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mintmatcha · 1 year ago

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Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

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When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day.

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love.

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin.

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

“Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints.

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly.

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.”

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him.

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point. You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks.

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please," he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is.

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today. “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

“Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind.

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day.

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall, meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.”

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink.

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful.

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers.

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you.

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way.

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too.

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

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redrose10 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 10 is here! I thought I was going to be able to post this yesterday but here we are. Comments and messages are appreciated. Even if I don’t always respond I do read them all.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 1,922

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad

You and Yoongi both jumped up at Jimins revelation.

“What? How did they know we were here?”, you asked.

“I don’t know. Just don’t panic Y/N. I’ll handle it.”

“What’s going on?”, Jimin asked.

“A very long story but basically Suri’s brother Hwan assaulted me at the charity event and Yoongi punched him so I’m thinking this probably has something to do with that.”, you replied.

Jimin’s mouth dropped open, but before he could speak the bell rang through the apartment signaling someone was at the door and your stomach did a flip. Quickly you put your hand in Yoongi’s while Jimin answered the door. He came walking back with both Suri and Hwan and also the two police officers.

The older officer stepped forward handcuffs already out, “Mr.Min you’re going to have to come with us?”

“May I ask what this is about?”, he questioned.

“Mr. Min you are under arrest for the assault on Hwan Cho.”

The officer turned Yoongi around placing the cuffs on his wrists. You sprang forward, “No you don’t understand. Yoongi was saving me. Hwan was the one that assaulted me.”

The other officer stepped in, “Miss you can meet us down at the station. We’ll get a statement from you and we’ll go from there but since they got to us first Mr. Min needs to come with us right now.”

You continued to protest with tears forming in your eyes until Yoongi turned to look at you, “It’s going to be okay Y/N. Just call Jin and tell him to meet us at the police station.” You nodded watching as the two officers walked him out of the apartment with Hwan following close behind reveling in seeing his enemy in hand cuffs.

Jimin ran off with his phone to make some calls that he knew would be needed leaving you standing in the living room with Suri. She walked over until she was standing right in front of you. Her perfume smelled like a lighter more feminine version of Yoongi’s. It was heavier on the vanilla but it still made your throat burn.

She smirked while looking you up and down. “So I finally get to meet the famous Y/N in person. I don’t really know what Yoongi sees in you.”

“Get the fuck away from me. I’m not going to fall for your mean girl tactics.”, you scoffed.

“I like that attitude. Maybe that’s what he sees. He has always had a thing for being dominated.”, she quipped.

She adjusted the buttons on her designer jacket before continuing, “Look I know a poor little orphan girl like yourself is used to being on the loosing side of life, but that’s not how I live. I ALWAYS get what I want. I want Yoongi and I don’t care what or who I have to ruin to achieve that. He will not just throw me away like yesterday’s trash. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Do you really think he’ll want to be with you if you release that tape and ruin his life? Or after having him arrested like this? If anything he’s just going to hate you even more.”

“Oh please. Yoongi will pay off the right people and he’ll be walking free before the morning. I only did this as a warning so he can see that I’m not going to easily back down this time.”She walked over to the front entrance grabbing a hold of the door handle before turning around to look at you.

“Also, who said that mix tape is the only thing I have that could ruin him? If he’s even half as smart as I think he is he’ll know better than to cut me out of his life.”

She turned and walked through the door letting it slam behind her. You stood staring at the spot she now left empty.

Jimin came running over to you handing you a jacket, “Come on Y/N, I already called Jin and he’s going to meet us at the station. We should get going.”

Unable to really form words you nodded and walked along with him to the parking garage.

Neither you nor Jimin spoke on the ride there. When you arrived Jin was already waiting by the entrance.

“They’re working on booking him in right now. Once that’s complete they said they’ll let me have some time with him.”

You reached out for his hands desperately trying to get your point across, “Jin he was only protecting me. That other guy was the aggressor, Hwan assaulted me. Yoongi didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jin nodded, “We’ll get this figured out Y/N. I’m gonna talk to Yoongi and then we’ll get a statement from you as well.”

You could feel tears starting to form again and you were so tired of crying.

“Hopefully Yoongi can just offer some money or something and that’ll get them to drop all the charges. That usually works anyways.”, Jimin said trying to comfort you. “Yeah I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.”, Jin said opening the door for you and Jimin to walk into the station.

“Sit here. I’m going to go get an update.”, Jin said before walking into the back office. You and Jimin took a seat on one of the benches to wait.

After about twenty minutes Jin came walking over and smiled, “Okay Y/N, you can come back and see him for a little if you’d like.” You nodded and quickly jumped up following after Jin. He stopped and turned to you, “Yoongi is in the seventh room on the left. Head that way. I’m gonna stop in here and make a couple phone calls and I’ll be in shortly to talk to both of you.”

You nodded and began walking down the hall. While you were walking you kept your head looking to the left counting the doors to get to the seventh room so you didn’t notice the person coming out of one of the rooms on your right until you accidentally ran into them.

Stumbling backwards you started profusely apologizing, “Oh I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was go- Namjoon? What are you doing here?”

You heard some whispering followed by loud giggles. When you peaked around his broad shoulders you were surprised to see Suri and Hwan sitting at a table sipping some coffee in the same room that Namjoon had just walked out of.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I have to go.”, is all he said before walking off towards the exit barely even looking at you. Suri smirked when she noticed you standing there speechless and stunned.

When you were finally able to make your feet move you walked down to the room Yoongi was in. He looked tired and beat down and you felt bad for him. You walked over and wrapped your arms around him and he returned the gesture even though he was slightly taken back by your willingness to hug him like that.

“How are you doing?”, he whispered.

“Umm so I just ran into Namjoon in the hallway. He came out of the same room that Suri and Hwan are sitting in.”

Yoongi’s face instantly turned red, “I knew I never liked that fucking guy.” You tried to sooth him, “I don’t know what he’s up to but I’ll try to find out.”

Jin walked in and you quickly noticed his facial expression wasn’t as chipper as he normally is. After everyone took a seat he cleared his throat, “Alright so I’m sure we were all prepared for this but after some discussions the police officers are willing to “misplace the evidence” causing the charges to have to be dropped on behalf of the police department pending a cash payment of course.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Of course they are. Just ask them their price and let’s get it over with. I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Jin looked apprehensive and began nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah I’ve already got it and it’s currently being taken care of by your accountant.”

“Okay so then why are we still here and why do you look so nervous then?”, Yoongi asked eyeing Jin.

Suddenly Jin pulled out his wallet, “I think it’s just because I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day and I can’t concentrate. Here is my card, Y/N will you be a dear and go grab us something to eat please? There’s a great bbq place about ten minutes away. Have Jimin drive you.”

You looked at him confused at his sudden request. “What the hell? Jin no. You’re not sending her out in the middle of the night to get you food.”, Yoongi said furiously.

Jin gave Yoongi pleading eyes begging him to play along for everyone’s sake. Jin turned to you and smiled, “Here Y/N take the card. Get whatever you want for yourself and Jimin too. I’ve heard the strawberry milk shakes are to die for.”

You looked over at Yoongi and he nodded gesturing towards Jin’s outstretched hand.

Hesitantly you took the card and walked out of the room to go find Jimin and get the requested food.

“What is going on Jin?”, Yoongi asked getting more and more irritated.

“It seems that Suri expected for all charges to get dropped so she came prepared with something even more detrimental. She just dropped a pretty big bombshell on me and I thought it was best for Y/N to not find out about this right now, at least not from me.”

Jin took in a deep breath his fingers slightly trembling as he flipped through some paperwork, “Suri has something about you that she’s threatening to release to the media. It could really ruin your business but it will definitely ruin whatever you have going with Y/N. She said she will make it public unless you agree to her terms which I don’t think you’re going to like.”

“Okay and what exactly are her terms then?”

“She wants Y/N to not file any charges against Hwan for assaulting her. I advised that I think that it is possible but I would ultimately leave that up to Y/N.”

Yoongi nodded in agreement, “Of course as it should be up to Y/N.”

“Suri is also requiring that you either allow her to move into your penthouse with you or that you purchase another penthouse and you live with her there. She also expects you to continue a relationship with her as you have been until recently.”

Yoongi scoffed, “She has officially lost her fucking mind. I am not doing that under any circumstance. At this point I’d rather just let her release the tape and be done with it.”

Jin sucked in a quick breath, “Yoongi this much much bigger than any lyrics in a mixtape.”

Jin slid the photo he had been holding onto over to the other side of the table, “She gave me this and said you’d probably want to see it.” Looking at the photo in front of him Yoongi felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his breathing became rapid and no matter how hard he tried he felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. The room began to spin as he looked around through blurry vision. He began shaking his head side to side mumbling, “No no no no…”

“Yoongi we need to get this sorted out immediately, especially if you want any chance of things to work out with Y/N.”, Jin said pointing to the sonogram lying on the table in front of them.

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #cinnamon&vanilla #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi x y/n #arranged marriage au #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts yoongi #yoongi au #yoongi #suga

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waynes-multiverse · 1 year ago

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Polaris – Chapter 4

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, so many flashbacks, more awkwardness, more funerals, more drinking, more murder, some fluff and a sprinkle of smut too

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: Life got a little busy, so I've been a bit absent recently, but I'm so happy and grateful you guys are enjoying this series so far! All your sweet comments really put a smile on my face during all the chaotic and exhausting times 🥹🤍

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 4: Rewind

A tequila hangover required copious amounts of coffee to battle the raging headache you felt. Your eyes stung when they met the blinding sun this morning, not even your darkest pair of shades bringing much relief.

Your whole body ached, a welcoming soreness between your weak and wobbly legs as you stalked inside the little bakery and coffee shop on Main Street USA. Beau had already scolded you for calling it that, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Helena’s sheriff then had sent you here for your morning coffee run, hoping this way you’d avoid the questioning and curious stares of Jenny and Cassie. Needless to say, you had never made it to Cassie’s place last night. Beau had been very convincing (and successful) in making you stay.

Hands, lips, teeth, and tongue – you clenched at the thought alone, cursing yourself for soaking through your fresh underwear. How good were your chances for a quickie during lunch break in his office if you promised to thoroughly lock his goddamn door this time?

“Y/N, hey.” Carla’s voice made you flinch and pulled you from your naughty reverie – about her ex-husband no less.

Had you mentioned how much you hated small towns?

“Hey, Carla,” you greeted her with a flushed smile, hoping you hid your blushed cheeks and fluster well. You definitely felt caught with your hand in the cookie jar, although it was thankfully impossible for her to read your mind.

Was there no safe place to quietly get coffee in this goddamn village?

“Listen, Y/N, again, I’m so sorry about yesterday,” she apologized and nervously fumbled with her coffee cup in her hands, her gaze focusing on her heels.

Carla was usually confidence personified. She was strong-willed, assertive, and dauntless – all the traits that made her a fierce and excellent lawyer and a force to be reckoned with in court. It was rare for her to lower her head, so you knew she must really be trying to make amends.

“No, don’t be. Like I said, we’re good,” you assured her and swallowed the lump of embarrassment down your throat. “I get it. I really do. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I never meant for any of this to happen, you know?”

You never had gotten a chance to say it before. You had always felt bad for the way the two of you had left things. Carla was by far not your closest friend, but the tight friendship between both your husbands and the nature of your jobs had forced you to spend time together occasionally. You’d meet at barbecues on the weekends, drinks after work, and life events like Emily’s middle school graduation. You never meant to betray her. You never meant to hurt her. And you never meant for your friendship to implode like it did.

“I know. It’s okay, really,” Carla said. “I already told Beau this yesterday, but I want him to be happy. That goes for you, too. I found my happiness after the divorce. At least for a while…”

Upon her sad look, you gave her a sympathetic smile. You knew she wasn’t married to Avery for long, but that didn’t matter. You understood better than anyone what it was like to lose someone you loved.

“Hey, if you ever need someone to talk, call me, okay? I feel like I owe you a whole pitcher of margaritas,” you offered with a chuckle.

She returned your kindness with a soft smile. “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Well, if this ain’t interestingly awkward.”

Both you and Carla turned to Beau in surprise as he strolled through the doors of the coffee shop. Leave it to him to voice the uncomfortableness of the situation out loud.

“Hey, uhm… you,” you said with wide eyes and fist-bumped his arm. Obviously, you weren’t equipped to handle awkwardness very smoothly, either.

Beau sent you a tight-lipped smile that barely hid his amusement. “Do I need to pull out the sheriff’s badge here, or are you two good?”

“We’re good,” you assured him.

“Oh, relax, Beau,” Carla told him with an amused laugh and patted his shoulder in passing on her way out of the shop. “Don’t kid yourself. You could not handle either one of us, anyway.”

“Probably true,” Beau quipped in agreement as Carla waved you goodbye.

Beau waited till the door safely closed behind his ex before tilting his head at you, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You really good?”

“No!” you exclaimed frustratedly.

Laughing, he slung his arms around you and pulled you against his chest. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his shirt, clasping it with your palms for good measure.

“Tomorrow I’m getting coffee in the next town over. I really hate small towns,” you grumbled.

“So, I’m guessin’ you’re not a big fan of staying after the case is over, huh?” he asked carefully and rubbed his beard.

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about it until now. But Beau clearly had as he nervously chewed his lower lip and waited for your answer.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes. “Well, uhm… Montana doesn’t have a field office. The next one’s in Utah, and I hate Utah.”

“Yeah, everyone does. It’s Utah,” Beau agreed jokingly. “Could always work here. Sheriff’s Department could use someone like you.”

You snorted. “Yeah, not gonna happen. You’re not gonna be the boss of me. That’ll have to stay a fantasy of yours.”

“Too bad. It was a good one,” he retorted with a cheeky smile and wiggled his eyebrows. Then, he became more serious. He scratched the nape of his neck in an anxious gesture. “But look, uhm, I was about to retire anyway, so I’m just putting that on the table, okay?”

“Alright, good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You smiled softly up at him, thinking it was cute he wanted to follow you wherever you went. He’d never handled your relationship so open and secure before. In the past, everything always dangled in the air – his feelings, your future. Unlike the North Star, nothing was fixed.

You had always been a flag he’d never preferred to wave.

You let out a small sigh and pecked his lips. “But this case is far from over, so we’ve got time to figure it out, okay?”

He nodded, a bit more relieved at your answer. “Okay.”

August 2020

Beau rubbed his face clean as best as he could. His eyes were red and stung, his vision blurry as he stepped out of the church’s back room on shaky bow legs. He had to talk to you and make things right. He felt like he not only failed you but also his best friend. Again.

The funeral guests filtered out of the church one by one as he trudged down the red-carpeted aisle. Beau could feel their stares and judgments on him. He knew he looked like the biggest mess, his suit and tie in disarray, tousled hair, and bloodshot eyes. How many of them blamed him for his partner’s death?

“Dad?” Emily’s voice made his heart ache as his thirteen-year-old daughter looked at him with a mix of worry and disenchantment. He barely resembled the father she’d known all her life and held high on a pedestal.

“Emily, honey, go wait in the car,” Carla told her swiftly, taking immediate note of her husband’s disheveled status.

“But Mom–”

“Now, Emily,” Carla ordered more firmly and watched her daughter quietly leave the church.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Beau asked, trying his best to swallow any shame he felt down. He hated that his family had to see him like this. The disappointment and hurt were visible as clear as day in both their faces.

“You gotta be kidding me…” Carla scoffed in anger and disbelief, a part of her hardly grasping the current state of her husband. “Where the hell were you, Beau? Jesus, you reek! Have you been drinking?”

“I already went through this today, okay? I don’t need a replay,” he replied flatly, every part of him hating how she looked at him. “Have you seen Y/N or not?”

“Beau, what’s going on with you? Just talk to me, please,” Carla pleaded with him as the anger subsided, concern etched into her brow. “What happened during that shootout?”

Beau ran a hand over his face, his head spinning and his eyes burning. “I can’t do this right now. Just take Em home, okay?” he told her and pushed past her.

“Where are you going? Beau!” Carla called after him, but he stubbornly headed out the door to the parking lot.

Fortunately, you still hadn’t left, but what he was seeing didn’t put him more at ease. He watched as you put a clip into your gun, a duffel bag hurriedly packed with clothes lying in the trunk of your SUV.

You threw your black pumps carelessly into the backseat before slipping into a pair of worn jeans under your black dress, which you discarded next, leaving you momentarily in only a black satin bra. He averted his gaze and tried not to stare, even though you had your back turned to him, and he couldn’t see much anyway. Still, his heartbeat quickened as he approached you, while you pulled a white t-shirt over your head and tied your wavy hair into a ponytail.

“What are you doing?” Beau asked, the feeling in the pit of his stomach and the determination in your eyes already giving him a good guess.

“What does it look like? I’m going after them,” you said sternly and tied the laces on your boots. “DEA is going down to Mexico in a couple of weeks. Cody’s leading a task force. I fought my way in. They wanna scope out some locations tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, just look at you! You’re not going after them alone in this state,” Beau snapped, throwing his arms up in utter incredulity. His gut ordered him to protect you no matter the cost. He owed as much to his dead partner to look out for you. It was a constant debt in his mind.

“My state?” You cocked an eyebrow and snorted caustically, shaking your head at him. “Have you fucking looked at yourself recently? Compared to you, I’m fine. And I also won’t be alone.”

“You’re not fine,” Beau gritted with anger in his eyes and worry in his heart. “We’re all fucking far from fine. You’re gonna get yourself killed like this!”

“I don’t have time for this right now,” you brushed him off with a roll of your eyes and slammed the trunk shut, hurrying to the driver’s side. But a rough grab of your arm stopped you in your tracks and made you spin and glare at Beau.

“Dammit, Y/N!”

Your features softened when you saw the desperation in his look. “I need to do this, Beau,” you insisted calmly and looked deeply into his watery eyes. Tears filled your gaze and threatened to choke you. “I want them to pay for what they’ve done to him. They can’t get away with it.”

His grip on your arm loosened before he let you go completely. He ran a palm over his face and carded it through his messy hair.

“Fine,” he barked resolutely, the despair replaced by determination. “But I’m coming with you. You’re not doing this alone.”

“What, so you can get me killed, too?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as the words rushed out and pinched the bridge of your nose. Immediate regret flooded your veins.

When you finally dared to glance at him, he looked hurt and averted his gaze to the burning asphalt below. He smacked his lips, head bobbing. It felt like you had just thrown an ax to his heart, whipped him, bludgeoned him with a baseball bat, and shot him in the knee – all at once.

“Beau, I’m so sorry.” You could see in his eyes that your apology already came too late. He was spiraling, blaming himself for Randy’s death. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it like that. I just-… It’s been a long day.”

“Nope, no, you’re right. Don’t apologize,” he rebuffed your efforts to patch the wound you’d opened with a dark chuckle. You felt like utter shit. “I let him down. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be alive, so…”

“Beau, don’t do this. He wouldn’t want you to. And neither do I for that matter…” You reached out and clasped his hand reassuringly. But it didn’t feel like it was enough, so you wrapped your arms around him, too, and pulled him into a hug.

Beau was frozen for a moment when he felt your body pressed flush against his before he wrapped his arms around you as well and held you tightly. Carefully, he rested his chin on top of your head, the scent of your shampoo winding its way to his nose. And for a mere second, he let go and allowed himself to be comforted, soothing warmth spreading throughout his body.

“I gotta go,” you said quietly as you released him. But Beau held onto your hand with his for a heartbeat before realizing the strangeness of his touch and withdrew his arm quickly with a clear of his throat, fingers ripping apart at the seams.

“Lemme come with you. Lemme help,” he stated.

“Beau, no offense, but you’re a mess,” you said with gentle honesty. “Can you even walk a straight line? Stand on one leg and touch the tip of your nose? Recite the alphabet backwards?”

He actually snorted at that, his lips forming a small smile. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “I’ll get better. Promise, okay? Just please… I need this, too.”

As you stared at him, you heaved a deep sigh. “Fine, get in,” you relented and gestured with your chin to the passenger’s side of your car. “But let’s hit a Denny’s first. Get some goddamn coffee and toast into you. Maybe a shower would help, too.”

Beau chuckled a little at that, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

February 2012

Randy groaned loudly as he passed Beau the football, letting his head fall back between his shoulder blades. “Ugh, I can’t believe the Captain agreed to give the case to the stupid FBI. It was our case, man. We almost had the guy!”

“Yeah, I know. But hey, we could still follow our own leads. Solve it before the feds do. What’s Harper gonna do?” Beau suggested with a cocky smirk.

“I don’t know. Suspend us? Fire us? Just to name a few,” Randy quipped sarcastically and threw his partner a raised look.

Beau scoffed playfully and rolled his eyes. “Always by the book. You’re no fun,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Well, I can still bash the feds who are stealing this case from us. It’s probably some dumb asshole in a suit and sunglasses,” Randy joked and laughed, not noticing Beau’s facial expression change as he lowered his gaze to the floor, lips pursing.

You cleared your throat behind the chuckling detective, causing him to turn around and blink up at you.

“Well, I’m an asshole. I can admit as much. Definitely not dumb, though. I hate suits, and I don’t wear sunglasses indoors. Only douchebags do that,” you quipped and sent him a complacent smile upon his wide-eyed stare. Then, you arched a brow at the guy. “And stealing, really? You guys haven’t made progress on the case for weeks. Probably because you keep playing football instead of working.”

