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warrior-cats-rewritten · 1 year ago

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So major changes to AVOS, please let me know what you think. The seasons are going to be changed as well for Aesthetic.

Main POVs are Sparkpaw/pelt, Violetkit/paw/shine, Twigkit/paw/Skybranch, and later on, Puddleshine. Alderheart has very, very few chapters. Mainly his are only at the beginning of Apprentice's Quest.

Violetkit is put into Windclan with Needletail as Heathertail and Breezepelt's firstborn daughter (Smokehaze and Brindlewing being born with her earlier). I don't know which queen fosters her but I have the feeling it'll be a "unofficial oc". One of the unused names from the Kittypet vote that Wafflepaw one.

Windclan is struggling with their arrogant, selfish leader, but Shadowclan is struggling with their "I never wanted to be here in the first place" leader who refuses to act.

Heathertail mentors Violetpaw, but it is hard for her. She put herself up for ages as an independent cat but now has to watch her father admit that:

A. He wanted to run away from Windclan and become a kittypet

B. He sired a child with a kittypet that he planned to run away with.

C. Then turned his back on them both, tossing them out when Smoke revealed she had been wanting to be in Windclan the whole time, telling them they would never succeed despite Brushclaw being a successful warrior and Windclan being welcoming at the time.

Sparkpelt is only not wanting to help Skyclan because Molewhisker DIED on the way there, and her beloved grandma Sandstorm was murdered by Darktail. She doesn't want to face that trauma again so soon, and people won't stop talking about how Firestar wouldn't do this.

Shadowclan and Windclan both get wrecked, Shadowclan fusing with Riverclan (setting up future tensions) and Windclan merging with Skyclan.

Shadowclan's territory is burnt up badly by Darktail, who now has Windclan's territory as his own.

Violetpaw does not attack Twigpaw, instead she is simply shoved into her, she still feels bad about getting her hurt, even if it wasn't her fault. Needletail helped raise her, but she has complex feelings about this, she doesn't like Needtail's love of violence and Needletail (with Onestar) suggesting the separation.

Ivypool is not a bitch about Dovewing's love-life, instead she does want to go on the patrol, but Bramblestar is the one preventing it. Twigpaw sneaks out anyways with Lionblaze and Fallen Leaves' help (as they were on guard duty), going with Spark and Ivy to find things out. Which oddly lines up with Violetpaw sneaking out as well. The two sisters go it alone, though Sparkpelt fusses over them.

More under the cut!

They see the spirit sign and grieve together. But Violetpaw needs to set things right with everything going on with Needletail. Twigpaw isn't as deterred, and she finds Skyclan.

When Riverclan is attacked, they aren't driven out completely, it is just a display of power, the battle is a stalemate, Mistystar losing a life, and a chunk of Riverclan being taken prisoner.

The Kin are fucking HUGE. They're a big group, enough that the Clans are genuinely having to fight hard for this.

Upon this, Sandstorm's sacrifice, the weaponization of fire, and Violetpaw's misery that she herself inflicted, Needletail realizes this is beyond fucked up. She still gets imprisoned with the starving Riverclan cats though.

Violetpaw's espionage really fucks with her. She is constantly looking over her shoulder. Her relationship with Needletail is strained as hell but Needletail sacrificing herself to save Violetpaw caps it off. It saved her life but it doesn't undo the harm Needletail caused.

In the end, Onestar does die doing the right thing for once. Does he go to Starclan right away? Absolutely not. Prison Sentence for you, boy. But he feels he deserves it and is fine with going. The problem is reflected on the Clans, and while some have the xenophobic knee-jerk reaction to just blame Darktail, a lot of cats realize that the rebellious young cats of the Clans have a point.

Chunks of Kin cats join the Clans, happy to be away from Darktail. Sleekwhisker remains though, swearing that Darktail will live on, his legacy will remain. No one knows what she means by that...

It is deep into Winter and things are TENSE. Food is scarce, and cats are restless. Thunderclan has welcomed in Skyclan, under the pretense that they will find a home eventually.

They're trying, but when the Leader and Second in Command of Thunderclan are at odds, things are split.

Sparkpelt isn't given a 180 to make Alderheart look better. Jayfeather is anti-Skyclan, Cherryfall is anti-Skyclan (mainly because of Mole's death), and some others. It's a sensitive topic (though Berrynose is very much pro Skyclan because if they leave his son died for nothing)

Violetpaw actually gets to break down to her family and cry, because she is not thankful to Windclan for taking her away from her sister, and penalizing her for being different. She tells Harestar otherwise, not wanting to be rude.

Twigpaw says she wants to finish her education first, and continues on a bit in Thunderclan, miserable as she is, she wants to prove to them she is worth something.

Violetpaw is kitty autism, she struggles with social cues and understanding emotions sometimes such as Hawkwing speaking about Pebbleshine making him happy. Twig is also kitty adhd, she is hyper curious all the time, and interrupts others often, which can get on Violet's nerves. But Violet can also be blunt which sets off Twig's RSD.

Twigpaw is named Skybranch after she returns to Thunderclan, the third name Bramblestar has ever confidently given a cat after Lilyheart and Seedfur. She gets it later though, since things in Thunderclan are tenser than a bowstring.

Finpaw still loses his tail, but Violetpaw and the other apprentices are his buddies rather than Twigpaw.

Sparkpelt receives the Prophecy "The Dark Sky must not herald a Storm" after finding Needletail's spirit near the Windclan border during a solo hunt. She tells Alderheart and he stupidly tells the rest of the medicine cats.

All the apprentices want to see Twigpaw, so they all have a secret meeting at the lake where she breaks him out of his shell and he talks about his insecurity about his tail. They bond with these secret meetings and he joins Thunderclan.

Sparkpelt is angry Alderheart went to the Twolegplace when he said they'd go together, he doesn't want attention but NEEDS to be the hero. He gets into a fight with Dandeliontuft and Sparkpelt when they save him because he's insecure.

Ivypool and Tigerheart BOTH go after Dovewing, working together and finally reaching an understanding (Super Edition: Tigerheart's Light)

Snowbush doesn't die, but his leg is amputated.

Violetshine gets together with Tree and Zelda, who stays with the Clans (along with Loki moving to Shadowclan)

Twigpaw is finally given her name, Skybranch, but she doesn't look happy. When pressed during the ceremony, she tells Thunderclan that she has made her choice. She'll always have some love for them, but she loves her sister more. Skybranch leaves for Skyclan with Finleap, and does not come back.

Tree is also a tolly, going by they/he pronouns.

Briarlight doesn't die from the sickness. They immediately move her into Hollyleaf's old Tunnels area, watched over by Hollyleaf and Strawberrytuft (renamed Hollytuft)

Yarrowleaf and Conefoot are found and want to rejoin the Clans instead of Yarrowleaf and Sleekwhisker.

Leafstar is no longer as angry, instead she is visibly stressed out trying to keep everyone happy, and asks the cats of the others Clans "no more shuffling around right now, PLEASE. Skyclan needs more time to settle and find our old clanmates."

Fuzzball actually (completely by accident) gets through to Jayfeather, and when Jay realizes when an ass he's been, he finally changes for the better. Still sarcastic, but less mean spirited, more wanting to actually joke with others. Fuzzball stays in Thunderclan, becoming Fuzzyleaf, a Keeper. He is Jayfeather's mate. His job is to organize and help keep the camp clean.

The Clans like the idea of a Mediator but there is struggle on who to pick for the other Clans.

Sparkpelt and Dandeliontuft are running around playing nurse while this happens, wanting to help their brother out.

More than just Yarrowleaf's kits are taken. I haven't decided who yet, however. But this results in not only Rowanstar's death, but also Conefoot. Died protecting his nephew and niece against their own father, killing Nettle as he drops from blood loss.

More related to Tigerheart's Light, but more Guardian cats come along too.

Blossomfall and Ivypool are mates, their sire is Thrifty, a Loner tom. He looks just like Thriftear! Blossom gives birth just as Dove, Ivy and Tiger get back, the kits slightly overdue, as if they were waiting for their other mom...

Ivypool and Dovewing have a proper goodbye, and there are no hard feelings. None of the shit we got.

When Alderheart visits Velvet in a rare POV for him to bring back her Fishy, he promises that he will come back, that he will visit her. She gives him what is known now as Velvet Thyme and Hattie gets a cameo.

He goes to the Moonpool but the only chat he gets with Starclan is Sandstorm telling him that Thunderclan is in for some troubled times ahead, he just sighs, replying "I know."

Rowanclaw is referred to as Rowanstar in Starclan, out of honour.

Sparkpelt mentors Flypaw, understanding her a lot better and working with her.

Violetshine also takes an alternate path in life, making Sandynose even more of an insufferable prick. She wants to become a Nurse-Maid (permaqueen) and begins her training for that with the other Queens. She is sick of violence.

Sparkpelt is racing with Flypaw to get some energy out when they overhear the medicine cats arguing about the Deathberry Cure.

Dandeliontuft is the one to suggest the cure at all to Alderheart. "Perhaps the deathberries killed the infection, allowing its body to just fight the tiny amount of poison instead."

Flypaw doubts herself heavily, thinking she will never be a Warrior. Sparkpelt gives her encouragement about it, telling her that she will be the most quick-witted Warrior in Thunderclan.

Finleap starts pressuring Skybranch to have kits. He will eventually get shut down, and in the end he leaves back to Thunderclan and will fall into the Imposter's Claws later in life.

Leafstar isn't this oddly aggressive leader, she just wants Skyclan to thrive, and is willing to compromise. Juniperclaw is the antagonistic force here, refusing to agree with Tree's terms. Instead of a random Quick Time Dog Event, Juniperclaw just leaves in a huff. He wants Skyclan GONE.

Violetshine snaps at him for saying Skybranch owes him, telling him that he's an idiot.

Shadowkit has genuine epilepsy, it is treated with valerian but... The outcome looks bleak. This leads into Tawnypelt's Vision. Tigerstar is staying in Thunderclan's camp to keep an eye on Puddleshine, and keeps Shadowkit with him, until Tawnypelt takes him with her to the Tribe to try and heal him, or at least get things under control.

More cats than just Sparrowpelt are poisoned. Cherrytail, Petalnose, and Billystorm all get sick. Leagstar loses a life.

Puddleshine POV (he might be the Shadowclan POV after Violet leaves) going to the Moonpool after his recovery, where he gets the sign, but also talks with Conefoot about the Clans needing to work together, a vision of Fivetrees. Ancient words ring. Unite or Die.

Harestar is most giving to Skyclan, though he acknowledges that Wind land isn't really suited for Sky cats hunting style. Bramble neutral leaning to against, that they should go back to the lake. Tigerstar is for them to stay, but Mistystar says it would be best for them to go back. After all, Darktail is gone, why are they still here?

Another Puddle POV (ooh) where he puts together that some deathberries are missing. He smells Juniperclaw's scent on them and FREAKS. He tries to tell Alderheart but the boy feels defeated. He feels like everything was for null.

Sparkpelt finds Tree and Zeldaheart, who miss Violetshine terribly since Skyclan has left. Sparkpelt swallows her nerve and, after sending Flypaw back to camp, she will track down Skyclan. The TRUE Spark That Remains.

Meanwhile, Dandeliontuft and Alderheart both go over to Shadowclan's territory carrying herbs, pretending to want to give some extras over as goodwill and check Puddleshine and Shadowkit over.

Upon the realization that Juniperclaw poisoned Skyclan to make them leave, he is not only stripped of deputyship. He is exiled.

Sparkpelt argues with Bramblestar about going after them, calling him out on ignoring their plea when he was the one who made the "All Clans Stick Together" LAW IN THE FIRST PLACE, learning that Skyclan was poisoned... She decides to do it her own way. Spark steals a few traveling herbs, Larksong comes with her, and they go off after Skyclan together with Tree and Zeldaheart.

While on the journey, the rain makes it hard to even see, the cats staying near each other, shoulder to shoulder, nose to tail. Everyone is terrified.

Leafstar loses a life drowning before Ebonyclaw can get her out of the water.

Skybranch finally cuts Finleap off. Enough is enough. She doesn't want kittens, ever.

When they get back, the Clans are in full panic mode, remembering the Great Storm and also the fact that a little kid is missing.

Violetshine dives into the water to save Shadowkit but gets swept further through the rushing water. Juniperclaw manages to save them, but he stares at the Shadowclan cats, the cats he tried to kill off...

"I'll never be able to say it enough, but Skyclan... I'm sorry."

It isn't a redemption. It's him paying with his life to tell these cats he is sorry, that his threat is no more.

Skyclan settles into their space, the Clans all expanding outwards further. Sparkpelt sees Firestar's suddenly next to her sitting calmly, watching with pride. Time seems to stop for a moment.

"The 5 Clans need to face threats together. You united them once more. Sparkpelt, I'm so proud to be part of your family."

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whatavery · 11 months ago

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The Night We Met (Gift)

A birthday gift for my lovely boyfriend @circusb0nes featuring his OC Charles Spider and Mozzie Alonzo, everyone's favorite pianist cat. A short little story I'd planned out for how they met, the seeds for their future relationship were sown.

The cover image is a small part of a bigger image, which can be found in full here!

Part I: Shine

Despite it being late March, the wind still had a certain nippiness to it as it swept over the sidewalk. Charles Spider was seated by his soap box, a smile on his face as he’d turn his head towards passersby. The bright blue eyes that saw everything and nothing met strangers’ eyes and those that weren't too intimidated by the sight came up to him to have their shoes shined. He worked quickly and diligently to make sure each and every shoe was as shiny and clean as could be – just like if it had come from his shoe shop.

He hadn't had anyone stop by in a little while, even now as it was about the time of day that people got off work. Sitting there in his warm coat, a smile on his face, Spider looked like he was perfectly content with life, despite being on the cold street by his lonesome.

He could barely sense the moving form of an approaching stranger, but just barely. He could hear their footsteps just fine, however “Ah, good day, sir! How do you do? A fine day, ain’t it?”

Spider didn’t get a response, but the gray cat’s smile didn’t falter. He knew some people just weren't at all talkative, but he didn’t let that deter him from doing his best. Spider had done shoe-shining long enough to be able to completely polish and clean each shoe in under a minute. He worked hard and fast, intent on getting ever last bit of dirt off the stranger’s shoe. With his impaired vision, Spider had to be thorough to make sure the work was done correctly. Even without being able to see, he could sense the resistance that grit and dirt offered, could sense when the shoes were clean by the way his cloth would so smoothly slide across them.

“There you go, sir. You have a good day,” Spider said with a bright smile on his face. The stranger still said nothing, but as Spider held out his hand he felt a bank note being placed against his palm, much to his surprise – along with something else. He got to feel the stranger’s rough fingers momentarily brush his, though as he could hear them leaving, Spider inspected what else had been placed into his hand.

It was a small, metallic object and at first Spider thought it to be a coin, but further inspection disproved this. As he pocketed his money, Spider inspected the object. It had a single stem-like protrusion and three rounded ones that were considerably larger – a club shape. Shrugging, Spider pocketed it along with the bank note. A curious little gift, he thought to himself, but it was a nice surprise regardless.

Spider didn’t stick around for too much longer, just another hour till the rush of the workday coming to an end stopped. He collected his things and put them into his box, before proceeding to walk home. Even with impaired vision, Spider knew his way to and fro, easily making it home all on his own. His shoe shop was a family owned one he had looked after since his mother’s passing. His father didn’t actively look after it anymore, but Spider took pride in keeping the shop open, even despite the difficulties.

Stepping up to the shop, he reached into his inner coat pocket for the key, but instead found the bank note and the little club symbol. Only then did he realize that a small piece of paper had been put inside the folded bank note. He held it in his hand, feeling over it. Nothing he could read… He would have to ask someone to read the little card to him. Letting himself in, Spider closed down the shop properly, before locking it down.

The small shop was tidy and neat, owing to Spider always wanting to keep it as pristine as he could, as though he were expecting royalty to show up.

The main counter was located on the left to the front door, which was where Spider spent most of his time on these days. It was was long and L-shaped, the walls on either side of the room were covered in shelves, holding shoe boxes of various sizes. The shelves stretched from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Though Spider had each shelf marked with braille that signified the model and size, he had the layout memorized enough to generally remember where everything was. He likewise had the entirety of the shop’s layout mapped out in his head, able to navigate it quite well. The floor was wooden, shiny and neat and in the very center of the rectangular room was a bench where patrons could sit and try on shoes.

Spider retreated to the apartment above the shop, a quaint, decently sized space that Spider had perfectly mapped out in his head, having lived there all his life. It had belonged to his parents, but these days it was all his. Despite his impaired vision, he could navigate it no problem, usually even without feeling his way around. While Spider wouldn't say he owned a lot of things, his apartment was far from barren. It had furniture, though overall decoration was sparse. He had a few paintings and pictures on the walls, a few plants here and there. Even if he couldn’t truly enjoy their beauty, he at least wanted to have something visually stimulating for whenever he had guests visiting, rare as it was.

Finding his way to the the living room table, Spider found the small square radio he'd purchased a short while ago and turned it on. He knew he'd manage to catch the last couple minutes of the evening broadcasts, if any were on. A soothing piano tune played as Spider made it to the kitchen. Despite what people might assume, he could cook just fine – at least enough to get by. Evenings were always a quiet time for Spider and he did enjoy it. The radio kept him company, though it was mostly just music.

But Spider was perfectly happy with how his life was going. Did a small part of Spider wish he still had his eyesight? Yes, of course. But he’d never once in his life used it as an excuse for anything, nor was it some kind of wish in his heart that kept him up at night. Spider had always made the best of every situation and that was something he knew he’d continue to do for as long as he could.

The next day started and went like most others; Spider woke up, got himself to look as presentable as he could, before he took to going down to the shop. Today was an inside day for Spider, meaning he’d be staying inside the shop.

Soon after Spider had gotten everything settled and taken up his perch behind the counter, the door swung open. The bell caught Spider’s attention, turning towards the door, smiling as he blindly stared in its general direction. “Ah, good morning!”

“And a good morning to you, Spider.” The voice was one he recognized immediately, belonging to his neighbor who occasionally stopped by to help. Today wasn't one of those days, which were usually arranged in advance, but Spider wasn't going to complain about a friendly visit.

“What can I do for you today, Mr. Mason?” Spider asked politely, turning his head in his general direction, listening for his footsteps as he approached. “Do you need a new pair?”

“Oh, no, just wanted to hear if you could shine up some shoes of mine – I need ‘em to look nice for a party this weekend,” the older cat said. Spider hadn’t a clue what he looked like, but he’d been told he was quite a tall, stout older cat – he also could tell as much based on his footsteps at least.

“I can do that no problem,” Spider said eagerly, his tail giving a swish. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about payment, of course, old friend. But maybe you could do me a favor in return.”

“A favor?” the older cat asked in surprise as he moved closer to the counter, placing a pair of shoes on it with a soft thud. Spider could immediately tell what kind of shoes they were, just based on the sound they made; formal, sleek shoes, perfect for a formal gathering. “Of course, what kind of favor?”

Spider reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the card he’d been handed the day before and held it out. “This – someone handed it to me, but… I can’t read it.”

Part II: Below

As it turned out, the Little Daisy Café wasn't too far from where Spider lived in downtown St. Louis, but the walk there was still something different. He had to ask for directions a few times, but he made it there in the end, taking note of where he walked and when he turned this way and that. The streets were mostly quiet at the moment, though Spider did pass a few people who were on their way home from work.

He'd enjoyed a rather quiet day at work, just mostly left by himself after Mr. Mason left. He’d read off the name Little Daisy Café and its address to Spider, at which point, Spider had been determined to visit. He wasn't sure what was so significant about the café that he would be handed a business card for it, but he supposed he may as well visit. Maybe he could enjoy early dinner there, depending on how long they were open!

The note also had ‘closing time’ written on it, whatever significance that held.

Spider found the front door and gently pushed it open, stepping from the hard, rough, cold stones that paved the streets and onto similarly hard, but far more inviting tiled flooring. The café was nice and warm with a welcoming atmosphere, though it appeared very quiet. Spider remained in the doorway, ears perked up as he blindly glanced around.

Carefully, he stepped forward, though he was uncertain what to do and where to go.

“Oh, do you need help, mister?” A female voice spoke to him and he turned his head towards the direction it had come from. He heard footsteps moving where he was turned towards. “My, what eyes you have…”

“I get that a lot,” Spider told her with a smile, not at all bothered by it. After all, he was used to people commenting on his eyes; they were hard to miss, being as bright blue as they were. Some did find them off-putting, but Spider supposed he couldn’t blame them. He certainly didn’t hold it against them. “Please, if you could just direct me to a table, Ms.”

“Oh, but of course,” she replied as she approached, Spider for the first time noticing the Southern drawl in her voice as she spoke. Not an entirely unfamiliar dialect to him, though if he were asked to, he wouldn’t have been able to place where exactly she may have been from. “You’re showin’ up a little late. I take it you’ll be here till closing time?”

“Closing time?” Spider remembered that phrase being written on the little business card as he was seated in a booth, sinking down onto the soft, cushiony seat. He looked towards the lady who’d guided him there. “Is… closing time special?”

He heard her give a light chuckle. “Well that depends, honey, did my husband invite you?”

Spider hadn't a clue what was going on, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a the card he’d been given. “Someone gave me this – might’ve been your husband, he didn’t say anything, ma’am.”

He felt her take it from him, hearing her give a soft “Hmmm…” as she looked the card over. “Well, good thing nobody gets here this early. Did my husband give you a…?”

“Oh, right…” Spider didn’t even register that she referred to the time as early as he reached back into his pocket, pulling out the little metallic club pin. It was cold to the touch with a smooth body. “This one, right?”

