someone; anyone you knew. 

     You stopped after what felt like hours. It most likely was considering the sun was going down. You heard a little commotion inside a surprisingly intact building which turned out to be a Shawarma. Tony always talked about this place for some reason. 

     When you looked inside, the Avengers were there. At least, you guessed they were still called that. But that didn’t matter. They were relaxing after the battle. They looked quite relaxed considering they had just fought aliens. 

     But that was what kind of hurt. They weren’t worried about you. At all. Of course only 3--well not really 3. Only two really knew you and knew you were in that tower when the attack happened. Sure you weren’t expecting Clint or Nat to be running around the streets of this huge city, but a little effort or at least the thought of it would’ve been nice. You could’ve been dead and they sure as hell didn’t seem super worried about it. Maybe you were overthinking it. Or maybe you were just as forgettable and insignificant as you thought.

-

     You limped away from the establishment, trying to find somewhere to stay seeing as your home--if you could even call it that--was most likely destroyed. And you were in your feelings and nothing was a better cure than isolating yourself even more. You also wanted to see if you could get M.I.A running on a computer or something. Maybe update yourself on what was going on over the world at the moment. Or look up your frizzy-haired friend you met while you were running for your life. 

     You managed to find a computer near a dumpster. You leaned back against the wall and slid down slowly, not wanting to aggravate your injuries too much. You were able to get M.I.A running on the laptop and then looked up any news. The headlines were crazy. All you saw was the fight that just happened and the death count rising and rising…

     You didn’t want to be focused on anything dealing with your father, S.H.I.E.L.D., or any current events, so you decided to give M.I.A. the task of figuring out who Michelle and her family was. It sounded very creepy, but you were her age. What harm could you do with her info. Well you could cause harm to her and her family with any info you found but that was besides the point. The most you were going to do was send them a message or something like that. 

-

     You ended up sleeping in that alley. Deciding that you should head back to your place of residence, you got up and started walking back much to the process of your bones and joints. The tower seemed like it was so far away. Especially with your injuries and supposedly no one around to tend to them.  After what felt like hours, you made it to the entrance of the establishment and, surprise surprise, it’s already being rebuilt. You honestly didn’t know what time it was. You just wanted to get in your bed and sleep forever. 

-

     It had been about a month since the Battle of New York. Your injuries weren’t treated until about a week after the fact. Not because someone noticed you were hurt, but because it was getting hard to breathe and that didn’t seem like a fun way to go to you. 

     You’d been healing nicely so far, but your emotions and mental health were on the opposite side of the spectrum. Every time you close your eyes, you had this dream, vision, whatever it was, that when Loki threw you out the window, there was no balcony or landing area to stop on. You just kept falling, and falling until you hit the ground. Then you woke up.

      You had been isolating yourself as well. There had been plenty of missed calls from the pair, but you just couldn’t find the energy to move and pick up the phone. They were probably just doing it out of obligation anyway. 

       Seeing everyone, especially Nat and Clint, just made you rethink anything you’ve ever done. Were you too clingy when it came to Natasha? Did she really like you or did she just feel bad? You were probably just overreacting, but you can’t help but think these thoughts. 

    Everything was just spiraling out of control for you. And you couldn’t get help; well you at least felt like you couldn’t. If you told Tony--not that you would, but hypothetically-- he’d probably wave you off and laugh. If you tried to get a therapist, someone would probably leak that shit to the press; confidentiality be damned. 

     You felt like you were drowning and you didn’t know how much longer it would be until you fully sank.

[shepherds-of-haven]

So I follow MANY interactive fiction blogs and I just have to say that you're my favorite by a long shot because I just love answers that you give in response to hypothetical scenarios and AU's for your characters. Like you actually put in effort and give well-thought out answers, so I thank you for that. As for AU's I have one of my own if you don't mind please. What would be the RO's for a murder mystery a la Cluedo? Bonus points that they can't leave the mansion for extra chaos. Thank you!

Ah, thank you so much for your kind words! 💖 I'm lucky to be a part of such a great community of talented creatives and kind, genuinely awesome people! Interacting with readers is such a pleasure, even if I do fall behind on messages and such I'm so sorry

I'm in North America, so I was genuinely like "what on Earth is Cluedo" gkljglfdjgd only because it's called Clue where I'm from! But I, uh, never played it, so I'm just going to go off of my knowledge from Knives Out 😂

SETTING: a Southern Gothic mansion in an undisclosed location, owned by a woman only referred to in jest as The Autarch by her adopted children. It is a stately manor, richly furnished and glittering with wealth, though imposing and dark-windowed during storms.