“Whoa, hey!” Beau threw in, furrowing his brow. “It’s a brainstorming technique, okay?”

“Yeah, for dumbasses,” you retorted. “Did you already get a concussion? Would explain a few things, mainly how you screwed up this case so much. It’s not rocket science, boys.”

“Okay, listen, missy. We did not screw up this case. We have leads, alright?” Beau argued fervently and took a step closer to you, his shoulders tensing as he was only inches away from your face.

You had the urge to tiptoe just to keep up with him for a proper face-off. He was tall, gigantic really, and now you were left to glare more or less into his chest.

“Who? The buyer for the jeweler? It wasn’t him. I already checked him out,” you said dismissively and could tell by Beau’s frown that it indeed had been his only lead. You then glanced at his partner. “Is he gonna say something or just stare? It’s not helping to refute my concussion theory, you know?”

Beau knitted his brow and shot his partner a look. As soon as he realized what was going on, he rolled his eyes and sighed. His best friend was running hot for Agent Hostile. Granted, you did look very sexy with all that fire burning in your eyes.

“Ey, Randy!” Beau snapped his fingers in front of his partner and hauled him from his surely naughty daydream.

“Uhm… I’m Randy,” he told you, dumbfounded.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, your mouth itched to smile in amusement. “Wow, okay… Does that come with a last name?”

Randy still gave you that same vacant and infatuated stare in his hazel eyes. “You can call me whatever you want.” He sent you an insecure smile with a halfway shrug.

“Oh, can I call you a moron?” you countered snappily.

Amused, Beau actually snorted into his shoulder as he dipped his head, but then decided to step in for his best friend. “Okay, c’mon, leave him be.”

“Look, just gimme the file, and I’ll be outta your hair,” you submitted your peace offering, which Beau accepted, handing you the folder.

“Uh… drinks?” Randy looked up at you hopefully, like a shelter puppy waiting to be adopted. You honestly found his fluster quite endearing.

“Is he asking me out?” you checked with Beau, a smile playing on your lips.

“I think so.” Beau chuckled and nodded. “Look, uh–”

“Y/N,” you provided, noticing him fumble for a name.

“Y/N,” he repeated with a warm smile that reached his green eyes. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here. We could help you with the case. We know it better than anyone. Could save you some work.”

You smirked slightly, recognizing what he was doing. First of all, he wanted in on the case, clearly having a hard time letting go. You knew the type all too well. Sometimes people in law enforcement behaved like bratty toddlers when it came to cases – they all hated sharing their toys, but you knew how to play nice. And secondly, Beau wanted to ensure you got to spend more time with his partner – the perfect wingman. He deserved a medal for his efforts.

You lifted a knowing eyebrow at him. “Didn’t your captain already say no?”

“But what d’you say, darlin’?” He shot you a mischievous grin.

“You’re a troublemaker,” you noted and received an acknowledging shrug in return. “Are you gonna behave, Ferris Bueller?”

“Yes, ma’am. Hand on my red-blooded and beating heart,” Beau promised charmingly and did as advertised, placing his palm on his chest like he was swearing a Boy Scout oath.

Rolling your eyes, you groaned and caved. “Fine. I’ll talk to your captain. You guys can come along, I guess.”

Beau handed you their card with their numbers on it before you disappeared out of the station again. Comfortingly, he patted his partner’s back as soon as you had left, Randy still staring after your goddamn shadow.

“I wanna marry her,” Randy sighed dreamily.

“Whoa… Moving way too fast here, buddy,” Beau tried to rein him in. “Maybe try speaking a straight sentence to her first.”

“I can’t. I’m in love with her. She’s the one.”

“She called you a moron,” Beau countered and crossed his arms over his chest, although he kind of understood where Randy was coming from. If he hadn’t been married, he would’ve given you his best shot as well.

“That only made me love her more,” Randy insisted.

Sighing theatrically, Beau rolled his eyes back. “Dear Lord, help me…”

Randy then went on a long tangent about everything he loved about you. The words he’d been missing when you were around suddenly spilled out of him. And while Beau acted annoyed, he smiled internally for his friend’s happiness. He’d never seen him before like this.

June 2013

“Oh God, I think I’m gonna puke,” Randy said and swallowed what felt like bile in his throat. With his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. “Can you give me that trash can?”

Beau handed him the bin next to him with an amused chuckle. “Alright, but just remember – no matter what you do, don’t puke on the suit.”

Randy scowled at him, panic taking over as he nervously paced the fancy dressing room. “Not in the mood for jokes right now, man,” he huffed.

Beau laughed heartily and raised his hands in surrender. He got up from his seat on the small and uncomfortable sofa and patted his friend on the back, squeezing his shoulders encouragingly. “Okay, calm down. Everything will work out fine. Why are you so nervous anyway? Is this you having cold feet? Should I do somethin’? Start a getaway car?��

Taken aback by the suggestion, Randy’s brow furrowed, close to offended. “What? No! I love Y/N. I can’t wait to marry her,” he stated with absolute certainty. “I just-… I don’t wanna stand up there and, you know, look like a moron. I want today to be perfect for her.”

Beau snorted a laugh. “Alright, you won’t, okay? That’s what I’m here for. If you do somethin’ stupid up there, I’m gonna distract everyone with somethin’ stupider. That’s basically my duty as best man.”

“Yeah, Y/N’s gonna love that,” Randy quipped sarcastically and chuckled. But the lighthearted distraction didn’t last long before his nerves burned through him again. “You think I can make her happy?”

Beau smiled at him warmly. “The way she looks at you, you already are. Trust me.”

“Okay, good.” Randy nodded in relief. “‘Cause sometimes I really wonder how I got so lucky. I swear I didn’t speak in straight sentences for, like, the first three dates.”

“Oh, I remember.” Beau snorted.

“Man, were you this nervous, too, when you married Carla? I swear this is killing me,” Randy asked with his wildly beating heart in his throat. “I think I’m having a heart attack… Or a stroke. My head keeps spinning. Is that normal? Doesn’t feel normal…”

Beau hesitated for a moment before he nodded with a light swallow. “Yeah, sure. Everyone’s nervous,” he assured his partner, although the truth was a little different.

Carla was already pregnant when they tied the knot, so they did the right thing to appease their parents. But sometimes, Beau wished they would’ve waited. He could tell Carla did, too. They were both young. She had still been in law school, chasing her degree, and Beau had barely finished police academy and had still been working patrol.

Sure, he was nervous on his wedding day, but it wasn’t a puking-your-guts-out-and-jittering-to-your-bones kind of nervous. But Beau loved his family more than words could say and wouldn’t trade his daughter for anything.

“Hey, uh, can you ask Y/N about the marriage certificate? I’m supposed to give it to the officiant or something,” Randy said with a confused brow, scratching his sweaty neck.

“Yeah, of course. Be right back,” Beau replied with a saluting gesture and strutted to the door, encouragingly patting Randy’s shoulder once more on the way out. “Try not to soil yourself,” he teased, chuckling.

Beau then strolled down the lavish hallway of the five-star hotel and stopped in front of your dressing room door. He knocked twice and heard a “Come in!” bounce through. But when he opened the door and peeked his head carefully inside, he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him.

“Wow… uh…” Beau’s forest-green eyes went wide as he blinked at you. He was rendered completely speechless. How did he turn into Randy so quickly?

As you sat in front of your vanity, you glanced at him over your naked shoulder before you stood up and greeted him with a bright smile.

Your white dress hugged your curves perfectly, strapless but with a bit of cleavage, giving a perfect view of your clavicle and shoulder blades. It wasn’t one of those puffy princess dresses. It was smooth, uncomplicated, and delicate just like you.

You looked absolutely stunning.

“Wow,” Beau repeated and felt like a moron. He cleared his throat to haul himself out of his shameless staring and tried to recover his composure. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” You beamed with blushed cheeks. “You think Randy’s gonna like it?”

Beau smiled kindly, unable to take his eyes off of you. “Yeah, he’s gonna love it. It’s gonna make him even more nervous,” he replied, chuckling.

But your brow creased in concern, your lips parting. “He’s nervous?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry,” Beau swiftly brushed your concerns away, “He’s nervous in a good way. No cold feet or anythin’ like it. He might just pass out and puke at the altar when you walk out. That’s all. Maybe some stuttering, too.”

You laughed softly, nodding. “That’s all, huh?” you teased. “Kinda like when we first met then,” you remembered fondly. “Or our first three dates, too, I guess.”

Musingly, Beau pursed his lips, his head bobbing in thought. “Hey, uh, can I just ask… Why did you keep going out with him? I mean, like you said he didn’t really speak for the first three dates. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good-looking guy, but, you know, you’re, well… you.”

You snorted lightly and cast your gaze down as your cheeks flushed even deeper red. “Thank you, I guess? But, uhm, to answer your question – I kinda liked that he was so flustered. It was endearingly sweet,” you replied and smiled to yourself at the memory. “‘Sides, every time he did say something, it was oddly complimenting. He’s also the only guy who ever bought me flowers after our first night together. It came with an extensive ‘thank you’ card.”

“Oh, Randy, you sweet little idiot…” Beau sighed affectionately.

“He never told you that?” you asked curiously.

“Ha, no. For obvious reasons.” Beau laughed. “But hey, it’s great material for my best man speech later.”

“Oh God,” you groaned playfully and laughed. “Just so you know, though, I’m gonna cut you off after fifteen minutes.”

Beau threw his head back, laughing loudly. “Alright, I hear ya. Your loss, though.”

You watched him for a moment when your laughs quieted down. He scratched his bearded chin, gazing down at his feet and making no efforts to move.

“Beau?”

“Hm?” His eyes found your arched eyebrow.

“Did you come here for a reason or just to chitchat?” you asked with curious amusement. He seemed obviously lost.

“Oh, uh, right! I’m supposed to ask you about the marriage certificate and the officiant thingy,” he remembered.

You smiled. “Tell Randy it’s already taken care of. He doesn’t have to worry about anything, okay?”

“Alright, I’ll-, uhm, I’ll do that,” Beau said and awkwardly cleared his throat, walking to the door.

“Oh, and Beau?” He spun on his heel when you called his name. “Make sure Randy doesn’t puke on his suit.”

An amused smile shaped on his lips at that, and he nodded. “Oh, I’m on it. Trust me.”

When Beau left your room and wandered down the hallway again, a weird sting plagued his heart. Deciding it was a feeling he didn’t particularly care for, he pushed it deep down, not even admitting his true thoughts to himself under duress and torture.

He’d feel like an ass if he ever did.

Beau looked up from his files on his desk when a knock ripped him from his reverie. It was already getting dark outside, the sun setting behind the mountains. He smiled up at you from his chair when you peeked your head inside.

“Hey, Jenny and I are back from the crime scene,” you informed him as you stepped inside his office, closing the door behind you.

“And?”

“It’s definitely the woman from the video,” you confirmed sadly.

“We got a name yet?” Beau asked, his face stern, concern and compassion carved into every crease.

“Yeah, Addison Hughes. Husband reported her missing four days ago in Jefferson County. I already talked to the sheriff there. They’re handing us over the case,” you told him and noticed his suspiciously cocked brow.

“Uh-oh, I know what that means,” he quipped teasingly. “Were you nice?”

You gasped in mock-disbelief at his accusation. “What d’you mean? I’m always nice.”

Beau snorted in amusement. “Uh-huh, that means no…”

“Wha-… Anyways,” you continued with a clear of your throat and a playful little glare at him, “Jenny and I talked to Mr. Hughes afterwards. He didn’t wanna admit that he cheated at first, but Jenny and I kinda went in on him till he fessed up.”

“Poor fella…” Beau muttered under his breath.

“Hm? What?”

“Nothin’. I said nothing.” He shook his head and gave you an innocent smile, but it didn’t stop your eyes from narrowing at him.

“Careful,” you warned and ambled over to his side of the desk. He pushed his chair back, making room for you between his thighs. “You don’t wanna defend a cheater. He got his wife killed. I have little sympathy for that.”

“Well, he’s definitely an ass for cheating, but even you gotta admit he didn’t really kill her. That’s still on the psycho running around out there,” Beau argued, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him. You involuntarily clenched when his face was in front of your crotch.

“Fine,” you conceded with a roll of your eyes, sliding your hands up his arms till they locked around his neck.

“‘Sides, I kinda get how quickly a mistake can happen, you know?” he said thoughtfully.

You arched your brow. “Do you mean me with that?”

Beau’s eyes widened, immediately shaking his head. “What, no! I mean, yeah, a little,” he stammered. Your frown deepened. “Not like that, obviously. Just remembered some stuff today… But we never cheated. I know that.”

“Do you?” you questioned rhetorically.

“I do,” he assured you and took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles in an attempt to soothe you. “Just sometimes feels like I betrayed him, you know?”

“I know. I get that. But you did nothing wrong, okay? You did not seduce me and steal me away from him, nor did you take advantage of me when I was a vulnerable and grieving widow. I’m a grown-ass woman. I make my own choices. And I chose you like you chose me. After Randy’s death and all those months in Mexico, I fell in love with you, too.”

A coy smile clawed at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yes, you idiot,” you confirmed, your smiles matching.

He then pulled you onto his lap and claimed your lips in deep passion. You straddled his thighs and rocked against him, feeling the blooming erection in his jeans rub against your clothed cunt.

You unbuckled his belt and opened the zipper, Beau pushing down his jeans over his ass a little. Supporting one palm on his shoulder, your other hand climbed inside his boxers and grasped his dick. You thumbed his head and dribbled a few drops of spit down on his cock before moving your hand down his shaft, spreading it like lube on his velvety skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the backrest. With hooded eyes drunk with lust, one hand snaked under your shirt and pulled down the cup of your bra, palming and massaging your breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Your moan of pleasure was his reward as you pumped him with a tightening grip.

Both of you jerked up, however, as the door to his office suddenly flung wide open. Beau and you froze in your place, your fingers still wrapped around his cock, but luckily, neither of you was fully naked and your back hid most of the explicits. To your visitor, it just looked like an intense and very heated make-out session.

As you peeled your gaze over your shoulder, you recognized a woman in her mid-thirties who covered her eyes and quickly retreated through the door.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I’ll wait outside,” she excused and shut the door behind her again.

Beau gaped at you, green eyes wide in disbelief. “Y/N, did you not lock the door?”

You clasped your mouth with both hands, shaking your head with pupils as blown wide as his. “No, I thought everyone had already left when I came in here.”

“That’s the second time in three days,” he reminded you scoldingly. “Three days, Y/N! Twice!”

“I know! I’m sorry,” you whispered apologetically, still in shock, but a laugh of amusement escaped your throat. “Who was that lady?”

“I don’t know.” Beau’s brow furrowed in the same questioning manner as yours.

The two of you then sorted yourselves quickly, pulling pants back on and smoothing out shirts. You then stepped outside the office, where your female visitor was still waiting in the hallway.

“Uh, so sorry for that little, uhm…” Beau stopped mid-sentence, clueless on how to proceed and describe the scene while still sounding professional. “Anyways, how can I help you, darlin’?”

You threw him a small sideways glare at that and crossed your arms over your chest, Beau giving you one of his charming “can’t be helped” shrugs. Did he have to put so much flirt into it?

“Oh, uh, I apologize. I should’ve knocked,” the woman replied with a keen giggle, her cheeks blushing in fluster. She cleared her throat and regained her composure, introducing herself. “My name is Diane Newton. I’m the new DA for the Lewis and Clark Sheriff’s Department. I got assigned the serial killer case and wanted to look through your files on it. See what you’ve got so far.”

“Oh, uhm, sure,” Beau spluttered and swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind jumping back into work mode. Of course, it had to be the new prosecutor to find him with his pants down in his office. What a great first impression.

“Hi, uh, Sheriff Beau Arlen. Nice to meet you,” he said and reached out his hand for a shake. He then glanced at you. “This is actually Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She’s leading that case,” he introduced you before he nervously chuckled. “She’s, uh, my girlfriend. That’s why we, uhm… Wouldn’t want you to think that we-… I do this all the time.”

“No worries and no judgment here,” she said and waved off his concerns. “What you do after hours is completely your business.”

“Well, uhm, how about I show you the files now?” you offered and ushered her to your desk in the main room of the station.

“Oh, that’d be great!”

You threw Beau a wide-eyed look over your shoulder as you walked down the hall, mouthing “Why would you say that?” with a chiding shake of your head.

Beau only twitched his shoulders in a comical apology like a cartoon character and swiftly disappeared back into his office.

Diane stayed for two more hours before finally leaving. You went over every victim in Montana with her, not sparing any excruciating details, and told her a little about the other victims in the other states as well. By the end, you were exhausted and almost fell asleep at your desk, your head resting on the pile of files with closed eyes.

Just a few minutes…

“C’mon, let’s go home. You’re tapped out,” you heard Beau’s deep voice and soon felt his grasp around your arm, hoisting you gently to your feet.

You slung your arms around his neck and tiredly rested your head on his warm, broad chest, listening to his heartbeat underneath. He’d always been the best pillow. “Mmm, I don’t have a home here,” you murmured sleepily.

“Well, you know what they say, home is where the heart is, and I’m going back to my trailer, so…” He shrugged and grinned down at you.

“You’re such a dork,” you quipped. As you looked up at him, you bit your bottom lip. “You introduced me as your girlfriend earlier.”

He licked his smirking lips. “Well, you are my girlfriend.” His brow then creased momentarily. His insecurity was somewhat cute, you thought. “Right?”

You beamed and nodded, giggling. “Yes,” you confirmed and tiptoed up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips to seal it.

“How about before we go home, we finish what we started in my office,” he suggested cheekily and added, “I’ll even teach you how to lock a damn door.”

You snorted a small laugh and gave him another gentle kiss, this one lasting a bit longer and swinging with promise. “Alright. Teach me, Sheriff,” you agreed and smoothed your palms up his chest, smirking up at him.

“Oh, this just took a turn. Now, I know what I’m gonna do with you.” He chuckled wickedly and scooped you up in his arms, bolting down the hallway to his office as you squealed and giggled.

Chapter 5: Illicit Affairs – MAY 29

Will they ever learn? Probably not... 😆 We've had some juicy flashbacks these week... Past scenes that include Randy always make me sad 😭

More murder stuff and flashbacks next week! See ya 🫶

(Also I've been a bit slow with comments these days. It's been crazy busy life things, but I hope I can catch up with everything this weekend 🤍)

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser

#polaris #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you

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natashaslesbian · 1 year ago

Note

Scarlett and her daughter are going out to eat, having a great time until the paparazzi show up. Scarlett is protecting her daughter who is panicking

Paparazzi

Word Count:

————

“You ready to get going kiddo?” Scarlett called as you came down the stairs “yes mommy” you said. Today was Wednesday, meaning it was your special afternoon with mommy. Scarlett always made sure she had Wednesday afternoons free so she could collect you from school and take you out to do something special. Today you’re going for ice cream, a treat after receiving your most recent school report. Your mom always knew you were a smart kid and at only 8 years old you were top of the class, Scarlett was so proud of you. “Let’s get going then baby” your mom said as she took hold of your hand and lead you to the car.

The whole journey you thought of what ice cream flavour you were going to have and what toppings would go with it. You were unaware of the car trailing behind you and didn’t even notice when Scarlett took a few wrong turns in order to get rid of them. “Are we there yet mommy?” You asked from the backseat, the long ride making you fidgety “almost sweetie, just a few more minutes” Scarlett said, eyeing her wing mirrors to check she wasn’t being followed and sighing a breath of relieve after realising she wasn’t.

You were thrilled when you finally arrived, allowing your mom to help you out of the car and walk with you to the small ice cream shop. You were sat at a small two seat table in the corner next to the window after Scarlett had ordered both your desserts. You spoke about all kinds of thing with your mama, you told her all about your week at school and your new best friend Chelsey. Scarlett told you all about her week at work, on Monday she had been at the outset office and yesterday she was filming for a new movie.

The time slipped away as you enjoyed your bubblegum ice cream and rainbow sprinkles. An hour had soon raced past and Scarlett decided it was about time you headed home. When you stepped out in the street a gentlemen on the other side of the street had his eyes glued on you “come on sweetie let’s take a little walk back to the car” Scarlett said, leading you in the opposite direction and away from the man. When you turned the corner with your mother a large group of people came running towards you. “There she is!” Someone called “it’s Scarlett Johansson!” Another shouted.

“Mommy” you whined as you grabbed hold of Scarlett’s arm “it’s okay baby come here” she said as she lifted you up in her arms. “Scarlett can you tell us anything about the new movie?” A pap asked demandingly, the crowd around you both closing in quickly. “Scarlett how old is y/n now?” Another woman asked. You hurried your face into Scarlett’s neck and wrapped your arms tightly around her “mama” you cried. Scarlett pulled you as close as she possibly could into her body, gently kissing your forehead.

Soon you made it to the car park, followed closely by the large group of flashing cameras. Scarlett was trying her best to just ignore all the people, her sole focus was getting you away from them. Now next to the car, your mom propped you down beside her to find her keys. “Scarlett this way!” A man shouted as he pushed through the crowds colliding with you in the process and knocking you to the floor. “Hey!” Scarlett screamed as she came to pick you up “get the fuck away from my daughter!” She yelled, the man backing up slightly.