“Ah yes one of those, dear.” Spider could hear the smile in her voice as she handed the card back to him. “Come along, I’ll show you the way down.”

Down? Spider hadn’t a clue what that meant exactly, but he supposed he would find out. Spider pocketed the card and put his hands on the smooth, cold table and moved out of the booth and reached a hand out, gently taking a hold of her slender arm. “Thank you. What do I call you, ma’am?”

“Oh, my name is Mitzi May, darlin’. How about you?” she asked politely as she guided him along. It was a new space and environment for Spider, one he hadn't gotten a chance to map out in his head, but he carefully followed Mrs. May as she guided him along. When he was guided behind the counter, his hand gently touched the counter itself, at least giving him an idea of where he was. “Right this way… in the pantry.”

“The-… The pantry?” Spider was officially confused, but once he heard their footsteps echoing off the walls nearby, he knew they were in said pantry. It was subtle, but he could tell the difference. “Uhm, now what, Mrs. May?”

“Just hang tight, honey, this’ll only take a second… Now where’s that knife?” Initially startled by her words, Spider took a small step backwards. Mrs. May seemed to have noticed the look on his face as she quickly added, “Oh, not like that – I just need it to unlock the door.”

The door? The pantry had a door inside it? Or had she locked them in? Spider was still cautious and certainly very confused. He heard her moving around nearby, before he heard a surprisingly firm, mechanical click. He felt movement in the air, a slight wind blown towards him before a strange smell met his nostrils. He sniffed, trying to identify it.

“Oh, you get used to it, honey. Now, here, I’ll guide you down. Just watch- ehm… Just be careful,” she told him, taking a hold of his hand and guiding him forward. “The steps lead down here. You can hold onto the wall while I close the door, if you need to. What was your name again?”

“Oh, right. I’m Charles Spider, but you can just call me Spider, ma’am.” Spider moved down onto the top steps tentatively, before taking a hold of the cold cave wall with his free hand. He could feel the somewhat rugged, hard stone against his hand. He let Mrs. May close the door, before she resumed guiding him along. He hadn't a clue where they were going or why. “What kind of place is this exactly? I didn’t know cafés had basements like this…”

“Well, ours is a special one – and you must be special too, if Atlas decided to personally invite you down, Spider,” Mrs. May replied politely. “No need to be alarmed, I think you’ll like it. We’ll be opening in a few hours.”

Spider thought that was a curiously short window to stay closed, but he supposed perhaps this was an underground shaft to another building. He had heard something about St. Louis being built on top of tunnels and caves… at least he thought he might have heard something similar…

The staircase seemed to stretch on for quite a while, Spider having lost count of how many steps they’d taken down already. The space around him wasn’t too wide, though thankfully he could at least walk upright without fear of bumping his head. His hand traveled over the rocky surface of the wall, though thankfully he didn’t encounter points that were too sharp. It did allow him to get a feel for his environment, even in this more limited capacity.

When they stepped onto flat ground again, Spider tried to recall how long they’d been walking. It couldn’t have been that long, at least it certainly didn’t feel that way. He turned his head from side to side as if looking around. “Where are we, Mrs. May?”

“Oh, we’re not quite there yet. Wait here,” she responded before letting go of his hand. She moved forward away from Spider, who waited curiously, hearing a small click before the slightest creak of a wooden door being swung open. Warmth poured out and it was certainly far more inviting than the atmosphere out in the tunnel. “Right this way.”

She took a hold of Spider’s arm and guided him inside, his feet soon stepping onto carpeted flooring of all things. Very curious… He was endlessly intrigued by whatever place this was. As Mrs. May guided him, Spider just followed quietly. He could tell they were in a much bigger room; echoes didn’t bounce off the walls as quickly as they had out in the tunnel.

“Wait, is this-… Is this a speakeasy?” he asked in a hushed voice, looking fearful.

“Oh, but honey, I thought that was obvious.” Mrs. May’s tone was a playfully surprised one, before she gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, what you must have thought of what I said up in the pantry… I think I’d best go fetch my husband. Wait here.”

with Mrs. May’s help, Spider sank down onto a round stool, hands touching a cold, smooth wooden counter. He heard Mrs. May leaving, meaning he was left all by his lonesome in a strange, new location. He'd known speakeasies were underground operations, but he’d never quite thought it to be quite this literal. Was he a criminal now? Would he get charged for even setting foot in one? Was Mrs. May a criminal? She had to be, right? She worked here… didn’t she?

Feeling anxious, Spider got to his feet and set about exploring the space. He stuck to the walls first, letting his hand wander along it. He started by the bar, tracing along the counter and the stools, sticking to the outside, before making it to a small lounge area where he bumped into chairs and tables gently. Using his hands, he left the wall to feel them up, to attempt to map them out in his head and get an impression of what they might look like.

It turned out to be a far bigger space than Spider had initially assumed as he followed the wall all the way around. The only true obstacle he found was the presence of what he recognized as a stage. He ran his hand over the wooden plans as he walked along the rounded shape of it. He supposed even illicit drinking establishments needed entertainment…

Spider circled all the way around, past other tables and chairs and something else he didn’t recognize, before making it back to the door he’d come from. At least he assumed that it was the one he’d entered through. He could tell it was a large, wide, wooden door, very finely made. Spider had barely walked forward to the center of the room when he heard the door sliding open.

“Don’t worry, it’s just us – I fetched my husband, Spider.” It was the familiar voice of Mrs. May speaking, immediately putting Spider at ease as he blindly stared in the general direction that her voice had come from. “So, dear, what are we thinking? Do we have room for one more, darling?”

Part III: Resonance

Working in a speakeasy was… Well, Spider couldn’t exactly say it was something he’d been envisioning himself ever doing, but with Mr. and Mrs. May so graciously offering him a job, who was he to refuse? Granted, Spider also had a feeling that he’d heard enough to be considered a liability if he said no, and they let him leave. Perhaps staying on was the best option, even if the idea of working for an illegal place was a bit scary to him.

But Mr. May had apparently seen it as suitable to hire him, because he had an honest face and he was a hard worker. Spider wasn't sure he'd go so far as to describe himself in such a way, but it felt nice knowing he'd left such a positive impression on Mr. May. Atlas May wasn't a man who spoke much, but Spider felt a strangely reassuring presence in his company, which was only amplified when his wife was around as well.

Sure, being hired to clean and shine up the tables and the like wasn't the most prestigious job in the world, nor was it a full-time arrangement, but Spider was perfectly content with it. He’d show up around the time the Little Daisy closed up shop, come down and help keep things orderly. The bar counter, the tables and the grand piano up on stage all needed cleaning.

It had taken Spider a few days, but he was finally memorizing not only the way to the café, but also the layout of it and the speakeasy below. The speakeasy had taken the longest to get used to, owing to how big and expansive it was. Spider had accidentally collided with the tall stone pillars it had a few times when trying to map it out.

But now on a Friday noon, Spider was starting to navigate the space with much less effort. He had even learned to find his way backstage and up onto the stage by himself. It had taken some time to get used to the stage layout too, but thankfully he hadn’t fallen off it.

Spider hummed pleasantly to himself as he cleaned up the grand piano, starting with polishing the legs, the keys and the body itself, feeling his wet cloth smoothly gliding over the smooth, cold surface, taking care of any and all dust that may have accumulated there in the course of the week. Later on, he knew he’d even be shining shoes for patrons as well, potentially.

While Spider cleaned, his ear gave a twitch as he heard quiet footsteps from behind him, making the well-built stage creak ever so slightly. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be done soon. It’ll only be a moment.”

The stranger said nothing to this, but Spider noticed that they’d stopped moving. He curiously turned his head towards them, fixing them with his blind, bright-eyed stare. He heard a small kind of shuffle, which he recognized to be a recoil from being startled by his eyes. He just offered a small smile.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Spider said politely, averting his gaze to look away. He didn’t mind, of course; if anything, Spider only felt bad for startling the stranger.

“What? Oh, no, no, don’t worry, I-… You’re new here, aren’t you?” the stranger asked. He had a calm sort of voice, though his tone was hesitant, as if he were still trying to get a read on Spider.

“Yes, I haven't even been here a week. I’m just shining up the piano for the pianist – I hear the band will playing tonight,” Spider replied happily as he started working on cleaning the lid of the piano, turning his head back towards the stranger as they slowly approached. Though he didn’t look towards the piano, he still kept wiping down the big instrument. “My name’s Charles, but just call me Spider.”

“Spider? That’s an interesting nickname… I’m Mozzie – Mozzie Alonzo, but just call me Mozzie… Hmmm…” Spider’s ear perked up a bit at the rather disappointed way Mozzie had trailed off. He just stared in his general direction.

“What? Oh, were you trying to shake my hand?” Spider quickly put the cloth back into the bucket he’d brought up on stage and walked towards where Mozzie's voice had come from. He held out his own hand, but accidentally poked him in the torso. “Whoops, sorry… Let’s try this again, shall we?”

“Oh, you’re- I’m sorry, Spider, I didn’t realize…” Spider felt Mozzie's hand taking a hold of his as a gentle breeze tickled his face. The blind cat chuckled. “Oh, sorry, did you feel that?”

“I did, yes,” Spider told him with a nod. It wasn't the first time someone had waved their hand in front of Spider’s face to test if he truly were blind.

“Oh… uhm… Sorry, that was really rude of me. So, what do you do around here? Are you our piano shiner?” Mozzie asked him, his tone friendly, though perhaps overly polite. Spider didn’t mind, he knew it came from a good place – he could tell the other cat was feeling bad about what he did, so he appreciated his attempts at friendliness.

Spider nodded as he moved back to resume cleaning, knowing exactly where he’d left off. The lid of the piano was on its way to being as sparkly clean as the rest of it. “Well, I also clean the tables and such. And shine people’s shoes.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize Mr. May had hired someone new. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Spider. I hope you’ll be here later – the boys and I are going on stage tonight.” Mozzie's tone sounded a bit more natural, but still very pleasant. “I play the piano, so that's why I came up to see- Well, to check on it.”

“Oh, could you play me something, please?” Spider asked eagerly once he was done cleaning. He put the cloth back into the bucket and looked expectantly in Mozzie's direction.

“Of course, any requests?” Spider wasn't entirely sure Mozzie would've been so eager to play for him if it hadn't been for the less than ideal first introduction. But he wasn't complaining, he was glad the pianist was willing to play for him, regardless.

“Surprise me,” Spider replied, smiling brightly as he followed Mozzie with his blind stare, listening for his movements as he moved towards the piano to sit on the stool. Mozzie took a moment before he started playing a pleasant, upbeat, jazzy tune. As he played, Spider stood by, nodding his head in time to the music, his unseeing eyes staring in Mozzie's general direction.

Spider didn’t know what the song was called, but he liked it, his tail even swaying ever so slightly in time to the music. Though he couldn’t see Mozzie's fingers moving, Spider could picture it in his head. He remembered seeing pianists playing back when he was younger – when he still had his vision. He could picture how Mozzie's fingers might be moving, back and forth, pressing keys in perfect resonance to create harmonies, chords and melody.

“That was beautiful,” Spider almost gasped when the song came to an end. He heard Mozzie chuckling lightly before he got up.

“Thank you, I’ve been playing the piano since I was a little kid,” he told Spider once he was standing again. “Well, how about we get off the stage? The boys should be getting here soon. You will be here when we play, right?”

Oh, Spider was indeed there when they played. Though he didn’t have many shoes to shine that night, he was still perfectly pleased being there. Lackadaisy apparently held quite a few guests and the place felt crowded. Moving to and fro, Spider had to stick to the edges of the room, using his hand on the wall as a guide. Luckily a few friendly patrons did help him out now and again.

Spider had been seated for the past hour near the stage, unknowingly able to look right at Mozzie as he played the piano.

He hadn't yet met the rest of the band, but he could hear their instruments in perfect time and sync; sax, trumpet, bass, trombone. Spider could feel vibrations from both the music and the movements of people on the dance floor, yet the high piano keys somehow managed to cut right through the rest of the sounds in the speakeasy.

Not long after the band got their last applause and walked off stage, Spider heard a familiar voice near him. “Hi there, Spider. Did you like our playing?”

“I did!” he said excitedly, once more looking in Mozzie's general direction as the people on the dance floor dispersed, likely to go off and get something to drink. “You guys are really good. Have you been playing together for long?”

“Yeah, for a number of years by now,” Mozzie answered. He paused for a moment before clearing his throat. “Would you like to get something to drink? I can go get you something, if you’d like.”

“Oh that’s alright, just help me get up to the bar, please – we can sit together, if you’d like.” Spider rose to his feet and reached forward at which point he felt Mozzie’s arm being offered to him. Spider took a hold of the soft, smooth fabric of his dress shirt and let the pianist guide the way. They weaved in and out past people and tables. It wasn't a long walk to the bar, Spider sitting down on the soft stool with Mozzie joining him on his right side.

“What would you like?” Spider thought about Mozzie's question. He wasn't very well-versed in the world of illicit drinks. He heard Mozzie chuckle a bit. “Ah, first time? Maybe we should settle for something light then. How’s that sound, Spider?”

“Yeah that works for me,” he replied, giving a nod, before turning towards the bar as Mozzie ordered. While he couldn’t see, he still focused on the bartender as they set about making drinks. Even in the crowded speakeasy, Spider could hear them working, making drinks for him and Mozzie; he heard pouring, rattling, shaking and stirring. He hadn't the faintest clue how drinks like this were made, but he was all the more curious about trying them.

“Ah, here.” Spider felt Mozzie take a hold of his hand and gently guide it towards his glass, and he soon felt the cold, smooth glass against his finger tips. He raised it to his face and gave it a sniff. It smelled sweet, fruity with a hint of something he didn’t know, though Spider guessed that was the alcohol. “Well, cheers, Spider.”

Spider smiled at Mozzie and took a testing sip of his drink. It had a sweet flavor to match its scent and it was quite pleasant. Spider took a second sip, a bigger one, and felt a slight burn in the back of his throat, though it subsided quickly. “Oh that’s really good… I like it!”

“So, how’d you even end up down here?” Mozzie asked politely after a moment of silence. “I assume you didn’t just stumble down here on accident, eh?”

“Oh no, Mr. May came to me when I was out shining shoes. He gave me a pin and a card,” Spider explained rather proudly, before taking another sip of his drink. It tasted so sweet, he wanted to just down the whole thing in one go…

“Easy there. Best pace yourself a little – we don’t want you to get hit too hard.” Mozzie chuckled lightly, patting Spider’s shoulder. “Well, that does sound about right – he’s got a talent for collecting strays. So you’re a shoe shiner?”

“Hmmm? Oh, not really – it’s something I just do sometimes when I want to work outside.” Spider had noticed the skeptical tone in Mozzie's question, but he didn’t mind. “I own a shoe shop in town. I just sometimes do shining as a side business.”

“Really? You run it all by yourself?” Mozzie sounded quite surprised. He cleared his throat. “I mean… Not that I wouldn’t think you could, but…”

Spider waved his hand dismissively, chuckling. “Oh, don’t you worry, I understand. It’s hard to imagine, but I make do. I just have to be a bit more careful than most other shop keepers. It belonged to my family, but now it’s just me working there. I know my way around and I enjoy it. People are always so nice when they visit.”

“I see… Well, that’s good,” Mozzie said with a smile before he took a brief pause to take a sip from his own drink. “Well, it’s good to have more friendly faces here. Lackadaisy does tend to feel a bit like family. I’m sure you’ll fit in, I certainly think you’re rather pleasant, Spider.”

Beaming at Mozzie, Spider gave a light chuckle, before he finished the rest of his drink. “I hope so too. I like my job, but it’s certainly more lively down here, even if I can’t see it.”

“Oh, right… I’m sorry about that��”

“No, it’s fine, honestly. I get by and I can still hear what’s going on,” Spider explained, sounding perfectly happy as he turned back towards Mozzie, blind eyes fixated on him. “Oh, Mozzie?”

“Hmmm? Yes, Spider?”

“Can I see your face?” The silence that followed told Spider that Mozzie hadn't the faintest clue what he meant.

“See- I mean, I suppose you can…” the pianist replied hesitantly, sounding very confused. He hesitated for a moment before he asked, “How does that work exactly…?”

“Just lean closer, please.” The words had barely left Spider’s lips before he reached his hands up to cup Mozzie’s cheeks with his hands. He felt the other cat’s soft, smooth, almost silky fur against his palms and his fingers. He gently ran his hands and fingers along Mozzie’s face, tracing the shape of it, feeling his fur brushing against his pads. He brushed his forehead, ran his fingers over his brow, his nose, cheeks and his chin. Spider could feel Mozzie's face being quite warm as he gently caressed his eyelids, before brushing his whiskers and let go.

“Ah, thank you, Mozzie. I think you’re very handsome,” Spider said, garnering him more another stunned silence from the other cat.

“I- oh… Thank you…” Mozzie said, sounding incredibly flustered. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you could see me like that…”

“It’s not the same, of course, but it’s the best I can do,” Spider explained, chuckling. His smile faltered a bit when he remembered how warm Mozzie's cheeks had felt. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

“No, not at all – I just wasn’t prepared,” Mozzie replied in that same flustered tone. “But I’m glad you can see me somewhat at least. Say, the boys and I are probably going to stay backstage for the night, would you like to join us? We usually play cards and such-”

“I can’t really play cards, Mozzie…” Mozzie seemed to realize that he’d said something stupid as he immediately set about stuttering an apology to Spider. Spider just chuckled and shook his head. “No, it’s fine, I appreciate the invitation. But in any case, I’m afraid I can’t stay too much longer – I need to get up early tomorrow.”

“Ah… that’s a shame,” Mozzie said, sounding disappointed. “Is it far? Please, at least allow me to walk you home. Wouldn't feel right to just let you wander the street all alone.”

“You’d really do that?” Spider asked in surprise, his ears perking up as he smiled in Mozzie's direction again. “I’d appreciate that a lot – I’m still learning the way to and from this place.”

“Oh, before we go…” Spider heard Mozzie fumbling with something before placing something onto the counter between them. “There that’s for our drinks, let’s get going, Spider. You can… hold onto my arm, if you’d like.”

Mozzie barely even had to offer his arm before Spider took a hold of it and walked out with the pianist to retrieve their jackets. It wasn’t too cold outside these days, luckily, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Spider held onto Mozzie's arm again once they both wore their jackets, Mozzie's thick and warm, much like Spider’s own.

Holding onto Mozzie, Spider left the noisy speakeasy and entered the surprisingly quiet tunnels beyond the door. It did a surprisingly good job at blocking out the noise. “Ah that’s better… Is it usually that loud in there?”

“Oh, it usually is,” Mozzie explained as he guided Spider up along the steps. “Careful. One step at a time. You get used to it, though. You just happened to sit right by the stage. That’s where the crowds congregate.”

“That makes sense,” Spider chuckled, smiling. The ascend up the stairs was always brief, but it felt particularly brief tonight. The two of them entered the dark, vacant café together and Spider followed Mozzie's lead till they stepped out onto the empty street together. The air was mostly still tonight, though a single stray breeze did greet the two, gracing their faces, much like Spider had Mozzie's minutes ago.

“So, shall we, Mr. Spider?” Mozzie asked in a playfully polite tone, letting Spider grab hold of his arm yet again.

“So we shall, Mr. Alonzo,” Spider replied, chuckling as he held the other cat’s arm a little more firmly than before. The two of them set off, walking down the street side by side in the relative darkness that only broken up by the streetlights that illuminated small patches of the sidewalk. Though Spider couldn’t see them, he remembered streetlights to be quite a beautiful sight, the way they kept the streets illuminated.

Neither of them said much as they walked together, Spider mostly just telling Mozzie what streets to take and when to turn. It was a quiet, peaceful walk. The only sound breaking up the silence of the night was their footsteps on the sidewalk and their breathing. It truly did feel like it was just the two of them in the darkened street, even when other people occasionally passed them. But before long, the walk came to an end as they arrived at their destination.

“This is it?” Mozzie asked politely as he stopped by the storefront. “It’s a nice-looking little place. I’m surprised I’ve never been here before.”

“Oh, you haven't? Are you sure?” Spider asked in surprise as he unlocked the door, having to feel for the keyhole.

Mozzie chuckled lightly from behind him. “Trust me, Spider, I would never forget a face like yours.”

“Oh… In a good kind of way...?”

“In a very good kind of way,” Mozzie replied, making Spider grin back at him, bright blue eyes practically sparkling in the dim light of the street. Mozzie chuckled again. “Well, you have a good night, Spider. I hope to see you around soon. Will you be there tomorrow?”

“I will, yes. I’ll make sure to be easy to find,” he promised Mozzie, smiling. Spider opened the door to his shop, but lingered in the doorway a moment. He’d heard Mozzie make a strange little noise just then. “What was that?”

“What? Oh, nothing, it’s nothing,” the pianist hastily replied. He cleared his throat. “Just... have a good night – and sleep well – it was a true pleasure meeting you – I’ll introduce you to my buds soon.”

“Oh, alright. Well, you too, Mozzie. You have a good night – and have fun down there,” Spider said, winking at him, before finally sliding the door closed and locking it. Making his way upstairs in the dark shop, Spider never realized that down below, Mozzie lingered by the storefront for a moment.