CONTEXT: a powerful and wealthy tycoon referred to only as "The Autarch" or "The Iron Lady" was once feared across the country for her ruthless business dealings and formidable empire. In her middle age, a mysterious experience and the sudden death of her husband caused her to have a change of heart, abruptly abandoning her empire to her only son and devoting her life to adopting six orphan children. However, stopping her business dealings did not completely change her personality: she was a hard, unforgiving woman, and her relationships to her children (now all grown) can be described as "strained" at best.

In her declining age, the lonely Autarch in her high mansion somehow came to befriend a psychic by the name of Mimir of the Silver Eye. Only the servants were witness to what was said between them, and even then, they never had the full story. The most that anyone knew was that the Autarch began to express more interest in resuming her business activities again, to the disconcertion of her only biological son, Enik, who had helmed the empire on his own for the last twenty years. Meanwhile, Mimir moved into the mansion to keep her older friend company, and to help advise her on matters both business and personal.

One stormy night, the Autarch calls all 7 of her children back home in order to discuss matters of great importance, including her decisions about her will. Some came eagerly, and others with great reluctance--there were arguments had that were years in coming, and there were private talks between siblings who hadn't interacted in years. But the matter that the Autarch was keen to discuss was postponed: the storm knocked out the power in the mansion, and all turned into bed, sleeping fitfully in rooms they'd abandoned decades earlier.

They never discovered why the Autarch had called them to their old haunting grounds, either, for in the morning, she was found with a knife buried in her heart.

CHARACTERS:

- Riel Syndran. A world-famous private detective and consultant famed across the world for his ability to solve any mystery, no matter how old or tangled. He is known for being comfortable with ruthlessly manipulating interrogation subjects and suspects in order to extract the truth and solve his case no matter what; this obsession and willingness to massage the rules--although he claims the truth is his only goal, above all other things--is what makes him unsuitable for conventional police work, but his results speak for themselves. He arrives on the mansion's doorstep mere minutes after the Autarch is found murdered and is claimed to have been hired by an anonymous party, casting suspicion on his timing and the pre-planned nature of the death. His signature move is being recognized by various people as "the detective who solved the Apple Killer case" (or some other famous case of his) and replying in irritable tones that it was actually "the Orange Killer case, but you were close". He abhors smoking and has doctorates in body language analysis and psychology, as well as a law degree, and is gifted with a photographic memory. He picks invisible lint off of his sleeves while he thinks.

- Blade Bronwyn. An FBI agent (think Agent Cooper in Twin Peaks) who has been in the town of Old Haven investigating a string of serial killings across the country. He hears about the murder of the Autarch from the local police and arrives at the manor a mere hour after they were alerted, keen to investigate the murder as part of his ongoing case. He plays the straight man to Riel's more eccentric detection methods, and is seen more as a serious, by-the-books rule-follower determined to get answers. The suspects in the manor find him to be emotionally-insensitive, blunt, and grim-faced. He has a better sense of smell and sight than Riel does, as well as more combat experience, and is the only person in the manor acknowledged to be carrying a weapon. He takes his coffee black and very strong.

- Enik Goldenson. The Autarch's only biological child and the oldest. He was granted full control of her holdings and business empire when she retired in order to focus on raising her new family. He has made his disdain of his adopted siblings very clear, not least because he resents having to share his future inheritance with them. He has historically been a bully and cruel towards his mother. Rumor had it that he was once studying to become a priest. He has avoided returning to the mansion ever since Trouble knocked his lights out at fourteen years of age. He was once briefly engaged to fellow heiress Lavinet Naveen, who eventually spurned him, finding him "repulsive." He has the most bad blood among anyone in the family and is considered one of the prime suspects in the Autarch's murder, as it was possible that she may planned to cut him out of the will. Blade places his suspect status as RED while Riel believes he is at an ORANGE: Enik may be far too clever to kill his own mother under such suspicious and bloody circumstances.

- Trouble Alder. The first of the Autarch's adopted children, he was once an urchin running a street-fighting racket on the streets of New Haven. He was nicknamed Trouble for his surly temper and quick ability to get into fights and settle things with his fists, necessitating being sent off to a military boarding school in an effort to curb his violent tendencies as a teenager. He is extremely protective of his other adopted siblings, and while he resented the Autarch in his youth, he has begrudgingly come to respect her more for taking him in as an adult. He now works as a decorated sniper in the military and is working to earn his pilot's wings. The revelation that he kept military weapons in his room casts suspicion on him as a murder suspect, though Riel quickly dismisses him as not being a good enough liar to get away with it.