Scarlett helped you into the car before shutting the door “you lot are sick!” She screamed at the crowd “I know I chose this life but my daughter did not! You dare touch her again and I will shove that camera where the sun won’t shine” your mom angrily said, a few members of the pap has already given up and backed away, off to find their next target. “Lighten up Scarlett this is our job” the smug man said “and my job is to protect my daughter, you publish any pictures of her and I swear you’ll be behind bares before you know it! Get lost!” Scarlett screamed, taking a step towards the gathering of people.

It seemed people didn’t expect her to get so angry and many of the paps moved away quickly. The rest stood in shock, fearing the wrath of Johansson. “Don’t make me tell you again” Scarlett said, causing the rest of the group to scuttle away. Your mom opened the car door and climbed in next to you “I’m so sorry baby girl are you alright? They’ve gone now I promise” Scarlett cooed as she pulled you into her lap. “Don’t like it” you sniffled “y/n sweetie I’m so sorry, this is all my fault I should’ve known the paps would come and find me” Scarlett said as she held you close. “Not your fault mommy” you said as you reached up to wipe away a stray tear falling down your moms cheek.

Scarlett gently brushed a hair away from your face “I promise I’ll always keep you safe baby girl, as long as I’m here no one will ever hurt you” your mama said as she slowly rocked you “I know mommy” you smiled up at Scarlett “I’m alright” you said. Scarlett smiled back at you “my brave girl” she said “shall we go home and have a snuggle?” She asked. “Yes please” you cheered.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

#scarlett johansson #scarlett x reader #daughter reader #paparazzi #scarjo

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 years ago

Note

Maybe 27 with larissa or lesso?

Hey anon! I already did 27 for Lesso and you can read it here: Red Fever. But I’d love to write this for Larissa 💕🤭 I included an amazing song to go along with this fic 😉✨

I Take Care of What’s Mine ~Larissa Weems xFem Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#27. “If you hate me so much, why do moan my name in the shower?!”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, shower sex, implied masturbation, fingering, kissing, hickeys, praise kink, angst, enemies to lovers kinda, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You had started working at Nevermore this summer and now the school semester was in swing. Your colleagues were pretty nice and the kids were great (difficult at times, but you loved them). And then there was Principal Weems.

You two had a weirdly professional yet complicated relationship. You were both formal and behaved professionally. At least most of the time. You had a hunch that she didn’t like you. And that she simply covered her distaste for you with professionalism.

For one, she insisted that all staff members called her ‘Larissa’ in private, but not with you. For you, it was always ‘Principal Weems’ or ‘Ms. Weems’. She also actively ignored your inputs at staff meetings. She’d just run you over and continue talking. Her words to you were curt and prompt. And you had the feeling she avoided to be alone with you at all costs…

But you loved everything else about Nevermore. So you put up with the Principals disguised hatred. Even though it hurt your heart that the two of you didn’t get along.

You sighed, contemplating all of this for the zillionth time, as you made your way to Principal Weems’ office. You had to drop off some paperwork, which meant you unfortunately had to interact with Larissa… You arrived at her office, only to find the office door cracked open… You entered the office and found no one.

“Principal Weems…?” You called.

“M’mmm…”

You heard a stifled mumble of a voice in response, coming from a side door in Principal Weems’ office. You placed the papers on her desk and quietly approached the ajar door. You heard a light pattering of water. As if someone was showering…

“Oh Fuck…” a muffled voice groaned.

Your eyes widened at this and your ears pricked up even more. But nothing could have prepared you for what you heard next…

“Oh God Y/N that’s it…! Such a good girl…!!” Larissa cried out.

Your breath hitched and you stumbled backwards. Your brain short circuited and you practically ran back to your private quarters. You slammed your door shut, collapsing against the door and panting heavily.

~~~

The next morning, all you could think about was what you had heard the night before. Through the entire staff meeting, your thoughts were spiraling.

Why would Larissa say your name? Didn’t she hate you??

As the staff meeting let out, you decided you had to do something.

“Principal Weems, can I speak to you in your office for a moment?” you asked.

The Principal didn’t even look up to meet your eye. She merely hummed a yes in response. You entered her office, yesterdays sounds ringing in your ear, as Larissa closed the door behind you. She walked around behind her desk and her eyes finally met yours.

“What is it Miss L/N?” She impatiently asked, her foot tapping the floor.

“I…” you stuttered, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Why do you hate me so much?” You blurted out, just wanting to get this over with.

Larissa’s eyes widened at your statement and her lips pursed.

“Excuse me…?”

“I… why do you… hate me so much…?” You stuttered, tears starting to sweal in your eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Miss L/N.” She defended.

“It’s not ridiculous!” You exclaimed with a crack in your speech, “I just… I just don’t understand!”

“Don’t understand what??” Larissa demanded with a raised voice.

“If you hate me so much, why do moan my name in the shower?!” You exclaimed, finally letting it out.

Larissa was stunned. And now you were confused by her reaction. After a minute of straight silence, Larissa broke out in a fit of giggles.

“Is this funny to you??” You questioned the blonde.

“Yes…!” She chuckled, “Do you honestly not understand??”

“Understand what?!” you yelled.

“That I like you!!” She yelled back.

Luckily Larissa had closed the door…

It still hadn’t clicked for you yet.

Larissa groaned out in frustration, swiftly invading your personal space, and smashing her lips into yours. At first you froze, but Larissa was quick to melt you with her lips on yours. You giddily moaned into the kiss, as Larissa’s tongue slid into your mouth. You both had to eventually pull away to regain your breath.

Larissa stared at your unabashedly, as your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Her lipstick was smeared all over you lips and all around hers as well.

“Do you understand now…?” She purred.

Your blush tenfolded, “Yes…” you whispered back.

Larissa’s lips grazed your ear, “Did it turn you on to hear your name on my lips…?” She purred.

You shuddered at the change to such a sultry tone. Your throat went dry at her words.

She lustfully continued, “Did you want that to be your fingers making me come undone…?”

You gulped and nodded.

“Well Why don’t you join me for a shower then…?” She purred, staring you down intently.

“I…Yes please…!” you immediately whimpered in response.

Larissa raised her brow and walked over to the side door, leading to her private quarters. She beckoned you to follow her.

This was a fucking fever dream…

You followed the blonde into her room and then into her bathroom, your mouth agape the entire time. Larissa chuckled lightly at the effect she had on you. She closed and locked the bathroom door.

And then she began stripping right in front of you. Your eyes widened and your blush deepened as Larissa exposed her swell breasts, milky thighs, and everything else for you to see… You were glued to the spot. Larissa eventually sauntered over to you, swinging her bare hips in a delicious fashion.

“This will not work…” Larissa tutted, as she began to remove your clothing, piece by piece.

Your pupils were blown wide and you let the blonde lead you into the shower. She turned the water on. The same sound of pattering water filled the room. You still couldn’t fully believe this was happening. But then her lips were on yours again, and everything made sense again.

Your bodies moved in tandem, as Larissa guided you to trap her in between the wall and your own body. As her tongue explored your mouth, Larissa’s hands explored your exposed, wet body. One hand found it’s home on your ass, squeezing it and eliciting a moan from your lips, which Larissa gladly swallowed. The other hand finding your breasts and kneeding them one after the other.

Eventually, Larissa pulled away from the heated kiss and brought her lips to the shell of your ear, “Why don’t you be a good girl and finger me, baby…” she husked, her words sending shivers down your spine.

You immediately nodded, dropping to your knees for the blonde. Larissa widened her stance for you, as she leaned against the wall with one hand in your hair. Your mouth found home on the blondes clit, causing Larissa to only egg you on more. You ran a finger through her folds, removing your mouth from her clit for a moment to lick her slick off your finger. You moaned in delight.

“God Baby… Don’t be a tease…” Larissa groaned.

At that, your tongue wrapped itself around her clit once more and you slipped a finger into the blondes dripping cunt. Your began pumping and curling your finger inside her heat at a decent pace.

“Oh Fuck…! More Baby… God more!!” Larissa moaned out, her head and eyes rolled back in pleasure.

You happily obliged, slipping another finger into her throbbing pussy and speeding up your thrusts. Once you found that spongey spot in the blondes walls, she was done for… Larissa’s legs began shaking and moans flowed freely from her lips. You added a third finger and Larissa snapped.

“Oh God Y/N that’s it…! Such a good girl…!!” Larissa cried out, as she came around your fingers, with your mouth on her clit.

You eagerly cleaned the blonde up through and after her high. You then looked up and met her hodded gaze.

“Such a good girl…” Larissa husked, cupping your chin and raising you to connect your lips to hers.

You whimpered into the kiss, now needing desperate relief yourself. Now you were the one to pul away. Your needy eyes met Larissa’s.

“Please… I need you…” you whimpered.

Larissa chuckled, “Don’t worry, Baby… I’ll take care of you…” peppering along your collar bone kisses in between her words, “my good girl…” she purred.

~~~

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iwoulddothingstothisman · 11 months ago

Text

Figuring out

"Sam, Sam."

"Psst, Sam"

"What Dean?"

"I think I love him."

"That's great he loves you too, go back to sleep."

"I don't think I can."

"Then for fuck sake, shut up," Sam grunted and turned over on his shitty motel bed to face away from Dean's bed.

"Then shut up," Dean mocked under his breath, "bitch." He flopped back down onto the pillow only to stare up at the celling he had just enough light from the freeway to see.

Not four hours later the sound of wings fluttering reefed both boys from their sleep. Dean jolted up knife already in hand only to see Cas, his Cas maybe even, standing at the foot off his bed looking for all the world like a lost child.

"Cas, not that it's not good to see you, but why are you here, it's like five in the morning," Dean grunted while rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his knife.

"I wanted to see you, though waking you was not intentional." His head was tilted a little to the side, an adorable pout on his lips. Thank god for the dark room or Cas would've seen the blush creeping up his neck.

"Well I'm up now, what d'ya want for breakfast, Sam?" Dean asked while swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Whatever they have, salad-wise," Sam said, snuggling deeper into the covers.

"Naturally." Dean put his knife onto the bedside table so it was within Sam's reach if need be then trundled his way into the bathroom after grabbing the same jeans he wore yesterday and his only clean shirt.

He came back out, did up his boots and grabbed the keys for Baby.

"C'mon Cas, we'll let Sammy get his beauty rest," He said while walking past the Angel who followed a half step behind Dean

The drive to the diner was thankfully uneventful, no vampires trying to slash their tyres and no women in white trying to seduce them.

The diner was even more dull. The standard traffic of office monkeys that hate their life but can't bring themselves to end it and early morning joggers who think they're different for getting oat milk and tweeting about it on their aggressively nature themed blog that calls to the end for all farming. The only stand-outish part of it all was the cashier. A woman in her maybe late 20's by Dean's guess with bright blue hair, a pro-Palestine hat that said 'from the river to the sea' with the Palestinian flag under it and a full cyber-sigilism tattoo sleeve.

Dean had been so busy studying her appearance that he hadn't even noticed the line had moved enough that it was their turn to order.

"So what will you and your boyfriend be having today?" She asked with a tinge of an Aussie accent and Dean faltered.

"We- uh- he's- we're ah not together." He stumbled to get his words out.

"Sorry mate, what can I get ya?" She asked again, this time her accent came through thicker.

"I'll just get a bacon and egg muffin with a coffee, black, two sugars please and, do you guys do a Caesar salad?"

"We do, yeah."

"The largest one of those I can get, to go please." He passed her the money and pocketed his change before walking over to the table furthest from the door.

"It is odd that she thought we were together," Cas stated. Dean almost choked.

"Yeah, yeah it is." dean replied praying to a god he knew didn't care that Cas would drop it, of course, God doesn't care so Cas did no such thing.

"I wonder what it is about us that made her think that, I've been told that I 'look the type' whatever that means, maybe that was it."

"Yeah, yeah I guess you do." Dean paused for a second but kept talking before Cas could open his mouth. "Cas can I talk to you for a second?" He asked.

"You already are." Cas said, tilting his.

"Not the point, the bible doesn't say anything about being gay is a sin, right?" Dean asked.

"Not the original one, no. Why?"

"Because I think I love you." He rushed out.

"Yes, I love you too, I believe." Cas said, making Dean chuckle and shake his head.

"No Cas, I'm IN love with you."

"Oh well in that case then I too, am in love with you, perhaps not in the exact same way that a human might be, but rest assured I have loved you since I pulled you from perdition." Cas admitted with a soft smile.

Dean's tunnel vision on Cas was broken when the same cashier set their food on the table between then with just enough force to almost startle Dean out of his seat.

"Have a good one," she said before speed walking away back to the counter where a chef was relentlessly ringing the bell.

"Come, we'll continue this in the car." Cas said while getting up and grabbing the bag.

Cas was waiting next to the passenger door when Dean finally pried himself from his seat in the diner. He swiftly unlocked Baby and jumped in to start the car. Cas wasn't half a second behind him and had the door closed before Baby had started.

"Did you mean in when you said you've loved me since you pulled me from hell."

"Of course, why else would I say it?"

"Then why, why, didn't you say anything?" Dean exclaimed.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Good grief Cas." Was all Dean said before grabbing Cas by the lapels of his coat and kissing him. He pulled back a second later only to be pulled straight back in by Cas' hand in his hair.

The food was cool by the time they got back to the motel and Sam had packed all of his stuff and some of Dean's

"Good to see you two are still alive, I was about to send out a search party." He said with a knowing smirk.

"Shut up, bitch."

"Whatever, jerk."

Sure they still had a lot to work out, especially when it came to Dean's issues but they took the first step and that's what really matter.

With that thought Dean ate his cold muffin with a small smile on his face.

This is my first time posting something original (on this blog) and I'm super nervous. Please let me know if you find any egregious mistakes and I hope you liked it.

#destiel pride #destiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel

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andsoigotabutterfly · 2 years ago

Text

-Save Me From Her - chapter 3

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: The past comes back to haunt, and it doesn't like the present.

a/n: Hai everybody! Sorry that this took this long to come out, but life has been lifing, and I needed to get a hold of my mental health and stuff like that. Anyways, enjoy!

warnings: amature writing, wounds, stabbing, Canon-typical violance, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, mass homocide, blood, blood, and more blood (also; not proofread. I will, but not yet. When I did, I will remove this. I just wanted to push this out as quick as possible.

“Lolly!”

Her voice was venomous as it echoed through the small room, shivering, and agitated.

“Come ‘ere…”

The voice disintegrated, everything in it becoming shadowy dust, blown away by the wind. Her voice faded as well, as it was taken over by a sound that cut through the very fabric of nature. A scream, loud, horrid, and filled with emotion. Filled with anger, with hate and rancor.

“She was screaming, shouting, and begging for it to end.” The voice sounded from the depths of darkness. “Yet you did nothing!”

Her face emerged from the dredge, emotionless. Her eyes like glass, her mouth ripped open, deep bruises across her features. Dead. Then her voice sounded again, the former emotions snuff from the words she spoke, replaced with sadness. She sounded bitter, heartbroken. Disappointed.

“We could have been happy Y/N. We could have been…”

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

Tara was worried about you. Ever since you saw the note, you haven’t been the same. You acted like nothing happened, talked to the cops about the attack whilst soothing her quivering body. They asked about the dead body as well, which you gave the full truth about; that he attacked you two yesterday and that in his drunk state, you could fend him off. With her help you went through about what happened inside the building today, skipping over the personal parts of course.

Even though you kept a straight, composed face, even when you talked calmly, not a hint of trembling present in your voice, she could see through your façade. You were shaken to your core. She saw the slight flinch of your eyes when the name ‘Lolly’ came up, she felt the almost unnoticeable tightening of your grip around her whenever they asked about your wounds. The little motions your lips, your body, they all gave you away. She has never seen you like this. Scared. You weren’t whilst talking back to someone twice your size, not when you defended her yesterday from the drunk, not when you two fled for your lives today. Not when the knife was inches away from your face. Never

Yet now, you were. The reappearance of Ghostface by itself made Tara too, your state had only worsened hers. She was afraid for you. The worry she felt for you overwhelmed every other emotion that would rise in her. She felt like she needed to stay strong, for the both of you. Falling apart was not an option.

After the ambulance patched you up, the cops approached you once more.

“You’ll have to come with us so that we may pick up your statements at the precinct.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just tell you what happened?”

“Yes, but to officially record it, we need you to be at the station.”

“But-“ Tara started but your soft, gentle hand on her shoulder made her stop.

“Let’s follow the officers Tara” you said, looking at the young woman. You were composed and confident.

She huffed but gave in to you. “Can I call Sam from your phone please? I left mine in your apartment.”

“Here” you mumbled as you absentmindedly handed her yours from your back pocket.

As Tara started to dial in her sister’s number, she saw it was already saved. At the name she raised her brow again. “Who is ‘Geralt’?

“Oh, it’s her” you say, blushing a little. "It's from Witcher.

“I know, but why is this her name?” she asks, turning the screen towards you.

You shy away from her unwavering gaze, then press the call button and push her hand back towards her face. “Oh, no you won’t escape this-“ she starts but Sam is faster, as she immediately picks up the ringing phone. She hears her voice calling out for her from the other end of the line.

"Tara! I just saw the news. Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm on my way and be there as fast as possib-" her unrelenting assault of words is cut off by Tara.

"Sam, calm down and take a breath. I'm uninjured, but Y/N got a nasty cut on her neck. The police want us to go down to the precinct to pick up our statements. Meet us there?"

"Yeah, sounds good! Be careful!"

"Off what? I'll be surrounded by cops for god's sake!"

"We both now that won't stop him" Sam said, voice low and mournful. Flashing memories of the hospital ran through Tara's mind for a second and sent a shiver down her spine. The dead cop, laying limp on the floor with an open throat, the pain and the fear coming back to her all of a sudden. Her senses numbed, not hearing Sam's voice on the other end of the line, the lights becoming blindingly bright, yet she couldn't close or avert her eyes. She was frozen in place, helpless just like when she was crawling away from her. From the one that said she would be always by her side. The one that said whatever the case, she would keep her safe. The one that said she loved her.

She flinched when she felt something touch her and snapped her head backwards. At your sight she calmed, only now noticing, and taking in her surroundings once again. "Okay Sam, I will. Bye" Tara managed to say, then hung up.

"She knew?" your voice was soft, so soft. Why were you this thoughtful with her always? It made her heartbeat faster, making her able to believe she could be normal again. But life always had a way to prove her wrong, doesn't it?

"By now all of the world could now" she gestured behind you, towards the police line where an army of reporters were lined up. You sighed as you noticed them. "We are gonna meet her at the station."

"Then let's get moving." Tara felt your hand on her back, nudging her gently to get to the police car.

You opened the door for her, then scrambled to the other side to do the same for yourself. When you got in and closed the car, the sounds of the outside vanished, a comfortable silence filling the space. The vehicle soundlessly rolled out to the road, the lights of the city blaring by the window that Tara's head was leaned against. The cops in front were chattering quietly, trying not to disturb you two.

The Carpenter felt odd. Out of place. Everything was calm. Nothing should be calm. Ghostface was back. He was here to bring her and her loved one’s pain, suffering, and death. Why her? Then she thought of the note. This wasn't about her. No, you knew what the name meant, it scared you. This wasn't about her she realized. This was about you. She rethought the attack, every little detail she could think of. She was the first one to get called, but that didn't mean much. All the time, he was staring at you with his dead eyes, always attacking you. She remembered the occasions where he could have wounded her, yet he was focused solely on you.

Tara looked over to your side of the backseats, taking in your features again. You were just as disturbed as her, deep in thought and uncomfortable. You would have looked cute if one didn't know about what had happened. Tara saw your pained gaze, could feel that your thoughts were eating you up inside and hated every moment of it. Your usual smile wasn't there to light her up. She missed your crinkling eyes that could melt the coldest frozen hearts, your witty jokes, that you would throw in the worst time possible. So, she tried to distract you.

"I want an answer" she demanded, looking at you with furrowed eyes. She surprised you with speaking up, that she could see. You looked at her, confused and unfocused. "I want an answer" she repeated. You clearly didn't know what she was talking about, but she needed you to get speaking so you wouldn't shut off again.

"What answer?" your voice full of confusion.

"The answer to my question" Tara said matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eyes at her statement. "Which one Tara?"

"Why the hell is my sister saved in your phone as Geralt of Rivia?"

You reddened instantly, looking everywhere but her. "It was mainly meant to be a joke…"

"But?"

You gulped and glanced over to her a few times. She knew her unwavering gaze would brake your resistance, and it did. "Anika pointed out that he resembles some of his attributes." You say, still not looking at her.

"Like what?" Tara asked playfully. You looked like a child caught in the act of stealing cookies from the fridge. You swallowed again, clearly rethinking your life choices since the date of your birth. "Y/N, don't think that I'll let you off the hook this easily."

"She is strong, layered and protective besides being misunderstood and mistreated!" you blurted out, looking straight at her. Once you did, your eyes widened and went pale as a ghost. Tara could feel her smile widening to unimaginable lengths before bursting out in laughter. "I'm only telling the truth here! Don't laugh at me" you pouted. You looked so kissable.