He’d watched Spider leaving, waving around the interior of the dark shop with precision and ease that rivaled any man with eyesight. He stood by himself for a moment, just considering the bright-eyed stranger. He smiled and finally turned away from the shop and headed back the way he’d come, hands on his pocket. His arm felt strangely cold, but his cheeks felt so, so warm.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy fanfiction #lackadaisy oc #oc x canon #lackadaisy mozzie #lackadaisy mitzi

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levy120 · 3 months ago

Text

What I know now (Rayman OC Story)

Genre, Themes: Journey to the Past Prominent Characters: Poisen (OC), Mr. Dark, R1 characters get mentioned Words: 6,000 Warnings: Anxiety, Implied Child Abuse One Line Summary: Looking for a specific Spellbook from the Candy Chateau, Poisen is allowed access to a painting from back when the place still existed. Funfact: The story was written with just one song on the loop

Happy 20th Anniversary to this little dork!

This story can also be found on dA

What I know now

Poisen doesn't deserve this chance. He's sure of it.

But Rayman has already gone out of his way to ask the Bubble Dreamer of all beings for access to his old gallery, and at this point, it would be sacrilege to refute.

He'd explained to him that the paintings are moments in time, not actual time travel, and that there was no risk that Poisen could change events from the past by visiting them - to ease his mind. And to be fair… if all Poisen wanted to do was check out the lost libraries of the Candy Chateau (to hone his spells, as Ales had suggested) it did seem an easy enough option.

All the signs were pointing in this direction, it would be foolish not to take this quest.

And yet, Poisen feels his stomach sink as he lurks the gall looking for the right painting.

Barely any people stand front and center in the drawings, and yet he feels watched. It's like he's passing by ghosts or a gravesite. Most of these places no longer exist, leveled from Polokus’s grand revision.

More often than not he finds himself distracted, some draw him in, other paintings he rushes by fast, and just one he shields from view - but the mere glimpse of the cottage in the swamp is enough to make him want to turn back. It's not worth it.

Until he sees the familiar shade of pink glinting before him and makes a beeline for it.

The Castle itself looks unassuming in the picture, but that doesn't mean much. Poison cannot tell if it's from before or after the takeover as Mr. Dark had treated it with care - but right now, this is his best bet for finding the lost book Poisen seeks.

---

The hallway is too familiar, it scares him how easily he can navigate the place, how he knows exactly where to go and how not to run into people. For the longest time being invisible has been his safest bet.

The smell of sugar clogs his nose like a bad dream. It makes him nauseous and yearn for something bitter to cleanse his palette later.

In his mind, there are two destinations to investigate: Mr. Dark's study… and the library.

He's not on a time crunch, but he has yet to learn of the schedule within the painting. The guard rotation gives him a vague idea, but he's not daring enough to bump into the study first in case it is occupied. The library is going to be a safe enough start for his journey - and if he's in luck, it will be the only place he'll have to visit.

The sooner he gets out of here, the better.

---

“What are you doing in here?” a voice catches his ear. Young, and familiar in a way that rattles his core.

“Who are you?!” the voice insists, "No one is supposed to be here."

Poisen halts his every move. He doesn't dare turn around to look. There are shelves in the way and by the shuffling noises, it appears he has not yet been seen.

But it's not going to be for long.

"I'm a librarian," he lies, as he rakes his mind for a memory that rings at least a little bit familiar - but he comes up with nothing. "I'm putting the books back in the right order."

"We don't have a… I've never seen you before!" the little one accuses, still out of view. Poisen hears suspicion in the voice, but no hostility. He's trying to determine which timeframe he is stuck in. A lot of his youth was spent like this.

“I'm new,” Poisen decides. Ever cautious he cantrips up a simple disguise.

It's his least favorite spell, it had taken him so long to feel comfortable in his own skin.

The dust settles on his skin to change the hue into something else, unassuming; his form shifts, ever slightly, to deter from his natural shape.

It's advanced magic to disguise as another species - but honing his skills and researching his spells is what he has come here for.

He picks the shape of a Lividstone, out of place enough for him to be new here, but familiar enough for the kid to recognize him as one of Mr. Dark's goons.

Once that is done, Poisen steps into the aisle to reveal himself.

“What's your name?”

The little one furrows his brow and clutches the book in his hands closer to his chest.

It looks old and heavy, is almost the size of the little limbles. A dark purple leather binding contrasts with the youngster’s green.

Maybe this one is what he came looking for.

“I haven't decided yet,” the boy answers reluctantly.

That narrows it down.

Poisen lets his gaze stray across the shelves, then catches another glimpse of the book his younger self is clinging onto.

With a thoughtful hum his hand scours the bindings until he finds a familiar bind. It's in a better condition than he last remembers it in.

“Try this one,” he says as he plucks the book out from its spot, “It might give you some inspiration.”

The little tyke looks at it critically before hesitantly taking it. Books don't bite - he learned soon to find comfort in worn pages.

“Plants?” he questions as he observes the cover. Poisen shrugs his hands.

“Because I'm green?” he spouts and Poisen can't help but laugh. The little one doesn't think it funny so he stifles his laughter behind a fist.

“Maybe?” he edges. It's not been on the forefront of his mind, but he can't deny the coincidence now that it's slapping him in the face like that.

“I don't wanna be called like a stupid plant,” the boy murmurs, and Poisen thinks himself amused.

“You're green!” the boy accuses and it takes Poisen a moment to remember that he's referring to the Lividstone disguise, “I bet you're name isn't spinach either.”

Poisen shakes his head with a chuckled “No.”

In hindsight, the disguise was probably unnecessary. Poisen had been worried about the kid recognizing his own mirror image, but they look nothing alike.

The little one looks both paler than him, and yet more vibrant. There's an excitement about the kid, a farseek for seeing the world he's only ever finds described in books.

That's what being cooped up does to you.

But Poisen, in his years, has seen too much; he wishes he could just retreat to a safe space and spend his time reading again.

But then again, the Candy Chateau is not much of a safe space either.

Never was.

“What have you got there?” he asks as the little one puts the book he'd been harboring aside in favor of flipping through the herbology book.

“Don't put it back,” the kid warns him, “It doesn't belong on a shelf.”

Ah. Then it must be from Mr. Dark's study.

“You're gonna get in trouble for that,” Poisen warns him in a hushed tone. The kid glances back over his shoulder and pulls the book close again.

“Only if he finds out.”

“Fair enough,” Poisen whispers back and hunkers down to be on eye-level with the kid.

“I won't tattle,” he promises, “But you should bring it back soon.”

The kid gives him a look of apprehension and guilt.

“Can I have a look?” Poisen asks, “I won't move it, I'll keep it here where you can see it.”

The kid seems to think hard about it, looks like he's going to deny him for a moment - then he snaps the book about the herbs shut.

“Can you read it to me?” he asks suddenly, “There's words in it I don't understand.”

It jolts something in Poisen, like he remembers the moment. He'd taught himself to read, mostly, he remembers the Lady from Picture City coming by for the basics…

- but reading comprehension and Mr. Dark's spellbooks were a different beast entirely.

“I…” Poisen hesitates. What was he doing? But this could very well be what he came here for.

“Yes. Of course.”

Rayman said he couldn't break things here - yet the situation tugs at his mind like a distant memory. But there is no face attached. The only thing he thinks to remember is the safe haven of the library… and ever present loneliness.

He lets the kid keep hold of the book to not start an argument, hastily scans the pages as the little one turns them over. There's a chance that what he's going to be shown is what he's looking for anyway. He readies the little notebook he brought along to take notes of anything that might seem relevant.

“What's this?” the little one stops on a page that Poisen doesn't recognize. It looks like a recipe for alchemy, handling of magical artifacts. Nothing he ever bothered to learn about.

“What about this page?” Poisen asks. He is not familiar with it. He would be if it were of any relevance.

The kid turns another page that shows illustrations of various artifacts, one of them… oh.

“Dark had it open when I borrowed the book. It needs to be open on this page when I put it back.”

Poisen casts a worried look at the small one. There's a sense of trepidation.

“What does it say? What was he looking at? I wanna help if I can!”

Poisen sighs, flips the page back to the previous one. He starts jotting down notes. It's not what he came here for, but if this is what Mr. Dark had been using, then anything he knows might help to circumvent another harvesting or reverse lingering effects on the Protoon.

“Hey!” the kid tugs the book away from him.

“You said you were gonna read this to me!”

“Kid,” Poisen says and watches the face of his counterpart turn into a disapproving frown.

“You don't want to know.”

The kid shuts the book but Poisen's hand still lingers on the page. He's not letting the kid pull it back and he knows the tyke is too afraid of tearing a page.

“I'll call a guard!” he exclaims, “We don't have a bibrai- lib- you're a stranger!” Poisen hands the book back, trying to shush him. “You were gonna steal this!” “No, I wasn't,” Poisen hushes back. “Then tell me what it says or you're not seeing it!”

What a little-

“Fine,” Poisen grits through his teeth. Maybe he can make something up.

He doesn't like lying to the kid. But he will if he must.

---

It is tedious to keep the good grace. It's ironic, he supposes, that he's always been this way; and as he's actively lying to his younger self he can't help but wonder what that says about himself. Trust has been something rarely extended.

Apparently he's been like that all his life.

How do other people deal with it?

He wants to change for the better - he just doesn't know how to yet.

His notes fill up with information both useful and concerning.

All the while, the little one eagerly peppers him with questions. Some Poisen has an answer for, others he is just as lost on.

“What about this?” his past self asks as he taps an illustration on the page.

“That's the Scepter of Leptys,” Poisen tells him. “That artifact is from a different continent. From a different deity even.”

“What's a deity?” the little one asks, eyes full of wonder.

“Higher beings, that shape the world around us,” Poisen explains simply and allows himself to turn the page while the kid is still awestruck.

“Is Dark a deity?”

The question stops Poisen in his track and he gapes down at the kind.

“Wha- No.” he says, “No, he's not.”

The boy hums and rocks back and forth on the spot as he tries to process the new info.

“He says he wants to shape the world. Can he become a deity?”

Poisen hopes to the gods not.

He stands suddenly, starts pacing. His gut churns at the very idea.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

Poisen doesn't know!

Mr. Dark is powerful. He is ambitious.

Can Mr. Dark become a deity? Is that at all possible?

“Mister!”

“The book doesn't say,” Poisen jolts. His hands have buried in his hair.

He doesn't want to insist on anything that might spark a conversation of the like between little Poi and the mage. That could only end badly.

His younger self seems to accept the non-answer well enough, but Poisen feels devastated regardless.

He realizes then that he has to do something. He can't just… leave and let history repeat itself. This one still holds Mr. Dark in such high regards… it makes him sick to know where it's coming from.

…

Rayman frees Teensies from the paintings all the time, right? Maybe he could…

Cam would love that? Having a son? An actual one?

He knows he shouldn't, but the possibility is tantalizing. But… would it enable Mr. Dark if the kid weren’t here? Distracting him? Stealing his books?

…

Poisen turns around and rips the book from the kid's hands to a protesting “Hey!” but he is bigger, stronger, keeps the kid at bay with one of his feet. His hands cannot reach this far.

Poisen tears out the relevant pages to vehement protests. There's a risk the little one will be on the receiving end of Mr. Dark's wrath… but only if he claims to know about it. And Poisen knows the kid is smarter than that.

“Thief!” he starts wailing, “Help! Stop! Thief.”

…or not.

Poisen rolls his eyes and bends down to pick the kid up and muffle his shouting with an angry hush. With a snap of his finger they find themselves at the top of a bookshelf just as one of Mr. Dark's minions peers into the library.

The kid wails and kicks in the air, but Poisen keeps his snout pressed shut and the rest of him dangling. Below a second guard slips into the library.

When Poisen lets his disguise fall the little one goes still and turns even paler if at all possible.

Poisen watches the guard roam the library, the other one having already left with the tattered book.

“Will you shut up?!” Poisen hisses through his teeth when the goon is far away rummaging in another isle.

He feels the kid nod and after a moment of doubt, drops him at the top of the shelf, next to him.

“You do magic?!? And you… you look like-”

“Yes. And yes.”

“Whoah…”

The kiddo stumbles backwards and Poisen catches him from falling off the shelves.

He pulls the kid back on the shelf, gives him a moment to process. He slowly watches that little brown begin to furrow.

“Who are you?” he asks cautiously and shifts away from Poisen. The older one already prepares for speculations, the fantastical wild tale of that weird truth he found himself in, only enhanced by the vivid imagination of a kid-

“Are you… are you my Dad?”

Poisen’s own heart breaks at the question.

That sounds more plausible than ‘I'm you, from the future,’ doesn't it? It would feel nice to think someone had been looking for him, wouldn't it?

But he takes too long to answer, sees the excited expectation shrivel into disappointment in the little one. When his own vision starts to blur all he can see is the kid turning away from him again, rejected (again), and hurting (still). It cuts himself to the bone to find these hopes dashed, to be the one to do it.

“I'm…” Poisen chokes out but his voice feels raw.

He tries to breath and inches closer.

He doesn't want to keep lying, but he can't exactly tell him the truth either now, can he?

“I'm not your dad, sorry.” he says, and in the hopes it might bring some comfort tags on “But I'm a friend. I know your Mom.”

“Proof it!” the kid demands; the heartbreak makes him lash out, “Why should I believe this is what you REALLY look like?!”

…Fair point.

The little one is keeping his distance; Poisen would be surprised if he wasn't. He wouldn't trust himself either. (Wait…)

With a sigh Poisen slouches next to the kid, lets his feet dangle from the shelf.

“Mr. Dark fished you from the Swamp of Forgetting.”

And just like that, the tension seems to leave the kid to be replaced with curious suspicion. Poisen knows, that he never told anybody until years after, it should be everything that needs to be said - but he keeps going.

“You don't remember anything from before that.” And if the kid not having decided on a name yet was anything to go by, “You only moved here recently. You secretly love to break off the mints from the wall in your room-.”

“Stop, stop, stop, stop-” the kid is shushing him in a weird turn of events. He looks spooked - but excited.

“How do you- No way!”

Poisen lets him process all the new information and chances another glance across the library. He’d made sure to talk quietly, but the kiddo is not exactly following in his stride. To his relief it seems that at some point the other minion left as well.

"Whoa, so you're like... me? From the future?” Now he's caught on. “And you came back to prevent, like, a big bad from happening or something?"

“No,” Poisen replies courtly. But he’s very much starting to want to.

'I came to read books' feels kind of boring in the given light, but he also hadn't really expected to run into his past self either.

“Tell me your name!” the kid demands.

“Not before you decided on one,” Poisen teases him.

“You’re very chatty,” he comments and ruffles the little one's hair.

“And you’re not!” the kid protests as if insulted as he slinks away from Poisen’s hand, “What’s up with that?!”

It’s like taking the wind out of Poisen’s sails. History has taught him well that some things are better kept to yourself… but he doesn’t want to put that burden on the little one, when he can barely remember a time during which he was so… outgoing.

“Hey,” he tries to divert instead, “I know Mr. Dark says you can't learn magic… but I'd teach you. I want to!” he offers before he can think better of it - and the kid's eyes become huge.

“Really?” he asks.

“If that’ll help prove him wrong?”

And the little one looks positively excited.

He doesn't want the little one to stick around and face Mr. Dark’s wrath. He doesn't want to keep lying to the kid - or, essentially, himself.

He wants for things to be better. He wants to tell him that nothing bad is gonna happen to him. He wants to promise. But he can't rightfully know if he can keep it.

Rayman said that while in the painting Poisen could neither change nor break anything… and he wants to put that claim to the test.

The longer he stays, the more certain of it he is.

He just cannot walk away from here, knowing things are as they are… and… not at least try.

“Yes,” he says, “Let's get you out of here first.”

Back to the gateway. Away from Mr. Dark's impending return.

---

The coated sugar crunches beneath his feet like snow. He's leaving traces that he hopes this world won't remember. It only occurs to him now what a bad idea it would be to lead Mr. Dark straight to his world, into the arms of Polokus…

So the next chance he gets he breaks off a candy cane and starts swiping their footsteps to the confusion of the little kid.

“What are you doing?” he asks. The little one sounds nervous. Poisen doesn't answer immediately, so he kicks him.

“Hey!”

“I asked what you're doing!”

Poisen remains silent. He looks back at the trail of… seemingly undisturbed glaze, but is sure if someone found the path, they'd still be able to track them.

“I don't want Mr. Dark to follow us,” he says, purposely simple. The kid doesn't seem to have the same level of dread just yet, but by the way that he's not digging deeper, Poisen is certain he understands why.

“But I wanna find my way back when we’re done.”

Poisen straightens his back and feels the way his grip tightens on the improvised tool.

“Don't worry,” Poisen tries to calm him, “It should be right around the corner.”

He passes the kid to walk around an oversized Candy Corn and-

“There it is!”

Poisen breathes a sigh of relief once he sees the gate that's supposed to lead them back to the gallery.

…But the kiddo by his side is looking increasingly nervous.

“I'm going back,” he says.

“Why?” Poisen asks.

“Dark will be looking for me.”

The little one is so upset, Poisen almost feels guilty. Almost.

"Not in the way you think," he says and hunkers down to be on eye-level with the kid. The little tyke is full on glaring at him now, but the tears don't make it as threatening as it could be.

"He's only looking for you to punish you for the state his book is in."

"But YOU'RE the one who broke it!" the kiddo immediately protests and Poisen shakes his head.

"He. won't. care."

Poisen reaches out a hand to comfort the kid, but he flinches away before Poisen can touch him.

"You're lying!"

"Kid," Poisen insists, "You'll thank me in 20 years."

Instead of heeding his words, the boy backs off.

He's gotten him so far…

“But the gate… it's right here.”

“There's nothing there!” the kid insists angrily and Poisen feels his stomach drop.

“But-” He reaches his hand through, the one clutching the torn out pages- and it goes through just find - but where he passes the treshold the pages he'd torn out earlier flutter to the ground no longer held by anything.

Poisen’s eyes blow wide and he retrieves his hand from the void to gather his evidence.

“No,” he breathes, “No. No. Nononono…”

He sticks his head through the gate to find that absolutely nothing wound up on the other side.

When he pulls back into the painting, he comes face to face with his younger self looking more anxious than ever.

The kid backs off further and Poisen realizes with horror the shit he's just gotten the little one into. He needs to fix this.

He needs to!

The kid is stepping in a wide arch around him to pick up the pages - but Poisen retrieves his hand from the gate and snatches them away before the boy can reach them.

“Don't go back,” he warns, crinkling the paper in his grasp.

The kid shakes his head.

“If I bring these back, it will be fine.”

But his voice is thin and… he is crying now - he must already know that this won't be the case.

…

Poisen can't let that happen.

The objection is loud and the wailing imminent when Poisen summons another orb of light and the pages go up in flames.

“Don't go back,” Poisen presses, “You can't.”

“No!” the kid cries out as he's trying to catch the lit up pages. He's not listening to what Poisen is saying, too distraught in seeing the one plan he had go up in flames.

“We need to get you out of here,” Poisen insists, “I know a place-”

But when he reaches for the kid the boy backs off with a vehement “Go away!”

Tears are staining the little one's cheeks and Poisen's guilt pinches ten fold.

He drops in front of the kid.

“I'm sorry,” he bawls, too, “This is for your best.”

“Shut up!” the kid screeches and hauls a handful of glaze at Poisen.

Yeah… he deserved that…

“You leave me no choice,” he says as he reaches for the kid. Who knew that his younger self could be so difficult.

But when Poisen tries to port them to a safe place inside this timeline, he finds his spell disrupted midway and them freefalling from midair, hurling towards a field of spiky crocant.

Both of them scream, Poisen flings the kid at a cream-puff before crashing into the hard candy himself. When he emerges from the brittle, he sees the boy bound back for the castle in hurried steps.

“Wait! Don't!” he calls after him and ports out of the splintered candy. So that works just fine. It stops him momentarily, as Poisen brushes the leftover crumbles from him (they're so sticky).

As the kid runs off, Poisen channels his magic to port after him. He materializes in front of the kid to cut off his path and make him steer in another direction, but Poisen lunges after him and is quicker.

The kid is screaming and shouting in his hold (again) and kicks Poisen in the chest, knocking the wind from him. He doubles over coughing and heaving and the kid slips free of his grasp.

That's his chance to make a break for it, but…

He'd feel kinda bad about that.

As Poisen remains keeled over, the sound of coughing mixed with something else that sounds like… sobbing, the younger one cautiously inches closer.

“Are you alright?” he apologizes, “I… didn’t kick you that hard.”

Poisen coughs again before sitting upright, winded. His hand clutches the spot that the kid kicked earlier.

He looks at the kid, then avoids his gaze as he’s slowly catching his breath.

“Lesson Number One,” he wheezes, “Your magic supply is finite.”

The kid looks surprised at that… and - now that Poisen is talking - sits down, at a safe distance.

“Thanks for not running,” he huffs.

“Thanks for finally teaching,” the kid retorts dryly, and Poisen can’t help but give a winded chuckle.

“Sorry about that. I’m just…” What little levity there was fades as his expression turns grim.

“You can't go back…” Poisen pleads. “You can't. I won't allow it.” The kid tilts his head at him.

“Why are you like that?” the kid inquires, almost offended, and Poisen leans back so he can breathe easier. He feels his chest strain from using so much magic, all of his muscles feel weak, but the uncontrolled quivering might be from something else still.

“I know you think you owe Mr. Dark because he saved your life,” Poisen says.

The kid is quiet for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But…?” he inquires.

But Poisen can't put it into words. He doesn't know where to start. He doesn't know how to tell in a way the little one would believe.

He feels so lost.

Before he knows it, he's pulled the kid into a hug.

Apologies whirl in his mind but don't make it to his tongue. The moment he tries to put this warning into words… he bawls.

The kid is spooked… but he no longer tries to run.

He tries again, his voice thin, like he's letting the kid in on a secret, his hands cling protectively.