- Tallys Ironwood. The second of the Autarch's adopted children, she made her hatred of the old woman very well known, and had an even poorer relationship with her than Enik did. Tallys's parents were victims in an accident caused by one of the Autarch's manufacturing plants, and she has always felt that her subsequent adoption was mere lip service to atonement for the Autarch, while she would have rather stayed with her more impoverished aunts and uncles. She ran away multiple times in her youth and has not spoken to the Autarch since she was 18. Her overt hatred and reluctance in coming back to the mansion casts suspicion on her as a murder suspect. She has a degree in plant science and works as an environmental activist, particularly targeting products and campaigns by Enik's company, creating unspeakable friction between them.

- Ayla Aescar. The third of the Autarch's adopted children, nothing is known about her biological parents. She was adopted from a neighboring country and has since returned to it as an adult, making an effort to reconnect with her origins and culture. Her relationship with "the old woman," as she calls her, was more neutral, though it comes out that the Autarch frequently bailed her out in secret whenever Ayla ran into trouble, such as trespassing on Jalis government grounds. Nominally, she works as a photographer for a travel magazine, but secretly, she is an investigative photojournalist looking into various covert practices by the Jalis government. This brings up a question of whether the Autarch's killing was political, and whether it was actually meant for Ayla.

- Chase Trinaeste. The fourth of the Autarch's adopted children, it's joked that he was intended to replace Trouble when he was sent off to boarding school due to having a more charming personality and sweeter face. However, he ended up being the most troublesome one of the bunch, having multiple run-ins with the law from a young age and displaying various tendencies towards larceny, grand theft auto, and more. He had no shame about stealing and pawning off valuables from the mansion and was a well-known skirt-chaser, leading to constant stress in their household about what he was getting up to when he snuck out of the house at night. At eighteen, he disappeared from the mansion, and no one has heard from him in the intervening years since. He completely ducks any questions from Riel or Blade about what he does for a living, leading most to conclude that he has gotten himself deeper entrenched in the criminal underworld. This has cast obvious suspicion on him and his involvement in the murder, as he was known to steal from the Autarch herself. He seems to feel some measure of loyalty and possibly remorse towards his adopted siblings, but hides it well under a polished veneer of charm and casual swagger.

- Briony Stormbreaker. The fifth of the Autarch's adopted children In a dramatic fashion, she was discovered as a young child swept away in a huge flood caused by a storm, with no ability to communicate (or seemingly remember) anything about where she could have lived or who her family was. She was subsequently adopted by the Autarch and is one of the few who had a fairly good relationship with her, always expressing gratitude for giving her a home and family (though this brought her into conflict with siblings like Tallys, as she usually tried to defend the Autarch when she wasn't there to speak for herself). She was the sibling who always tried to unite the others, and their constant arguments and conflicts constantly broke her heart. She was an easily-upset child who tended to be babied by Trouble and Chase, but after constantly bullying from Croelle and Enik, she toughened up and began taking martial arts classes, abruptly displaying her own ferocious temper and violent streak as well as unusually powerful physical strength. She currently works as a passionate public prosecutor. She was heard conversing with the Autarch privately with raised voices, on the night of the murder, and is known to sleepwalk during violent storms. She even had a phase with an imaginary, sword-shaped friend as a child, as well as repeatedly claimed that she's seen ghosts in the manor. This perceived paranoia has led some to wonder whether she could have harmed the Autarch in her sleep. As Riel says, "It's always the nice ones." Blade: "Not in my experience." Riel: "Not in mine, either, but in some continuity, it must be true."

- Croelle. The last of the Autarch's adopted children. He was by far the most anti-social and troubled part of the family, refusing to speak to those he deemed beneath him and breaking Trouble's arm in a disturbing display of dominance as youths. Unlike Enik, his cruelty is more ruthless and matter-of-fact, the way an animal might treat another animal, rather than pointed and manipulative. Regardless, he was a terror to all of the other siblings, and he was eventually thrown in juvenile detention (and later prison) for killing members of a gang, seemingly in self-defense. However, he never cared to divulge the full details of the story, and has been serving his sentence ever since. No one besides the Autarch knew that he was coming until they arrived at the manor. Croelle claims that he and the Autarch had been exchanging letters for the last few years, and that he has begrudgingly allowed her back into his life, which was why she decided to invite him to this gathering upon his release from prison. However, there is currently no evidence that any such letters exist. As an adult, he is currently quieter and more mellow and has shown no particular proclivity towards violence, but there is always a sense of danger lurking in his eye regardless. His social skills have not improved by much. He is considered one of the absolute top suspects for the old woman's murder. His feelings on his adopted siblings or really anything are extremely unknown. He keeps asking everyone about free will, which annoys everyone except Riel.