"N- no it's not you it's just" she tried to say in between laughs. "It's just that it's so accurate. She would be fuming if she heard about this."

"And that's why she will never know!" So kissable.

"Oh, I don't know about that" she smirked. "My tongue is in a slippy mood these days…"

"No, Tara I'm serious!" you pleaded, face contorting in fear. "She would kill me! I have barely made it on her list of tolerated people! I don't want to end up-" she cut you off with her lips on yours. Your eyes widened for a moment, taking in what was happening, but she didn't give you enough time to fully comprehend it. She leaned back and watched your gaping face. After you finally shook off the surprise, you smirked at her. "Well, if I end up like this, I don't mind her knowing."

Tara rolled her eyes at you but the butterflies in her stomach rendered her silent. What exactly was this? You kissed her back, that surely meant you liked her too, right? She didn’t have much time to think because you leaned in to kiss her again, this time deepening it. You cupped her cheek with your right hand, whilst the left on found hold on her waist, gently rubbing circles under the fabric. When you had to separate for air, she pressed her forehead against yours, eyes locking with each other.

“I-“ Tara started, but stopped herself. The words she was about to speak didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel enough. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to think up something that would be better.

“I know” you said simply, caressing her face with your fingers. She opened her eyes again, and your heart started beating faster at the sight of them, full of hope and concern. “Me too.”

Your words made the swarm of butterflies in Tara’s stomach grow into a horde. “Since when?”

“Anika told me what you told Mindy” you said with a smirk. “That’s when I really started to hope for it to be true. I never fully believed it until know though.”

“You mean the time when they got together?” At your nod her face reddened. She then narrowed her eyes and leaned back. “Mindy is dead to me.”

“Oh, come on, they share everything between each other, and Anika could never stand my stare.”

“It was meant to be a secret!”

“If you want to blame someone, blame me for being a too good sister, from which the other can’t keep anything from!”

“Yeah, if anything you’re an idiot” she said, smiling.

“I might be” you leaned back too and smirked at her. “But I’m your idiot now.” Tara’s stomach churned in the most pleasurable way after hearing your words.

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

The rest of the route went by in a blink of an eye. Tara and you had talked most of it through, and you were thankful of her for distracting you from your own thoughts. The note rocked you to your core. There were only a few people who could have known that nickname, but you didn’t see any of them capable of killing someone, let alone mutilate them afterwards. The only one died a year ago. She died a year ago.

When your thoughts would start to eat you up again the car stopped. The cops got out and helped you two leave the vehicle as well. You entered the building and were met with the familiar sight of the white walls and crowded office. You couldn’t remember how many days you spent here nagging and annoying your uncle. Yet he wasn’t here anymore, and the thought made you feel alone. Scared. Overwhelmed. Screaming, shouting, begging for it to end…

As if she read your mind, Tara grabbed your hand and interlocked her fingers with you. You looked down at her and smiled, reassuringly squeezing her hand. The cops started leading you two to what you liked to call; ‘interrogation chamber’ in your youth. Whenever you saw the cops bringing in perps in handcuffs, you would imagine how scary it must be for them. You would chase yourself into a corner of your mind where everything was scary and dark. Where she was still free. Still alive. Your only lifebelt being your uncle, who never failed to help you out of there. Now, the room you were closing in on didn’t seem so bad. It felt safe. Funny how time changes perspectives.

“Y/N?” you heard a familiar voice behind you. Not believing your ears your span around, searching for the source. “Y/N! Hey! How are you? What the hell are you doing here?” The source turned out to be a young man, with red hair and sparkling green eyes. Just like your uncle.

“I could ask you the same thing V.”

“Not even a greeting for your most humble cousin? I must say you’ve cha-“ he got cut off when you hugged him so tightly Tara was worried you might brake some bones. “There she is…” he said, wrapping his own hand around you.

“What happened? I thought you are stationed in Washington!”

“I got transferred here upon my request. Being a legacy of pa helped.”

“Kayoko, you two know each other?” one of the officers asked that were escorting you.

“Not intentionally” Vasco smirked and pushed your shoulder a little. You flinched from the pain. His eyes narrowed and without asking pushed the fabric of your shirt to the side, revealing the bloody bandage that was wrapped around the stitched wound. “What happened?” his voice got serious in an instant.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Me and Tara had been attacked in my apartment.” His eyes widened, suddenly gripping your bicep. “It was Ghostface. Now I’m involved in the homicide of a homeless drunk that also attacked us a day before and gave me this” you held up your arm. The wound narrowed since yesterday, yet it still itched and hurt. “Speaking truly, I was the aggressor that time, but that’s unimportant now.” You almost whispered the last sentence. He huffed and shook his head slightly.

“Just my luck” he shook his head. “The first serious case I get, and my family’s involved.”

“You lead the case?”

“No, Wayne does. You know, father’s old partner.” You nodded, as you did, in fact remember the graying man. “I’m in his team and for once, he didn’t put me in the backline.”

“Wayne as in Wayne Bailey?” Tara interrupted.

“How do you know him?” Vasco asked back.

“He’s the father of her roommate.”

“Quinn or E… Oh wait, no. His son is studying at Princton. So, you are Quinn’s roommate huh?”

“I thought her brother died…” Tara said.

“He did. Sorry, he had two siblings. I thought you would know this.”

“No, she never mentioned two” you said as well.

“Sorry to interrupt Kayoko, but we all have our jobs to do” a officer said. “After picking up their statements, you can have them back.”

“Of course, Stan. Apologies” he said and held his hands up.

Before you were lead away, you hugged him again and decided to throw the big ball into the game. “There was a note for me, pinned to the corpse” you whispered in his ear.

“How do you know it was for you?”

“It was meant for Lolly.”

When you pulled away, you saw his struck state. It looked like he froze down, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked at you “I’ll get to work then” he said, threw you a weak smile, and squeezed your shoulder again, before turning around and walking towards his place.

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

You needed to wait a little for Bailey to arrive. He was at the scene and missed you there.

“Stan and Mitch are awfully efficient when they don’t need to be” he huffed as he greeted you warmly. He was just as bright and straight as he always used to, even if time had worn him out a little. With you, at least. Tara was a different world. You remembered how he first acted around you and found resemblance. They just needed to warm up to each other, you thought.

They didn’t. From the point he started picking up your statement, he gave her his coldest self. Sam got there in the middle of interrogation, and her being around didn’t help much either. She looked even more dishevelled than last time as she barged into the room, even though half the police force tried to deny her that. When Tara reassured them that she was with you two, they reluctantly let her stay.

You didn’t know whether Tara wanted to hide what you had from her, so you tried to keep the usual distance, but the young Carpenter was having none of it. Once she got a hold of your hand under the table, she wasn’t letting go. Sam clearly saw but didn’t say anything. The only reaction you saw from her, was the small, almost unnoticeable smile on her concerned face, which you took as a good sign.

You explained everything again to Bailey, this time a bit more calmly and provided more information. You described the attack, the phone call, leaving out some information about you and Tara again. Then came the nickname. The grey man tried to go into the depths, but you dodged every question as your father and uncle had thought you to. Noone besides our loved ones will know about this. The vow you made to them resounded in your head, and you never took yourself for a liar. Noone else needs to know. It just wasn’t necessary.

“Who could want to see you two dead?” he asked with a resigning voice, eyeing you and Tara.

“Cmon’ Bailey, you know me! I’m the most charming person in the world” you teased and leaned back, smirking.

“So, half the city. You?” she asked Tara.

Before answering she shook her head slightly. “Can’t think of anyone who’s still alive.”

“Yikes.” you and Bailey said in unison.

The door opened and Stan showed his head in the door. “FBI’s here, claiming jurisdiction.”

Bailey’s face contorted from confusion. “Where are they?”

He stood and left the room, you quickly following behind. No matter how much time you spent here, it could still surprise you. You have seen federal agents once or twice, but never when they claimed a case for themselves. You were interested, the Carpenter sisters following close behind you. Tara wouldn’t let go of your hand, gently squeezing it, so you couldn’t release it, which you wouldn’t, not even if the world was ending. Especially not if the world was ending.

Three doors later Stan opened a door, motioned inside. A woman stood from one of the chairs, blonde, painted shoulder length hair, combat boots and a black outfit with a black leather jacket. You couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but the woman showed her badge and Bailey clearly didn’t like her. A case was laid open on the table, your and Tara’s picture on top of it. The sisters were talking about something, but you didn’t listen, your eyes focusing on the photograph that was taken of the corpse. It looked weird. Not how it looked when you were there.

Your train of thoughts was disrupted by Sam, who just noticed who was inside. “Kirby?”

“Hey Sam” the blonde woman greeted her and squeezed herself past you and Bailey to hug her. “Tara, and you must be Y/N, right?”

“Your detective skills are impressive” you nodded.

“You are the FBI?” Sam asked.

“You guys know each other?” the graying man asked, after Kirby nodded.

“Yeah. We went to Woodsboro high together” the older Carpenter said. “She was a senior when I was a freshman. “

“We share a certain history, yeah” Kirby agreed. “Look, I’m not trying to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest here, I just want to help” she had a sly smile plastered on her face. “I’ll show you mine” she said, still smiling. “Et cetera.”

You huffed at her words. This was one of the weakest jokes, you have heard today, yet it still made you smile. Kirby had this look of pure confidence and kindness, that made you calm. You looked down at Tara from the corner of your eye and saw her also hiding her grin with her left hand, the other one still holding onto yours.

Bailey scrunched his eyes, but gave in, sharing some information about your statement and about the attack. The woman nodded along, and once he was finished, spoke up. “I already knew about the circumstances of the attack. If we are to catch this maniac, we will have to work together.”

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Sam said, as her patience ran out. “We are getting out of town” to exercise her point, she grabbed Tara’s hand and started leaving the police station. Your heart clenched in a familiar uncomfortable way.

“No!” Tara pulled her hand back and stayed close by your side. “I’m not leaving her behind!” The pain eased a little at her words, yet your mind was screaming for her to leave.

“Also, I can’t let you do that” Bailey cut in. “I’m sorry, but your sister is a person of interest in a homicide. She can’t leave town until the matter is resolved.”

Sam looked at both in disbelief. At Tara because she wanted to stay in a place where a psycho was on the loose, hell bent on hurting her, and at Bailey because of how ridiculous his words have made her feel. There was a maniac on the loose, and they couldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave because of the people that should try to do everything in their might to keep them safe. It was laughable really. When she wanted to word the thoughts that were circling in her head, the lights shut out.

The whole building went dead silent. The only source of light, being the streetlamps outdoors. You felt Tara leaning into you, her heartbeat fastening against your chest. You tightened your grip on her hand, and blinked, so your eyes would adjust to the darkness quicker. There was a hint of smoke in the air, but there was no logical explanation for it. It also smelled like smoke.

A pained scream echoed through the room. The scream of man. After a moment it turned into a growl, becoming ever more silent as something blocked the way of the sound. You heard Bailey and Kirby take out their guns, cocking them, just as all the other cops in the building. You snapped your head in every direction, but you still couldn’t see clearly, only the figures of people. The smoke in the room only got thicker.

A way too familiar voice resounded across the place, filling you with fear. His voice. “Did you miss me, Lolly?”

Another fading scream filled the room, but this time two shots followed it right after. The sound was deafening, and your ears started ringing. You could hear distant orders being barked out even though it came from right next to you, the figures of the two law enforcers disappearing from before you. A million thoughts were blaring through your mind, only some of them useful. Before you could do anything, you felt someone grab your hand and pull you with. After a moment you realised it was Sam, and stopped struggling against her, following her lead. But then she stopped in her tracks.

“No escape for you here, dear.” Ghostface spoke again, from right before you. You looked over Sam and saw him already stabbing towards her. You tried to pull her backwards, but it was too late. The knife sliced into her flesh, a pained groan leaving her mouth as she stumbled back. As you were still pulling her, a cop got between you and him, raising his gun. Three shots were fired, two of them clearly hitting him, but it was as if he didn’t even notice. He lunged forward at his shooter, opening his throat and chest with two precise and fast attacks.

You span around and ran the other way, the Carpenters by your side. The smoke had now filled the entire place, vision impaired. It helped that you had the building memorised by heart, as you took turn after turn. Shots were being fired and the smell of blood mixed with the smell of smoke and gunpowder, creating a metallic, hardly breathable atmosphere.

Then you tripped in something. As you fell, you let go of Tara’s hand and when you looked up, you couldn’t see her no more. You could hear her screaming your name, but you couldn’t answer, the smoke filling your lungs. Then you looked down at what you tripped in. Or as it turned out, who. It was a uniformed cop’s body, struggling for air. He had a stabbed wound in his gorge. Your hands were dripping of his blood, half your clothes soaking in it too. You didn’t know a human could have so much blood in their body, but when you looked around, you saw one more, with also as precise cuts as all the other victims you witnessed. All of them were stabbed at vital organs, or from where they would die in a few seconds or minutes. Not a second wasted.

“Oh, poor Y/N” he said in a condescending voice. “This must be pretty traumatic for you. I almost feel bad.” A hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back by it. “Almost” he whispered in your ear. There was a voice behind the modulator, that was familiar. Your heart skipped a beat after realisation hit you. But that couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t!

You slumped back to the ground when she suddenly let go of your hair. You looked back behind you, seeing her figure falling onto her back. Another woman stood above you, and you could take out Sam’s boots. She grabbed you, pulled you up and started running, not even waiting for you to be able to catch your balance, just pulled you after her. She barged through a door, that led you to the Northern stairs, where Tara was waiting, tears running down her cheek. She was coughing hard, trying to swallow air desperately, yet she couldn’t. You looked at Sam for a moment, and after you saw one of her hands was occupied with a gun, you picked up Tara in your hands and started running down the stairs, three steps a time.

The ground floor looked similar in its form, but there was no smoke here. Bodies were scattered around the place, some of them civilians, some of them cops. All of them dead. You traced over the room, searching for a specific table, and once you found it ran towards it, leaning Tara against it.

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?!” Sam was trying her best not to snap at you.

“Tara’s going to suffocate if we don’t do something” you answered, opening drawer after drawer to find the item you were looking for. “To our “luck”, Private Alice always holds an inhaler at her desk in case her asthma ever comes back.” Sam accepted this, and turned towards the places Ghostface could come after you.

You found it in the fourth drawer and immediately turned towards the younger Carpenter. You aided her to take it in her mouth and pressed down a few times, just to be sure. She looked at you gratefully after. Her coughing died down slowly, and you helped her up. That’s when you noticed that everything was quiet. No shooting, no footsteps above you, nothing. Was everybody dead?

As to answer that question, the door of the staircase opened, and a very dishevelled looking Kirby stumbled into the room, followed by Bailey and two other cops. You sighed in relief when you saw Vasco in their group. The greying man barked out some orders, and Vasco and two others walked over to you, surrounding the three of you, whilst he and the rest of the cops marched out. Kirby joined him, her gun also raised, eyeing every corner before she disappeared behind a wall.

“Vasco, what the hell is going on?” you asked, suddenly feeling very weak.

“He jumped out a window, after we surrounded him” he said, very quiet. Why was he so quiet?

Then he threw you a glance. The glance, turned into a full-blown stare, his face horrified. You saw his mouth opening, but no notes hit your ear. Your side throbbed of pain, and you looked over to see, why. When you saw the opening that had been carved into you, you did nothing. Nothing else than stare at it, whilst feeling your vision darkening, and getting weaker and weaker. The floor came quicker than you could realise, why it was even getting closer. Suddenly you felt the floor hit you with all it’s might before everything became dark.

#my stuff #fanfiction #please reblog #scream fanfic #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #tara carpenter imagine #Jenna Ortega #Jenna Ortega x reader #tara carpenter x you #fanfic #Scream #Wayne Bailey #Kirby Reed #Save Me From Her

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hoedamn-eron · 2 years ago

Text

what he didn't do

Being Miguel O’Hara’s partner was exhausting.

Warnings: Angsty. Not a happy ending. Edited on phone so prone to mistakes. Word count: 2,441 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Inspired by What He Didn't Do, by Carly Pearce. Sorry this is also late, I was supposed to post it yesterday.

Your relationship with Miguel O’Hara was…stagnant. Unaffectionate. One-sided.

But it never used to be. You both used to be head over heels in love, almost sickly so. Everyone would say that you were ‘good for each other’, that you were both what ‘everyone wanted to be’, and you would always shy away from the compliments, but you knew they were right. You and Miguel were soulmates, and you couldn’t help but feel a little smug when your friends gushed over you both.

He used to show up at your office, randomly, with flowers or a new outfit, claiming you would be going on a date after work. He’d take you away on spontaneous romantic trips, and you would be all over each other when you were together. How could you not be? He was gorgeous, and a wonderful man. You knew this was the man you wanted to settle down with and marry.

But now he was distant, and ignorant, and you barely spent time together. You didn’t know what changed.

You grimace to yourself. That was a lie, you did know what changed. He became obsessed with keeping the canon events rolling, so much so that you hadn’t really seen him in months. You don’t even remember the last time you kissed. All he did was spend his days sat by that screen, watching old memories of him and his daughter. You felt for him, truly, but he was so obsessed with the past, that his future was fading from him, and fast.

The last straw for you was when he missed your anniversary. You waited for him for two hours, in your apartment, where he said he’d pick you up after work. Your calls got ignored, and you eventually stopped leaving a voicemail every time. When you saw him the next day, coming home to your shared apartment late and in a blatant bad mood, obviously having no idea what he’d done the night before, you mentally checked out of the relationship.

You moved out of the apartment in Nueva York slowly, not that he’d notice, since he was never there anyway. You managed to wrangle the help of Peter every now and then, for the bigger pieces of furniture. After a month and a half, you were gone. You took your name off the lease and emailed a copy of it to Miguel. If he didn’t think so before, he definitely knew now that you were done.

But he didn’t…do anything. It was as if you were strangers. He didn’t approach you, didn’t come and beg you to take him back. He didn’t apologise, didn’t make it up to you. You gave this man years of your life, which now, you realised, obviously meant more to you than they did him. After this devastating conclusion, you tried to avoid Miguel as much as you physically could. Despite how pissed off you had been and how you had already mourned the relationship, it still hurt to see him, or even talk about him.

However, you worked within the Spider Society as a general PA. It was tough to get through this particularly tough period of your life when your friends kept talking about him.

“He’s more pissed off than he usually is,” said Jess as you meet up with her and Peter for your weekly lunch date at your local Spider King.

You choose not to answer her as you eat your fries.

“He isn’t getting laid anymore,” joked Peter before giving you a wince. “Sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s whatever. He wasn’t getting laid anyway, at least not from me.”

“Is that why you broke up?” Jess asked. “Did he cheat on you? I’ll kill him for you, if he did.”

“No, he didn’t,” you say quickly (you don’t want any rumours floating around) before you shrug.

“So what did he do?” Jess asked.

The question through you for a loop, and you frowned, thinking about it.

It wasn’t what he did, really. It was what he didn’t do.

He didn’t put you first. It was always about the canon events, how they had to keep ticking over. Despite there being thousands of Spider People, Miguel seemed to always have to be the one to fix it. He couldn’t just be with you, at home, just because he wanted to be at home, where you would have planned a movie night, or arranged a date night for you both. He didn’t fight for you when he found out you had left, he didn’t hold on to you for dear life, that you were worth something; he just seemed to accept the fact that you were gone.

But you won’t tell anyone that. You won’t tell them the Hell that Miguel had put you through, that you’ll leave people to guess about what happened. So you shrug at Jess’s question. “We just...fizzled out.”

It wasn’t technically a lie.

“That’s a shame,” Jess said. “I thought you guys would be end game. I was sure you were both going to get married.”

You snort an unamused laugh. “Me too.”

Your tone indicated that you didn’t want to carry on the conversation, and Peter, bless his soul, changed the subject to Mayday’s new daycare, since MJ decided she needed to socialise with ‘regular people’. She’d apparently found it hard to fit in. After lunch you give your friends a goodbye before you make your way back to your office. You try to keep your head down these days, since you want to avoid conversations like you just had with your friends (and honestly, you still couldn’t bear to bump into Miguel). You usually had no problem avoiding anyone but today, someone, somewhere, just wanted to see you suffer.

He was stood, outside your office, looking as gorgeous as he always does. For once, he wasn’t in his Spider Suit, just a pair of sweatpants and a too tight white t-shirt, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking down at the floor with that frown on his face, then one where he was deep in thought. Back in the day, you would have jokingly ‘smoothed’ out the lines in his forehead before giving him a kiss, telling him he needed to come out of his own head. You push the feeling of familiarity away before clearing your throat, pulling out your keys to unlock your office. “Can I help you, Miguel?”

“We need to talk,” he replied, his face as stony as always.

“What about?” you ask as you open your office door, walking through, still not looking at him. You felt sick. You weren’t expecting this today. You thought he had moved on, since he hadn’t spoken to you since you moved out over a month ago.

Miguel strides into your office and closes the door. “You know what about.”

You pause minutely before taking a deep breath and sighing through your nose. “Right. Okay.”

You take a seat at your desk, finally looking at him as he sat opposite you. He looked tired; or more tired than usual. Those dark circles that were now a permanent feature on his face were darker than when you last saw him. You wanted to tell him he had to take it easy, to start looking after himself, but that wasn’t your job. He wasn’t yours to worry about anymore.