“When Mr. Dark finds the book,” the one they left atop the shelves in the library - it will be a while, but it will happen, “I want you to be as far away from him as possible.”

The little one looks nervous now.

“If I can't escort you through the gate, then I'd at least would have wanted you with a confidant.”

When it comes to hypothetical options, Poisen truly isn't spoilt for choice by now.

He hopes Cam will be happy to be the first he considered and not hurt to be the first to be dismissed, but Poisen doesn't know where his mother is staying in this timeline. Is the aheart of the Ancients still save? Are they looking for him in the village at the blue mountains where he was supposed to go? The Swamps where he got lost? Is the Risen Peak a thing yet? He doesn't know.

And neither option is in any way close enough for them to just get there on foot, or with what little remains of his magic, even without the barrier innplace.

He would even have considered Betilla - although that might be weird with her already mentoring Rayman.

“I wanted to take you Space Mama. You know her, right?”

Picture City simply feels like the best choice. It's closer, and Space Mama would at least be a familiar face. As it is, he has spooked the kid enough already.

“But I don't wanna go to Picture City,” the kid protests. Poisen almost finds it in himself to laugh out of sheer desperation. The irony that despite trying he wasn't able to take him there anyway.

After the little one had already not been able to see the gate, Poisen shouldn't be surprised that he wouldn't be able to escort the kid away from the Chateau when the painting itself doesn't extend so far…

His range in this time-capsule is limited, the barrier that cut off his spell won't let Poisen pass beyond a certain range, and he doesn't trust the kid enough to send him off without an escort. With his track record he'd wander off a cliff or drown in a pool of ink…

…

So he needs to be sure the kid sticks with him, at least for the time being.

Cautiously, Poisen releases his hold from the kid, waits if he tries to run again and breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn't.

“I can't teach you magic when I'm completely drained,” he says and shifts away, assuming his favorite meditation pose.

“Your magic is not fairy given,” he says, tapping his own chest “It comes from in here.”

The little one is clearly confused by the sudden change in topic, but as long as it's what he'd been pestering him about relentlessly Poisen knows he wouldn't dare interrupt or walk off on his own.

“Before we try any spell, you need to find the connection with your core and tap into that.”

“How do I do that?”

To the best of his abilities, Poisen tries to put into words what took him months to get an understanding for. He doesn't expect it to click for the little one right away; he's expecting failure.

But he's also expecting stubborn tenacity.

Poisen tries to lead by example. With eyes closed, and his breathing deep, he tries to clear his mind and shake the lingering panic. If his skin quivers regardless he acknowledges the crisp air of the surrounding mountainside. The smell of sugar lies heavy in the air. He's never been a fan… but it holds something familiar, something - despite everything - comforting.

He hears the shuffling of feet and chances a glance at the source. The kid has bound next to his side and is trying to mimic his posture.

“How do you float?”

Poisen finds it in himself to smile after everything.

“That's just what happens when you do it right. You need to focus.”

“I'm gonna focus so hard!” the kid exclaims and proceeds with a face like pushing a boulder.

Yeah, that's not gonna work.

“If it's any consolation, I didn't figure it out until at least-”

The Protoon. And his guard duty on Betilla. And Mr. Dark's defeat at Rayman's hands…

Yeah… Best not to bring that up.

He chances a cautious glance at the kid. He's trying so hard.

“I mean… you're further ahead than I was your age. You'll figure it out,” Poisen chuckles, and resumes his own meditation.

The dwindling questions are a good sign he thinks, of the little one slowly getting the hang of it.

---

When he next wants to check in on the kid, he is gone. Poisen flings from refreshed into alarm in seconds.

“Kid?” he calls to no answer, “Kid?!”

The glaze surrounding him looks entirely undisturbed, there are no signs or footprints or any other indication of them having been here.

“Kid!” he calls out again. His feet land on the glaze with a soft crunch.

But of course if he's not here - there's only one place he could have gone back to!

Cautiously Poisen tracks back to the Chateau. It seems… peaceful enough. He has a hunch.

His feet lead Poisen back to the library. Books that he remembers pulling from the shelves are still in pristine order where he first found them.

When a familiar “What are you doing in here?” catches his ears - more curious than it is alarmed, Poisen wants to cry with relief.

“Mr. Dark is looking for a book,” he replies before the kid can come close enough to see him, “I thought it might be here.”

“He is?!?” the young voice replies with a sense of fear.

“Uuuh… which book? I'll help!” the voice piques up, and Poisen can't help but smile to himself.

“Some kind of spellbook. He insists that he's last seen it in his study, but that it's no longer there.”

When he checks, Poisen finds that his notes from earlier are still there. They’re rough, but better than nothing. Surely Betilla or Ales might be able to scour out the right book from those notes alone.

The sound of little feet puttering away is music to his ears and even if he can’t get the young one out of this place entirely… it helps to know that things will be alright for him… for now.

And maybe this time around, Poisen can find the book he’s actually looking for.

But first… he just needs to be sure of one more thing.

When Poisen skulks the halls again, he's not trailing after the kid, but following another familiar route… until he finds what he's looking for and climbs out of the adjacent window.

He ports the small distance up and lingers at the steep of an upper window, where he can easily cling to the roof and get a clear view from above right into Mr. Dark's study.

The sorcerer himself is there, busying himself with the crystal ball in the corner of the room. It's easy to spot its glow in the dimly lit room.

To his relief he doesn't yet seem agitated about the missing book.

He seems to have beaten the little one though as the stand where Mr. Dark likes to keep his books is still suspiciously empty.

When the door to the study creeks open, the room is flooded with light from the hallway. The kid treads with careful steps, but when he spots Mr. Dark in the corner, he forgoes putting the book back to its spot and instead trots over to the sorcerer.

Poisen feels his breath seize and his muscles tense as his fingers almost break the candid rim of the windowsill.

From up here he can't understand what the little one is says. But he tugs at Mr. Dark's coat, interrupts what he's doing and has the sorcerer turn around.

Beneath the rim of his large hat Poisen can't see his expression, but his younger self is holding out the book with a nervous smile. Mr. Dark raises his head and Poisen readies himself to intervene -

When Mr. Dark takes the book and ruffles the kid's hair.

It's like time stops and Poisen forgets how to breathe. Below, Mr. Dark carries the book back to its spot and dismisses the kid who nods his head with a proud smile as he shimmies off…

And Poisen feels a pang of jealousy that topples his world upside down.

Relief muddles into betrayal and doubt.

He knows better. He knows he does. He knows that this is wrong. That it's not gonna last. That… that….

He pushes away from the window and leans against the roof. His fingers brush over the gingerbread tiles in an attempt to ground himself, but the effort feels mute.

He should not have come here. He should have stayed in the library and committed to his research.

He feels foolish… but he knows better. He knows that he knows better. It's just…

It's too early yet.

When he returns to the library there's no joy when he finds the familiar volume he's looking for. His hand feels cold and shaky when he transcribes the pages of his spells and possible enhancements. When he slides the book back into it's place on the shelf it's with a grounding sigh.

His gaze drops to his scraggled notes. The ones he'd just made, and the rough transcripts from Mr. Dark’s book, and he finds new resolve.

Betilla will want to see this.

With this, he's sure they can heal the Protoon.

He knows where his place in the world is. He's learned it the hard way, found it painstakingly.

He knows it's not here. As much as the voices in his head would like to differ.

#Rayman #Poisen #Rayman OC #Oneshot #Journey to the past #Birthday Boy #OC 20th Anniversary

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im-no-jedi · 2 years ago

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Ohh can I request a Fives x Reader OC fic? 🥰

Prompt/Request: “Kiss me, quick!” with Fives. Name: Celia Age: Mid-late 20s Physical features: Human, brown hair/eyes, pixie cut, short in stature Personality: Adventurous, outgoing, good sense of humor, quick temper that can sometimes get her into trouble. 🌝

ahh Fives my beloved 🥰 excellent choice! oooh I got a fun idea with this one... 😁

(tw: there's a stalker 👀)

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Nighttime on Coruscant was a unique experience. Although the denizens of the planet remained bustling and busy, the bright neon lights and alluring nightclubs gave a more pleasurable vibe than professional. Even the soldiers of the grand army of the Republic couldn't ignore the call of the night. But like most other places, Coruscant wasn't free of troublemakers and thugs. And the night was when those sorts of unsavory folks seemed to thrive...

Good thing Fives was always prepared for that sort of thing. Even on nights when he'd hang out at 79's with his brothers, he was always ready for any sort of trouble that might come his way. One might even catch him gloating about some ruffian that he'd put in their place, proudly claiming it was "no sweat". It was near impossible to catch Fives off his guard. Up until then, nobody had done it.

Then Celia came into his life.

It was obvious to pretty much everyone that knew him that Fives had been smitten from their very first meeting. Celia's tenacity and wit had completely enamored him, and it was near impossible to hide. Still, he tried to play off his feelings with his usual smugness and playful attitude. To most, it came across like the two of them were simply two close friends. And they were, despite how much Fives wished it could be more than that.

One night, after an entertaining time of hanging out at the bar with his brothers, Fives found himself lingering outside the building alone. It wasn't terribly late, but at the time, it seemed almost everybody was inside. The air was a bit chilly, but not enough to deter Fives from going back inside. And as much as he enjoyed other people's company, he still needed occasional time to clear his head in silence.

Which was pretty pointless hanging around outside of a bar.

"Ehh, guess I'll just head home," Fives thought to himself. Things hadn't been the most exciting up until then, so he didn't see much point in hanging around anymore. Walking home alone wasn't ideal, but he didn't feel like asking anyone about that sort of thing. He could handle himself, after all.

As he pushed himself off the wall he was leaned against, a figure caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. A young woman with short brown hair and looking a bit frazzled was briskly walking in his direction. Fives' heart skipped a beat when he realized who it was.

"Celia?"

The woman locked eyes with him at the mention of her name, and her demeanor quickly changed. She waved to him and called out, "Fives! There you are!" before jaunting up to him.

A smile spread on Fives' face as she approached. It sounded like she'd been looking for him, which thrilled him to hear. "Here to hang out at the bar for a bit?" he smugly asked.

"Oh, I think you know why I'm here," Celia replied with equal smugness.

Fives' eyes went a bit wide. What... what did she mean by that? And why did she still look so frazzled?

"Riiiight... uhh, still, can ya remind me maybe?" Fives gave a slight chuckle to try and mask his genuine confusion.

Celia briefly glanced behind her before stepping closer to Fives. "Don't act dumb!" She playfully whacked him in the arm before planting her hands on her hips. It was hard to tell whether or not she was genuinely mad, which was often the case. Her short temper meant she often got into scrapes with others that Fives would either have to pull her out of or gladly join in the fight with her.

Something else seemed to be going on though.

"I'm drawing a blank, sorry," Fives said with a shrug. "What is it again?"

Celia looked irked, and Fives still couldn't tell whether or not it was because of him. Then she looked over her shoulder again. This time, Fives joined her and looked over in that direction.

There wasn't much to see, but he could make out the shape of a figure in the shadows. And it looked like the person was looking back at the two of them. Fives actually got the sense that the person was watching them on purpose.

Then the person began to approach them.

Celia inhaled sharply and whipped her head back to Fives. In one swift movement, she grabbed Fives by the top of his chest armor and pulled him against her. It was impressive considering how much smaller she was than him. But then again, Fives held no resistance against her either.

"Kiss me, quick!" Celia exclaimed quietly.

Fives immediately felt his face grow warm, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He could barely process what he'd just heard.

Then without a second thought, he complied. He practically scooped Celia into his arms and bent down to press his lips to hers. Even standing on her tiptoes, Celia couldn't reach his face, but it didn't matter. Fives was completely lost in the moment from the instant he started kissing her.

An unknown amount of time passed, as Fives had no intention of letting the moment end. Celia eventually broke away, practically ripping herself from their spontaneous moment of passion. Fives felt so lightheaded and blissed that he could barely make out what was happening.

"Ok, I think he's gone," Celia said with a sigh of relief. "That was... are you ok?"

Fives stared at her in a euphoric daze for a moment before literally shaking himself out of it. "Y-Yeah, yup, I'm great, uh huh, yup."

Celia let out a chuckle and shook her head, barely able to hide the blush that had grown on her own cheeks.

"What... what was that all about?" Fives said, still a bit woozy.

"I caught some guy following me a little while ago," Celia responded as her face turned down into a scowl. "I confronted him about it, but he claimed it was 'just coincidence'. So I figured I'd pop by here to try and throw him off. Lucky me, you were here." She forcibly laughed and softly punched Fives in the arm.

Fives returned the forced laugh and rubbed the spot she had punched, more out of habit than anything else. It was almost impossible to hide the disappointment he felt, but he managed to do so by focusing on the fact that she was ok. And by masking it with humor, like he often did.

"Anytime, friend." The awkward smile Fives made was almost enough to make himself cringe.

Celia brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and gave Fives a genuine smile. "Seriously, thanks. I kinda put you on the spot there."

Fives scoffed a bit. "Are you kidding? It was no problem at all!"

Blush began to return to Celia's cheeks, and she snickered. The realization of what he'd just said made Fives break out into a blush as well, and he let out an awkward chuckle.

Then Celia looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "Well, at least now I know I have a plan to utilize if this happens again."

Fives could feel sweat coalescing on his brow but ignored it. A warm feeling in his chest began to grow as he looked at her, her brown eyes literally sparkling from the neon lights surrounding them.

"Like I said..." Fives gave her a smile that he hoped would portray his feelings to her. "Anytime."

The two remained locked in eye contact for a bit, lost in each other's gaze. Fives wanted so badly to pull her into another kiss, but held back for her sake.

"Well," Celia eventually said. "Guess I'd better head home for real now."

"Need an escort?" Fives asked. "I'm... not doin' anything."

Celia gave him a big smile. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." She linked arms with him and began leading him away from the building, once again with no resistance on his part.

Along the way, Fives reassured her that if someone like that guy ever started following her again, he'd sock them before they could even take their next breath. Celia promptly responded that he'd have to get in line behind her first. Which made him question why she didn't just do that in the first place.

Without missing a beat, Celia responded, "I thought the idea I came up with was better."

And Fives honestly couldn't help but agree.

#thank you for the request! 💙#this one was a lot of fun hehe #Han's writing requests #starrylothcat #my storiez #star warz

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

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listen i fucking know there’s at least ONE civilian who knows a superhero/villain’s actual identity and doesn’t say shit about it because they’re either terrified or they think it’s not their business

#this is DIRECTLY correlated to an au i always think about where iron man is known only as iron man #except there's a grocery store worker who saw iron man crashland in the back alley and out pops tony #and they're like 'hahahahahah shit. SHIT'#and so now they have this knowledge #and eventually it leads this person to a job at SI and iron man STILL is just iron man #and thsi person. holy shit #like they actually are instrumental to tony not being found out #because tony is supremely bad at this whole 'secret identity' bullshit #and they have a fucking art student living in their shitty apartment that's too tiny #and said art student gets paid fifty bucks to make a lifesize paper cutout of the iron man suit #which oc places at some places just to see if it deters people #IT DOES #IT FUCKING DOES #she drapes it across a building and attaches a string to have him 'fly' and it fucking WORKS #and tony's fuckign shaking because he KNOWS someone is covering for him but it's not rhodey or pepper or happy #SO WHO THE FUCK ELSE KNOWS #AND WHAT DO THEY WANT #little does he know it's literally just the PA/assistant/whatever who just wants to go home #and maybe take a vacation somewhere cool #or in the event that that DOESN'T happen #buy a new apartment and have one room be converted into a library #anyways. this is what i think about a lot.

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theforgottenmcrmy · 3 years ago

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After All (Part 1/?)

Pairing: Riff x OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, Really Mild Angst

Summary: It was not Riff’s first time in a holding cell at the local precinct, and it was not likely to be his last. However, it was the first time he was even remotely concerned about the potential outcomes of said situation. No matter what happened, after all was said and done, at least they wouldn’t be able to say he hadn’t done a single decent thing for her.

Word Count: 3200 ish.

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this is a reimagining of the film West Side Story (2021) and as a result is slightly AU.

Masterlist /// Part 1 /// Part 2

A/N: Full disclosure, when I was in high school, my school performed West Side Story. At that time, I really didn’t care much for Riff as a character. But, I saw West Side Story a few weeks ago, and damn, Mike Faist’s and Stephen Spielberg’s Riff made me double-take- the character can have some depth. This is my attempt at that. I found several inspiring Riff x Reader fics on here, so hopefully there’s an audience for this, and hopefully the OC instead of x Reader or Y/N doesn’t deter too many people. I plan on seeing this story through for myself, but if you enjoy, please consider giving it a like- if it gets some traction, I’ll be extra motivated to update quickly. (I definitely don’t have 9 pages of notes/plot already planned out for this.) I’ll stop babbling now.

Part One: A Single Decent Thing

It was not Riff’s first time in a holding cell at the local precinct. And if he had to guess, it certainly wouldn’t be his last. However, it was the first time he felt even remotely concerned about the potential outcomes of said situation.

Sergeant Schrank had already taken his “accomplice” to the interrogation room, leaving him alone in the holding cell. He sat on the steel bench, trying not to think too much about the conversation that was going down just a few rooms over.

The squad room was sparse, given the lateness of the hour. He’d even been left unattended for a few moments, with the Sergeant’s partner having mumbled something about finding some coffee a few minutes ago, before promptly leaving the room.

Had he been brought in the station that night by himself, he probably would’ve thought to try and fashion something crafty to get himself out of the cell, and take advantage of the officers’ negligence. But, as much as he wished he was anywhere else at that moment, he knew the collateral damages of making a run for it now wouldn't be pretty.

The door to the squad room opened suddenly, and a woman entered the room in a rush, her heels clicking on the wooden floors in a flourish. She looked a bit disheveled, which was to have been expected.

Her eyes scanned the room, noting the lack of personnel. Finally, her eyes landed on him. Her brows furrowed in anger. She stalked over to him, like a predator stalking its prey.

Fortunately for Riff, he was seldom scared of anyone, and even less so anyone he would openly admit to. He remained seated on the bench, only sparing her a passing glance.

The woman approached the holding cell, but still kept some distance from the bars. “What trouble have you gotten yourselves in now?” She asked him then, her voice low.

“I ain’t got any idea what you’re talking about,” Riff replied boredly, looking anywhere but at her.

“Don’t try that bullshit with me, Riff,” the woman snapped, her patience- which was usually thin- long forgotten. “Only people who are up to no good get arrested at two o’clock in the morning.”

“Aw, come on now, haven’t you ever heard of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

She scowled, and opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off when the Sergeant’s partner returned to the squad room.

“Ma’am!” the officer- whose name Riff had already forgotten- called to her as he approached the pair. “Please, step away from the cell,” he advised. He was visibly nervous. Goodness, this guy could use a backbone. Where was Krupke this evening?

She hesitated, sparing Riff another glance, before finally retreating towards the middle of the room. The officer gestured to one of the two benches, smiling at her apologetically. “I’m sorry to shout ma’am, but it’s for your safety, of course.”

The woman said nothing as she took a seat.

At this point, Riff began to realize he could be here for quite a while. The adrenaline high he’d been running on was starting to fade fast, and the clock across the squad room indicated that it was well past 3 AM. He leaned back against the cool bars of the cell, tucked his head down, and closed his eyes for a few moments.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the next thing he knew the doors to the squad room opened once more, and Sergeant Schrank barreled in. Riff opened his eyes to watch him approach the woman seated on the bench, but otherwise did not move from his spot.

“You are here for Ms. Thomas, I assume?” Sergeant Schrank asked the woman. It was a redundant question. Nobody had ever shown up for him.

“Yes, I’m her aunt,” the woman answered, standing up as Schrank came to a halt before her. “And who are you?” she demanded, eyeing them both up and down.

“Sergeant Schrank, ma’am. This is my partner, Detective Davis.”

“What exactly is my niece supposed to have done?”

Riff closed his eyes again, desperately wishing he could block out some of the woman’s comments about him that were sure to follow.

“Ma’am, please, this is an active investigation, perhaps we should go somewhere more private to discuss this further?” Detective Davis proposed, audibly uncomfortable.

“Active investigation? She’s just a girl!” the woman argued. Riff wasn’t watching the trio, but he could practically see the frown that must have been on her face in his mind. After all, she’d given him that same frown countless times before.

“I understand this may come as a bit of a shock,” Sergeant Schrank began, and Riff couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the man’s condescending tone. “But, we caught your niece and this Riff-raff near an active crime scene investigation.”

“First of all, don’t pretend to understand where I’m coming from!” the woman snapped at him. The sudden aggressive turn in an already tense conversation almost made Riff break his sleepy trance and watch the situation unfold. Almost.

“Secondly, I got a call in the middle of the night informing me that my niece, whom I believed to be in bed, was picked up by your officers and taken here. Why wasn’t she the one to call me and inform me about such? You still offer detainees their one call, correct?”

Sergeant Schrank sighed, and it was apparent that he was starting to figure out exactly the type of woman he was dealing with. Riff wasn’t a fan of her by any means, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he was taken some enjoyment in the berating Schrank and his oaf of a partner were being dealt.

“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Detective Davis explained sheepishly. “They’ve only been here for about an hour-”

“Unacceptable,” the woman interjected. “I demand answers, now. Where is she? Why isn’t she here? Have you been interrogating her for that long?”

Yes.

“Interrogating is a strong word, ma’am, we were merely asking her about her whereabouts this evening,” Sergeant Schrank corrected her tiredly, frustrated with how the conversation was unfolding. “And, in fact, we’re almost done with her. If you calm down, we’ll let you speak with her after we talk to you first.”

There was a beat of silence.