- Shery Acquell. A longtime maid for the Autarch and one of her closest friends and confidantes. She alone has been caring for the Autarch in her declining health, ensuring that she has been receiving the proper medical care and dietary attentions, and even reading her books in the evenings. Their closeness has led some to speculate that the Autarch may have bequeathed a part of her inheritance to the maid, or that perhaps Shery was motivated to ingratiate herself to the Autarch to attain said inheritance. She was the last person to see the Autarch before her death, knows something about what transpired between her and Mimir, and ultimately reluctantly admits that she believes in the ghosts that Briony has seen, too.

- Halek Prince. The manor's live-in chef. He is one of the few non-family members staying in the mansion the night of the murder, and suspicion is cast on him when his cooking seemingly gives Ayla, Briony, and Red an allergy attack, leading some to posit attempts at poisoning. Mimir claims to have seen him in places where he shouldn't be or even couldn't be, and he is generally someone viewed as a good suspect for the murder. Riel thinks something else is going on here.

- Red Antiqua. Ayla's journalist partner who accompanied her to the mansion, partly to serve as a buffer for the family awkwardness and partly because he was curious to learn more about the reclusive Autarch. Nominally, he is a travel writer, but secretly, he is working as the same kind of investigative journalist that she is. His secret photographs of the manor prove to be a key piece of evidence in uncovering the murder suspect. He is forced to be confined to the manor, the same as everyone else, to prevent information leaks or runaways. He uncovers a secret doorway in his room and is too curious not to duck into it...

- Caine Tavadon. The son of the manor's groundskeeper, he is often seen with his dog, peeping into the windows of the manor because he's incorrigibly nosy. His witness statements lead Blade and Riel to key footprints on the grounds. He claims to have seen a strange figure staring down at him from the windows of the mansion before.

- Prihine Naveen. Enik's current fiancee, she accompanied him on this odious visit to his mother's manor and is a witness in the proceedings. Although they can barely tolerate each other, their shared ambitions for wealth and power keep them together as a polite though distant couple. A file in the Autarch's study reveals that she has been watching Prihine for some time and discovered that she was having a secret affair. The file indicates that she planned to tell Enik face-to-face, leading others to speculate that Prihine may have murdered the old woman in order to preserve her engagement. Enik remarks that there was a period of time where Prihine was not in bed.

- Lavinet Naveen. Prihine's older cousin, and Enik's ex-fiancee. They've technically known each other since they were children and were schoolmates at the same prestigious institution. The Autarch and Lavinet's father initially had designs to marry the two to forge a powerful alliance between their business empires. However, Lavinet quickly backed out of the engagement, finally admitting that she couldn't stand Enik and would never marry him. Although this has generally caused relations between the two families to become frosty, she has strangely remained on good terms with the Autarch herself, who always admired Lavinet's chutzpah and steely will. (This was just another reason for Enik to hate his own mother.) Lavinet was free to come and go to the manor as she pleased, and dropped in on the Autarch once every few months, as her family's manor is nearby. She only recently discovered that her own cousin, Prihine, is now engaged to her ex, and rushed over on the night of the murder in order to dissuade Prihine from the marriage or convince the Autarch to put a stop to it. This led to a four-way argument (between Lavinet, Prihine, Enik, and his mother) of epic proportions, meaning that Lavinet is not clear on suspicions of murder, either.

- Mimir. The psychic who somehow came into contact with the Autarch and began to convert her to the ways of the supernatural. She has been the Autarch's closest friend and confidant for months, even going so far as to move into the mansion. Many point out the obvious designs on the Autarch's inheritance and possible sinister intentions for taking advantage of the older woman, especially since no one but Shery knows what Mimir has actually advised the Autarch to do. However, Riel points out that there has been no traceable financial irregularities when it comes to Mimir; the Autarch doesn't seem to have paid her for her services, only providing Mimir with food and a roof over her head. The psychic speaks in extremely cryptic tones and lapses into trance-like states. Riel in particular scorns her for her supposedly psychic abilities, insisting that she is a fraud, until she comments on aspects of his past that no one could possibly know, shaking him. She is a prime suspect for the murder until it's discovered that Mimir insists on being locked into a windowless room, only being released by Shery in the morning, to protect herself from the ghosts that haunt the grounds...