You cross your arms and lean them on your desk, trying to come across as nonchalant, but you probably looked uncomfortable. “You wanna talk about the break-up?”

“Yes,” Miguel said. You both stared at each other in silence for a few moments before Miguel breaks it with a, “You broke up with me.”

You’re study him for a minute before you nod. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“If you have to ask, then it was the right decision.”

He gives you an incredulous look. He was always more emotive with you. “I know that I was working more - “

You couldn’t help it. You let out a snort of a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s an understatement. By the time I moved out, I hadn’t seen you in person for at least a week. And I was taking my stuff slowly for a month before. You didn’t notice.”

“I have to keep the canon events going, I can’t...I can’t not,” he says, sounding fed up; drained. “And coming home to you was the only thing that kept me going.”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?” he asks, his tone slightly harsh.

“Saying that I was the only thing that kept you going, like I was everything to you,” you say.

“You were - “

“Do you know how many times I caught you staring at your screen of old memories of you and Gabriella?” you asked. “How I waited for you every night for you to not come home? How you forgot important dates, like our anniversary?”

He cringes at that.

You look at him with an almost desperate look on your face. “I know that Gabriella was an important part of your life. I understand how you’re hurting, and you blame yourself for what happened, but you cannot let it overtake your life, Migs. You’re letting your past affect your present, your future, and look what’s happening.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let universes collapse?”

“No, Miguel, I’m not – “ you sigh, closing your eyes as you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “I know that you need to keep the canon going. I understand that it’s your job, but…it’s not your only thing to worry about.”

You open your eyes and his expression breaks your heart, especially after a few moments he whispers out, “I’m sorry.”

The room falls silent again. Your heart skips a beat like it normally does when you find yourself staring at him; he was so good looking, and rough around the edges, his soul calloused and scarred from years of hard work and demanding tasks, and the battles he's fought but you know he’s not as tough as he seems. He’s a real softy, really. You knew from when he used to be with you more, earlier in your relationship, when he would come home after a rough day and practically whine to be in your arms, his face snuggled in your chest.

Or when he would come up behind you when you were cooking in your kitchen, and he would wrap his arms around you. He towered over you, so he practically enveloped you every time he did it. And he’d always slowly sway you, even though there wouldn’t be any music. You’d always end up having a slow dance break from cooking, and you’d always end up giggling before telling him to go wash his hands because dinner would almost be ready.

And he was soft in the way that he used to whisper to you how much he loved you, how he was so happy to have found you, that he felt whole to have you, that he truly felt at home when you were around. He used to give you this smile, that you never saw around everyone else, but only when you were alone; it was a reverence that showcased the depths of his affection for you, that he trusted you, that he was safe with you, and you with him. You found solace with each other.

But that was gone now.

“All I wanted was to be put first,” you whisper, your eyes swimming in tears you hadn’t realised were there. “Just once in a while.”

“I can work on that,” Miguel says quickly. “I can…I can take a few less jobs, I can be at home more – “

“Migs,” you say, already shaking your head, a few tears slowly falling.

“Please, mi amor,” Miguel whispers, reaching over your desk to hold your hands tightly. Your chest tightens at the familiar nickname you hadn’t heard in so long. “Please, come home. I’ll get better, I’ll be better. I’ve been miserable without you.”

You want to make a quip about how he’s miserable most of the time anyway, but you hold back the comment. It would be spiteful, and you had moved on from being angry, and upset, and you were far from being spiteful. “I can’t, Miguel.”

“Please, mi amor,” he says again, his hands squeezing yours just a little tighter.

You don’t know what to do. This was the most you’d spoken to him in weeks…probably months, and he was begging you to come back to him. You were so torn. What if you take him back and he goes back to his old ways again, down the line? Would you be willing to give up more years of your life for Miguel O’Hara for him to throw them in your face again?

You’re ready to tell him no, to tell him to never contact you again, but you remember your relationship before. Now that he’d seen what his actions had done, would he put in the effort? Would he be willing to work on himself, to work on your relationship? You know that you couldn’t go back to the way things used to be, your trust in him has dwindled to almost nothing. And you were alone, picking up the pieces of your broken heart and he hadn’t even realised until you were long gone.

“I can’t,” you finally say, removing your hands from his. You swiftly wipe at the tears on your face, averting your eyes from his. “I can’t…put myself through that again.”

You can see his chest rising and falling just a little more heavier than before, and you knew you couldn’t look at him. If you looked at him, you would cave, and you’d be back to square one.

After a few moments, Miguel answers. “Okay.” He stands, and you still can’t look at him. You hear him walk away from you, reaching your door but he pauses. “I’m sorry, again. For everything. And for bothering you today.”

He quickly opens your door and stalks out, and you wince as he closes it with a slam. You feel your shoulders go slack, unaware that you were so wound up in the first place. You let yourself sit alone, silently crying for the end of your relationship with Miguel, romantic and otherwise. Maybe with some space and time, you could look into being friends again, but for now, you will close this chapter of your life and think back on your relationship with Miguel as a hard learning curve.

In the end, you’ll be okay. You always are.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x f!reader #miguel x reader #miguel x f!reader #into the spider verse #oscar isaac

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loopspoop · 9 months ago

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ごめん友よ. I just finished finals week, and alas had little time to write.

……….

There was a tentative knock at the door. Jigen and Goemon both stood up, and grabbed at their weapons, which they only just then realized had been in the car this entire time. They looked at each other as if calling the other an idiot without saying a thing.

There was another knock. Jigen went over to the door slowly and cracked it open. Fujiko rolled her eyes at his caution from behind the crack.

She pushed the door open, “Where is he?”

Goemon gestured at the couch, “Asleep. I would approach him carefully.”

She dropped her purse in Jigen’s arms as she passed, “Oh come on. He wouldn’t forget me. He probably just decided to forget your ugly mugs. I’ve definitely wished I could.”

Fujiko didn’t allow the boys to see her face of doubt as she walked past, over towards the couch, and sat on the floor next to it. He looked worse for wear. She was beyond glad that he was asleep now so that she wouldn’t have to face her fear quite yet.

She did not look back at the two men, “So what did you two get out of him?”

Goemon looked towards Jigen, hoping for him to take the lead, “I have been gone most of this time.”

Jigen, in response, looked down at Fujiko’s purse, “He said something about waking up near the museum yesterday,” he played with a tassel that was attached to one of the zippers, “but far as I can tell he doesn't know anything else, not why he was there, or anything of us, or even himself.”

They all desperately looked anywhere but at each other.

She hugged onto Lupin. She just needed to hold him one more time before he broke her heart. She stopped. He was completely on fire. It was radiating even through the thick comforter. She turned towards Jigen and Goemon accusingly. Her stare demanded answers, and told loudly of what would occur if they weren't properly provided.

Both of the men looked utterly confused. Goemon came towards Lupin to investigate the source of the problem. Jigen simply tried to ignore it, chalking it up to Fujiko having another moment with them. It wasn't all that strange for them to fight after all. But Goemon's confused and worried expression was enough to tell him that he was incredibly wrong in his assumptions. He joined by the other two.

“I do not understand, we gave him medicine. It was not this bad before,” Goemon had his hand against Lupin's forehead.

Fujiko grabbed at Lupin's hand for comfort, more for herself than him. But, moving his hand rattled several items out of the base of his sleeve. Pills. They were the cold medicine that Goemon had given to him earlier.

Jigen snatched them before Fujiko could, “What the hell?! Why didn't he take them?! Is he TRYING to kill himself?! He's already hacking up half his organs!”

“It is possible that his instincts told him not to.”

“What in the hell do you mean his damn instincts told him not to?”

“Jigen. Would you, in this situation, willingly accept pills from a perfect stranger? You would not know if they are in fact cold medicine, or instead poison or something more sinister. We have provided little reason for him to particularly trust us.”

“He ate all your food! And he's sleeping! That's pretty trusting to me!”

“You know Lupin is not stupid. He knows he has to eat food at some point. Or he will not be able to fight back or escape if necessary. Even if he does not know that is the reason he does it. And it is even more likely that he cannot help but sleep. We cannot know what he has been going through, but I doubt it has involved much of that. Though I am concerned that he did not try to hide those better. THAT is very unlike Lupin.”

They all went silent.

……….

Zenigata had long since arrived in the town. He had arranged for a new group of officers to assist him in his task, and again began to search for the new hideout, under the presumption and hope that they would still be in this place.

With the help of local officials, he was able to discover that there had been no rentals within the last three months, and this town was more well known for vacation homes for the rich. So, he took his cohort to investigate each home one by one. They had already gone through seven. Zenigata was losing hope that this route would work, but it was currently the best lead that he had, so he continued his search.

………

It was so so cold. He was in a large room. It was dark. He thought to look for a light somewhere, but everything seemed to get darker with every moment he tried. And his head hurt. There were glass cases all around, seemingly empty, and on what seemed to be the walls were paintings? He couldn't make out what they were paintings of. He walked towards one without understanding why. But it pulled him in for whatever reason. As he stood before it, everything blurred and, finally, disappeared.

………

“Well what are we gonna do,” Jigen snapped at the other two from the counter.

“We regain his trust enough for him to take the medicine willingly,” Goemon offered.

“And if we can't?” Fujiko was in the chair near the couch, watching her hand as she rolled the pills around within it.

“We wait until we can, whether by being trustworthy or through his memories returning,” Goemon was uncertain in his answer, but he did not allow that to shine through.

“How are we supposed to wait when he's getting worse by the minute?” Jigen was getting pissed.

“I am only trying to help Jigen. You can either accept my answers or propose your own. But the only other option I see is forcing them down his throat. I do not believe he is in that poor of condition to resort to such means. Especially considering the situation as of now. We have to handle this well or we may lose Lupin forever.”

Fujiko and Jigen went silent again. They hadn't considered that. They had still been thinking of Lupin as Lupin. But he almost wasn't.

Jigen thought back to the incident in the car. He had never seen Lupin so genuinely frightened. And definitely not with the emotion so very clear within every cell of his body. Jigen left the house. He needed time to think.

Goemon, upon seeing Jigen leave, decided that it would be a fine time for meditation of his own, so he retired to the backyard, leaving Fujiko with words of encouragement.

………

👀👀👀 I missed you Lupin anon! I hope your finals went well!! 😩 I can’t wait for the next bit!

#lupin iii #lupin the 3rd #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon #lupin the third #jigen daisuke #fujiko mine #zenigata #jigen #jigen lupin the third #not my work #not my fic

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paa-official · 4 months ago

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Recording No. 19

We didn't get any answers to anything and were just laughed at by Markus. After a few minutes, Xothar and Rundor came to take Markus to the city and interrogate him there. Xornud had called them while we were driving back to the station. I had also seen Rundor wearing a mechanical prosthetic as his hand. He gave me a dirty look when he entered the room.

It was all we could do but wait for Bristol to call so we could go to the Pentagon. And he hadn't called for so long that we drove back to the city that evening and waited for the next morning. But before we went to bed, I took a closer look at my watch. I wanted to turn off the tracker at home to avoid incidents like the one on the base.

Late in the morning, Xornud stormed to our night quarters and dragged us both to the train with two of his soldiers. The five of us then drove to Washington, D.C., where there was a railroad station similar to the one in Nevada. From there, we drove to the Pentagon in our human forms in a black Cadillac SUV, with me and Becka in the back seat.

During the drive, Becka had spent most of the time staring out the window as if she recognized the place. Then, as we drove past a park, I asked her >> Is everything okay? <<

She took a deep breath >> This was my territory. This is where I met Eriny. << she said quietly.

>> In this park? <<

>> No, by the monument. We walked along here once when he was on his way to campus. <<

I did my best to reassure her >> At least we know the Phalanx brought him back and he's okay. <<

She turned her head slowly towards me >> And what if all this doesn't work? Then no one is safe. <<

I exhaled and smiled at her >> It will work, don't worry about that. <<

They gave me and Becka visitor passes and then we followed the three phalanx wearing their disguises. I felt like I was in a movie Jenny had shown me about the Men in Black. And as cool as that feeling was, I was still worried that something could go wrong.

The large meeting room was already filled with people from the defense. Whether soldiers, ministers, officers or programmers, they had all been there. And they were all waiting to hear what Staff Officer Bristol had to tell them. And at the time, they didn't know that there were two aliens among them. And three lizardmen, but they weren't aliens because they were already born on the planet. But as I looked into the room, I also wondered who else could have been a Phalanx.

We sat down in our assigned seats and only a short time later the Minister of Defense entered the room. An older man with black hair and wearing a black suit. I couldn't see much more of him because I was further away from him. Someone on the podium announced him and I could actually see that Bristol was already on the podium, sitting nervously on a chair.

Everyone was quiet as the Minister of Defense walked up to the microphone >> Good afternoon and thank you all for finding the time to be here today. Last night, Staff Officer Bristol contacted me from Area 51 with some startling news. One that I didn't want to believe him at first. And I'm sure you've all heard what's happened to Area 51. Staff Officer Bristol wants to fill you in on the details and he's even brought someone with him. <<

He moved away from the desk and looked over at Bristol, who stood up and walked over to him. He thanked him and took the microphone >> Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for being here. I spoke to someone yesterday who has provided our military with valuable information for many years. I know how ridiculous this is going to sound, but what he told me yesterday is just shocking. <<

He paused for a moment to make sure everyone was listening to him >> There is an extraterrestrial race on its way to Earth to wipe out all of humanity so they can inhabit our planet themselves. <<

Disquiet settled in the room as everyone began to talk to each other. The collective murmur grew louder and louder and the apprehension in the people spread further and further that it made me feel sick. Becka also noticed me getting paler and held my hand tightly >> What's wrong? <<

I had to concentrate when I answered >> The fear in people is... is overwhelming. I also sense anger in some of them. <<

The Minister of Defense took the microphone again >> Now everyone please calm down. Officer Bristol is not finished yet. <<

The crowd slowly fell silent and Bristol spoke into the microphone again >> We don't know much about this species yet, although I had contact with them yesterday. Positive and negative. I would like to invite Agent X to the podium to further clarify the situation. <<

Xornud exhaled, but stood up and took one of his two people forward with him. The people in the room remained quiet as the two walked forward and stood at the lectern. Then Xornud began >> Ladies, gentlemen. My name is Agent X, at least that's what you can know about me. Two days ago, two individuals of the alien species called Griever, asked for our help. <<

While Xornud explained to everyone else what the problem was, Becka leaned over to me >> You still owe me an explanation about your empathy. << she whispered to me.

I looked at her in astonishment >> I told you I rarely use it. And only when it's necessary. Like in the fight against Markus. <<

>> I actually wanted to know where you got them from. <<

I sighed >> I don't know. I was born with it and all my life I thought I was the only one. At least until yesterday. Now I'm not sure of anything. <<

>> Do your parents both have dominant ability genes? <<

>> That's what I thought at first, but my parents are both shapeshifters. I didn't exactly get to talk to them much about the origin of my empathy. <<

>> At least you'll know what to do when we get back to the ship. <<

>> I rather hope I can talk to them about it when our people are welcomed on Earth. <<

Suddenly someone stood up behind us >> Excuse me, Commander Parker here. I have a question. Why don't we send some explosives to the ship? <<

In horror, we both turned around and took a closer look at this Parker. He looked about the same age as the Minister of Defense, maybe a little older. His brown hair had started to turn gray and his skin looked slightly wrinkled. He had rough stubble and a moustache. You could even see a metal cigarette holder in his breast pocket. He'd looked like he'd been cut straight out of the handbook for stereotypical > I-don't-like-him < generals.

The rest of the room turned to him as well >> Excuse me? << Xornud asked.

>> If we know where these aliens are hiding, then we can simply eliminate them very quickly. Then we won't have the stress of dealing with them afterwards. I mean, with our satellite systems we can certainly track them down. <<

>> And why should we take a violent path instead of a peaceful one? <<

>> You saw what they did to Area 51, right? Why would we risk letting that happen again? <<

The humans started murmuring to each other again. This time in agreement. I couldn't believe people were seriously considering this solution. There was a great opportunity in front of them and all they got out of it was war.

I wanted to stand up and say something to him, but the phalanx next to me held me by the arm and shook his head. Xornud had been a little disconcerted >> You don't think conventional weapon technology is going to be any match for the Griever ship, do you? << The commander laughed and spoke proudly from his chest >> You must know that our weapons have improved considerably in recent years. <<

Although the Phalanx held my arm, I still stood up and protested >> The Griever's technology is far too advanced for your missiles to do anything against the ship. It has force fields that can bounce off any weapon you launch. And if you attack first, it will be the last thing humanity ever does. <<

The room went quiet and Parker looked down at me from the elevated position >> And who are you, if I may ask? <<

Xornud cleared his throat >> This... is one of the Grievers. Apath, please show them what your people look like. <<

I looked at him again before taking on my real form. All the people in the meeting room gasped and tried to keep more distance from me. The Phalanx just grabbed his face and sank into his chair in shame. He already knew what was going to happen to him.

But Parker didn't twitch a muscle, except the corner of his mouth, so that his moustache danced briefly >> I was afraid that you were too scared to show yourselves to us. <<

I heard some people start to whisper about me and somehow I was proud of that. Maybe I could have finally convinced people to take peaceful paths. But Parker spoke to the podium again >> If these creatures can infiltrate us so easily, then all the more reason for us to launch a pre-emptive strike. Besides, we don't know if he's not just bluffing with the technology. <<

Again, unease spread. The commander's words turned my hands into fists. I could not accept that such idiots were employed in such high and important positions. During my two months on Earth, I got to know people in a completely different light. They were innocent, unsuspecting and open-minded. But this Parker. I still can't find the right words to describe him.

#literature #paa #paranormal activity agency #interrogation #case transcript #griever #nexus #reading #apath wilson #alien invasion #alien military #phalanx

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ranwing · 1 year ago

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Personal stuff (feel free to ignore)

Two weeks ago was the 3rd anniversary of losing mom, and admittedly I've been rather down for the past few weeks. I can't believe that so much time has passed, and that it still feels like yesterday. I started thinking a lot about those days when she was on hospice care when I lay in bed at night and the moments when it was clear that she was slipping away. There was the moment when I asked her who I was and she didn't recognize me. The moment when she lost the ability to swallow and I had to clean what she tried to eat for breakfast out of her mouth. I remember when the nurses explained that what I thought was sweat was her body forcing all of it's fluid out through the skin which was a clear sign that she might have only a week or two left. And watching my father holding her hand, sleeping in a chair next to her bed and telling her that it was okay to go.

There were so many wonderful things for my family after we lost Mom. My niece was awarded her PhD in psychology and is well on her way to making a name for herself in her field. My nephew graduated college and is starting to build his own career. My niece got married last October and yesterday she came over to tell us that she and her husband are now expecting their first child. There have been so many things that would have filled Mom with so much joy because there was nothing she loved more than her family. She would already be starting work on knitting a blanket for my niece's baby. When my niece told us, I started crying because all I can think about is how Mom was robbed of this. That her child will never know her great-grandmother and what an amazing person she was.

Mom wasn't just my parent, but one of my very best friends. We did so much together. I took her to see Adam Lambert in concert because we both loved him. We did Civil war reenacting with my dad and I remember the blue dress that she always wore for the first event of the season that ended up in every picture, which we called the FBD (fucking blue dress). I would take her to the Renaissance Faire with me, and dress her up in my spare corset and wench gear. She would read my fanfiction, offering suggestions and edits. We had so many wonderful, funny, amazing moments together and now it's all over. I can't begin to count the number of times when even now, my instinct is to call her from the office and just see how her day was going.

I've been crying a lot lately. A lot of people that have been through a similar loss warned that the pain will never entirely go away. It's long enough that the wound on my heart is now a scar, but it still hurt. I want to reach the point where the memories are bittersweet and not just painful. I want to think of her as she was in life and not those last moments when I lost her. It just hurts that life is going on and she is not a part of it beyond being a memory. It's not fair and I hate that she was taken away from me. It doesn't matter that I'm a woman in her 50s who had my own life. There are still those moments that I just wanted my Mom.

Thanks for listening. It's been a rough few weeks.

#personal stuff #grief journey #dealing with loss

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disdaidal · 2 years ago

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I can't remember the last time I've cried this hard, but I guess it was time.

So my new school is pretty much now pressuring me to find a place to train at, which is not stressful at all, because the workplace I went for an interview last week hasn't returned my calls or my email, despite the principal initially seemed genuinely interested in my application.

Thing is, I wouldn't be this stressed out at all but my new teacher made it pretty clear today that next week is gotta be the deadline for that contract - otherwise my studies really aren't going anywhere.

I also missed my doctor's appointment yesterday because I missed the train. I had to wait for that appointment for 3 fucking months, and because it's related to my financial situation (I'm really trying not to get more student debt, especially with the way how I've been and how I barely managed to keep my shit together during pandemic). Luckily I was able to talk on the phone with her and the social worker, but my new appointment was rescheduled at the end of the month. I also talked to my nurse on the phone a little after that; a nurse who I haven't seen in the last six months because all our appointments have been cancelled at the last minute. So I got a new one in September.