The woman sighed softly. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

That was shocking. Riff wasn’t sure he had ever heard her apologize to anyone before for as long as he’d known her.

“It’s just… she’s my brother’s daughter, and she’s been with me since her mother died some years ago. I’ve tried my best with raising her, but she’s made these friends-”

Here we go. Riff had heard her aunt’s spiel before… most of the time when he was hiding somewhere nearby and the woman had no idea of his presence, but still… he could probably recite it word for word, if he had or cared to.

“-that have been nothing but trouble.”

She’s nothing like them.

“Roxanne’s a good girl-”

This almost made Riff laugh. Hell, if the woman knew why exactly they had been out that night, her opinion of her “darling niece” would sour quickly.

“She’s smart, too.”

This, Riff wouldn’t deny. He was in classes with her when they were younger, on the days he made it to school. He actually thought she’d been a bit of a know-it-all back then… Nowadays, he enjoyed her quick thinking. The sass, too, but he wouldn’t ever tell her that.

He still remembers the angry look on her face when she found out he dropped out of school. She had been trying- trying being the keyword- to tutor him to prevent exactly that, but it was to no avail. His mind was already made up at that point, but it had given them something to do in order to kill time between gigs.

“In fact, we just got the letter today, she got accepted to that new university downtown, with a scholarship and all-”

Now this… this was news to Riff.

He opened his eyes again, and sat up straight, finally looking over towards the group. Sure, she had mentioned it to him, briefly… but why hadn’t she let him in on how serious of a chance she had?

“-and if the university gets even one whiff of this, they’ll revoke it, for sure,” her aunt finished, decently distraught at this point. “She's worked so hard. Please, there must have been a misunderstanding. She knows how much is at stake- she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her future…”

Riff tore his eyes away from the group once again, focusing on the opposite end of the holding cell instead. While his own thoughts began to race, Detective Davis sighed.

“Understandable, ma’am,” Detective Davis sympathized after a moment, his tone surprisingly genuine given the circumstances.

“But, the fact of the matter is, someone has to take the heat for this. If we don’t get any information at all, they’re both looking at time,” Sergeant Schrank, not one for any sort of bullshit, informed her bluntly.

Time? Things were starting to move a bit too fast, and Riff, who was almost always quick on his feet, felt like the ground beneath his sneakers was starting to slip.

The implication had silenced her aunt, which was another state he never recalled seeing her aunt in before.

“Look, why don’t we go into my office, so we can take care of some administrative formalities,” Schank suggested, gently guiding her by the arm to the adjacent room. “I’ll have Davis here go get Ms. Thomas so you can speak with her afterwards.”

The door to Schrank’s office shut with a soft thud, and Riff could faintly hear their muffled voices behind the warped glass.

Detective Davis pointed a finger at him as he passed the cell. “Stay put,” he ordered, heading down the hallway leading to the interrogation rooms. Despite the circumstances, Riff found himself rolling his eyes, glancing down at the handcuffs that had been firmly secured around his rest for the better part of the last two hours.

The echoing of Detective Davis’ footsteps faded, and Riff was met with an eerie silence. The ticking of the squad room clock echoed throughout the room.

Surely, there was a way out of this? It wasn’t his first time being picked up before, and there had almost always been a loophole- nobody had actually seen him, or there was no concrete evidence, or, his favorite, Schrank was bluffing the entire time just to try and get some information out of him. When there hadn’t been a saving-grace loophole, and he wasn’t able to get out of the jam, the consequences had always been a slap on the wrist and a modest fine.

She had always offered to help him with those. Tony, too. Sometimes, he took them up on the offer, but he didn’t feel great about it.

This time, this time it didn’t seem like there would be any loopholes. Time seemed like the only outcome. It was a bit ironic- the one time that he had been brought in for a crime that neither of them had any actual connection to, would be the time that the boys in blue actually had enough material to pin something on them.

Riff was so distracted, he barely registered Detective Davis' return to the squad room, guiding his “accomplice” along with him.

Without a word, the man withdrew the key to the cell from his belt, unlocked the door, opened it, and lightly shoved her inside it. The door slammed shut with a thud, causing her to flinch. Riff remained still.

Detective Davis retreated to Sergeant Scrank’s office quickly, but not before grumbling something to them about keeping quiet.

Then, it was quiet again, save from the rattling of her handcuffs as she fidgeted, finally turning to face him.

His eyes met hers, and he noted the absence of her usual calm demeanor.

Her worried eyes glanced at the closed door to Schrank’s office, before looking to him once again.

“I said nothing.”

Of course not. He found himself smiling, even if it was small. She noticed anyway, frowning slightly at his reaction.

Despite her confusion, she insisted, “They don’t have any evidence, it’s entirely circumstantial.”

Riff shook his head lightly, still smiling slightly. “‘That’s not what it sounds like, Roxie,” he disagreed, quietly, but firmly, encouraging her to accept their reality.

He watched her as she looked away from him, and out towards the squad room. He wondered what she was thinking. She wasn’t satisfied with his response, that much he could tell.

Eventually, she looked towards him once again, though his gaze was still fixated on the floor.

“I’m scared, Riff.”

At that moment, Riff knew what he had to do. Schrank was determined that someone was going to take the heat for this, and she would never tell them the truth of what they had been up to tonight, despite the fact that failing to do so would ruin the life she didn’t even know she was about to have.

“Listen,” he told her, meeting her eyes once again, and finally standing from the steel bench. Despite his youth, his tiredness made it feel like his knees protested at the sudden movement. He took a step towards her, leaving just a few inches between them. Their hands were even closer, but he restrained himself from reaching out to grasp hers.

“I’m going to do something that you probably aren’t going to like,” he confessed to her, his voice low. His eyes once again wandered across the squad room to Schrank’s closed office door. He could feel her eyes on him, but he pressed on, determined.

“When I can, I’ll come find you, and we can talk about everything,” he promised.

“...What? Riff, wait-”

Riff took a step back from her, separating them. “Sergeant!” he shouted across the room.

In a flash, Schrank’s office door opened, and he filed out, frowning at him. “Shut it, Riff! We’re not done with you yet,” he hollered back. “And unless you’ve got something you wanna share with the class-”

“I wanna talk,” Riff insisted, wrapping his hands around the bars of the cell.

Schrank was visibly surprised by this, as Riff thought he would be.

“Riff, don’t,” she pleaded in a harsh whisper beside him, watching as Schrank crossed the room to them. He gave her a knowing look, and she fell quiet immediately.

“I’ll find you,” he repeated, quietly enough so that she would hear, but that the Sergeant could not, as he was escorted out of the cell and down the hallway.

About half an hour later, Riff had struck a deal with Schrank, providing him with some of the details of how they had seen the deputy mayor early that evening in a rather compromising position. Of course, he couldn’t tell him everything, not if he wanted to save their hides in the process, but Schrank ate it up regardless.

“Now, there’s still the matter of what brought you in here tonight,” Schrank informed him. He had taken very detailed notes on the crumbs Riff had provided him, and had already sent off Detective Davis to start working on the lead, leaving the two alone in the interrogation room.

Riff fidgeted with the cuffs around his wrists, eyeing the older man tiredly. “Is there?”

“Someone’s got to take the heat,” Schrank said blankly. “If that lead you gave us doesn’t go anywhere, I won’t have anything to show for it. My boss would become suspicious if we ain’t got a perp for this situation, and I’d have nothing to show for it.”

Riff smirked in slight disbelief. He should’ve known Schrank wasn’t above this. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. “You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do,” Riff told him vaguely, pointedly avoiding any words that would suggest guilt.

“Now, something like this…” Schrank trailed off, and placed a hand under his chin, as if contemplating his next words.

Riff knew damn sure he wasn’t. “How ‘bout you just hit me with a fine and send me on my way, huh? It’s late, Sergeant, wouldn’t want your wife up and about worrying about ya.”

“No can do, Riff. You’re eighteen now, an adult.”

“Am I?”

“Don’t get smart with me now, boy.”

“I thought you just said I was a man-”

“Shove it!” Schrank roared, fed up with antics. “I thank you for the information you’ve provided, and I’ve taken that into consideration. It’ll be up to the DA and judge, but I’m going to recommend a few weeks in the county detention center.”

Riff started the other man down, determined to not let him see him sweat.

“... Unless, of course, you want to tell me what you and Ms. Thomas were really up to tonight,” Schrank offered, raising an eyebrow to Riff, as if goading him.

“No,” Riff answered shortly, eyes still locked with the Sergeant. “I already told ya once, she was on her way home from work. I met up with her just before your boys apprehended us.”

“Well, Riff, if that’s your story, then it’s one you’ll take with you all the way to jail,” Schrank announced, standing up from his seat with a huff. He walked over to the door, and banged on it harshly, notifying his partner that their conversation was over. Detective Davis entered the room immediately, crossing the room to uncuff Riff from the table. “I’m sure I’ll see your sorry ass in a month or so,” Schrank quipped.

“Count on it, Sergeant Schrank,” Riff replied pointedly.

His one phone call was to Tony. It was short, just long enough to tell him he’d be gone for a few weeks, and to make sure the guys were taken care of while he was gone. He knew he was lucky that Tony had even answered at all considering the hour, but Tony knew the two of them were going out that night, and was probably on edge about it anyways.

Tony sounded surprised, to say the least, and perhaps a little disappointed, but Riff knew he’d get over it. They were brothers. Besides, neither of them could really do anything about it- they wouldn’t be able to scrape up bail money, let alone the funds for a lawyer to fight the charges. Riff had to go. Tony would look after the Jets while he was gone, and hopefully keep the Egyptian Kings at bay until he got back.

Riff was internally reconciling and coming to terms with his fate for the next few weeks as Detective Davis escorted him back through the squad room to take him down to booking.

He caught one last glance at her. She was with her aunt, looking upset and like she had been chastised to hell and back. Her eyes were glued to the floor, and she didn’t seem to notice him.

However, her aunt had clocked him the moment he had been escorted back into the room. The look she gave him was an odd one- one she hadn’t given him before. It was one of understanding.

If he had had any doubt about his decision, it was gone now.

“Off we go now,” Detective Davis urged him patiently when he realized Riff was hesitating. “You’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted when you get out of the slammer.”

Riff looked on ahead, forcing one foot in front of the other.

No matter what happened, after all was said and done, at least they wouldn’t be able to say he hadn’t done a single decent thing for her.

A/N: If you liked it, and feel so inclined, please feel free to interact/offer feedback. :)

Part 2

Masterlist

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nerdferatum · 3 years ago

Note

hiii Sara! 10. shy kisses for anyone that you'd like! 💜

I'm so embarrassed by how long it took me to answer this, I'M SO SORRY 😭 uni and general life was a mess. And I'm also sorry because I ignored the premise of using OCs known to anyone so... Yeah, here you go my unedited 3am airport thoughts.

10. Shy kisses

It was another cloudy day in Paris when I decided to visit Versailles to add to my sketchbook. I had already gone once, not too long after moving to the city, but I didn’t consider it would be such a great place for wandering and drawing. Which was a big mistake, I realised, when I got to the gardens. So I intended to rectify my error, packing my sketchbooks, my portable palette and inks and a brush that contained water and set off. Drawing in public never was my thing, I got too nervous at the idea of judgement from strangers. That day, I was planning to get over that fear too. My art was supposed to be more important than that. But that was what being an artist means, I thought, exposing yourself to others’ evaluation. What a terrifying concept.

I followed the chateau’s route, eavesdropping on the guide’s explanations or audio guides passing next to me. The entry ticket was a big bite from my budget for the month, I refused to pay even more for one of those. My high schools’ focus on foreign languages was paying off. However, it was too crowded to draw comfortably, so, before I could realise, I was outside, in front of the ticket booths to the gardens. The humid weather deterred most tourists from going in just yet, they rather wait for some weak sunlight in the restaurant. I took a deep breath: it was my chance for some privacy in the maze.

It didn’t matter how many times I visited the place, its beauty would still shock me. It was difficult to actually feel alone with so many sculptures populating the place. At school, I wished to become a somewhat decent sculptor, but I was too clumsy, too impatient for it. I settled for the theory, for admiring from afar, marvelling at my classmates’ work, which I would draw when no one saw me.

I knew the maze was designed with passion and treason in mind, but it was the silence that trapped me in. It was the first time I could appreciate the overcast French sky since I arrived in the country. I sketched and inked statue after statue, painted fountains and analysed the delicate flowers blooming around me. It was easy to get lost in there, both literally and metaphorically. I don’t know how much time I spent looking at Achilles, Artemis and Proserpine and Pluto; I don’t know how many times I went through the same passages and I don’t know how long I worked there, in plain sight. It was there when I became conscious of what was missing in my life, the spark that slowly faded away while I tried to hang onto a structured life. I gave up trying to understand any of the maps and just wandered around. That’s when I saw it.

The statue was nothing special, considering every detail was thoroughly planned. I think I didn’t expect to see an actual representation of Galatea in marble, standing there as part of a circle of random deities and heroes. As any other square, it was empty, not even faint sounds of people went through the thick walls of greenery. Her gaze of empty eyes was fixated on me, sending a shiver down my spine. She had a hand up, as if she was waving while playing with her long, wavy hair. Only a long piece of fabric covered her over her shoulders, then draping around her hips. At her feet, two angry looking fish offered her some support. I walked up to her frowning, pulled in by the gentle smile on her round face. I couldn’t say then and I can’t say now what attracted me so strongly about that particular statue. Observing her, that tall, delicate, gracious marble, I could understand Pygmalion perfectly. I thought of all those pictures of people kissing sculptures that would continuously pop up and imagined what my portrait would look like next to Galatea.

I looked around. It didn’t seem that it was a popular route, less so that specific day, so I propped up my phone against my bag and improvised a tripod. I couldn’t stop thinking how stupid I would look if someone caught me there. I would probably get in trouble if security found me. And she was so incredibly tall on her pedestal… I climbed up, hesitant, stopping to rest on my knees. My heart was beating hard against my ribs so wildly that my chest hurt, but, when I glanced up, her eyes of stone struck me like lightning. I was paralysed, the rest of the world forgotten around me. I was unable to move and, if I was honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Something cold touched my cheek, giving back an ounce of life to my limbs so I could reach to that contact. Her hand moved down my face and tilted it up to her.

I got up slowly, as if I feared I could scare her away, even though the one looking like a panicked animal was only me. I lifted my hand, but didn’t touch her, not yet, not before she, who didn’t or shouldn’t exist, allowed me to. I caressed her with the tip of my fingers until I could trace the small shape of her lips. I couldn’t bring myself to stop and think, not when she was looking at me. I didn’t want to break the spell, whatever magic was working there, allowing stone to stare at me like that. I close the distance between us.

I don’t know how long I kissed her. I felt my body shivering under her touch, under the hands that lovingly pulled me close. In my stagnant world, she reached her hand to close it around my pounding heart. My chest was about to explode, but I wouldn’t step back. Between the mist, the skeleton of a thought was starting to take shape. Not only I understood Pygmalion and would have given my life away for another kiss like that, but I would never love nor would I be loved like that. My world wouldn’t stop for a kiss again and I couldn’t expect anyone else’s to do it either. I would never have that kind of power, I wouldn’t fit into any story made of passion and magic, of gods who pitied the mortals under them, of kings who achieve their dreams thanks to divine help. I could only hope to not forget the warmth of Galatea’s marble, who kindly granted me a kiss that lasted either a minute or a century, a taste of what I would never have. I was happy with that brief flash of glory.

#I'm sorry but sometimes my brain stops working #q #sara writes

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toh-writings · 3 years ago

Text

Fortunes of Love Pt 2 (Eda x OC)

Summary:

Eda and Niliana strike up a business deal. In the meantime, Luz tries to figure out what she's going to do about this love of hers.

Warnings: None

Pt 1 Pt2

“And then she said that I’d fall in love with someone close to me!” Luz said, eyes shining. Willow and Gus were listening intently, looking just as amazed.

“Whoa…” Gus said, voice quiet. “Amazing.”

“That’s great, Luz!” Willow said. “Do you know who it is?”

Luz thought for a moment, eyes squinting as she debated with herself. She shook her head.

“Not really. She said it might be one of my friends.” Luz narrowed her eyes at her two friends. “Do either of you like me?” She asked suspiciously. Her two friends looked at each other and shrugged.

“No, not really.”

“Not in that way.”

“Then who is it?”

The group went silent as they all thought it over. Suddenly, Gus began to giggle.

“Hey guys, what if-if it was Amity?”

Willow giggled a little at the suggestion, but Luz could only think about it. She thought about Amity, about how she read books to kids, how smart she was, the fun they had dancing together at grom, the grudgby match, her smile, that cute little giggle she had. The more she thought about it the redder her face got and the more the other two giggled.

“Ooooh, Luz has a cruuuush.” Gus said. Luz blushed harder, shoving his shoulder but all that accomplished was making them laugh harder. Luz laughed with them. She couldn’t help it, just was just a giggly person.

“Luz, you have to tell Amity!” Willow said. Gus nodded in agreement.

“I know, I know, but what do I even say?!”

Gus shrugged.

“Tell her about the fortune teller or something?”

Willow and Luz shook their heads.

“Whatever you do, can ya do it somewhere else? Your teenage gossip is scaring off the customers.” Eda gave them a hard look from her spot behind the stand’s counter.

The teen’s gave an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Eda! We’ll head off!” Luz said, ushering her friends away. “We can walk and talk, right guys?”

They, of course, agreed, but before they got too far Eda stopped them with a hand on Luz’s shoulder.

“You got this, kiddo.” She gave the girl a wink, earning her a smile.

“Thanks, Eda.”

Eda nodded, letting her go. She waved to them as they left, Luz waving back before continuing her talk with her friends. Eda shook her head and muttered “teenagers” under her breath. They’d figure it out eventually. She turned back to her shelves of human junk with a sigh.

“Alright, back to work.”

She decided it would help to rearrange the items a bit, put something different out front to catch the costumer's attention. It helped a little but overall it remained a slow day. Sure, it happened, but it was still aggravating. She was debating sending Owlbert out for more when she saw someone approaching from the corner of her eye. She instinctually put on her customer service face before dropping it for a smirk when she saw who it was.

“Nily! What a pleasant surprise.”

The other woman gave a little wave as she approached. She was wearing her hair down today, the dark curls reaching just below her shoulders. She wore casual clothes, probably off of work for the day or something of the sort, her staff in hand.

“What brings you out of the gloom and all the way to my stand?”

Niliana didn’t answer at first, her eyes gazing at the assorted human items. To anyone else, it would have just looked like she was perusing the available wears, but Eda liked to think she was better at reading people than most others. To her, she looked uncertain, like she was thinking something over that she probably should have figured out before coming over.

“I had a proposition for you.”

Eda raised an eyebrow at that.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, I had the idea that we could possibly work together. You know about my hobby making and fixing stuffed animals. What if I gave you some of them to sell at your stand?”

Eda laughed, shaking her head. Niliana crossed her arms, just waiting for her to stop, an irritated frown on her face.

“Oh, Nily, I sell human stuff at my stand! Your stuffed animals wouldn’t fit here.”’

“Which is why I would make them out of supplies from the human realm,” Niliana said, not missing a beat. Perhaps she thought this out more than Eda initially thought. “Just grab some discarded clothes or blankets, I make them into my animals, and you can market them as a piece of the human realm for children. You’ll be widening your market. If you want, I can buy the fabrics off of you so if they don’t sell you don’t lose anything.”

Yeah, she really did think through this.

“And what would you get out of it?” Eda asked.

Niliana didn’t have an immediate answer. She thought for a moment before responding.

“Other than a small portion of prophets,” Eda nodded. She expected as much. “I really don’t want anything.”

Eda looked doubtful. The other witch sighed.

“Honestly, Eda? I’m bored.” Niliana admitted, surprising Eda a bit. “I do the same thing day in and day out. I live in my tent, go to work, maybe work on a toy and that’s it. I just want something more. I want some excitement!” And for a moment, she brightened. Eda hadn’t even noticed how down she looked before, but now her eyes were alight with emotion, she stood up a little straighter and even her voice was a little louder. “What better way to step up things then working with Eda the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles?”

Eda didn’t even need to think it over.

“Alright, you got yourself a deal!” She declared, and they shook hands. Niliana had the biggest smile on her face. Eda had to admit, that sort of guine smile suited her. “I was gonna send Olwbert anyways, I can get him to pick up some things for you to get started.”

At her words the wooden owl sprang to life with a little hoot, flying over to Eda’s outstretched hand. She smiled at him softly, giving him scritches and petting his adorable little cheek.

“Thanks, Eda.”

She looked back to Niliana, that soft smile never really leaving her face.

“Of course. I mean, who am I to deny someone a little excitement. Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna lose anything out of this. Worst comes to worst, I still manage to sell some of my wares. It’s a win-win!”

She turned away, entering her tent with a “Just one minute!” shouted over her shoulder. Now hidden away, she took the key out from its hiding place, pressing the eyes to open the door. With a few hushed words, she sent Owlbert away, ready to collect all sorts of new human memorabilia.

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

It didn’t take much for Luz to realize that yeah, she really did like Amity. She had wanted to be friends for so long she hadn’t even realized those feelings had changed. Of course, then there was the issue of whether or not Amity would like her back.

“She does,” Willow said, not a hint of doubt in her voice. They were walking through the market, cones of ice cream in their hands.

“How do you know?” Luz sounded uncertain and Gus gave a doubtful look, but Willow wasn’t deterred.

“Trust me, I can tell. Didn’t you see how red her face got when you picked her up after the game?”

“I didn’t notice…”

“You’re right!” Gus agreed, face brightening and a hand landing on his cheek. “Her face got so red!”