My sleeping schedule has been pretty much fucked up all July-August, and for the last two days that I've been going to the city and attending these classes, I've slept like 6 hours in total these two days. Both days I've come home feeling extremely drained (besides those 6 hrs in total, I napped all evening yesterday). And last night I slept something like 2 hours before school and when I finally got back by train a couple of hours ago, I tried to sleep on the train but I felt so nauseated that I thought I was gonna hurl. Needless to say, my car ride back home was all but fun.

When I finally got home and laid down in my bed for a while, I started crying. Like I know it's probably because I've literally slept like 2hrs last night and it wasn't even a deep sleep, so, think I've just had it. My body and brain couldn't take it anymore.

But when I was on the train, I was going to call the school's office (the one I went to that interview for), but naturally their calling hours had already ended at 2pm. I also thought about sending another email but like I said, I felt extremely tired and anxious; making more phone calls and sending more emails when I'm feeling this way really isn't the way I want to go again. Especially since I already tried both on Monday when they were supposed to inform me last Friday, and I haven't got any response since. Which is not very nice to be honest (my new teacher did comment it's kind of unprofessional of them, and I gotta agree a little bit there).

But seriously, the only thing that's even made my last two school days tolerable, were the other students in my class. I kind of took up smoking again (bad habit I know) because of all this stress and shit that's been going on with me lately, so at least it was an easy way to get to know some of our other students, and got to spend some time with them, so at least I didn't have deal with my worries all alone. Our Moroccoan student (whom I've talked a lot with; I got along with him already on our entrance examination on May) tried to encourage me today when we were smoking, and even said I could try and apply to the same place he works at - which is working with immigrants mostly. Since I did choose international studies as one of my optional subjects, that could also work, because sooner or late I'm gonna have to work/train at a place like that anyway.

But obviously my first and foremost goal right now is try to find a place near where I live because obviously traveling isn't cheap, and I might indeed have a couple of places around here in mind that I could ask for training opportunities.

In any case, if I don't get an answer by tomorrow (we'll have another long school day so I probably won't have any time to be making extra phone calls anywhere), I think I'm just gonna ditch this thing and start calling other places on Monday.

If this is how it's gonna be and I'm on a strict deadline here, I don't suppose there's any other choice. I'm not willing to give up just yet - though I admittedly thought of that for a moment, too. Since I've become somewhat depressed lately again, clearly, and that must have something to do with my bpd. Which is fucking *nice* because right now I'm supposed to be active and efficient so I can actually get shit done and get my studies properly started - and yet right now, I'm feeling all but that.

So I guess I'll go to another class tomorrow - we have a special day anyway as we're visiting a local museum at the end of the day, so. Maybe I can try to forgive myself for being the way I am and give this whole thing a rest until weekend. And if the teacher asks about it tomorrow as she might, I'm just gonna say I'm going try again on Monday.

Cause I really don't see any other choice right now. But again, I'm really not lying about this. I'm not feeling my best right now, and this kind of pressure and stress is not doing me any favors.

#personal #a vent i guess #i'm kind of losing it right now and barely keeping it together #i guess #i don't know yet

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tenebraevesper · 1 year ago

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Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged, Night 19: Is It Something Out There?

''We have no excuses for the pain and death of us. Look me in the eyes and hear my quiet cries, we won't ever see the skies. Is it something out there? This is the last moment that we both share. You can run but you can't hide, get ready for a ride!''

– Is It Something Out There? by Flannyr & Greeneyed Meganekko (Five Nights at Freddy's 2)

xXxXxXx

Springtrap closed the door to the abandoned office, while Sam was leaning against the wall, hugging herself. They managed to get away from the deranged Connor, hiding in the office, while he was probably working on the animatronics. Springtrap turned to Sam.

''Are you okay?'' he asked in a worried tone. Sam nodded, shivering. ''Now, I suggest that we should leave while Connor is occupied. However, if you feel that we should stay for a while longer, I'm fine with it. I won't let you get hurt by him.''

''Thanks, Will,'' Sam replied, feeling safer in his presence. She looked at the room, noticing the monitors. ''A security guard's room?''

''Pity there's no power,'' Springtrap said as he turned the flashlight on. He was alert as he feared that Connor would eventually come into the room. ''We could've spied on that delusional creep.''

''Speaking of creep, Connor was talking about a partner. I guess he meant Raven,'' Sam said.

''Going by the screech we heard, I assume that was the animatronic in question,'' Springtrap said dryly. ''Seems like Connor's partner either ended up dying in an accident or got killed by Connor himself.''

He kept silent after they heard a loud clanking sound, as if something heavy fell down. Sam flinched, looking at the door. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated what they should do.

''It cannot be helped,'' she said. ''We should leave, but I'm not done with this factory yet, and neither with Ricky's. Let's go!''

They quietly exited the office, with Springtrap briefly looking back at the hallway where they came from. He knew that things would be bad, but this was getting out of hand. He knew that Sam was disturbed by what Connor had done to whoever he mutilated, but they couldn't do anything for them. He knew that Connor was probably aware that someone knew about what he was doing and he feared that he would go after Sam.

After all, he showed a lot of interest in her.

xXx

Once they had arrived home, Springtrap locked the door, while Sam quickly darted into her room. As he got there, she was already on her laptop, looking at a news article. She looked up as he entered the room and showed him what she found.

''Seems like they put it up today,'' she said. Springtrap looked at the article, realizing it was a missing person alert for a girl named Bella Curtis.

''So, according to her co-workers, the last time she had been seen was yesterday evening, after her she finished her shift at Ricky's Wonder Shack,'' he muttered, reading the article. ''Her roommate, who was away at the day of her disappearance, alerted the authorities this morning when she couldn't reach Bella. They called her family, friends and co-workers, but so far, there are no leads. While they suspect that she might've left on her own, they're not excluding abduction.

'''We are doing our best to find her. Hopefully, we'll manage to return her home safely, says chief Burke.' They're never going to find her,'' Sam said, looking at Bella's photo. She felt sorry for her. ''I saw her at Ricky's the other day. She was the one who distracted Connor.'' She glanced at Springtrap, who seemed to recognize her as well. ''Spring?''

''I saw her before, also at Ricky's,'' Springtrap said, looking at Sam. ''There were two kids, twins, who were lost and I directed them to this girl so she could help them.''

''I see,'' Sam said. ''Hopefully they got the help they needed.''

''Actually, they did, as I met them again the last time we went to Ricky's,'' Springtrap said, tilting his head. ''They seem to like me more than the actual mascots at Ricky's.''

''Probably because you helped them,'' Sam said. ''Although, I don't know whether it's unnerving to know that you actually had an interaction with little children.''

''It's not like I hurt them,'' Springtrap said, getting a little defensive. He then sighed. ''I know what you mean and I can't blame you for asking that. After all, given my past, nobody would want to trust me being around other people, let alone being around children.''

''I trust you,'' Sam said. Springtrap perked up when he saw her smiling. ''Seriously, would I even insist on you being here if I didn't?''

''I know,'' Springtrap replied, turning his attention to the article. He frowned. ''I don't think this was intentional.''

''What do you mean?'' Sam asked.

''Bella Curtis' death. I don't think Connor took her to the factory to murder her, as it doesn't really make sense if you consider his previous actions'' Springtrap explained, with Sam looking at him attentively. ''We have assumed that Connor is trying to create haunted animatronics, probably some time after the death of his partner, who, at least for a while, had possessed the Raven. However, none of what we had found out indicates that that's his sole focus.''

''Now that you're talking about it, he just killed the security guard, but unlike Bella, he didn't do anything with him, except for leaving him at Freddy's. If he really was interested in creating another haunted animatronic, he probably would've taken him to the factory,'' Sam said. ''Or there would've been reports about people going missing at Ricky's.''

''Exactly,'' Springtrap said. ''You saw how Connor reacted when he approached the endoskeleton. He assumed that it was possessed by his victim and even told her that she didn't appreciate the robots, even though she was one of them.''

''Yeah. He seemes to be quite obsessed over those animatronics, calling them his friends,'' Sam said, shuddering.

''I believe that that the animatronics are his trigger,'' Springtrap said. ''He may not even have intended to kill Bella, even if he brought her to the factory. Instead, he murdered her because she disliked the animatronics, something he perceived as an insult.''

''I wonder what he'll do to people he believes that do appreciate the animatronics,'' Sam said.

''I think that depends on which animatronics we're talking about. You said that he didn't like the fact that you were more interested into the Freddy's animatronics than those from Ricky's,'' Springtrap pointed out. ''Although, this still doesn't explain why he made killer animatronics based on Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy.''

''Maybe he wants to repeat what happened at Freddy's, but this time, with the animatronics being the killers,'' Sam suggested.

''I hate to admit it, but you're probably right,'' Springtrap said. Although, even if we are correct about this, there's still something that doesn't make sense.

xXx

''Hi, Mum! What's that?'' Sam asked as her mother entered the house holding a box. Instead of answering, Emma quickly turned to Springtrap, who seemed to be a little startled.

''Could you please go and get my bag? It's on the porch,'' she said briskly, then turned to Sam, completely ignoring the bunny animatronic. Sam looked past her at the confused Springtrap, who shrugged and went to get Emma's bag. She then turned to Emma, who opened the box. ''Here.''

''Dolls?'' Sam rose an eyebrow as she took out an antique doll, which had Victorian era-styled clothes.

''Apparently, the grandmother was an avid doll collector,'' Emma explained. ''She gave me a few, saying that she had no need for them and she just wanted to get rid off them.''

''I see,'' Sam muttered, taking the dolls out of the box, with there being seven of them. She kind of felt like a little girl as she tried to set them up and examined their dresses. They actually looked pretty, despite the glassy stare.

''They're creepy.'' Sam turned to Springtrap, who put down Emma's bag and looked at the dolls.

''You're the one to talk,'' Sam replied, with Springtrap grinning mischievously.

''To be honest, the woman who gave me these said that she also thought they were creepy,'' Emma told the two.

''Well, anyone who has seen Annabelle or Child's Play or has played with a Furby knows that dolls are evil,'' Sam said sarcastically. Emma chuckled, then picked up her bag, rummaging through it.

''If you don't think of them as creepy, you could at least clean them up,'' she said, taking out a package out of the bag. She then grabbed the car keys ''I forgot to give this to Cassie. I'll be back soon.''

''Okay, bye,'' Sam said as Emma left, focusing on the dolls. Springtrap meanwhile looked through the window, watching the car pull out of the driveway and reveal a figure standing in the yard. Stunned, he stared at the figure, realizing that it was a little girl in a white dress, glaring at him.

''Spring?'' He turned to Sam, who gave him a confused look. ''What's wrong?''

''There's a little girl outside,'' he said, pointing at the window. Sam looked through it, but she couldn't see anyone.

''Springtrap, nobody's outside,'' she told him.

''I know what I saw. She was there,'' Springtrap replied in a defensive tone, with Sam still giving him a confused look. He feared that she thought that he was messing with her. ''I know it sounds strange, but…''

''Don't worry, I do believe you,'' Sam said, much to his surprise and relief. ''Let's go and check the yard. Maybe she's still there, only hiding.''

Springtrap followed her outside through the kitchen door, but as they scouted the back and the front of the yard, they couldn't find anyone.

''Do you think that she ran into the woods?'' he asked Sam as they went back to the kitchen.

''If she did, she wouldn't have a hard time finding her way out. There is a trail nearby that leads out. I have played in the woods when I was younger and, while they look like you could get yourself lost in them, it is just on this side. Hell, I bet that the red ribbons I left as markers on the branches are still there,'' Sam explained. ''Although, I do have to wonder what a little girl is doing outside. As much as I know, there are no families with little kids in this area.''

''To be honest, she didn't look exactly like she was lost. She seemed to be rather annoyed,'' Springtrap replied. Sam shrugged.

''Well, she isn't here, so I guess there's nothing we can do,'' she said as she went over to the sink, taking a rug and soaking it. She then went over to the dolls and picked one, cleaning it. Springtrap still felt tense, looking outside through the window, but he couldn't see anyone.

What is going on?

Lost in his thoughts, he observed Sam as she picked each of the dolls and cleaned them up. She was quite focused on her job, making sure to not miss a speck of dust or dirt.

''You know, even though I did joke about it, I have to agree that those dolls look kind of creepy,'' Sam said. ''I mean, I wouldn't want to wake up in my room in the middle of the night with one of those staring at me.''

''Oh, and waking up with an animatronic in your room is fine?'' Springtrap asked her sarcastically.

''Yeah,'' Sam said bluntly, with Springtrap looking a little stunned by her response. Suddenly, they heard a loud bang, which startled them. It sounded as if something fell over. They exchanged glances. ''What was that?''

''It seemed to have come from upstairs,'' Springtrap said, with both of them getting up. They went upstairs and when they entered Sam's room, they found one of her books on the floor. Sam picked it up.

''It seems like this is what we heard,'' she said, looking back at the shelf from which it fell down. Springtrap frowned, with Sam being aware that he was a little suspicious of what happened. He then glanced through the window, with a look of surprise on his expression. The girl was standing in the yard, right in front of the window.

''There she is!'' he said, with Sam rushing over, only to see that no one was outside. Springtrap looked at her, noticing her confused expression. She shook her head, with Springtrap not understanding how she couldn't see the little girl. When he looked through the window again, the girl was gone. ''I swear, she was there just a moment ago.''

''Springtrap, I do believe you that you have seen someone, but this doesn't make sense,'' Sam replied. Springtrap's ears drooped, as he couldn't explain why Sam couldn't see the little girl. Suddenly, they heard a scraping sound. Perplexed, they walked into the hallway, realizing that it was coming from downstairs.

''Don't tell me someone got inside the house,'' Sam muttered as she quickly got downstairs. They entered the kitchen, where the sound was the loudest. Springtrap stopped as he saw the little girl again, this time standing in the kitchen and giving him and Sam a death glare.

''Who are you?'' he asked, briefly glancing at Sam to confirm that she saw the girl as well. However, Sam still looked confused, unable to see the girl despite standing right in front of her.

''I don't like this place.'' Springtrap's attention turned to the girl, who was still glaring at them. ''I don't like either of you.''

''Wha-''

Before he could even finish his sentence, the little girl suddenly shrieked. All the cabinets and drawers flew open, with the dishes being thrown out. Springtrap had a split second to grab Sam and shield her from being covered in shards from the broken plates or sliced by the knives. Once it was over, they looked up, with the kitchen being now a complete mess and the girl nowhere in sight.

''What the hell?'' Sam muttered, careful not to step on any of the shards. ''What was that?''

''Haven't you seen her?'' Springtrap asked Sam, who shook her head. Her eyes then narrowed, with Springtrap guessing that she had figured things out.

''Of course,…'' she muttered, turning to Springtrap. ''You're dead!''

Springtrap frowned.

''I'm glad that you noticed,'' he said sarcastically. Sam shook her head.

''No, what I meant is that, you're a spirit and you even said that you are able to see other spirits because of that. Which means that the little girl is also a spirit,'' she explained.

''Okay, but if she's a spirit, where did she come from? It's not like there's another animatronic here…'' Springtrap said.

''It doesn't have to be an animatronic,'' Sam said. ''When did you see her first?''

''I saw her just after Emma left,'' Springtrap said, with the two realizing something. ''It's those dolls. One of them is possessed.''

Sam, avoiding the shards on the floor, walked over to the table where she left the box. She took out each doll, placing them on the table.

''One is missing,'' she said frantically, counting the dolls again. There were only six of them. ''I left it here on the table and now it's gone.''

''It couldn't have just gotten up and left…'' Springtrap trailed off, realizing that this was actually possible. He and Sam exchanged exasperated glances, with none of them being happy that they had now a spirit on the loose and the thing the spirit was attached to was gone.

''I'll go check upstairs,'' Sam said, with Springtrap nodding. He looked at the mess in the kitchen, figuring he could at least clean up a little while searching for the doll.

Sam had meanwhile checked her and her mother's rooms, then went over to Springtrap's room. To her surprise she found the doll on the couch. The doll had a frilly white and pink dress and a matching hat covering her curly hair. She also had white stockings and black shoes, white, porcelain skin, dark eyes and pink cheeks.

''I have no idea how you got here, but the hide and seek game is now over,'' Sam told the doll, wondering whether the spirit of the little girl could hear her. She walked into the hallway. ''Springtrap, I found it!''

''Great!''

Springtrap walked over to the stairs, noticing Sam waving with the doll that was in her hand. Stunned, he saw the little girl suddenly appearing, with her grinning maliciously. Then, she pushed Sam down the stairs.

''Sam!''

Springtrap attempted to get up the stairs, while Sam managed to somehow grab the guardrail, only to slip and fall over. Springtrap managed to catch her, getting knocked over, with both landing at the bottom of the stairs.

''Owww…''

''Sam, are you okay?'' Springtrap asked Sam, who was lying on his chest. She looked up, dazed.

''Nothing's broken,'' she said. ''At least I think so. However, my back hurts.''

Feeling sore, she lifted up the backside of her T-shirt. There were red scratch marks exactly on the spot where the girl touched her. She sighed, pulling the T-shirt down and glancing at Springtrap.

''Too bad she's already dead, because I would've killed her for this,'' she said in a deadpan tone.

''I guess it could've been worse,'' Springtrap replied dryly, with both of them turning their heads to the hallway, with Emma walking inside.

She stopped, staring at them, with Sam realizing that she was still lying on Springtrap, who had cushioned her fall, while holding the doll. Stunned, Emma then glanced at the kitchen, which was still a mess, despite Springtrap's efforts to clean it up. She then looked at both of them, putting her hands on her hips, now really angry.

''What the hell happened?!''

''We can explain it,'' Springtrap said, as he and Sam got up, with Emma crossing her arms. ''To keep it simple, you brought back a haunted doll.''

''What?'' Emma was surprised.

''So much about you telling me me not bringing something haunted back to home,'' Sam said sarcastically.

''I was talking about another animatronic, not a doll,'' Emma replied. ''Although, I can imagine that a certain someone would get jealous if you found another haunted friend.''

Springtrap glared at her, his eyes flaring purple.

''I can hear you, you know,'' he said. Emma raised an eyebrow, her expression saying Oh, really?. Springtrap kept quiet.

''Jokes aside, if this doll is haunted, then I'll have to do something about it,'' Emma said.

''You?'' Sam gave her a questioning look.

''Well, I brought it here, I'm responsible for it. Just like you are responsible for keeping Afton under control,'' Emma explained.

''Emma, don't talk as if I'm not here,'' Springtrap protested, but Emma ignored him, as usual. Instead, she extended her hand to Sam, expecting her to give the doll.

''Do you even have an idea what you're going to do with it?'' Sam asked, reluctant about giving her mother the haunted doll. Emma shrugged.

''Not really, but as I said, I'm responsible for this one,'' she replied. Sam looked at the doll, then pouted.

''Wait a bit,'' she said, shoving the doll into Springtrap's hands, who looked startled.

He and Emma exchanged confused glances as Sam went to the kitchen, avoiding the shards on the floor, only to return back with a silver platter, red string and salt. She then grabbed the doll, tied it up with the red string, put the silver platter on the coffee table in the living room and surrounded the doll with salt. She then gave the two a satisfied look.

''This should prevent it from escaping again,'' she said, then shrugged when her mother and Springtrap were still staring at her with perplexed looks on their expressions. ''It's just a precaution. I don't know whether it works.''

''Now I'm curious why you didn't use that on me,'' Springtrap said sarcastically.

''You're a different case,'' Sam replied. ''You didn't make things fly off the kitchen counter.''

''You have a point there,'' Springtrap said, sounding slightly amused. However, there was a question on his mind, which Sam picked up on.

''Yeah, I know. We have no idea how she's even capable of doing this,'' Sam said.

''Wait, could you please explain me what this spirit is and what exactly happened?'' Emma asked. ''I mean, I saw the messy kitchen and you two lying on the floor, but…''

''There is a spirit of a little girl attached to this doll, and only Springtrap can see her,'' Sam explained. ''She was the one who threw all the dishes on the floor and pushed me down the stairs. Luckily, Springtrap managed to catch me.''

''More like you knocked him over. You're lucky you didn't end up with broken bones,'' Emma said, sounding irritated and glaring at the doll. ''Why did she even do that?''

''No idea. She just said that she doesn't like either of us,'' Springtrap replied. ''Now, about the haunted doll, she did manage to somehow move it. I know that this is possible, but she's managing to move around without relying on it.''

''I think that the difference between you and her is the fact that you're possessing the animatronic suit, which is the only thing you can control. You use the suit to interact with your surroundings like a normal body. She seems to be only attached to the doll, but otherwise capable of causing chaos without the need to use the doll to interact with things. Where the doll goes, she follows, even though she seems to be capable of moving it around,'' Sam explained. ''In any case, we need to get rid off her.''

''Then, incinerate the doll.''

''We should incinerate the doll.''

''No!''

Springtrap and Emma said in unison, exchanging surprised looks, only for Sam to protest. She sighed.

''Instead of burning it to ashes, how about finding out who this girl is and what she wants?'' she suggested. ''Will, you should talk to her once she appears, since you're the only one who can see and hear her.''

''Okay,'' Springtrap said, although he was a little reluctant, as he had zero positive experience with the spirits of children. He looked around, but the girl was nowhere to be found. He shook his head, with Sam removing the doll from the salt circle and removing the red string from it. They waited a little, with the girl then appearing in the hallway. Springtrap glanced at Sam and Emma, who were still unable to see her, then turned to the little girl. ''Who are you?''

''I don't want to be here! I want my sister!'' the girl whined, still glaring at them.

''If you want to see your sister, you will have to tell me who you are,'' Springtrap told her.

''I want my sister! I want my sister!'' the girl yelled, stomping on the ground. ''I don't want to be here! You're all mean!''

''This is getting us nowhere,'' Springtrap muttered. ''Could you at least tell me your sister's name? Do you know it?''

The girl looked insulted, glaring at him with pure hatred in her eyes.

''Of course I know!'' she said proudly. ''Her name is Mary and I want he here! I want to play with her! NOW!''

Springtrap ignored her tantrum, turning back to Sam and Emma.

''She won't tell me her name, but she says that she's searching for her sister and that the sister's name is Mary,'' he explained.

''Mary?'' Emma repeated. ''The woman who gave me those dolls told me that that was the name of her deceased grandmother.''

''Maybe the grandmother had a sister who died when she was still a kid. It is possible that her soul stayed attached to one of the dolls,'' Sam said. ''Mum, could you give the woman a call and ask her about Mary, and perhaps find out where her grave is?''

''What are you planning to do?'' Emma asked her, a little suspicious.

''Isn't it obvious? I want to reunite two sisters by leaving the doll at the grave,'' Sam explained.

''No, you won't,'' Emma replied, leaving Sam stunned. ''I'll leave it there.''

''Mum, no offense, but I'm not so sure about this-'' Sam got cut off when the small vase that was on the coffee table suddenly flew on the floor, shattering. Springtrap looked at the girl, who looked happy about having broken it. Sam stared at the vase for a second, then turned to Emma. ''She's getting more violent and I have a bad feeling about letting you go alone.''

''Well, I'm not letting you leave on your own either,'' Emma replied.

''I don't think either you of you should go,'' Springtrap interrupted the two. ''In case you have forgotten, you cannot even see nor sense her presence. Also, the kid is unpredictable.''

He looked at the girl, who was pouting, only to give them a malicious grin. She then started to cry.

''I want my sister! I want to play with Mary! I want Mary!'' she screamed. Springtrap was slowly getting irritated, especially since he was the one one who could hear her annoying wailing. He understood that she was just a child, but given her behavior, she was all but scared of them. He felt more pity for the children he murdered than for this brat. It didn't help that he was still furious at her for attempting to break Sam's neck by pushing her down the stairs.

''Okay, we will all go together,'' Emma finally said. ''It'll be a few hours until we reach that town, though. Also, I'm not sure how people might react to man in a bunny costume inside a car.''

''I don't think they will care much,'' Springtrap replied. He glanced back at the little girl, who had stopped shouting and stared at him with a wide grin, which made him anxious.

Please, let this be a peaceful ride. Hell, I'd take that entity over this girl.

xXx

Springtrap sighed. So far, he had been sitting in the back of the car, with Sam in the front and Emma driving. Sam was holding the box with the doll, which she also covered in salt, just as another precaution. The little girl didn't appear, with Springtrap guessing that it was less because of the salt and more because of the fact that she finally got what she wanted. At least he didn't have to deal with her.

Before they left, Emma had called Cassie to get her friend's number and asked the woman about her grandmother. She confirmed that her grandmother had a little sister who died from pneumonia when she was young and that her grandmother used to bring her her favorite doll while she was sick and after her sister died, she continued collecting dolls. It was quite a sad story, but that didn't lessen the fact that, in Springtrap's opinion, the kid was still a brat.

In the end, Emma managed to get the information about Mary's whereabouts, even though the woman was a little weirded out by the question. Emma explained to her that her grandmother probably would want one of the dolls, so she was fine with that. However, she did admit that strange things would happen at her home and, after she gave Emma the doll, everything stopped. Sam guessed that this was the reason why she agreed to help them.

It was also quiet in the car, with everyone being occupied by their own thoughts. Springtrap was looking through the window at the landscape. To be honest, he felt a little weird about trying to find the spirit's sister in order to put her to rest. While it was obvious that Sam wanted to help the girl, while Emma wanted to take responsibility for bringing the doll to her home, there was no reason for him to be here. He had no connection to this girl, aside from being a spirit like her. Sure, he did tell the two that he'd come along to keep an eye on the girl, as they couldn't, but that's where he drew the line. He didn't want to have anything to do with this child.

As if I didn't have enough issues with dead children. However, they're gone. It would just be stupid to feel apprehensive in a situation like this, a situation which has nothing to do with me or my past.

Still, he felt anxious. Images of children's bodies lying in pools of blood, images of animatronics coming to life and hunting him down, images of his own children suffering… It all was burned into his mind. They lost their voices, but their actions showed that they either didn't care or weren't aware that they became murderers as well. Nothing would stop them from getting revenge on the man who did this to them. Someone would think that they achieved what they wanted when William found himself dying at the hands of his own creation, but they were wrong. It would've been a fitting punishment and almost poetic irony to have their murderer die in the costume he used to kill them, if it weren't for the fact that this was what William wanted all along. He could still remember their rage when they saw him get up and laugh at them. At least they got to enjoy watching him getting sliced by the springlock suit.

I have really no excuse for the death and pain I caused them.

''Is something wrong?''

Springtrap was startled by Sam's question, noticing her looking at him. He also saw Emma glancing at him via the rearview mirror, looking quite suspicious. While he did want to talk with Sam about it, he didn't want to do that in Emma's presence.

''Not really…''

''Why don't you just pretend that I'm not here?'' Emma said, causing Springtrap to frown, despite there not being any malice or teasing in her tone. She really just wanted him to ignore her and talk with Sam.

''That is going to be quite difficult,'' he replied in a deadpan tone. Emma rolled her eyes, but didn't make any further comments, probably satisfied with the fact that he felt uncomfortable.

She could give that entity a run for their money.

Even though he didn't want to discuss what he had in mind, he figured that he should still bring up something else that occupied his mind.

''I was wondering about your definition of the difference between attachment and possession,'' he said, looking at Sam.

''To be honest, that was just an idea I had,'' she said, scratching her cheek nervously. ''I'm not sure if it's correct, though.''

''It does make sense, in a way,'' Springtrap said.

''Of course it does,'' Emma said, interrupting the two. ''I admit I don't know as much as you two do, but it seems that spirits tend to attach themselves to whatever they feel emotionally connected to. However, while the emotional experience can be positive and negative, it still needs to be strong enough to keep the spirit from moving on. Or am I wrong?''

''Technically, you're right, but I think that depends on the situation,'' Springtrap said. Emma narrowed her eyes.

''I know that, Afton,'' she said. ''After all, how else should I explain your attachment to Sam?''

Both Sam and Springtrap looked a little flustered, despite knowing that it was true and were quite aware of their situation. Still, instead of making up an excuse, Springtrap decided to continue the argument.

''It is not that hard to get attached to her. You even said that she's the only person who cares about me,'' he said. He and Emma then glanced at Sam when she facepalmed. ''Sam?''

''Sweetie, what's wrong?'' Emma asked in a concerned tone.

''Haven't you two figured out how annoying your arguments are sometimes?'' Sam told them. ''I mean, I know that you both have a chip on your shoulder, but give it a rest every now and then.''

''Don't worry, sweetie, I will,'' Emma said in a kind, firm tone. ''I don't know about Afton though.''

''Don't mind me, Emma. I can keep out of conversations with unreasonable arguments,'' Springtrap said in a polite and charming tone as he glanced at Emma. She nodded.

''I see. I am glad that you think that my arguments are reasonable. You do make an interesting conversation partner, Afton,'' Emma said.

''That is nice to know. Thank you,'' Springtrap replied.

''You're welcome,'' Emma added, then turned to Sam. ''Is that good enough for your? Are we now please allowed to continue with our usual conversation? Pretty please, with a cherry on the top?''

Sam sighed, knowing that she should've expected her mother to troll her. What she didn't expect was that Springtrap would play along. She glanced at the bunny animatronic, who tried to feign innocence, despite the wide grin on his expression and glowing purple eyes.

''Do what you want,'' she said in a resigned tone.

''That's good to know,'' Emma muttered as they were driving past a fenced area. She then turned into the nearby lot, stopping in front of the entrance to a scrap yard. She then looked at Springtrap, who was stunned. ''It was nice knowing you, Afton, but this is where you have to leave. If you want to know, yes, you were an inconvenience to us. Now, I wish you goodbye!''

''Mum!'' Sam yelled at her, now furious, while Emma started laughing.

''Really funny, Emma,'' Springtrap said in a dry tone, although he was actually quite amused by her antics. ''Have you even considered that I could find my way back to your home?''

''Damn it, I didn't,'' Emma said, trying to sound serious. However, she was still grinning.

''You really need to come up with a better plan next time,'' Springtrap added, chuckling a little. As she calmed down, Emma pulled out of the lot and continued driving.

''You two are so immature!'' Sam said, still annoyed.

''Weren't you the one who told us we could do what we wanted?'' Emma said. ''Also, you were complaining earlier about us not getting along.''

''I didn't mean that,'' Sam grumbled. Springtrap leaned over to her.

''Don't worry. Everything's fine,'' he said in a comforting tone.

''I hope so,'' Sam replied, with Springtrap noticing her smile.

xXx

After arriving at the graveyard, Springtrap remained in the car, while Sam and Emma took the doll to Mary's grave. Sam placed it down on the grave, stepping back and joining her mother.

''Honestly, I didn't expect that the day would end up like this,'' Emma said, looking at the grave. ''I hope that bringing her here was enough.''

''I believe that it is,'' Sam replied, with Emma putting her arm around her shoulder and drawing her closer to her, with both observing the grave.

Unknown to them, Mary's little sister had approached the grave, looking a little disappointed. It seemed as if she still was in denial about her sister having already moved on, while she was stuck here. Taking a deep breath, she then walked towards the grave, vanishing.

Springtrap watched the event from the car, knowing that the little girl had finally moved on. He observed Sam and Emma, who looked quite happy and content, despite the weird situation they found themselves in. There was a sense of emptiness creeping through his chest, with him feeling again like an intruder who shouldn't be part of their lives. He leaned back, staring at his hands and clutching them. He closed his eyes, focusing on that feeling of emptiness.

As much as I don't want to leave Sam, I know that I cannot stay here forever. Eventually, I will have to leave too.

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#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

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saiilorstars · 2 years ago

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Ch. 21: The New Tutor

Fandom: Harry Potter (Hogwarts years 1-7) Pairing: Draco x OFC

taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @foxesandmagic

Story Masterlist // Romina’s Masterlist

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

After the first DADA class, it was like Romina regressed back into her summer mood where she was extremely silent and reserved, only showing her face when absolutely necessary. News about the odd Boggart she'd face (and ran out on) had spread like wildfire amongst students, no matter the years. Even Lilah King had asked Arden what exactly happened to Romina. Arden wished she could know too, because Romina wasn't much about talking these days. The only ones who were there either didn't know - as was Harry's, Hermione's and Ron's cases - or simply refused to speak. This was solely on Draco, and no matter how many times Arden bugged him for a right answer, the blonde refused to give it out.

"I'm waiting for something," he would tell her before insulting her to get away from her.

Others, like Carolinha, Angel and Daphne, would try to talk to Romina when she'd grace them with her presence for meals. When they weren't attempting to talk to her, Harry, Hermione and Ron were.

"Just leave me alone!" Romina would end up shouting at them until she left or they did.

Even when the first trip to Hogsmeade rolled around, Romina paid no attention to it despite having her grandparents' signatures on the permission slips. Everyone was excited about their first trip to the winter wonderland place they kept hearing so much about...all except for Romina.

"But c'mooooon!" Arden whined like a child as she followed behind Romina in the common room. "I hear there's this incredible sweet shop we have to go to!"

"Then you go and please don't bother telling me about it afterwards," Romina stopped by a bookshelf to retrieve a book she knew Pansy had hidden from her two days ago. For some reason, Pansy was acting even more rude towards her - and that was saying something considering she usually only battled against Arden. To say, even Pansy was teasing Romina about the Boggart incident.

"Well you don't have to be rude about it," Arden huffed and noticed the Transfiguration book Romina was cradling in her arms. "But it would be incredibly fun to go and just try everything!"

Romina once again shook her head. She left the bookshelf to return to the writing desk she'd been working at. "I'm not going and that's that."

"To Hogsmeade?" Angel's voice made both girls look at the hallway for a second. He was already dressed for the first go in warm clothing complete with an orange beanie. "You're going, right, Romina?"

Romina gave him a dead serious look. "No. I told you this both yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. I am not going."

Angel moved over to the desk. "We can go to Zonko's, you know? You could use a laugh! Or," he quickly blocked Romina from getting away, "we could go get some nice butterbeer I hear is really good."

Romina sighed and looked around, honestly feeling like the extra attention was too much. "Guys, what's the big deal if I don't go? Besides, I have to go see McGonagall anyways. She's been calling me since yesterday and I'm afraid what she'll do if I don't show up today."

"Okay, then we can stop by her office and then head over to Hogsmeade afterwards!" Angel insisted. "C'mon, Romina, I think this would be very good for you."

"Sounding a bit desperate there, Angel," Pansy came into the common room fixing her jacket. Behind her came Carolinha and Daphne.

"Least she's got someone asking her to go with him," Arden snapped. "Last time I checked, you're more alone than a dog."

"Least I'm not desperate enough to have someone do my work," Pansy shot Romina such a nasty look that the latter was frozen with surprise.

"Pansy, what are you—?"

"Don't talk to her like that!" snapped Arden.

"Oh, shut up, Arden. I'll hex you. I've been learning."

"Leave the hexing for the outside, please," Draco came in, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as was per usual. "Preferably while I have a drink in hand."

"In your dreams," Arden pointed at him first before continuing with Romina. "Rom, please, let's just go out."

Romina shook her head. "I just don't want to go. What's the point in going somewhere if I'm just going to be sour all the time?"

"But why be 'sour'?" Carolinha put air quotations around the keyword. "It's about that Boggart thing, isn't it?"

"Leave it alone, Paes," Draco suddenly warned. Romina shot him a suspicious look, one that was followed by Angel's and even Pansy's. "If Oswell doesn't want to go then let her do whatever the hell she's got planned…" he then eyed the Transfiguration book on the desk, "...no matter how boring."

Romina rolled her eyes. He had yet to speak to her directly and then he comes out with that? It didn't help that Pansy, in all her excitement, dragged him away. She slammed her book shut and got up from her table. "I'm gonna go see McGonagall," she muttered and walked out shortly after.

~ 0 ~

With most of the school gone for Hogsmeade, it was a lonesome and quiet walk down the hallway. She headed up to McGonagall's office where she was sure she was already being waited on.

"Come in," the professor motioned her to take a seat at her desk.

"Am I in trouble?" was the first thing that flew out of Romina's mouth. Suddenly, her 'I don't care' attitude seemed more like a facade than anything else. This, McGonagall saw.

"Do you think you ought to be?" she asked the young girl. "You have not turned in any of my assignments since the term started. To be quiet honest, I'm concerned with your grades however, your head of House doesn't seem to be as concerned as I am. Seems his class is the only class you bother to turn in assignments."

"Potions?" Romina said, her nose scrunching. "I haven't been turning anything in..." She knew for a fact she had yet to turn in one single assignment for any of her classes. The fact that it was McGonagall who had caught on to her streak was perhaps the most expected thing. Still, that left the matter of where these so-called potions assignments were coming from.

"Normally, this is a conversation you would be having with professor Snape seeing as he is, of course, your head of House but I took the liberty of stepping in because I have something that might help you out," McGonagall said. He moved a plate of biscuits on the desk towards Romina. "Eat."

Romina silently reached for one of the biscuits and took a bite. Admitting just to herself...they were kind of good. "What...exactly do you mean by that?"

"Before this term, it was my understanding that you had an affection for Transfiguration. Your skills certainly showed that. I have no doubt that if you continue like that, I'll more than likely see you in my N.E.W.T. class in the future. In the spirit of making that happen, I am assigning you tutoring."

"Tutoring?" frowned Romina. "But you just said that I was good at—"

"You misunderstand, Miss Oswell," McGonagall cut her off. "I am assigning you to be the tutor."

"Huh?" Romina blankly stared at the woman. "Come again?"

"Since it seems like my lessons no longer interest you nor challenge you, I am giving you the responsibility of replicating these lessons with another student." McGonagall was nothing if not stern with her words. What she said was law and even Romina wouldn't be able to get out of it. Still, Romina was going to try.

"But professor, I'm just a 3rd year! I can't teach anyone!"

"Oh, I'm sure that you can teach a 2nd year student," McGonagall shrugged. "She's very smart if not slightly misguided about the art of Transfiguration. I'm sure you'll be able to help her. All she really needs is to practice."

"But—"

"It's either you tutor her, or I gather up your professors and we all communicate with your aunt and uncle about this. I haven't seen Sage or Caplan in many, many years."

Romina was done with her biscuit and returned the leftovers to the plate as an act of defiance. She leaned back in her chair, very much put out with the circumstances.

"Of course..." McGonagall lowered her head, her eyes looking up from her glasses, "Should you wish to talk about whatever is bothering you, we can also do that too."

Romina crossed her arms. "I am not bothered by anything." Lie. She was bothered by many things at the moment.

"Very well," McGonagall said, "She's already waiting for us in my classroom."

"Already?" Romina's eyes widened. "Who's — I don't know what I'm supposed to teach her!"

"It'll be fine," McGonagall stood up from her desk, "Follow me. I'll introduce you to her and give you some instructions on the way."

Romina let out a huff as she got up from her chair and followed the professor out. They walked together to her classroom and sure enough, Romina learned that the second year girl was to learn some specific transfiguration lessons. What irritated Romina the most is that they were lessons that she did know how to do which meant that she could teach the girl something.

"Miss Lovegood," McGonagall said as she led Romina inside the class, "I've brought your new tutor."

Romina saw a petite girl standing at the front of the classroom with the longest, straggly, blonde hair she had ever seen. She had bright blue eyes and a sort of lazy smile about her. She was a Ravenclaw too.

"Hello," the girl greeted and Romina wondered if her voice was naturally soft.

"Miss Oswell, this is Luna Lovegood, one of my 2nd year students," McGonagall introduced, "Miss Lovegood, this is Romina Oswell, your new tutor. Twice a week you will meet here to gain a little more practice on our lessons. Is that clear?"

"Mhm," nodded Luna, her eyes still glued to Romina.

"Better get started then," McGonagall said, specifically eyeing Romina. "Let me know how it goes."

Romina begrudgingly nodded and watched the woman leave. She sighed. "Well, it's nice to meet you Luna."

"It's nice to meet you too," Luna said, "Although, I already know you."

"You do?" Romina eyed her curiously. She was sure she would remember Luna.

Luna leaned forwards and whispered. "You're the girl afraid of adults."

Romina swallowed hard. It seemed like nobody had realized what her boggart had taken to making up theories instead. Being the the girl afraid of adults was just fine with her.

"It's okay, though," Luna continued calmly, soothingly, "I find most adults have a troubling aura around them. We just need to be careful."

"Uum...right…" Romina looked down and noticed Luna wasn't wearing any shoes. "Um, Luna, where are your shoes?"

Luna glanced down at her bare feet and shrugged. "They've mysteriously disappeared."

"Uuh...shouldn't you tell your head of House?"

"That's okay. Last year the same thing happened and they were returned by the end of the year."

Honestly, Romina could tell this would turn out to be an interesting session. At the very least, it would be entertaining enough to distract her for a while. Luna turned away from Romina and faced the golden goblet McGonagall had left behind for them to work on.

"Professor McGonagall was most kind when she said you would help me with transfiguration," Luna began to say while Romina opened up Luna's Transfiguration book on a desk.

"Yeah, well, don't be fooled. I'm good but...I'm pretty sure that Hermione would be a better tutor than me..."

"Professor McGonagall knew what she was doing," Luna said matter-of-factly. "She probably thought you could use a distraction from your Boggart problem."

At that instance, Romina whirled around. "Luna, you can talk about whatever you want but not that, alright? Anything else is fine. Seriously."

Luna gave a nod, still smiling warmly. It sort of made Romina feel guilty for her sudden lash out. Luna was, after all, a year younger and completely innocent of any problems Romina had.

"Why don't we just get started?" Romina decided then. "Professor McGonagall said that you were having trouble transfiguring certain objects." Luna raised the golden goblet from the desk, her eyes blinking exceptionally slow. "Right, like that."

"I keep telling professor McGonagall that we might be hurting them."

"Hurting...what?"

"What we're using to transfigure, of course."

"Luna, that's just a goblet. I can see where you're getting at with the animals but professor McGonagall had told us that it doesn't hurt the animals."

"But how do we know for sure? Have we asked them?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then should we really be using them for our lessons?"

Romina was left speechless for a minute. Smiling, Luna carefully settled the goblet on the desk between them and waited for Romina to give an answer.

~0~

The school was still stark quiet when Romina called it a day with Luna. It turned out the girl was rather eccentric, a bit funny but Romina liked it. Luna offered a pure distraction and, plus, she was a sweet girl who cared about the oddest of things. In her thoughts, Romina didn't spot Harry coming out of professor Lupin's office and bumped into the boy.