“Plus she said she loved how stupid you were sometimes right before.”

“And she called you sweet!”

“Honestly, I can’t believe we didn’t see it before.”

Luz could feel the heat in her cheeks, a smile on her face. This was perfect! But then her smile fell.

“That’s all good, but… how am I supposed to ask her out? I’ve never even dated before…”

“Can’t you just ask her? You like her, she clearly likes you, what more do you need?” Gus asked, head tilted to the side in confusion. Willow just shook her head.

“I’m sure that works for some people, but you can also make it this big thing! Maybe with flowers... “ Willow trailed off, already contemplating what arrangement would be best.

The three of them devolved into a fit of giggles. Luz felt lightheaded at the very thought of asking Amity out.

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

She didn’t really know how long it had been before they were headed back to Eda’s stand. An hour? Maybe two? Whatever the case, when the three teens returned Luz was surprised to find a familiar face at the stand, talking happily with Eda.

“Nily!” She cheered happily, running over to the witch.

“Oh, hello. Luz, right?”

She nodded.

“Yep! And these are my friends, Willow and Gus.” She waved to them as they caught up, giving their own shy little waves. She smiled at them, one of those warm parental smiles that some people had, the one that made you know they were a good person. They smiled back, not nearly as shy anymore.

“It’s nice to meet you two.”

“It’s nice to meet you two, Miss Niliana,” Gus said, stepping forward and offering his hand for a handshake. She took it and gave it a little shake. “Luz told us about you!”

“Did she? Well, I hope she said good things.”

“Yeah! She said you told her the future!” Willow said, beaming.

“And it’s been so helpful!” Luz pushed her way through the two to stand in front again. “You said I would fall in love with someone close to me! And I … think I figured out who.” Luz tried to turn her face away to hide the blush creeping onto her face. Niliana chuckled.

“You work fast don’t you?”

“But now I don’t know how to ask her out.” Luz sighed, looking a bit crestfallen. She looked back up when she felt a hand on her shoulder, the woman smiling down at her.

“Don’t worry too much.” Niliana said. “Love can be complicated, especially when you're young. Just don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be.”

Luz smiled at her, a hopeful smile. Maybe things would work out, she thought. She just needed to keep it simple!

Eda watched the interaction from her spot behind the counter, a soft smile on her face. She felt an odd sensation in her chest, one she was not entirely familiar with. It was all warm and fuzzy and other cheesy stuff like that. She didn’t like it, not one bit. The last time she felt anything even remotely similar to this it was with an old boyfriend of hers, one that ended up cheating on her for some cyclops floozy. It was not a pleasant memory.

“Anyways, you can pick up the supplies tomorrow.” Eda spoke up, interrupting their moment. Niliana turned her eyes to her, a little smile still on her face.

“Thanks, Eda! I’ll be sure to stop by to pick them up. I should have a few done in a week.”

“Sounds promising!”

The two shook hands and Niliana gave her goodbyes. The three teens shouted their own goodbyes back, waving madly. Eda waved too, albeit not with nearly as much energy. Her mind was far too occupied.

#the owl house #toh #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne x reader #edalyn clawthorne x oc #eda x reader #eda x oc #lumity #luz #amity #gus #willow

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terry-perry · 4 years ago

Text

Here We Go Again pt. 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinsdottir!Reader

Warnings: Parental angst (if that’s a thing)

OC: A.J. Rogers, Daisy Rogers, Natalie Rogers

A/N: Previous parts HERE and HERE.

Tags: @prettysatan

Enjoy!

He didn’t know what was going on with her. At first, he thought it was about work. He knew how stressed she could get when the council couldn’t reach agreements on certain issues. But then, he began to do some more thinking. Was this about the girls leaving for that mission?

She was still having a bit of a struggle with accepting the fact that they were now part of the next generation of Avengers. They were still her babies, in her eyes. Only 17 and 19, and they were off fighting crime and putting their lives on the line to save the world. How could she not worry?

Whatever it was that was bothering her, she shouldn’t keep it all bottled up. He wanted to be there for her as best as he could.

“Thor?” Steve approached his brother-in-law at the cliffs overlooking the waters. It was always a favorite spot of the God’s who now looked over his shoulder to offer a welcoming smile.

“Something I can do for you, brother?”

Even after all these years, it felt rather strange for Steve to be referred to as such. When imagining the possibility of future in-laws, he didn’t exactly prepare himself to have any that were of royalty. And in this case, space royalty. Still, it didn’t deter him from seeing Thor as family. It was why he was coming to him, after all.

“I don’t know,” Steve said, not knowing how else to start. “I just-- I’ve been worried about Y/N. I’m sure it’s nothing; maybe she’s just stressing out over work. But it still feels like she’s closing herself off from everyone. It’s not my business, but did she mention anything to you by any chance?”

After hearing this, Thor was now the one unsure of what to say. Guess Y/N hadn’t told him the news just yet, leading him to this suspicion. This alone made Thor want to spill everything to him, but it wasn’t his secret to tell. No matter how much it concerned Steve.

“Well, what do you think she might be concerning herself with?” He decided to take a different route by trying to see if Steve could figure it out himself.

It seemed to have done the trick as he pushed his brows together to think about it. “The most recent thing I can think of is the last time we talked to the girls. They have to stay where they are, longer than anticipated. It’s been getting Y/N more anxious than she already was.”

“That must be it then!” Thor attempted to make it look like he came to this conclusion as well. Laying on the enthusiasm a little too thick.

Steve didn‘t notice, thankfully. Now busy feeling guilty for what Y/N has been going through by herself. And it wasn’t that he hasn’t been missing Daisy and Nat either. He missed them like crazy. But they had jobs to do, just like the ones he and Y/N had.

He figured it was hitting her the hardest since when the kids were growing up, she had been the parent that mostly worked and stayed active even after retiring from the Avengers. He himself took on a more Fury-like role by helping to recruit new members and resolve any disputes there may be between the government and superheroes, but he still spent most of the time at home.

Now he wanted to do what he could to help her through this emotional time.

But what?

She continued to pace around the living room, seeming to get more antsy by the minute. This was getting to be too much. Pushing on the verge of ridiculous. She just needed to be upfront about it now.

“Mom?”

And as if she needed to add more to her inner stress...

“Darling,” she greeted A.J. as he walked in looking concerned. Deja vu.

“What’s going on? What happened at dinner?”

“I was wondering that myself. What happened with you? You looked quite sick.”

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted, his worried stare having yet faded. “You were covering your nose and face. Was there something actually wrong with the food?”

“No,” she stated, sighing. If she was wanting to be more upfront about this, might as well start now. “The thing is...I’m pregnant.”

She could hear the way his breath caught in his throat. And if that didn’t give away his shock at the news, his suddenly big eyes certainly did. Though it only seemed to last for a second or two, his expression than changing to one of curiosity and intrigue as he glanced down at her stomach.

“Huh, that explains some things then,” he mumbled more to himself.

She tilted her head, wondering now herself what he could mean by that. “Like what?”

His eyes went back to hers to explain. “Well, at dinner, I think I felt something like a presence? Like someone else was there besides you, me, and dad. And maybe that explains why I felt sick. Because you were feeling sick. Is that possible?”

Her confusion and worry then changed into feelings relating to elation and pride.

“A.J.!” She squealed, approaching him with these emotions in hand. “You’ve inherited your grandmother’s gift.”

“Her gift?”

It could go without saying that Frigga was a powerful witch with many talents. Which is why it can also be said that her powerful empath abilities could easily be overlooked. It was what helped her in being a wonderful wife and mother as well as a selfless and understanding queen, beloved by all. Being able to channel others’ emotions and auras. Could A.J. have gained this skill too?

“Your grandmother was a powerful Empath that could read the feelings of others,” Y/N went on to explain. “And if powerful enough, they can take on the energy of others. Even feel things before they happen due to having a strong intuition.”

“So, like a mind reader?” A.J. asked.

“In a way. Except instead of thoughts, you’re able to read emotions. The energy level of others. Perhaps what you were sensing at dinner was the presence of your future sibling as well as my troubling emotions. Not to mention, my nausea.”

A scoffing chuckle was what she was met with along with “Well, I’m happy for about the baby and the cool stuff I gained, but I don’t know if I’m looking forward to feeling everything you’re gonna feel these next nine months.”

She was happy to learn about this new development about his son, but he certainly had a point. How would this effect him on a personal level? How did Frigga do it exactly? This wasn’t something either her or any of her siblings inherited fully. Perhaps Mantis would be able to lend hand on this, given she was an Empath herself.

“We’ll find a way to help you control your powers,” she assured him. In the meantime, she was glad that he didn’t seem put off by the other news. “So, you’re okay with the baby? Truly?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling before giving her a small, reassuring hug. “It’s a surprise, but it’s awesome. But, I take it Dad doesn’t know.”

She looked embarrassed as she shook her head. “Haven’t had the spine to tell him. Scared of how he’d react. But now I’m feeling guilty for putting it off. Doesn’t help that your Uncle Thor and Aunt Brunnhilde already know.”

She released a heavy sigh after spewing all this out. On some level, she wanted him to judge her for acting like a frightened child. But all he could give her was a sweet, comforting look that had him look so much like Steve.

“He’s gonna think this is great news,” A.J. assured her. “He’ll be shocked, sure, but he’ll be happy.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely,”

The third voice that came into the room immediately caught her off guard, realizing who it was in an instant. She spun around to find Steve had entered their home. That same reassuring and loving face.

“A.J., you mind giving us a minute alone?” Steve requested, directing his head towards the front door.

A.J. understood right away and gave one more smile before making his exit. Leaving his parents alone. One that was biting her bottom lip an fiddling with her fingers while the other wanted it to be known that everything was okay. It would be, anyway.

“How much of that did you hear?” She began with, still afraid to look him in the eye fully.

“Only all of it,” he teased lightly with a shrug. He walked over so he pull her into his arms and let her see how genuine his happiness was, now that it was up close. “This is great, really.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she still felt the need to apologize and open to him the way a wife was meant to do with her partner. “I was scared. For many reasons, if we’re being honest. I mean, it’s been so long since we’ve been in this situation. Will we still be good at this?”

“Of course! Y/N...” he pressed her closer as he ran his hands along her sides. The way his fingers traced his back and lightly massaged her got her shivering a bit. “If we’re being honest, I’m scared too. But, it’s a good scared. Like when I realized I was in love with you. Or, even when you were pregnant the first time.” He paused to give a kiss to the top of her head. “This is gonna be great for us. We’re great parents. You, especially. It’s why I thought you were so upset in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he took a deep breath, now feeling like the embarrassed one. “I thought you were feeling depressed about the girls being gone.”

“Oh, darling. I mean, of course I wish they were here, but I know they have a job to do. I’m proud of them.”

Steve could only smile brighter as he pressed a kiss to her hand. “That right there. That’s how I know we’re going to be okay. Y/N, you care so much about the people you love and do your best to understand them. It’s why you’re such a great mom. Why I love you so much.”

Her eyes couldn’t help but fill up. He knew. It was true that most of her worry derived from her own anxiety. It’d been a mix of things like her past worry from her family’s history and how she wasn’t the most present parental figure that she wanted to be. But he was right. They got this.

“I’m so lucky,” she summed up these thoughts by simply stating that before burying her face in his chest.

He chuckled softly and continued to hold her tight. They stayed that way a little while longer until he brought up a surprise of his own:

“We should probably head outside. I called the girls, and they managed to conjure themselves up for a visit. Let’s tell them the good news.”

#Steve Rogers #asgardian!reader #mcu au #steve rogers x reader #pt.3 #pregnant!reader #marvel #steve rogers imagine #dad!steve rogers #MCU fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe

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bishiglomper · 3 years ago

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OC TIEM!! (*≧▽≦)

She reminds me of my friend named Cassy, and honestly I think the name suits her, so,,, ヾ(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞ

Cassandra (Cassy) (Surname TBD...)

Early twenties though she never grew out of her teen emo-goth phase so she still dresses like a 15 year old. Short cropped, layered reddish-brown hair with frosted tips or died some vibrant color. Most likely pink. Almost always wearing eyeliner/shadow and lipstick but that’s about it. Likes dark nail polish. Has 3 piercings in her left ear, two on her right. A beauty mark under her right eye.

She’s somewhere between wanting to be girly and honestly not giving a shit.

Personality wise, she struggles with her mental health- Intrusive thoughts, self-esteem issues, social anxiety which is juxtaposed by the desire to be surrounded by people. She gets lonely easily and when she’s alone she tends to overthink.

She was a weird little girl. Spent her childhood running through the woods and creek in her backyard like a feral gremlin child, collecting anything interesting from cool rocks to small bones. She thought the woods were haunted but instead of deter her, it only made her more interested and thought up creepy stories to entertain herself.

Being the weird forest gremlin, she was ostracized by the other kids. Some would show interest but would often be deterred by declarations like “I’m a WENDIGO trapped in a girl’s body. I haven’t had a good spleen in a while.” and “Wanna see my fairy bone collection?” so she was known around the playground as the local cryptid. The moniker followed her through middle school and she began to roll with it. Words hurt though. She used it as both a weapon and shield, declaring her weirdness straight up to both keep people at arms length but retain some sense of pride over it. Normal people are boring, after all. She simmered down a lot, growing up fairly well adjusted other than the damage bullying had done. She’s at a healthy amount of weird now. Her mask is comprised of a heaping amount of snark and sass, as part of her coping strategy. Once you get close to her however, she’s a lot softer. She just wants someone to spend time with. Even though her time exploring the woods was the best thing about childhood, she often wished she had a friend to explore with. Hence her wild imagination and stories she made up.

Her strong imagination is both a strength and weakness. She’s intelligent and creative, but anxiety and depression will drag her down if she lets herself overthink too much.

She made it through high school, but had to drop out of college due to her mental health. She hopes to get back and finish after taking a gap year or so to find stabilization.

She had a few friendly acquaintances in school but no one she could get close to, so as far as her sexuality is concerned, there’s still some exploring to do. She suspects she may be ace or demisexual.

(Now the interesting part!) otherwise known as (why is she in a full leg cast? I’m getting to it. (｡ˇ艸ˇ)

The kiddo was WEIRD okay. She was fascinated with the things she found in the woods, and a lot of it was bones. She loved to pretend they were fae, attributing anything weird or out of place to the fae or ghosts in general. She would see things out the corner of her eyes, hear sounds or music she was unable to find the source of. It fueled her imagination rather than creep her out. The ironic part however is that she scares easily. Especially jump scares. They ALWAYS get her! Ugh, so frustrating. But like the masochist she is, she likes the fright. She’ll still punch you in the face if you launch an attack on her. She is definitely the type to throw hands, (Fight instead of Flight) and if she’s real tired of your shit.

At some point. She gets into an accident. Very nearly crushed and almost losing her leg. It was real touch and go for a few days but she persevered and eventually recovered to the point that she really only needed the leg cast. (which she’ll be stuck with for months and months and months) But anyway.

The near death experience was enough to pierce through the veil, granting her the ability to see ghosts and other supernatural creatures. Before, she was unusual enough to only just be aware of things. The strange sounds, things in her peripheral. Now she can hardly tell the difference between the living and dead. Unless something is truly out of place, she won’t realize anything’s wrong. But, as the weird one, it’s hardly noticed outside of her usual quirkiness.

It does worry her though, she’s internally terrified she may have schizophrenia or something.

General rule of thumb is to ignore anything she actually notices. She’ll stare as if trying to decide if something is really there or if she’s truly going crazy. There may be the rare interaction if she feels like someone(thing) needs help. She can’t stand anyone being helpless. (She is both “I must save/protect this person/thing” and “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps already, bitch.”)

#My OC #Cassy #Yes she's a Beetlejuice OC #DON'T JUDGE ME #( ｰ̀εｰ́ )#Whythefuck does she remind me of a manga character #mmmmmmm skip beat?#I don't know.#it's b o t h e r i n g me #all the chibi bits are from a comic I'm putting together. because I couldn't get a scene out of my head lol #also sorry if I'm being insensitive to people with schizophrenia i dont think youre crazy. i actually have a friend who hears voices #hes the best dude #8/10 would date again #( ᐛ )و

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2

Characters - Reader, Ransom Drysdale, assorted OCs

Word count - 3100

Warnings - Drinking, language, sexual content

A/N - Hope you enjoy the next installment of my Ransom series. Still setting things up in the chapter, but we’re moving along. For a while, there will be a good amount of heavy drinking and the questionable choices that go along with that, just FYI. Remember this is fiction and the acts are not recommended. They will also be acknowledged later if you are concerned.

Feedback is wonderful, & if you notice any errors please let me know!

Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Chapter 1

You order drinks plus shots.

“To another fucking week,” you salute with Whitney. It burns, and it’s sweet, and you just want it to act fast.

“Yeah, another one.” She grabs hers, salutes, and tosses it back back. She cringes for a few seconds, but once she recovers, she picks right up with half of a conversation you weren’t having. “So, are you gonna take someone home tonight?”

“You’re more worried about my sex life than your own.” You shake your head at her.

“After what that asshole did to you, you deserve all the good fucking. I’m just trying to find a good dick to help you forget.”

“Wow, that’s sweet in a weird way.” You shake your head again, but smile this time.

“Well, it’s true. I also don’t want to feel bad if I ditch you later for my own fuck buddy.” She wiggles her eyebrows like a cartoon villain. At least she’s giving you a warning this time and not just disappearing on you later.

“Jesus, Whit. Yeah okay.” You can’t help but laugh with her. “It’s just,” you survey the group around you, “You never really know what you’re gonna find at the end of the night.”

“Uhhh, yeah. That’s what having a one-night stand is...Oh hi.” She offers a dazzling smile to a cute guy pushing next to her at the bar.

You wait a few seconds for her attention to return before you mutter, “I am well aware.”

“So pick a partner and do-si-do. Come on, cowgirl,” she nudges you, nodding to the guy in the fraying straw hat next to you. Nothing seems to deter her.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you giggle.

She smiles and shrugs. A few minutes pass as she looks you over, studying you.

“You’re being weird about this.”

“I know.” You nibble on the straw in your glass for a moment before getting to where your mind’s been stuck for hours. “So hey, that guy we hung out with? Ransom?”

“No.” She shakes her head hard from side to side, a slightly manic giggle coming out between the repeated, “No, no. No.”

“What?” you try to sound casual, indifferent, but she knows you too well. “I just want to know what his deal is.”

“You don’t,” she insists, shaking her head.

“Why? Did you sleep with him?”

“No, I haven’t.” She pauses for a moment, you can see she’s actually thinking over her answer. “He’s just gonna get what he wants from you and push you away.”

“You do realize that’s exactly what you’ve been telling me to do? So I should screw someone, but not him...because that’s what he does?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, are he and Michelle a thing? I don’t want any extra relationship drama.”

“Psshh, yeah, god knows you’ve had enough of that.” She stares off into the middle distance before shaking her head and focusing again. “No, they’re not together either, but please? Please? Just promise me you’re not interested in Ransom.”

“Okay, but why?”

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t really think you’re his type.” She lets the words hang, and you’re unsure how to interpret them until you finally settle on hurt. You physically recoil a bit when the sting of her words hits.

“Wow, ouch. What the hell does that mean?” You look down into your lap, looking yourself over really quickly and not finding anything major sticking out.

“I just don’t see it. Trust me, and tell me you’re not being serious with this.”

Even with her strange and kind of harsh reaction, you can’t get rid of the swooping feeling you get in your stomach just thinking about him. So, you try to purse your lips to control the uncomfortable smile trying to break through. You want to assure your friend, but can’t lie to her either...at least not well.

“I’m totally not,” you finally say with an awkward laugh behind it. Again, failing miserably to play off nonchalance.

She sees it all and knows you’re full of shit. “No one will have any respect for you if you fuck around with him.” She says, matter-of-factly.

Where this is all coming from, you have no idea.

“You’re being mean and cryptic and I don’t like it. I’m not even saying that anything’s going to happen, but that sounds a little extreme, Whit. Come on,” you whine.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not. Just find someone and ask him to buy you a drink. Look around, you can pick anyone, but I am not enabling you and Ransom,” she quickly adds.

You try to lighten the mood by teasing her about having standards, but can’t find much ground to stand on when she brings The Ex into the discussion. She’s really on a roll tonight and pulling no punches. It’s not what you wanted or needed from the night. You came out with a mission to have fun, so you take a deep breath and decide to be the bigger person.

“Hey Whit?”

She keeps her eyes on the bar in front of her, letting you know she’s still somewhat annoyed at you. “Yesss?”

“This week sucked. Let’s get trashed.” You sling your arms around her shoulders and shake her until she laughs with you. Her party-friend is back in action.

“Fuck. Yes.”

You struggle to go along with Whitney’s plan for your night, especially when the Cowboy and just about every other guy she pushes your way fail to keep your interest. Not that you’d never had a one-night stand, but just that lately they’d been pretty awful experiences and you wondered far too often lately what a life of celibacy would look like. It’s much easier to dismiss the guys and remember that at least your vibrator can get the job done.

Before last call you give in and you text Jeff. Yes, the Jeff with whiskey dick who left you high and dry last time as Whitney reminds you with a giggle. He sounds genuinely happy to hear from you again and promises to make up for last time which makes it seem worth it to give him another shot. He’s tall, fit, with long fingers and if you remember correctly, a decent enough dick.

He manages to stay hard this time around, and he takes his time feeling you up, but the two of you can’t find a rhythm that works. You finally bat his hand away and rub yourself off while he pumps sloppily into you. Afterward, he leans in for a kiss and you turn away to give him your cheek. Getting dressed, you give him a few non-committal answers when he asks about seeing you again, and at the end of it all, you’re most grateful that you didn’t take him to your place.

You spread out alone in your own bed and think over Whitney’s words.

Whitney knows more than a few of your dirty secrets; the friendship between you two had blossomed quickly with your guard easily let down. She never really judged you, at least not openly, which left you swirling in doubt for days, obsessing over what would probably end up being nothing.

What made you not his type - looks? Money? Another woman? She never really had a filter, but she was being so short on the topic of Ransom which made you think even harder, rooting through some more recent bad memories.

“Am I a bad person?” you ask Carrie during the week.

“What? No!”

You accept her answer with a nod, silently thinking.

“I wonder if I should just take a break.” When Carrie looks at you funny, you clarify, “Like, maybe I am finding these losers because I am not all that great myself? These guys are all just…”

“Babe, you’re meeting them at bars...with Whitney.”

You heave in a deep sigh, “I know. And she’s not that bad.” A humorless laugh escapes. “Maybe I am aiming too high or something?”

“There’s no such thing.” You see her shoulders shift, fire in her eyes and protective mode activated like she’s done a few times in staff meetings. “What happened?” she asks.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

Whitney laughs when you tell her you’re thinking of taking a break.

“Was Jeff that bad? I thought you said he was good with his fingers.”

You look around, even if Whitney has forgotten she’s in public, you haven’t. No one else reacts though, thankfully.

“You’re such a bitch,” you sigh. She fakes offense which you ignore. “No, he wasn’t that bad, I just want to find a nice guy. I don’t know.”

Her already buzzed gaze moves somewhere over your shoulder, “Oh whoa, stop that thought. There’s a guy behind you that looks like he wants to bend you over right here. So,” she drags out, “How about we see how that goes and forget about Jeff, and nice for a while.”

She adjusts her own posture, subtly popping up her tits and tilting her chin down to offer him and enticing smile.

‘Jeff isn’t the problem,’ you think to yourself, but she’s already moving forward with her plan for your night. You toss back the shot she places in front of you and turn to check him out.

It’s not happening, even as tipsy as you currently are, this guy with the ironic mullet hovering next to you and trying to get handsy is not getting into your pants. You know it, Whitney knows it (even if she continues to flirt with his friend), hell - the people in the space station know it… but Mullet Guy is oblivious. It’s embarrassing.

You sit there with your hands over half of your face, wishing he’d leave you alone, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning, you see a familiar pretty face surrounded by blonde hair.

“Do you need some help?” Michelle asks, eyeing the guy next to you.

You’re surprised she even recognized you, let alone approached you, but you’re desperate to take the help where you can get it. “Oh my god, yes.”

She gives you a knowing grin, “You’ll find some of us in the corner booth in the back.”

“You sure?” you ask, still thrown off by the interaction and nearly stumbling off the bar stool. “What about Whitney?”

“I’ll get her,” She gives you a little nudge.

You slip past the guy hopelessly hitting on you, mumbling and hoping he doesn’t follow and head down the aisle alongside the bar until you reach the large, corner booth. A few faces look familiar, but when he looks up you consider turning back. Judging by his smirk, there’s no chance of that happening.

You raise your voice to be heard over the noise of the bar, “Um, Michelle sent me over,” your nerves turning it into a question rather than a statement.

Ransom raises an eyebrow like he’s about to ask a question, but nudges the people next to him to make them get up and make room for you.

“Oh, no that’s...I’ll just sit on the end.” You try to politely wave them off, but they’re already up.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” he invites you, arm thrown over the back of the seat and your heart beats double-time with just how much you want it wrapped around you. The two people who vacated their spots shift impatiently and you clumsily sit down and start to scoot over under your knee bumps into his, making you immediately stop and apologize.

“You here all alone?” he asks, swirling his drink, the ring on his pinky finger flashing in the light.

“Nah,” Michelle reappears and speaks up for you as she sets down a few glasses onto the table, “Whitney’s here, but she’s got some company. This lucky lady,” she points to you and continues with a light laugh in her voice, “Was just looking miserable with some idiot not taking a hint.”

“You should’ve just told him to fuck off.” Ransom says.

You look over the crowd, finding Mullet Guy waiting for you back at your seat. His eyes droopy from the liquor and Whitney swaying with his companion.

“I know, I just don’t like doing that. Plus, uh, I think Whitney is trying to fuck his friend.”

“So leave her. She’s a big girl and can handle herself.”

After that he continues the conversation he was having with the others before you arrived, and once again, you sit there silently watching.

If you can call anyone the leader in the group, it is Ransom. Watching the way the other guys at the table defer to him and how he responds to what they say makes it obvious. He knows it too, practically sitting here holding court at the big square booth.

The conversation isn’t all that interesting, at least not to you. Some kind of pissing contest the guys are having involving some sports stats. Every now and again you hear them say something so blatantly wrong, but you don’t know them well enough to correct them. With the underhanded comments and passive aggressive insults, you can’t help but wonder if any of them are actually friends. Eventually, your attention wanders over the rest of the bar patrons.

“Am I keeping you from something?” Ransom startles you with how close he is, body still but eyes roaming. You suck in a deep breath, smelling the alcohol and his cologne which makes your mouth water.

“N-no, sorry,” you struggle to come up with an excuse for zoning out, “Just looking for Whitney.”

He tips his head, “She’s right where you left her.” You follow his line of sight, finding her easily.

“Oh. Yeah.”

The way his face goes impassive unsettles you, like it was the wrong answer. “We’re boring you. That’s alright. Let’s talk about you.”

“Not much that you’d be interested in, I think.” Whitney’s assertion that you’re not his type replays in your head

“I don’t know about that. I have a lot of interests.” He stares at you with this look on his face, like he’s listening to something funny, but his eyes are serious. It’s intimidating when combined with the way he’s lounged so comfortably next to you, taking up the space like he owns it and yours. His tone, and the little tickle from his fingers against your shoulder feels like flirting, and now your inner voice begs you to remember how to fucking flirt. ‘For the love of god, shake off the nerves and flirt with this gorgeous creature.’ You take a deep breath and try to sink into it.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, setting your elbow on the table and propping your face on your palm while you turn even further toward him.

One side of his face lifts almost into a smile. He starts with a few basic questions, finding out you’re not from the city, how long you’ve been around. He ignores what you ask in return, continuing with his rapid-fire questioning.

“How do you know that little brat?” he asks with a tiny flick in the direction of the bar.

“Whitney?” you chuckle and he nods, “Friend of a friend; she practically became attached at my hip once we started going out together.”

“A quiet little mouse like you and her? Really?”

“I promise you, I’m not always so quiet,” you challenge.

“See, now that is interesting. Think I’d like to see that,” he answers, eyes giving you a quick up-down in your seat.

In the seconds it takes for you to process that he is indeed flirting and you need to respond, the moment is broken by a high-pitched voice.

“There you are! You fucking ditched me.” Whitney practically howls at you. You feel like a child who got caught out after curfew as you see her eyes move between you and Ransom. “What’s happening here?”

The alcohol has settled enough to remove some of your tension. With that and her overdramatic reaction, trying to control the urge to giggle at being caught is impossible, so you bite down on your lips to keep the grin from your face. “Nothing,” you answer, poorly faking innocence.

Ransom’s eyes stay on you, you can feel it, but he talks to your friend, “We were just getting to know each other better.” He turns to look at her, “Sit down with us,” his tone almost sounding like an order.

“Getting to know each other?” she asks you pointedly.

You can’t understand what her problem is with him, especially since he’s her friend. At this point, you’re too intrigued. It’s not like there’s any point in trying to deny that you’re attracted to him with half your body leaning into him like he’s a magnet, but for some reason you think you see real disappointment in her eyes. Biting your lip, you take a peek at him to find him waiting for your response; he’s already smug with the attention.

“Yeah.”

“What about your break?” she spits out.

You feel too many people looking at you, but you can’t answer, too shocked that she’s put you on the spot like this.

“Remember?” she asks like you’re forgetful, “You’re taking a break because you’re looking for a nice guy.” She over-enunciates as she stares daggers at Ransom.

“Why don’t you get the stick out of your ass, Whitney. I’ve been nice all night, haven’t I sweetheart?” The hostility between the two makes your back go rigid, anxious for the moment to end and the spotlight to be directed anywhere else.

“I’m fine,” you tell her as firmly as you can.

She shakes her head at you, but sits down anyway, jumping right into flirty conversation with Eric who is sitting at the end of the booth, notably there without the girl from the other weekend.

“Hmm,” Ransom hums right against your ear, making your skin tingle. “I think someone just got in trouble.” He’s clearly amused and not sounding remorseful at all.

He makes a move then. It’s slight, but you feel him tuck you a little further under his arm. Part of you is glad Whitney is distracted, but the other part wants her to notice it and realize she might be wrong.

“I…yeah,” you stumble over your words, confused and flustered between the two of them. Chest tight and pulling in short breaths and stomach swooping with excitement, you internally scream, begging for him to make it worth it.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale series #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #c'mon let's pretend series #my writing #chris evans characters #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale fluff

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the-cult-of-russo · 4 years ago

Text

Push and Pull (Part 15)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, smut

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It was bright and early when Daphne woke up the next morning. She had things to do and no time to waste. The sun was shining through her window, the weather finally starting to get warmer. She put on some leggings with a tank top and then her zip up hoodie over it. She groaned at her hair in the mirror as she dragged her brush through the unruly locks. So many times she considered cutting it so it wasn't so much work, but she knew she'd regret it. Instead, she settled on tossing it up into a high pony and ignoring it. Her trusty backpack was slung around her shoulder and she hopped around as she put her vans on before leaving the apartment.

She squinted slightly at the light once she got out of the building but it didn't deter her. First stop. Coffee. One large latte to go later, she was on her way to see Brett to find out what news he might have. She tossed her now empty cup in the trash can beside the station before she jogged up the steps and inside. She never checked in with the desk, she was a ghost when she was here. That's how it worked. It wasn't such a secret anymore than she was on Brett's payroll which left her to come and go as she pleased, but officially, she was never there. When she walked into the office area, Brett was sitting at his desk just like the day before. He looked like he hadn't even gone home.

"You look like shit," she mused teasingly, putting down the other coffee she'd gotten for him. His eyes lit up at the sight of it and he gave her a tired smile.

"You're an angel," he muttered with a long pull from his drink as she sat down. The coffee at the precinct was the worst and never really did its job.

"Any news yet?" She tried to hide the impatience in her voice but she wasn't sure she succeeded.

"Actually, we do have something. Not quite sure the full details yet though," he murmured. She looked at him expectantly.

"The people we rescued, their fingertips were burnt right off just like the last time. We can't identify most of 'em until they're fully coherent. But they're doing alright. I just can't believe the Chinese were at it again right under our goddamn noses," he fumed, taking another slurp of his coffee.

"I'm not surprised. They probably picked it back up when the heat turned off them again," she sighed. She hoped that once the victims were in a better state they'd be able to get names from them. Some of them might have family that were looking for them.

"Anything from the device?" She asked hopefully

"Yeah, actually. The Chinese requested the meet. They were pretty vague about a lot of shit but they kept saying something about the Italians having a weapon and they wanted to use it. Seemed to be brokering a deal about it. I got no idea what the hell this weapon is, but the Chinese really fucking want it and the Italians already have it. And that makes me nervous as shit," he frowned.

It made her nervous too. What did the Italians have that the Chinese couldn't get for themselves? And why did they want it?

"Well that's unsettling," she huffed with a shake of her head.

"Tell me about it. Good news though, that device you planted must be well hidden. It’s still live and active," he flashed her a grin and she smiled herself as she gave herself a mental pat on the back.

"Do you think it'll be useful?" She inquired.

"No telling yet. I mean mostly it'll be the kitchen staff but it might pick up something. Any other meets we might not be aware of or anyone saying something. Even something small can lead to something big, right?" He smirked, practically quoting her. It made her chuckle.

"At least that's something. If we can figure out what weapon the Italians have we can figure out how bad this all is," she said softly. It made her nervous and she had a feeling things would get messy soon in Hell's Kitchen.

"Here's hoping. There ain't much for you to do with the case right now but I'll let you know when we get any more information. It's just a waiting game now," he replied.

"Ah, my favourite," she smirked sarcastically, causing him to snort. She wasn't known for having patience. She liked answers and she liked them immediately. But in this case, playing the long game would be the only option to getting to the bottom of it all.

She bid her goodbyes to him not long after that before making her way back out into the sunshine. Now it was her next pit stop. A short cab ride later and she was at a very fancy luxurious home. It was more like a mansion and was three stories high. It looked like it was right out of a movie with one of those grand entrances and a water feature out front. She was well out of place as dressed down as she was but she knocked on the door anyway. She wasn't even surprised when a butler answered the door.

"Can I help you, miss?" The older man asked softly. His black and white uniform was crisp and clean and it put her own rumpled clothes to shame.

"I'm here to see Mrs Grimes. I'm Daphne Weaver," she replied awkwardly.

"One moment please," he shut the door and she quirked her brow at how formal all this was. This better pay well. Suddenly the door opened again and he smiled at her.

"This way please. She's been hoping you'd come," he seemed a little friendlier now. Maybe it was because his boss wanted her here so he wasn't all suspicious of what she wanted. Either way, she followed him inside. He led her up the huge ass staircase, the kind that split off at the middle. Everything looked like it cost a million dollars, from the art to all the rare looking things in cabinets. She didn't even feel worthy enough to touch the banister so she kept her hands in her hoodie pocket.

The carpet was lush and a deep purple colour and she found her eyes wandering the hallway they walked down. How many rooms does someone need? No wonder she had staff, upkeep on this place would be a ball ache. They reached a room far down the left and he knocked on the heavy looking mahogany door.

"Enter," a female voice rang out. It was slightly accented but she couldn't place it. Jeeves opened the door and gestured for her to go inside. She glanced around the room curiously as she walked in. It was a living area with a grand fire. Heavy bookcases lined the walls of the room and were filled with what looked to be antique books that Daphne found herself wanting to look at. There was a giant fur rug in front of the fireplace with velvet looking sofas set in front of it.

That's where Mrs Grimes was sitting, looking perfectly in place for where she was. She was wearing a long black dress, heels bigger than anything Daphne could ever walk in. Her greying blonde hair was neatly coiffed and pinned up and she was dripping in diamonds. Jesus.

"Pleasure to meet you Ms Weaver, please sit," she smiled warmly at her, gesturing to the other sofa. Daphne was half worried her vans would dirty the goddamn carpet as she padded over and plonked down. Despite it being completely over the top and not really her taste, she did appreciate however how clean and neat everything was kept. A place like this could easily fall into being cluttered and dusty but it was pristine. She supposed the staff were to thank for that. Mrs Grimes' nails were so long she doubted she could do much cleaning herself. Daphne wasn't sure how she didn't accidentally gauge her own eyes out.

"Would you like something to drink?" She asked politely. Jeeves was still hovering near the door no doubt waiting for his command. She was tempted to say yes to see what kind of beverages the other side drank, but she didn't want to stay long.

"Uh… no thank you. I'm fine," she replied with an awkward smile.

"Very well. Hammond, leave us," she dismissed the man at the door. He gave a dramatic nod before he left and shut the door behind him. She idly wondered if he ever wanted to punch his bosses when they commanded him to do things like that. She'd never be able to hold a job like that down.

"I'm glad you came, I was worried you wouldn't," the older woman started, elegantly crossing one leg over the other.

"A job's a job," Daphne snorted lightly, her hands still stuffed in her pockets lest she touch something and ruin it. Mrs Grimes gave her a tense smile, looking like it was difficult to be polite. Maybe she wasn't used to the lower class being in her home.

"Indeed it is. Will you take the case?" She asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I'll be able to do it. As I tell all my clients, I don't give out time frames. I never know how long it'll take me to find what I need or what roadblocks might come up. I don't appreciate impatience and it doesn't make me work any faster," she said firmly. Establishing boundaries was the first thing she liked to do. It was important. Especially with the wealthy ones as in her experience they tended to be the impatient ones with their self importance.

"Very well. I accept your terms. And please, whatever you find, do tell me," she implored. Daphne nodded, she always did no matter how shitty the information she'd gained was. Mrs Grimes stood, walking somehow with grace and ease in those monster heels as she walked over to a cupboard near the wall. She opened a drawer and came back with some paper.

"Me and my husband used to be very much in love. And I'm afraid now that I'm older he's decided to find other companions. Call me paranoid but I'm sure you understand when to look into a gut feeling," she mused as she walked back over and sat down. Daphne nodded again. Her gut was rarely wrong and it was telling her that Mrs Grimes was right.

"I want confirmation. I want to know who with and how deep it runs. If it's just physical or something more. I want to prepare myself should he try to divorce me and take what I have. I need proof," she stated seriously. Daphne's eyes subconsciously swept across the room and all the fancy things in it.

"I know what you're thinking. And I was the one with money, not him. He makes a decent amount with his job but I was born with money. This house was passed through my family for generations. Everything in it I bought. But over the years I've had my eyes opened to how greedy my husband can be. I cannot trust if we separate that he won't try to take everything from me," she sounded bitter and Daphne wasn't surprised. They definitely sounded like they had issues and once trust was gone in a relationship, everything else had no foundation to stand on. It wouldn't last. She commended the woman for thinking ahead to make sure she was protected if it came down to it. This kind of bullshit was why relationships were too much work.

"I'll find out what I can. I'll be honest, some of my methods aren't quite… legal. But it gets the job done," Daphne muttered. Things like breaking and entering were definitely illegal and then there was hacking if she ever needed to do it, which in this case might prove useful.

"Good," Mrs Grimes smirked at her. She found herself smirking back at her. The rich typically didn't care too much about how she got the information, just that she got it. Mrs Grimes reached down to her Gucci purse, setting it on her lap and she grabbed something out of it. It was her wallet and Daphne was curious what her offer would be. She hadn't spoken to her about price points yet and when it came to her wealthier clients she made a point of waiting to see what their offer would be first. Usually she’d haggle a little just because she could. They'd have the money and they wanted the information.

She watched with a keen eye as Mrs Grimes took a chunk of money out and handed it to her. A quick count told her it was $1000 and it took effort for her eyes to not bulge out as she kept a cool calm facade.

"That's the deposit. You'll get the rest when the work is complete. Another $1000. I may give you more depending on just how much you find out," she drawled. So she wouldn't need to haggle then, this price was insane and way more than what the job would entail, but like fuck she would tell her that. She also appreciated the incentive. She liked a challenge, something to work towards. The more she found out then the more she'd get paid.

"Sounds good to me. I'll get started in the next few days," she replied, keeping her calm demeanour and not acting like she was thinking of what she would spend her money on once she got it all. She carefully stuffed it in her backpack before zipping it back up. She almost jumped when the older woman dinged a bell beside the table and it took all of her willpower not to roll her eyes as the butler walked in.

"Yes, Mrs Grimes?" He enquired politely.

"Please see Ms Weaver out. Have one of our drivers drop her off to wherever she needs to go," she commanded softly. Part of her wanted to protest but the other wanted to pretend she lived the fancy life, even if just for a moment.

They both stood and Mrs Grimes took her hand in one of those fancy people hand shakes that were flimsy and light.

"It was a pleasure, Ms Weaver. I hope to hear from you soon," she smiled.

"Likewise," she replied, not really knowing what to say. No matter how many well off clients she saw she always felt weird and out of place interacting with them. She followed Jeeves out the hall and down the large stairs case. He stopped when he got by the front door and picked up a phone that was attached to the wall. She stood there looking around as the man spoke in hushed tones down the receiver before hanging up and then opening the grand front door.

"Have a lovely day, Ms Weaver," he bowed politely.

"Uh… you too," she murmured as she stepped outside.

The door shut with a clang behind her and she was suddenly on her own outside. It didn't last long though as a large black car pulled up right at the entryway.

"Ms Weaver?" A man called out after rolling the window down. She nodded and walked over. She was getting sick of being called that name. The man hopped out, jogging over to the back of the car and opening the door for her. This really was fancy service. She gave him an uncomfortable smile, not used to this level of service from anyone. It felt wrong almost. But she slipped inside and settled in the ridiculously comfy car seats.

"Where to, Miss?" The man asked once he was situated behind the wheel again.

"Um… Fogwell's gym please," she murmured in response. He punched in something on the phone he was using with the GPS and then he took off. There was a reason she was dressed the way she was after all. She didn't want to think of Matt being a weird asshole the day before. As much as part of her considered not going, she really needed to train and she knew he would be there. She was too stubborn to let Matt's weird PMSing get in the way of her learning to defend herself properly.

The drive was uncomfortably silent and she clutched her backpack on her knees. She wondered what it was like to live this life full time. She was a bitch but she didn't feel right with commanding people to do shit, even if she was paying them. It just felt off to her. Before long, the car pulled up in front of the gym. She almost felt like she should pay him or something, totally not used to this kind of exchange. As she unbuckled her seat belt, the man got out and ran around to her door. He opened it and she slipped out, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he looked at the rundown gym.

"Are you sure, Miss?" He asked quietly, like he was asking her to blink twice if she needed help. She almost snorted but gave him a polite smile. She guessed his boss wasn't used to being around places like this. She appreciated his sentiments all the same though.

"I'm sure," she said softly. He nodded, still looking unhappy about it but there was nothing he could do. With a nod, he was back in the car and taking off by the time she walked through the door.

She was quiet and heard loud grunting and the hits of a punching bag. As she came into view, she saw Matt beating the holy hell out of the bag. His fists were flying, grunts and pants leaving his lips with the flurry of punches. The graceful savagery was what always intrigued her about him. But then typically he'd open his mouth and ruin it. He hadn't seemed to notice her yet once again which honestly was perturbing since anyone could come in here and sneak up on him like that. She walked over to the bench, setting her backpack down with a thud. The grunts and punches stopped instantly and the only sound that echoed in the gym was Matts heavy breathing.