"Harry?" Romina spoke his name, confused by his presence.

"What are you doing here?" the two asked each other at the same time.

"No permission slip for Hogsmeade," Harry answered first and waited for Romina to go next.

She bit her lip and gave a nervous shrug. "Didn't feel like it."

"What? You didn't want to go to Hogsmeade?" Harry incredulously said. You shouldn't even be surprised. Romina had been way too depressive ever since the boggart incident. It was obvious that Hogsmeade wouldn't be on her to-do list.

"Why would I?" Romina shrugged again. "Better off here where nobody can see me. Besides, I just had a tutoring session."

"What, you're being tutored?" Harry blinked. "By who?"

"Other way around," Romina motioned a 180 movement with her finger. "I'm the tutor in this equation. McGonagall put me to tutor some second year girl because apparently I'm good at it."

"You are," Harry said. "I know you've been slacking off this year but you were really good at that. Better than Hermione, honestly."

"Oh, don't let her hear that," Romina said, making a face. She loved Hermione but nobody could deny how defensive the girl got if she wasn't the best at everything.

Harry half smiled. "I'm glad you're doing something academic again. It's weird seeing you not even try with your work. You're brilliant, Rom."

"Thanks," Romina said, and suddenly she was looking at Harry curiously.

"What?" asked the boy, confused.

"Have you been turning in my Potions assignments, by any chance?"

Harry didn't laugh in her face out of sheer politeness. "Are you kidding? I can barely keep up with my workload, let alone someone else's! Besides, Snape hates me. He'd know if I did someone else's work. Why?"

"It's just..." Romina was even more confused than before, "When we were talking about my classes and homework, McGonagall said that the only class I wasn't slipping in was Potions. And I know that can't be right because I have not been turning anything in to anyone. And it's like you said, Snape would know if someone was doing my work."

"Not if it was another Slytherin," Harry said without a second thought. "It's no secret that Snape favors those from his House. Maybe it was Arden."

"No, she would've told me by now and made a big deal out of it too."

"Well, maybe Angel then," Harry said, shrugging, "He seems to really care about you."

"Yeah, but I feel like he would've—" Romina abruptly stopped talking. Something had flashed across her eyes and Harry wasn't sure what it was.

'Least I'm not desperate enough to have someone do my work'

Pansy's words were on repeat inside Romina's head. What's more, she remembered something one of the their early Potions classes.

Draco had started cutting the uneven roots — all of them — with both of his hands.

"Oh, he wouldn't have..." Romina mumbled under her breath. The idea was laughable...and yet...

"Rom!" Harry snapped his fingers in front of her face, startling her. "Hey? You okay?"

"A-aha," Romina swallowed hard. "I have to go see somebody. Scuse me."

"What?" Harry turned after Romina, even more confused than before. "What's going on?"

"Nothing! It's — it's stupid!" Romina called back. "See you later, Harry!" She dashed off.

~ 0 ~

Truth be told, and this Romina would admit later on, she probably should have thought longer about what she was going to say. However, at that moment, she was just so fed up with all the confusion and erratic behavior of Draco Malfoy. She was going to find him and make him explain himself. That came after all students were to come back from Hogsmeade for dinner. She was pacing back and forth in her dorm when the rest of her friends started walking in.

"You're back!" she stopped midway.

Each of the girls were pink-faced from the cold day, but that didn't stop them from being giggly messes and carrying their shopping bags.

"Romina! You would love Hogsmeade!" Arden said as she dropped a bag on Romina's bed. "I got you some sweets—"

"Are the boys back too?" Romina cut her friend off and even looked at Pansy and Milicent for an answer.

"Yes, with the others in the common room, messing around," drawled Pansy, "Why?"

"Don't worry about it," Romina said sharply. "Is Draco around?"

"Why?" Pansy frowned.

"Normally I'd disagree with anything she says but in this case, she's right," Arden said, "Why?"

"Because he owes me an explanation!" Romina left it at that and stormed out of the room. She went straight to the common room, eyes scanning through the groups of returning students. It didn't take long to find him and when she did, she stalked right over and grabbed Draco by his uninjured arm and pulled him aside.

"Hey, hey, hands off!" He ordered her immediately.

"Shut up and listen!"

"What, gonna ask if I bought you anything like King did? Or Angel?" Draco's smirk was shortlived when Romina smacked him repeatedly. "Hey!" He frowned and grabbed both her hands. "Stop it!"

"You stop it!" Romina said frantically. "Stop being so fucking confusing! It's either you're mad at me or not!"

"Right now, I'm more or less concerned for you," Draco said, annoyingly calm which just made things worse. "Is there any reason why you're acting even more insane than usual?"

"Because of you!" Romina pulled her hands out of his grip and pointed one sharp finger at him. "I'm gonna ask you something and if you know what's good for you, you'll answer with the truth. Have you been turning in Potions assignments to Snape as if they were mine?"

"Yeah."

"You better answer—" Romina froze when his answer registered. Little by little, her face scrunched. "Wait — you have!?" Draco nodded. "Why? Why would you — aren't you mad at me?"

"Yeah, but that's one thing and what you're doing in your classes is a completely different thing," he said, explaining as if it were completely obvious to even the dumbest person.

"You should come with a translation book because I don't get a thing that you're saying right now!"

Draco scoffed, about to laugh at her. "Nu-uh, you're insane but you're not stupid. You know exactly what I'm talking about. And I know exactly what you're doing. That boggart you ran away from — we both know who it is."

And just like that, the color drained from Romina's face. "Shut the fuck up right now," she warned.

"Not until you admit that those two were—"

"I said shut up!"

"—your parents!"

"They're not my parents!" Romina argued and only kept his voice low so as to not draw any attention to herself. "I don't know who the hell that boggart turned into and you shouldn't be turning in any of my assignments! If I want to fail, that's my business!"

"A business you'll regret when you get out of this funk," Draco said, continuing with his calm streak. It was even more infuriating for Romina. She was unraveling and she knew it but by God she would not admit it. "I'm doing you a favor, Oswell."

"A favor that I'm sure you'll get me back for," Romina said without missing a beat. "Because that's how you operate. I know you demanded that Arden do your History homework last year in exchange for that paper in Hermione's hand when she was petrified. If you do this for me now, you'll just ask for something in return later so I would rather go to Snape right now and tell him what's been going on!"

Draco turned her right back around when she made a move for the entrance doors. "I think the fuck not!" He squeezed her arm to keep her in place. "If you do that, then we're both goners. I will not have my record tarnished because you're having an episode of denial."

"Denial!?" Romina grew more outraged by the second.

"Yeeeees!" Draco said sharply and loudly, much to Romina's alarm.

"Shut up!"

"You're completely in denial about who your parents are and the fact that you look remarkably like your mother—"

"I said to the shut the fuck up! You are — let go of me!" Romina pulled her arm out of his grip. "I don't know what you're saying. I have no mother!"

For a minute, they stared at each other, neither one with the intention to back down. Draco's expression was a flatout 'you're in denial'. He never thought he'd see Romina like that, honestly. She was usually so calm and collected but this was a whole other side of her.

"Stop turning in work for me!" Romina said again. "You're going to get caught! How you haven't is beyond me!"

"That's kind of flattering—"

"Oh my God, it's like talking to the wall! Do you hear any of my words when I say them!?"

At the question, Draco scoffed. "I think the whole bloody castle can hear your words. You're very loud when you want to be."

"Then listen! I don't know what your game is but I don't want to play! Besides, last time I checked, you don't consider me a friend anyways!"

"Again with that—"

"YES!" Romina couldn't help herself and yelled. Why was he being so calm about everything? "Don't you remember? You humiliated me in front of our friends and for what? Because Pansy told you that I laughed? In case you didn't know, Blaise and Theo laughed too!"

"Yeah, but there's a difference," Draco said flatly. "They'll laugh at anything. I laugh at them. You, however, wouldn't have laughed if it had been your precious Harry Potter on the ground."

"To be fair, Harry wouldn't have gotten himself into that situation in the first place," Romina blurted out and immediately saw the ire that flashed across Draco's eyes. "Sorry, okay!" She exclaimed quickly. That one was on her. "I just meant — Harry listened to what Hagrid told us. You didn't. And yes, I did laugh, and I felt guilty so I came to see you and apologize but you never even gave me the chance. You just...kicked me out." The anger which nowadays seemed permanent on her face disappeared for a moment.

In the three years that Draco knew Romina, he could not count on one hand the times he had seen her look remotely sensitive about anything. It just wasn't her. So now he had no idea what to do with this version of her in front of him.

Romina sensed that she had overshared her actual feelings on the matter and acted quick to brush it off. "But don't you worry, I don't intend on letting you embarrass me like that again. And if I want to drown, then you let me. Maybe that's what I want."

Draco watched her turn to leave. He didn't know if she had heard him or not but he spoke nothing but the truth. "Well, it's too damn bad that I just don't listen." With that, he took off after her, seized her arm and pulled her right beside him and continued the walk towards the dorms.

"What are you doing!?" Romina immediately tried prying his hand off her arm. "Let go of me!" She tried pulling away from him, feeling rather smushed at his side.

"Either you walk with me or I tell everyone right now who the boggart was," Draco made the threat quietly and calmly.

"You wouldn't dare." As soon as the words left Romina's mouth, Draco stopped walking, gave her a look and then turned back to the common room. She panicked the moment he opened his mouth. "Okay, okay, okay!" she said quickly, her hands in front of her. "Don't— please don't!"

Content that he had gotten her full cooperation, Draco grabbed her arm again and walked her into the hallway.

"I said I'd come. You don't need to grab me like this," Romina muttered, still trying to pull out of his tight grip.

"Can't have you running on me," was his simple response.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because you're not one to let yourself drown. It's actually pathetic, really."

Romina scoffed. "Oh, well, thanks. Guess I can't even do that right."

Draco let her go when they reached her dorm. "No, you can't," he said bluntly, "And to make it clear, you're doing it all wrong!"

"Yeah, I got that, thanks—"

"No," he pointed at her. She shoved his finger away from her face. "Between you and me, we can agree that we both know what that boggart was."

It physically pained Romina to admit to it. The strain was all over her face. "I don't know them," she insisted.

"No, guess you technically wouldn't but the thing is, the whole world knows about them. You want to make it clear that you're not their daughter? Act like yourself again, not this ruddy brainless doll you've become."

"Hey!" Romina frowned.

"You're floating but if you keep it up, you're going to fall. You're going to dig up a hole that you won't be able to climb out of. Start doing your fucking work, start talking again, and start arguing again! I miss that!"

Romina blinked at him. To his credit, Draco's gaze did not waver. He knew exactly what he said and he was not going back on it.

"It's boring," he said in the end.

"...admit you were wrong then," she said suddenly.

The surprise was too much; Draco laughed. "What?"

Romina crossed her arms. "I don't think you get it. You kicked me out in front of our friends. You humiliated me and all for some stupid girl who fed you lies. Admit that you were wrong about that."

"The best I can do is give myself 30% of the fault," Draco shrugged. "You did laugh at me."

"No fucking way! The best I can do" — she mimicked his voice — "is give myself 30%. You kicked me out."

"Yes, so you keep saying. How about 50% then? You laughed, and you let King insult me too."

Romina didn't budge. "Thirty percent. You let Pansy brainwash you!"

"Did she lie about you laughing?"

"Well, no, but—"

"You're more upset that I listened to Pansy than you," Draco said as if he just noticed the fact. He leaned a little closer to her face, smirking. "Why is that, Oswell?"

Romina could not take his smirking face. She paid him with the same coin. "Why'd you go up to the creature in the first place?"

There was a brief period of silence that followed after the two questions. Neither one could answer the question without slightly incriminating themselves with ideas that would not bode well for either side.

Finally, Draco spoke. "Fine. Take your 30% then."

Romina smirked victoriously. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Does this mean that you'll go back to doing your work?"

"Maybe," Romina shrugged. "I am a little bit behind in all my classes..."

"Little bit?" Draco had the suspicion that it was not a 'little bit' at all. "You should get help with that."

"Maybe I will," Romina nodded. "And by the way, you can get rid of the sling now. Think you've made it very clear that you're hurt."

"Nah, it's getting me some good attention."

Romina scoffed. "No!" She sighed, her eyes falling over the infamous sling. "Hey, want to see something cool?"

"From you?" Draco scoffed. "That'll be the day."

Romina shoved him away, ignoring his laugh. "Give me a second!" She said then disappeared in her dorm.

Inside, her friends were surprised to see her so excited as she searched for something in her trunk.

"Romina, are you feeling better?" Arden called from her bed. "You want to try some of those sweets now?"

"In a sec, Arden! Aha!" Romina had found what she was looking for and dashed out of the room again.

"What are you— hey!" Draco had not expected Romina to grab his arm and pull him away from her dorm. The last thing she wanted for some nosy people to listen in on them.

"You know what this is, right?" Romina twirled a black marker between her fingers.

"Yes," drawled Draco, "What are you doing with it?"

"I wanted to show you a little muggle tradition they have, sort of to make a person who got hurt feel better," Romina pointed to his sling, "And despite the fact you are not actually that hurt…"

Draco scowled. "You want to go back to 50%?"

Romina laughed and made a gesture that she would stop. "So anyways, when a muggle gets a cast or something along those lines, other people usually write a little something on their cast or sling."

"What for?"

"To make it fun, I guess? Can't be that fun wearing a cast or a sling I imagine. Like one of my friends back in my neighborhood, Nadine, she loves basketball. I mean, this girl breathed, lived and sweated basketball—"

"What's basketball?" It seemed like Draco was losing her track more and more.

"Irrelevant but it's a muggle sport. Anyways, Nadine got hurt one time and her entire leg had to be in a cast so while she was downm the rest of us wrote little positive messages on her cast. Others doodled and left something funny for her to see every time she got sad."

This time, Draco followed but his face was unsure. "And...that's what you want to do...to me…?"

"If you let me," Romina shrugged. "I won't write anything mean if that's what you're worried about. I'm not you."

"Wow, looks like you want to go up to 60%..."

"Alright, alright, so can I?"

"What are you going to write?" Despite sounding unsure, Draco had already let her take his arm in the sling closer to her, and by extension him as well.

"Something simple," Romina pulled the cap off the marker and scooted closer. Her curls sticking out mildly tickling Draco's face.

He watched her lean forwards and began writing something on his sling. It was a little difficult but she managed to get the ink to stay. Draco tried to see what she was writing but her head was covering it. Her scent filled his immediate area and he discovered she carried a faint rosy-like scent with her.

"There!" Romina raised her hand to reveal small words.

Happiness is a warm puppy - Romina.

"What is that?" Draco didn't know whether to laugh or get mad. He did, however, considered taking the sling off now.

"It's a Charlie Brown line, stupid!" Romina groaned. "You cannot go in life not knowing Peanuts."

"I know what 'peanuts' are!"

Romina made a motion of frustration but took a breath to calm herself. "That's not the peanuts I was talking about!"

"This is ridiculous," Draco concluded after re-reading the message.

"But you're smiling…" Romina pointed at him with the marker in her hand. "See? It works."

"Yeah, well you're smiling too," Draco directed the marker back at her face.

"Not the point!"

"Quiet!"

"You can't just tell me 'quiet' because you're losing!"

"'Losing'? Losing at what!?"

The two began going back and forth with pointless arguments. And all was well with the world again.

6 notes · View notes

canichangemyblogname · 4 months ago

Text

work rant below the cut:

Apparently, my coworker told my boss that she feels like she’s managing me and my job isn’t getting done. After she informed me of this, I looked at her, “How do you mean?” “You planned the our clothing charity drive some two or so weeks before it started.”

Okay? It got done.

I called all our community partners who have been drop-off locations every year, asked them if they wanted to partner again, and got an answer from all of them within 26 hrs (all yes). I then told them I’d drop off the donation boxes at a specific date and time. And that was it for logistical planning. After that, I sent the flyer over to our promotional guy and got that and the press release out in time for the event. That press circulated for 6 days at the beginning of the drive and then another 6 before the end.

It takes about two work days to do all of that (most of it is waiting). But I remember her—my coworker—telling me, “The fact that you’re planning this not even a month in advance is stressing me out.” (The drive started on Dec. 9th, I reached out Nov. 18th.)

Okay??? Because I didn’t do my job to your satisfaction, I’m not doing it at all? Or adequately enough? TF you mean? Because on Nov. 19th, she looked over and asked me, “Hey, have you reached out to the right people to plan our winter clothing drive,” and I responded, “Yeah—I got in touch a yesterday and heard back from all but one as of this morning. Press will be ready for approval end of this week, maybe next week,” she feels like she’s managing me? Was I supposed to announce, “HEY!!! I AM CURRENTLY CALLING ONE OF OUR COMMUNITY PARTNERS RIGHT NOW,” every time I contact someone so she knows I’m doing my job? I already cc her on all relevant correspondence! You’d think the fact that it all got done is evidence that I did my job.

I am staffing EVERY event. I am planning all but TWO events a year. And they all go successfully. The charity drive went well! I came in on MY DAY OFF, NOT her, to collect the donation boxes and start sorting the donation. She has NO idea what I do and when I do it. And then she tells my boss that she feels she’s managing me because she thinks she “reminded” me about the charity drive (she did not).

“But what if one of them said no, then you’d have no time to back-up plan?” First, having a couple work weeks after first response does give one plenty of time to ask another community partner. This event does not require any real logistical planning. Second, our boss has been partnering with the same locations since 2014. If one of them said no, it’s easy to find another. But also— they were not going to say no.

I took care of all the donation boxes. I even took care of regular pick up (she only did pick-up a couple of times, and both times were right after I announced to the office that I was leaving to do pick up, be back in 30 mins). And this is mostly because in the past when she’s done it, it pissed her off. She finds it tedious and a waste of gas (because she drives a gas guzzling truck). But sorry I don’t reach out and plan an event like this three-six months in advance because I don’t have anxiety and regularly catastrophize?

Like??? I literally sent out triple the e-blasts this year than usual because I was planning it. And I was planning it because she didn’t want to. And I didn’t ask her to do her LITERAL job (she’s the outreach and events manager) because she seems constantly pissed off and stressed and very clearly hates her job. And I’m more than willing to provide her the benefit of the doubt because of life circumstances. She *is* stressed! Life *is* hard! She comes into work in tears a lot. She has to go home early because of pain a lot. And that’s okay! But it seems nearly impossible to have a conversation with her anymore. I’ll ask her, “Good morning, how are you” and get silence in response. I ask her about her service dog and how he is (because he brings her lots of joy). “Good.” She’s always short with me, and I’ve been starting to think it’s *because* of me. But I don’t want to think that way; it’s not fair when considering her circumstances. So, I just don’t make requests. Avoids the “I have so much on my plate right now” or short “fine” responses.

And don’t even get me started on the fact that my boss often doesn’t even drop off our donation boxes for the drive often until *after* the drive has started (she keeps them in her storage unit, and I’ve asked her to stop that).

But then my boss is like, “Yeah, I don’t think you’re getting things out on time” because we had to reschedule a public meeting from Jan 13th—and I was not the one who originally picked that date—to today because circumstances changed with the new year and my boss can no longer meet on Monday mornings. That, and because we had the holiday off and I was not able to get the press to circulate quicker than the week of the 6th due to the holiday. So, Mon. 13th was a no-go. The press just wouldn’t have circulated long enough to let people know.

And this is how events go in our office all the time. My boss’ schedule changes last minute and we have to change things around. You plan thing 6 mo in advance and you can guarantee my boss won’t be there because she doesn’t know her schedule 6 mo from now. She wasn’t at several big-big events that required lots of logistics last year (all of which I planned completely) because of this, something she was dissatisfied with.

And also because she’ll tell me she wants an office newsletters to drop—like—the day before she wants it to go out. I am not going to be able to put it together and then leave her time to completely redo it (or rewrite the whole thing using AI) before the end of the work day when she tells me at 11 am-1pm that she wants something to go out at 10 am the next day.

And my boss also told me, “It seems sometimes like there’s a bit of a power struggle between us, and there never should be.” There’s no power struggle, I just fail to see the point of spending hours on something that she eventually redoes with AI. She changes everything last minute. I see no point in planning intricately 3-6 mo ahead. And this was after she told me that I can’t post about things I care about (all very milquetoast vaguely liberal-sounding ideas) anymore on SM associated with my government name because people will complain, I represent her and the office, and she as the owner of the business and me as the manager are held to a higher scrutiny.

And then she had the audacity to tell me that I shouldn’t let my job hold me back from transitioning because “screw what other people think.” Right after telling me that I had to comport myself so as to not piss off randos on the internet because they might invoke her name, business/office, and reputation. Which is it? Become boring (her exact words)? Or “screw what others think” (also her words)? I can’t do both.

Does she think transitioning won’t piss people off? Does she think it isn’t political? Does she think my existence isn’t offensive to most people? Does she think it makes me boring to others?

As long as I work here, I will not have the privacy I need to be happy and comfortable. All I want is privacy, and I can’t get that.

I would also like a coworker who takes initiative to do her job instead of sitting there seemingly to see if I’ll eventually jump in and “do [my] job.” And who does her job without fucking whining about it and talking about how much she hates it.

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