"Didn't think you'd show," he said carelessly.

"I wasn't sure either honestly. But I need to train, even if I do have to put up with your bitch ass," she muttered as she started wrapping her hands. He scoffed as he came over, grabbing his water bottle and drinking a large pull from it. He tossed the bottle down again as he made his way to the ring.

"Alright, come on then," he demanded.

"What? I don't get to warm up first?" She asked skeptically with a raised brow. He snorted coldly and shook his head.

"You wanna know how to defend yourself for real, there is no warming up. When you're out there in a situation like this, you don't get that luxury," he retorted. She rolled her eyes but honestly couldn't argue with sound logic.

Instead, she bit her tongue as she put on the gloves and climbed inside of the ring. Matt cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as they squared off with one another.

"Let's go," he smirked devilishly. He lunged at her but she moved just in time, twirling around as they practically traded places. They started trading blows, although his were very clearly intended not to hurt her, and she was pleased she got some good jabs in. She didn't slow down or stop this time when he deflected or managed a light shot to her side. She just came back twice as hard. She was proud of herself. Her heart was thumping away from the adrenaline and the exertion of the sparring after a while and she leaned against the ropes as they both caught their breath.

"You did good. You're getting better," he sounded reluctant to give her the praise and she rolled her eyes a little at him.

"I want you to teach me how to get out of the hold from last time," she said firmly. His head turned to her then, his hazel eyes not quite landing directly at her as he narrowed them.

"Daphne, I don't think-" he started, only to be promptly cut off.

"It's fine. I need to learn and I'll get over it. I think I'll be fine this time," she urged. She meant it too. She still had lingering effects of her attack but she was feeling a little better recently. And after her and Matt's partially regrettable night together, she hadn't had a nightmare for the first night since it happened. She knew the sex had helped. Whenever she needed to feel better and clear her head, she would have sex. It's why her sister was so worried it would become a crux for her. Her sex with Matt had done wonders for her stress and anxiety over the whole thing so she felt like now was the perfect time to try to learn it.

He was quiet for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh. He yanked his gloves off and tossed them out of the ring and she followed suit before he changed his mind. Climbing to the floor, she lay on her back and bent her knees just like the last time. As he knelt down between her legs, it was hard not to think of the night they shared together and how similar it was.

"Ready?" He asked reluctantly. She gave him a firm nod he couldn't see but could sense and he brought his hands to her throat. Once again, he applied very little pressure but she lay perfectly still. Her heart wasn't hammering like crazy, she wasn't seeing Keiran hovering over her. She was fine. Matt stayed still as he did his head tilt thing and it took her a moment to realise he was listening to her heartbeat to check if she was okay or not. It was kind of creepy but she let it go.

He talked her through the steps of how to get out of that kind of hold. One at a time he'd tell her what to do and correct her if she got it wrong as they did a slow mo version one part at a time to ensure she knew each step. It was more complicated than the last one but after a few step by step tries she thought she had a good idea on what to do. Now it was time to get out of it for real.

"3, 2 ,1," he counted, preparing her somewhat so she didn't lose her shit like last time. This time he applied some pressure around her throat but it was still practically nothing. She felt his weight bearing down on her and she grabbed his right forearm with her left and then used her right hand to grip his left shoulder in a cross grip. Using her left foot, she pushed off his hip, pivoting her pelvis to the right so he was no longer directly above her. She hooked her right leg high up on his back, right under his armpit and she kept a firm grip on him as her left leg moved to wrap around his shoulder too, locking it onto her other. She grabbed his wrist, the one that was in her grip that was now at her mercy on her chest. She knew if she thrust her pelvis upwards sharply she would break his arm at his elbow.

It had happened so fast but she caught herself before completing the maneuver and felt pleased with herself. She let go of his arm and rolled them over so he was now under her. They were both panting and she laughed lightly, feeling good she actually did it. She was a little sweaty and she looked down at where he lay under her. His brow had a slight sheen to his and his hair was doing that thing where it went every which way. His eyes were wandering as he caught his breath with a grin. She wasn't the only one enjoying their session it seemed.

She felt his hands glide up her thighs that were around him and she'd be a liar if she said it didn't make her tingle. His unseeing eyes were burning into her, pupils blown wide. She went to move off him but he held her in place, only now she was hovering right in front of his face. One of his hands rested on the base of her neck and he pulled her down a little. She stayed still though and resisted as her lips were a breath away from his.

"We're not on the same page, remember?" She teased him, enjoying seeing him this worked up. She squeaked when her back hit the mat when he rolled them over quickly. She hadn't expected it.

"I'm over it," he smirked devilishly at her before his lips collided with hers.

She should have really stopped to think about it. To assess the validity of his words. But sex with Matt was something else and it made her feel amazing. All her stress and worries melted away last time. And although she knew going down that rabbit hole wasn't good with her past of sometimes becoming dependant on sex for her own mental well being, she couldn't really help herself. She blamed Matt for being insufferable and ridiculously attractive. The kiss was rough and demanding and she gave into him, moaning as he pushed himself against her through the thin fabric of their pants. He knelt up, tugging at his vest and lifting it over his head. Something dawned on her then.

"We're gonna do this here? What if someone walks in?" She snorted amused. She wasn’t one to shy away from sex in weird places but she didn't want some old dude walking in and getting a free show. He tossed his vest on the floor as he chuckled, jumping to his feet and climbing out the ring. She sat up, watching him curiously as he went and locked the door from the inside. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he prowled back to her though. The predatory grace he held, the way his sculpted body moved. In her needy and horny haze she found herself impatient for him to return and she felt like he was taking his time to tease her if his smirk was anything to go by. She pulled her shirt off and then her bra, tossing them in a heap beside them as Matt toed off his shoes.

He knelt back down then, his hands curling her ankles and yanking them lightly. Her back hit the mat with a light thud and she looked up at him shocked before laughing. With a wicked grin, he pulled her leggings and panties off together but painfully slow and her desire was increasing with every second he made her wait for it. She wouldn't beg though. She sat back up, tugging at his shorts and he bent down, kissing her roughly as she yanked them down with his boxers. She fisted him tightly and he moaned into her mouth, causing her to smirk into the kiss. Letting go, she pulled the shorts and boxers all the way off him before pushing him onto his back.

It was his turn to look mildly shocked and she climbed on top of him, her slick heat trapping his cock against his belly. His eyes were darting around her face and she leant forward, catching his lower lip with her teeth. He let out a long groan, arching up at her as she tugged it before letting it go with a pop. She sat up, pushing up on her knees before she gripped him and lined herself up. Without a word she sank down onto him and the pair moaned in relief. It was instant for her, that feeling of him filling her up like that. Knowing her release would come soon. She rested her hands on his firm chest for leverage as she started moving her hips. His hands felt like they were all over her body at once. Not soft or sweet, but firm and demanding and he took in every detail of her body.

The gym was filled with moans and gasps as she rode him hard, her anger at his behaviour and the thrill of fighting with him fuelling her pleasure. She almost found it ironic that they were fucking in a boxing ring with how often they fought. He pulled her down roughly, lips smashing against hers as he ravaged her mouth. She felt that euphoric feeling getting closer, her whole body tingling in anticipation. She got faster and harder, chasing the release she was after like her life depended on it.

"Don't stop," Matt groaned against her lips, one hand gripping the back of her neck while the other was on her ass, fingers digging into her flesh. She had no plan on stopping though. Not when she was this close. She kept up the pace and then she moaned loudly, her body tensing lightly as she clamped down around him.

He let out the hottest fucking noise she’d ever heard a human make and it only heightened her own pleasure as she rode the waves of her orgasm. He was clinging onto her tightly, rutting up into her as he panted and then groaned, spilling himself inside of her. He relaxed instantly. Hands falling to his sides. She sat there on top of him as she tried to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair had started falling out of her ponytail. She was thoroughly fucked and in the best way. That beautiful feeling was coursing through her veins as she let the hormones and endorphins flow though her.

She climbed off him carefully before standing up and stretching.

"I'm gonna hit the shower," she hummed sounding blissful as she scooped up her clothes. She walked completely naked to the showers and got herself cleaned up and presentable. She didn't regret it, it was amazing and she felt good now. And from the sounds he made, he enjoyed himself too. She just hoped he meant it when he said they were on the same page.

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

Matt stood in his own shower in the men’s changing rooms as he let the cold water pelt him. His brain was a fried mess and he leaned against the cool tiles as he tried to just think clearly. He wasn't sure why he'd done it again, not after last time. He couldn’t really say what had bothered him about the fact she left last time. He'd gotten out of the shower and went to his room and she was just gone. No words, no note, nothing. He knew it had been purely physical, they could barely tolerate each other. He wasn't stupid enough to think too deeply into it. Yet it left him feeling strangely hollow when she’d just left him like that.

And then when he had turned up to work, Foggy had been acting weird. After some pressure he'd told Matt about his conversation with Daphne. Matt was pretty sure he hadn't gotten the whole story from him but the gist of her saying it was just sex was clear. And he'd told Foggy she was right. It was a one time thing because of all their pent up anger and the adrenaline from the night they'd had. He told his best friend to stop thinking about it. Yet he hadn't been able to do the same. He'd ended up texting her using Foggy's phone to see if she would be home and then he went to see her. No rhyme or reason or idea why he was going there. All he knew was that it bothered him.

It wasn't like he’d never had casual sex before, although he couldn't say it happened much the last few years. And his inability to understand why he was feeling the way he was led to them fighting again. Because she was right. But he hadn't been able to let it go. So when he left, he told himself it wouldn't happen again. She was trouble and being around her wore him out. It wasn't worth it. So how did he end up here again? Oh that's right, apparently he'd turned into a horny teenager again. A bit of sparring, feeling her body against his and sensing how happy she was in the ring really fucked his hormones over. And now here he was again. Only this time it was his own fault. She’d actually turned him down and he'd been the one to push. He couldn't say he regretted it either. It was the best damn sex he’d ever had and it left him feeling more chilled out than he felt in a long time. He'd keep his mouth shut this time and not act like a teenage girl about it. He dug himself into this hole and now he had to climb his own way out.

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

Daphne towel dried her hair as much as she could and it left it wavy. She scooped it up in a messy bun on top of her head, a few stands framing her face. The euphoric feeling she got after sex was easing but she still felt calm and settled. It was nice, she didn't get to experience it that much anymore. She really didn't want to have to face Matt, not knowing if he'd throw a tantrum like last time. She didn't want him to read into it again or act all weird about it. It really killed the vibe and ruined her good mood. She'd tried to stop it from happening, not wanting to deal with that again, but she hadn't been able to help herself when he'd wanted her so clearly. There was something addictive about it. But now she felt dread settle into her bones as she thought about how he would react.

She took her sweet time getting dried and dressed simply to buy herself some time. But eventually she was done and she had to leave the changing room. As she walked out into the main part of the gym, Matt was sitting on the bench tying his laces.

"Ready?" He asked softly. No awkward questions, no anger in his voice. Maybe he was on the same page now after all. She felt relief sweep through her, allowing her to enjoy the calmness that she'd been left with after their time together.

"Yeah," she replied, grabbing her backpack and putting it over her shoulder.

Matt grabbed his cane where it was leaning against the wall. He was now wearing a hoodie too and he grabbed his glasses out of the pocket as he slid them onto his face. She wondered if he ever got sick of having to act blind. He was blind but not like the average blind person. He didn't really need the stick and she'd seen him 'bumping' into things like he hadn't known they were there before. When they stepped out into the sunshine, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Jesus christ! I think I've joined the blind club," she grumbled, rubbing her poor eyes. The sun just burnt the shit out of her retinas. He let out a surprised laugh, the door shutting behind them.

"Here," he grinned. She cracked a wary eye open, seeing him holding out his glasses to her, but she didn't take them.

"It's not like I need them,” he teased. It helped. She felt a little better. She slid them onto her face and her eyeballs thanked her immediately. They started walking down the street together and she glanced into a window as they walked by, looking at her reflection. She snorted at herself. Her hair, despite being recently washed and put up, was a wavy mess. Her cheeks were still rosy pink and the glasses looked weird on her face.

"They suit you," he mused playfully. She shoved him lightly, causing him to laugh when an older woman gasped at her actions.

"Assaulting a blind man in public? It's like you want to get arrested," he smirked.

"Yeah well, Foggy will be my lawyer so I'll be good," she quipped back with a grin. Now they were on the same page they seemed to be amicable after venting their frustration on each other.

"You really think my best friend would take your side over mine?" He asked, faking being hurt as he held his hand over his heart. She stopped walking and he did the same as she looked at him.

"I hate to say it but I think he prefers me now. Not that I can blame him. You are a bit of an asshole," she grinned mischievously. He gaped at her before his hand darted out and went to grab the glasses. She squeaked, holding them in place as he tried to steal them from her face.

"You don't deserve my glasses," he snorted.

"Come on! I need my eyes, I'm not like you!" She whined pitifully.

"And what's this?! My two favourite people, getting along nicely? Is the world ending?" A dramatic voice sounded from next to them. Both she and Matt stilled completely in a comical way before they took a step away from each other. Both of them looked caught out as they looked at a very smug Foggy.

"This is great! Better than great! I love this," he beamed like a kid on Christmas. Daphne groaned and glared at him from the glasses still perched on her face.

"Foggy, I swear! You want us to not kill each other when we're in the same room? Don't make a big deal about it when it happens," she huffed.

"It is a big deal. You're both laughing and smiling together. This is huge. It's like a rare solar event or something," he defended.

She resisted the urge to throttle him as Matt rubbed his temples.

"Foggy," Matt warned lightly.

"Okay! I get it, I'm making it weird. This whole thing is new to you both and I'm just making it awkward," he soothed, holding his hands up in surrender.

"There is no 'thing'. We can't just actually have a moment where we get on with each other before you start trying to marry us off again?" She whined.

"Marry us off? What?" Matt asked quickly, his head whipping to his friend. She snorted as Foggy's cheeks went a little pink and he shot her a glare

"Oh, he didn't tell you he's the captain of ship Maphne?" She laughed loudly. She didn't care if Matt knew. It was ridiculous to her and she was getting payback on Foggy for being a little shit.

"Maphne? Do I even wanna know?" Matt asked exasperated. Foggy shot her another look before standing up straighter.

"You know what, Daph, mock me all you want but this is the hill I'm choosing to die on," he pointed at her. Matt still stood there unsure of what they were even talking about. She opened her mouth for another retort that would no doubt embarrass Foggy further and also maybe make Matt uncomfortable which was a bonus, but Foggy beat her to it.

"Anyway! I'm glad I caught you two, I have great news!" He beamed excitedly. She quirked her brows perplexed as he led them to a table outside of the cafe nearby. The three of them sat around it, Matt and Daphne watching their friend expectantly.

"I finally asked Karen on a date!" He practically squealed. A splitting grin graced Daphne's face, unable not to be happy for him. During their many talks, he'd spoken about his feelings for the blonde and Daphne had always told him to go for it.

"Aw, Foggy! You're growing up, I'm so proud!" She cooed, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He was so happy he just let her.

"That's awesome, man. I'm happy for you," Matt smiled sincerely.

"I know, it's great right? I just finally bit the bullet. I just decided I need to stop being such a baby about it," he explained. He had a weird look on his face though, the same one that usually told her something going on.

"What is it?" Both she and Matt asked at the same time, him clearly picking up on Foggy's weirdness in his own way.

Foggy raised a brow at them both being in sync and she made a point to not even look at Matt so Foggy wouldn't go off on his Maphne tirade again.

"Well… I just… I panicked, okay? I set it all up and she knew I wanted to ask her something. But then I'm like, what if she says no? I mean it's just gonna be me and Karen. Alone. On a date," he uttered looking like a deer in the headlights.

"That's kinda the point, Foggy," Matt teased.

"I know it is. And I couldn't back out because she was just watching me, waiting for what I wanted to ask. I honestly felt like I was about to have a heart attack and I may have asked her on a date but told her it was a double date with you guys," he blurted, barely taking a breath as he did.

Daphne blinked at him for a moment as her brain tried to digest his words.

"You did what?" Matt asked incredulously. Foggy made a pitiful noise and she took Matt’s glasses off and set them in the middle of the table, giving Foggy a look.

"A double date? Implying that me and Matt are actually also going to be on a date. Do you see the flaw in that plan?" She asked slowly, like she was talking to a child about why playing with matches was bad.

"I know! Like I said, I panicked and that's just the first thing that came out of my mouth!" Foggy defended with a sigh.

"And Karen actually bought that?" Matt scoffed, gesturing with his hand to him and then Daphne.

"You're kidding right? She's all aboard this ship, she was actually excited about it," Foggy smirked. She kicked him under the table and he groaned. Matt's jaw ticked as he glared in his best friend's direction.

"This isn't a joke, Fogg. All the shit you give me for keeping my secret from her and you're just lying right to her face about this?" Matt frowned.

"That's completely different. Your secret is dangerous. This one isn't. For all she knows it's your first date too and after that it just didn't work out. Besides, it's not like you're not getting it on with each other, would it really be that hard to just pretend to be on one date?" He pleaded, looking from her to Matt.

"Yes," they both answered again.

"Please? I really need this. If I tell her you're not going she might cancel too. You two are like a buffer, help set the scene and put her at ease. I really like her, guys. I don't want to mess things up," he begged.

"Foggy-" Matt started sternly, only to be cut off by Daphne.

"Fine. But you're paying for dinner," she relented.

Foggy smiled the widest grin she'd ever seen on a human and Matt turned to glare at her.

"You've got to be kidding me," he scoffed incredulously.

"What? Didn't you hear him? He's our friend, Matt. Let's just do this for him. Besides, free dinner," she shrugged. Matt looked pissed and honestly it was a reward she hadn't expected. She'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to push his buttons.

"This is ridiculous. You really think she's not gonna notice we can't stand each other once she's sat at a table with us for a while?" Matt glowered. He had a point but they could just try to be civil for Foggy's sake.

"You know what, Matt, I really hate to play this card but you left me no choice. You lied to me for the longest time and now I have to keep your secret. I already have to start a potential relationship with lies for you. Can't you just do this one thing for me? I never ask you for anything," Foggy muttered with a frown.

A sly grin spread on her face at how underhand it was of Foggy. She almost felt like a proud parent as she watched a million emotions pass over Matt's face before defeat was all that was left.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't want you when this all blows up in your face. And you're paying for my dinner too," he huffed. Foggy looked more than pleased with himself.

"Thank you! You guys are awesome. I'll even pay for your drinks if you actually try and act like you like each other and not make it awkward," he shot them both a toothy grin.

"Hey, let me drink as much as I want and I'll make it really look like we're on a date," she smirked devilishly, a wiggle of her eyebrows and Foggy burst out laughing.

"Jesus christ," Matt muttered quietly with a shake of his head.

"Deal," Foggy nodded firmly, "tonight at 8. It's the Mexican place near the firm," he instructed before he stood.

"Alright. I'm heading out, you coming with, Matt?" He asked, shooting his annoyed friend a look.

"Yeah. You go on, I'll catch up in a sec," he bit out. Foggy gave her a look and a smirk before he started walking away.

"Really?" Matt glared at her, swiping his glasses from the table and shoving them onto his face.

"What? Free food and as much booze as we want? Plus doing your best friend a solid? I know you're an asshole, Matt, but I thought you weren't that much of an asshole," she quipped dryly. He clamped his mouth shut, jaw tense as he pursed his lips.

"Fine," he stood up abruptly, gripping his cane before holding it in front of him.

"You're doing this for Foggy. Don't fuck it up for him just because you've got a stick up your ass," she huffed as she stood up too.

He shot her what she presumed was a dirty look behind his glasses before he started walking away, his cane swinging in front of him. His irritation about the situation only made her want to do it more. It was his own fault really for acting like such a bitch about the whole thing. He was asking for her to make it worse for him. She started walking home as a plan formed in her mind. She'd get nice food and decent booze and she'd get to piss Matt off in a setting he had to behave in. She was actually looking forward to it.

As soon as she got home, she called their firm, knowing Karen would be the one to answer.

"Nelson and Murdock, Karen speaking," came the voice down the phone. Daphne trapped the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she tugged off her hoodie and tossed it in the laundry basket.

"Hey Karen, it's Daphne," she said casually.

"Oh! Hi!" She sounded genuinely happy to speak to her and she wondered why she'd never bothered to speak to Karen more since she was so close to Foggy and Matt.

"I know this is weird, we haven't really spoken much. But I wanted to ask a favour since we're going on a double date," she said carefully, flopping onto her sofa.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Don't tell the guys, it's kind of weird for me. It's just… this is mine and Matt's first date too and it's been so long. I was wondering if you'd help me get ready for the date? I wanna look really good. I mean I know he can't really see, but he just somehow knows these things, right?" She grinned, cringing at how hard she was going at this. She felt a tiny bit bad at lying to her but she ignored it.

"Of course! I'd… I'd really love that. I'm nervous too and it'd be good to just have some girl time," Karen said softly.

"Thank you, I really appreciate this. We could go to the restaurant together when we're done," Daphne smiled pleased with herself. After exchanging cell numbers and goodbyes, Daphne sat back on the couch with a smirk. She wanted to turn heads. Not only just to irritate Matt, using her knowledge of him finding her physically attractive against him, but it had been a while since she went out. Usually she did so with a goal in mind, to have sex. And she would turn heads, a lot of them. Tonight was different but it didn't mean her ego wouldn't enjoy being looked at. It certainly would be interesting.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

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